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home in the Brazilian forest. It is full 
of the noble red man, of gallants and 
villians, of fair damsels, and of fierce 
beasts, curiously suggestive of our 
own early fiction, Cooper's in especial. 
In other early numbers will be illustrat- 
ed articles on : 
The Spectroscope in Astronomy. 

Prof. W. IV. Campbell. 
Football on the West Coast. P. L. 

Weaver, Jr. 
Among the Diggers 30 Years Ago. 

Helen M. Campbell. 
Architecture in San Francisco. E. C. 

Berry Picking in Mendocino. Nine't- 

ta Eames. 

Forest Trees of the Sierra. C. Palacke. 
The Beet Sugar Industry. 
The Napa Insane Asylum. Charles 

W. Coyle. 
Fish Hatcheries. 
The Lick Trust. 
Horse Training. 
And many others. 


Other articles to be expected are : 
An Adventure in the Huachucas. 

Clara Spalding Brown. 
Impending Labor Problems. Austin 


The Footsteps of Pele. Mabel Closson. 
Tales of a Smuggler. 5. 5. Boynton. 

IT is expected that by January first 
the offices of the OVERLAND, both edi- 
torial and business, will be moved to the 
new building of the Pacific Mutual Life 
Company, on the northeast corner of 
Montgomery and Sacramento streets, 
where it will have better facilities for its 
work in many ways. Thence Volume 
XXI will be issued, and it may confi- 
dently be expected to be as notable in 
all its aspects, literary, artistic, social 
and industrial, as any of its predeces- 





HONOLULU $ 75 00 $ 25 00 

.TUTUILA 17500 8500 

.AUCKLAND 20000 10000 

.SYDNEY 200 00 100 00 

.MELBOURNE 21250 10625 

Sailings of Through Mail Steamers, 


Jan. 6th, Feb. 3rd, and March 3rd, '93. 


Dec. 21, '92, Jan. 6 and 18, and Feb. 3rd 
and 15th, '93. 

Excursions to the Sandwich .Islands. The splendid sooo-ton Steam- 
of this line, are so well known from the thousands who have made voy- 
ages iu them to and from the Sandwich Islands, that a description is 
almost unnecessary. 

To those who have not yet had this pleasure, we would simply say that 
there are no finer specimens of marine architecture afloat. They have the 
latest and best improvements. The staterooms are fitted up with every 

u expresses it, " like drifting toward Paradise on an even keel.' 

The climate of the Sandwich Islands is said to be the pleasantest iu the world never hot and never cold from 
65 deg. to go deg. all the year round, with refreshing showers which keep the landscape perpetually green. 

Excursion Tickets to Honolulu and Return, good for three months, 95125, 

A trip from San Francisco to Honolulu and the volcano can be made in three weeks, and no more interesting 
and enjoyable trip is to be found in the world. JJ^-PROMPT ATTENTION PAID TO TELEGRAPHIC 

Jg^*For Tickets or farther Information, cull on or address 

Send 10 cents stamps for new pamphlet of <J. D. SF'REGFCIBL-S St. BROS. CO. 
photogravures, " Paradise of the Pacific." 327 Marhet Street, General Agents. 

CALIFORNIA Summer or Winter. 

The Attention of Tourists and Health-Seekers is called to 



America's Famous SUMMEE and WINTER Eosorti 


RATES FOR BOARD : By the day, $3.00 and up- 
ward. Parlors, from $1.00 to $2.50 per day, extra. Chil- 
dren, in children's dining-room, $2.00 per day. 

PARTICULAR ATTENTION is called to the 
moderate charges for accommodations at this magnificent 
establishment. The extra cost of a trip to California 
is more than counterbalanced by the difference in rates 
at the various Southern Winter Resorts and the incom- 



By Express Trains of the Southern Pacific Co. 

Intending Visitors to California and the Hotel del 
Monte have the choice of the " Sunset," " Central" 
or" Shasta" Routes. These three routes, the three 
main arms of the great railway system of the South- 
ern Pacific Company, carry the traveler through the 
best sections 01 California, and any one of them will 
reveal wonders of climate, products and scenery that 
no other part of the world can duplicate. For illus- 
trated descriptive pamphlet of the hotel, and for in- 
formation as to routes of travel, rates for through 
tickets, etc., call upon or address E. HAWLEY, 
Assistant General Traffic Manager, Southern Pacific 
Company, 343 Broadway, New York. 
For further information, address 

GEORGE CCHONEWALD, Manager Hotel del Monte, 
Monterey, California. 

QATT forHeadaches, Nervousness, Exhausted Vitality, Sleepless- 

OAL1 n ess,Etc. BOERICKE&RUNYON.S.F. 5 oc. per bottle. 

When you write, please mention "The Overland Monthly." 













Pacific Mutual Life Building, 




Adventure in the Huachucas, An Clara Spaldiny Brown 524 

American Private Soldier, The Alvin H. Sydenham 590 

Illustrated from Drawings from Oil Studies by Alice McCrea. 
Among the Diggers of Thirty Years Ago Helen M. Carpenter 146, 389 

Illustrated from Drawings and Paintings by Grace Hudson, and from Photos by Carpenter. 
Architecture in San Francisco Ernest C. Peixotto 449 

Illustrated from Photos and from Sketches by the Writer. 
Asyma. From the Modern Greek Alb in Putzker 181 

Basket Makers, The Porno J. W. Hudson 561 

Illustrated from Drawings and Washes by Grace Hudson, and from Photos by Carpenter. 
Book Reviews : 

America: Its Geographical History, 336. Artist in Crime. An, 660. Atlina, (M. B. M. Tolaud,) 
112. Autobiographia, (Walt Whitman,) 224, Autumn, (Thoreau,) 446. 

Chief Factor, The, 660. Chosen Valley, The, (Mary Hallock Foote,) 659. Comenius, (Will S. 
Monroe,) 224. Coming Religion, The, (Thomas Van Ness,) 447. Cosmopolis, (561. 

Devil s Gold, The, 661. Donald Marcy, (Elizabeth Stuart Phelps,) 660. 

Essays in Miniature, (Agnes Repplier,) 448. 

First Steps in Philosophy, (Salter,) 336. 

Gold Dust, 661. 

Harte's (Bret) Susy ; Sally Dows, 660. 

Jack and Jill, (W. E. Brown.) 112. 

Lost Heiress, The, (Mrs. Southworth,) 662. Lowell's English Dramatists, 224. 

Maiden of Mars, A, 662. Marplot, The, 658. Masked Venus, The, (R. H. Savage,) 659. Mere 
Cypher A, 658. Mineral Springs and Health Resorts of California, 335. Mr. Billy Downs and 
His Likes, 661. 

Old English Dramatists The, (James Russell Lowell,) 224. 

Perplexed Philosopher, The, (Henry George ) 335. 

Real and Ideal in Literature, The, 448. Real Thing, The, and Other Tales, (Henry .lames,) 660. 
Royce's The Spirit of Modern Philosophy, 445. 

Sally Dows, (Bret Harte,) 660 Scattered Leaves, 112. Schoolmaster in Literature, The. (Edward 
Eggleston,) 334. Silver, Its True Place in Circulation, 336. Sleeping Princess, The. Calif ornU, 
(Alice Edwards Pratt,) 111. Son of Man, The. 224. Spanish Treasure, The, 662. Spirit of Mod- 
ern Philosophy, The, (Josiah Koyce.) 445. Story of John Trevenuick, 659. Story of Mary 
Washington, The, (Marion Harland,) 334. Survival of the Fittest, A, 661. Susy, (Bret Harte,) 

Thoreau's Autumn, 446. 

West and East, H62. Whitman's (Walt) Autobiographia, 224. Witch Hypnotizer, The, 661. 
Brander's Wife, A Christmas Story Flora Haines Longhead 61 

Illustrated from Washes by Peixotto and Walter. 
Byzantine Empress, A Sara Carr Upton 402 

Chispa. The Cruise of the Yacht 617 

Illustrated from Photos by Lowden. 
Christmases and Christmases Phil Weaver, Jr 32 

Illustrated from a Wash by Peixotto, and from Photos by Taber, Phillips, and Duffy. 

Dance of Peace The Anna M. Bugbee. , 488 

Illustrated from Drawing by John S. Bugbee. 

Dead Volcano, A Mabel H. Closson 236 

Illustrated from Photos. 

Diggers of Thirty Years Ago, Among the .Helen M. Carpenter 146, 389 

Illustrated from Drawings and Paintings by Grace Hudson, and from Photos by Carpenter. 

Election Machinery, San Francisco William A. Beatty 27 



The Modern Christmas 108 

The Death of L. L. Baker. The Departing Pioneers. Tammany and the Democracy. The 
Educational Qualification in California. The California Legislature. The Death of Ex- 
President Hayes 222 

The New President of the University of California. The Annexation of Hawaii. Gladstone 

and Home Rule. Signs of Progress in Politics 330 

Hawaiian Annexation. Cleveland and Civil Service Reform. Senator White and Civil 

Service 444 

The Grand Jury and Public Schools. The President and the Postmasters. Chinese Depor- 
tation. The Lowering of the American Flag at Hawaii. The Santa Barbara Flower 

Carnival 554 

The Registers of the Two Universities. The Supreme Court Decision in the Chinese Cases. .662 

American Tyrannies 658 

Correction . Milicent W. Shinn 109 

Experiment, An Clara Dixon Davidson 664 

iv Index- 

First May Day Party in San Francisco, The. . Marion Cumming 559 

How to Protect the Individual Against the 
Newspaper E. 8. Holden 666 

Poetry : 

Plight of a Fair Lady, The Christina McLeod 558 

Two Letters Jessie Norton 11 

Three Voices Geraldine Meyrick 110 

What is Evolution ? 331 

Famous Paintings Owned on the West Coast: 

I. Graefle's Beethoven Among His Intimates ' 

II. Millet's The Man with a Hoe 144 

III. Rosenthal s Constance de Beverley 287 

IV. Leutze's Washington at Monmouth 400 

V. Bouguereau's The Broken Pitcher 502 

VI. Kray's The Lorelei 600 

Fiction, Recent 658 

Football on the Pacific Coast, Inter-Collegiate Phil Weaver, Jr 113 

Illustrated from Drawing by Walter, and from Photos by A. A. Martin, J. W. Hutchinson, M. F. 
Gabbs, Taber, Marceau, aud Elite. 

Footsteps of Pele, The N. E. Fuller 231 

Illustrated from Photos. 

Forgotten Page of History, A , Franklina Gray Bartlett 517 

Forest Trees of the Sierra Nevada, The Charles Palache 337 

Illustrated from Photos by Taber, Fiske, and Jackson. 

Four for a Cent ,. Malheureuse 54 

Frauds on Marine Underwriters Caspar T. Hopkins 602 

Free Coinage of Silver by the United States Gov- 
ernment, The John C. Henderson 305 

Glimpse of a California Olive Ranch, A Berkeley Wallace 278 

Illustrated from Photos by Taber and others. 
Guarany, The. From the Portuguese of Jose 

Martiniano de Alencar James W. Hawes 81, 188, 319, 420, 529, 648 

Hawaii, In the Wilds of Edward Wilson 225 

Illustrated from Photos. 
Hypnotized Ghost, A J. Edmund V. Cooke 464 

Impending Labor Problems Austin Bierbower 217 

Insane Asylum, Life in an Charles W. Coyle 161 

Illustrated from Drawings by Peixotto, and from Photos. 
Inter-Collegiate Football on the Pacific Coast Phil Weaver, Jr 113 

Illustrated from Drawing by Walter, and from Photos by A. A. Martin, J. W. Hutchinson, M, F. 

Gabbs, Taber, Marceau, and Elite. 
In the Wilds of Hawaii Edward Wilson 225 

Illustrated from Photos. 

Jardin de Borda Arthur Howard Noll 176 

Illustrated from Photo by Stewart. 
Jos6 and Te'o Frank Bailey Millard 475 

Illustrated from Photos. 

Kindergarten Christmas, A Nora A. Smith 5 

Illustrated from Sketches and Washes by Helen J. Smith and Bertha E. Smith, and from Photos. 

Labor Problems, Impending - Austin Bierbower 217 

Lady Bauksia, The William M. Tisdale 288 

Illustrated from Wash by Mary Williams Davison. 
Lauth .' Frank Norris 241 

Illustrated from Sketches by the Writer. 
Life in an Insane Asylum Charles W. Coyle 161 

Illustrated from Drawings by Peixotto, and from Photos. 

Limited Marriage, A Florence E. Pratt 79 

Lincoln's Home, In William S. Hutchinson 103 


Mayf airs, The Retta A. Garland 348 

Minister's Testimonial, A Sallie Pate Steen 353 

My Boarder C. B. R 468 


Nocturne and Fantasia Charles E. Brimblecom 156 

Northwest, A Story of the * L. A. M. Bosworth 98 

Old Camp-Fires Rekindled William S. Hutchinson 629 

Olive Ranch, A Glimpse of a California Berkeley Wallace 278 

Illustrated from Photos by Taber and others. 

Paintings Owned on the West Coast, Famous : 

I. Graefle's Beethoven Among his Intimates 2 

II. Millet's The Man with a Hoe. 144 

Index. v 

III. Rosentbal's Constance tie Beverley 287 

IV. Leutze's Washington at Monmouth 400 

V. Bouguereau's Broken Pitcher 504 

VI. Kray 's The Lorelei 600 

Pampas Plumes S. E. A. Higgins 373 

Illustrated from Photos. 
Pele, The Footsteps of N.E. Fuller .231 

Illustrated from Photos. 
Peninsular Centennial, A. II. Vancouver's Visit 

to the Mission of Santa Clara. A Study William H. McDougal 45 

Petrel, The Wreck of the Ninetta Eames 358 

Illustrated from Washes and Drawings by Peixotto, and fronnPhotos by Charles K. Tuttle and 
Susan A. Lewis. 

Phantom of the High Sierra, A M. Floyd.. . 378 

Porno Basket Makers, The J. W. Hudson 561 - 

Illustrated from Drawings and Washes by Grace Hudson, and from Photos by Carpenter. 
Proverbs from the Portuguese John 0. Branner 501 

Queer Case, A Elizabeth S. Bates 613 

Kecent Fiction 658 

San Francisco, Architecture in Ernest C. Peixotto 449 

Illustrated from Photos and from Sketches by the Writer. 

San Francisco Election Machinery William A. Beatty 27 

Scrap of Frontier History, A Charles Harkins 265 

Shearing Time on Santa Kosa Island K 492 

Illustrated from Sketches by A. R. Wheelan. 

Silent Partners C. A. Stearns , 132 

Silk Culture as a California Industry Emma R. Endres 508 

Illustrated from Engravings and Photos. 
Silver Question from the International Standpoint, 

The Henry S. Brooks 69 

Silver, The Free Coinage of by the United States 

Government John C. Henderson 305 

Silver, Some Realism Regarding F. I. Vassault 544 

Soldier, The American Private Alvin H. Sydenham 590 

Illustrated by Drawings from Oil Studies by Alice McCrea. 

Some Realism Regarding Silver F.I. Vassault 544 

Southern Cross, Under the Mabel H. Closson 205 

Story of the Northwest, A L.A.M. Bosworth 98 

Trees of the Sierra Nevada, Forest Charles Palache 337 

Illustrated from Photos by Taber, Fiske, and Jackson. 

Under the Southern Cross Mabel H. Closson 205 

Unromantic Affair, An Quien 19 

Vancouver's Visit to the Mission of Santa Clara. 

A Study. A Peninsular Centennial. II W. H. McDouyal 45 

Volcano, A Dead Mabel H. Closson 236 

Illustrated from Photos. 

Wreck of the Petrel, The Ninetta Eames 358 

Illustrated from Washes and Drawings by Peixotto, and from Photos by Charles K. Tuttle and 

Susan A. Lewis. 
Year 1899, The William Ward Crane 579 


April Martha T. Tyler 372 

At Midnight Jesse D. Walker 628 

Christmas Fve Ella Higginson I 

Illustrated from Sketch by Peixotto. 

Codrus Lewis Worthington Smith 186 

Columbus John Vance Cheney 550 

Compensation John Murray 419 

Fancies Martha T. Tyler 277 

Haunted Swamp, The Herbert Bashford 352 

Her Poppies Sylvia Lawson Covey 491 

Hide. My Sweet Susie M. Best 507 

Illustrated from Sketch by Helen J. Smith. 

Hopes and Fears Jesse D. Walker 356 

If She Should Die Herbert Bashford 318 

Immortality M. Hazeltine 543 

In Ross Valley Virna Woods 388 

In the Mount Eleanor Mary Ladd 262 

Illustrated from Photo by Taber, of Painting by T. Moran. 
In Vespero Isabel E. Owens.., 180 

vi Index. 

Is It Worth While to Live ? F. Blanc.hard 438 

June Night, A Olara Dixon Davidson 578 

Merit Elizabeth 8. Bates 179 

Moonlight on El Dorado Hills Virna Woods 2(J3 

My View of San Francisco Bay L. Gertrude 261 

Illustrated from Photo by Fiske. 

Night Frank C. Teck 347 

Night on the Cliff Herbert Boshford 612 

Not Unto Us Alone Julia Boynton Green <>0 


Original Research ' (58 

Pike s Peak James G. Burnett 516 

Progeny Elizabeth S. Bates 285 

Santa Barbara Day in Winter, A Harriet W. Waring 172 

Illustrated from Washes by Peixolto, and from Photos by Taber and Tasheira. 
Seaward Martha T. Tyler 4 

Illustrated from Photo by Tyler. 

Song .' E 44 

Spinning Song M . C. Gillington 59 

Tennyson John Vance' Cheney 18 

To the Berkeley Foothills Bertha T. Bradley 506 

Illustrated. ~ 
Waiting Rain, The Eleanor Mary Ladd 77 


- 5! NGLE- COPY- 25CCMT5- 


\ \DAY 



The Overland Monthly 

VOL. xxi 

No. 121 


KVR. Ella l/i^iiiM>n i 

Illustrated from sketch by Peixotto. 
,vr. I. Beethoven Among His Intimates. 
From a Painting by A. Gnu fie in the posses- 
sion of Baron --on Sihrot-di'r 2 

SEAWARD Martha T. Tyler 4 

Illustrated from Photos by Tyler. 


Illustrated from Sketches and Washes by 
Helen J. S*mitli and Bertha E. Smith, and 
from Photos. 

T KNNYSON. John Vance Cheney 18 


liam A. Beatty 27 


Jr 32 

Illustrated from a Wash by Peixolto and from 

Photos by Taber, Phillips, and Duffy. 
SONG 44 

Vtsit to the Mission of Santa Clara. A study. 

William II . Me Don gal 

FOUR FOR A CENT. Malhenreuse.. . . . 54 

SPINNING SONG. M. C. Gillington 59 

NOT UNTO Us ALONE. Julia Hoynton Green . . 60 


Haiti es Longhead ol 

Illustrated from Washes by Peixotto and Walter. 


THE SILVER QUESTION. Henry .$'. Brooks 69 

THE WAITING RAIN. Eleanor Mary Ladd .... 77 
THE GUARANY. From the Portuguese of Jose 

Martiniano de Alencnr. James W. Htnves....Vl 

Bosworth 98 

IN LINCOLN'S HOME. William S. Hutchinson. .102 

ETC 108 


The Overland Monthly Publishing Company 
San Francisco : 42O Montgomery Street 

The Pacific Coast : San Francisco News Co. 

New York and Chicago : The American News Co. 

[Eutered at San Francisco Post-office as Second-class Matter.] 

Retrospect re Remington KING 

Discloses a steadily rising tide of popularity and 
success. It is absolutely unrivalled for all the es- 
sential qualities of a first-class Writing Machine. 

867. First invention of the Typewriter now known as the 
Remington Standard. A few machines made by 
hand during this and the following years. 

1873. -The repeated experiments of the inventors having 
somewhat improved upon the first crude attempts, 
it was brought to the Remington Factory. 

1874. After more than a year of labor on the part of many 
mechanical experts, the first Remington- made 
machines were put upon the market. 

1880. Five years after, only 1000 machines had been sold. 
The public were slow to realize the value of the 

1882. The number increased to 2,300 machines. 

1885. 5,000 were sold this year. It grew in popular favor. 

1890. Sales had risen to 20,000 machines per annum. 

1892. Valuable improvements added, and sales rapidly 
increasing. Factory output of 100 machines per 
day inadequate to meet the ever increasing de- 



Semi for Illustrated Catalogue. 

3 and 5 Front Street, San Francisco. 

346 N. HAIN STREET, Los Angeles. 
141 FRONT STREET. Portland. Or. 

When you write, please mention "The Overland Monthly." 

Overland Monthly Announcements for 1893. 


HE subscription price 
of the OVERLAND 
was reduced a year 
a g $3- a year. 
We promised that it 
should be 25 per cent 
better, as well as 25 
per cent cheaper. 
If the unanimous verdict of reviewers 
and of the public (as shown by the sales 
and subscription books) is truthful, we 
have kept our word. We promise for 
1893 J ust as much improvement as our 
increasing income and diligent effort can 
make. It is thus to the advantage of 
every subscriber, and the interest of 
every dweller on the West Coast, to 
widen our circulation, for the direct re- 
sult is a better magazine to represent 
this great region. 

Our policy of printing only valuable 

and absolutely honest matter makes a 
discerning critic (the San Francisco 
Bulletin} say that "nobody can here- 
after write the history of California with- 
out frequent reference to these volumes 
of the OVERLAND." 


Announcements for 


O publication in 
America can re- 
main untouched, 
in this year of 
'- 1 893, by the great 
World's Fair at 
readers may con- 
fidently expect 
that any Pacific 
Coast matter 
that ifTnot am- 
ply cared for in 
other ways will 
find place in the 
OVERLAND. But we shall not do over 
again what is sufficiently done else- 
where. It will rather be our plan to 
describe Pacific Coast interests to the 

visitors of the Fair, than to describe 
the Fair to our readers. We shall do 
our part to allure to a longer western 
trip, Europeans and Atlantic Coast peo- 
ple that have come as far as Chicago. 

This is no mere phrase. Reviews of 
the successive numbers of the OVER- 
LAND MONTHLY constantly express the 
desire to see the scenes described, ex- 
cited by the articles. "California litera- 
ture and California life deal with nature, 
life, health, and happiness. How we'd 
like to live there, just from reading 
West Virginia exchange, the Martins- 
bnrg Herald, for example. Those who 
wish to attract to the Coast, north and 
south, more population, and that of the 
class that reads magazines, would be 
in-pressed in glancing over a collection 
of our exchange notices by the recur- 
rence of such phrases, and could not 
fail to think seriously of the importance 
of the magazine to the Pacific commu- 
nities, from a merely business point of 

This recognition of a peculiar fresh- 
ness, vigor, and charm, in the sketches 
and stories of THE OVERLAND, which 
runs so uniformly through all reviews 
of the magazine, is the more notable as 


Announcements for 

a testimony to the attraction of the 
regions and their life in itself, when 
once well and truly told ; for there has 
been permitted no advertising purpose, 
no deliberate alluring of immigration, 
in the articles. Whatever ardor there 
has been in them has been the honest 
enthusiasm of the writer for his subject ; 
and the constant effort of the editors 
has been to get on each topic the most 
honest, careful, and authoritative expo- 
sition of the facts. So much discredit 
has been cast upon all descriptive writ- 
ing from California by the suspicion of 
" boom literature " and veiled advertis 
ing, that the known rule of THE OVER- 
LAND to exclude all such matters from 
its pages has given it its especial value 
to Eastern readers. No word printed 
in THE OVERLAND, outside of the ad- 
vertising pages, is ever paid for, or in 



any way controlled by any outside inter- 
est. That it has been, or is, easy to 
hold to this principle, in a region where 
the maintenance of a literature on its 
own merits must meet difficulties long 
ago outlived in older communities, has 
never been pretended by the managers 
of THE OVERLAND ; but 'it has been 
done, and with ever-growing recognition 
and success. 

In 1893 THE OVERLAND will show 
new strength and improvement along 
the well-known lines. 

i. Illustration. The high grade of 
illustration that the magazine has 
created on the Coast, bringing forward 
its own corps of young artists, capable 
of magazine work, and such workman- 
ship in engraving, processing, and print- 
ing, as was not dreamed of a few years 
ago, has been commented on everywhere, 
and never so warmly as in the past year. 
" The illustrations are particularly good 

Announcements for 

examples of free drawing, full of life 
and expression, and well worked off," 
says the New York Commercial Adver- 
tiser. "The illustrations are fine," says 
the Art Folio. "The very life of the 
track is shown by the illustrations," 
[of Track Athletics in California,] says 
the Philadelphia Ledger. "There are 

ness of sea breezes and the joy of out- 
door life." (Boston Journal of Educa- 
tion, on "The Mosquito Fleet.") "The 
whole paper breathes the free air of 
good, vigorous out-door sport." "A cool 
head may become excited over it." 
(Boston Herald, Philadelphia Ledger, 
on "Track Athletics in California.") 


some unusually fine illustrations in this 
magazine ; they are clear, well-defined, 
and even the text seems better than in 
the majority of the periodical literature 
that comes into our hands." 

Outing and Sports. Our articles that 
fall under this head have attracted es- 
pecial attention, and will be continued 
throughout the next year. We quote a 
few comments: "Full of the fresh- 

Stories and Sketches. The vigorous 
and original character of these has been 
from the first, and will be in future, a 
special trait of THE OVERLAND. No 
comments are more frequent in our ex- 
changes than such as these : " Always 
notable for its vigor and freshness," 
says the Chicago Ledger. 

" Those who make a practice of read- 
ing the Eastern magazines will find a 
refreshing relief in the distinctive char- 

Announcements for 


acter of the matter," says the New York 
Electric Power. 

" Whoever loves good stories and plen- 
ty of them, breezily told, and never too 
long, has only to buy THE OVERLAND, 
and he will have what he wants," adds 
the Church Standard, of Philadelphia. 

" The short stories of the OVERLAND 
are more widely copied at the East than 
any others," notes the San Francisco 

Indian Studies. No magazine in the 
world has had so full and entertaining a 

has several articles of extraordinary in- 
terest. One of these is an account of 
the Indian fight at Wounded Knee, by 
William E. Dougherty, U. S. Army, 
who writes from personal experience. 
The illustrations, from photographs on 
the field at the time, give to Eastern 
readers a realization of the grim and 
horrible results of that fight which they 
can obtain in no other way." (Boston 
Commonwealth. ) 

" The first paper is devoted to the 
interests of the Indians of North Amer- 
ica, describing their condition, habits 

Announcements for '<??. 


and general adoption of civilized modes 
of living. The paper is ably written. 
Some remarkable portraits of Indian 
types illustrate the paper." (Boston 


Pacific Coast Industries. This series 
has been received with marked favor, 
and it is purposed to continue it until 
every important industry of the Coast 
has been described and illustrated. 
The choice of subjects is made to take 
in first those industries where our re- 
gion surpasses similar ones elsewhere, 
or where the conditions of the Coast 
give our industries peculiar features. 
Lumbering, fishing, raisin growing, and 
others, have been treated during the 
year past and equally attractive subjects 
will be found for 1893. 


Perhaps the greatest 
.service of all, in the 
long run, is rendered 
to the Coast by THE 
OVERLAND in express- 
ing and helping its 
higher life, letters, art, education, 
criticism, thought. 

"This valuable magazine of the Pac- 
ific Slope has done valiant service for 
the far West. In addition to the ex- 
cellence of its literary work, it has taken 
a just pride in all that enters into the 
building up in the best things of the 

Announcements for '<??. 

State and the people to whom it min- 
isters. California owes an honest debt 
of gratitude to the OVERLAND MONTH- 
LY. . . . The wonderful changes that 
have been wrought have never been ex- 
celled, if equaled. In all this, such a 
magazine as the OVERLAND has played 
a large part, and it is but simple justice 
to give the credit." Topeka Mail. 

A great part of the value of our arti- 
cles depends on their timeliness ; so that 
some of those our readers will care most 
for cannot be announced now. Some 
special announcements follow, however. 

One of the noteworthy new features 
will be Famous Works of Art iu Cali- 
fornia. THE OVERLAND intends to 
bring before its readers according to 
the best skill of the printer's art, photo- 
graphs of the most famous works of 
art in the Pacific galleries. Mr. W. K. 
Vickery, who has managed several of 

the most successful loan exhibitions, 
has consented to assist in the selection 
of these pictures. 

"VHE January 
number con- 
tains the first 
installment of 
a translation 
from the Por- 
tuguese of the 
Brazilian classic, " The Guarany " by 
Jose Martiniano de Alencar. This will 
introduce to American readers an ex- 
ample of a literature new to most of 
them, both in field and point of view. It 
is a romance of a Portuguese nobleman 
of three centuries ago, and his feudal 



home in the Brazilian forest. It is full 
of the noble red man, of gallants and 
villians, of fair damsels, and of fierce 
beasts, curiously suggestive of our 
own early fiction, Cooper's in especial. 
In other early numbers will be illustrat- 
ed articles on : 
The Spectroscope in Astronomy. 

Prof. W. W. Campbell. 
Football on the West Coast. P. L. 

Weaver, Jr. 
Among the Diggers 30 Years Ago. 

Helen M. Campbell. 
Architecture in San Francisco. E. C. 

Berry Picking in Mendocino. Ninet- 

ta Eames. 

Forest Trees of the Sierra. C. Palacke. 
The Beet Sugar Industry. 
The Napa Insane Asylum. Charles 

W. Coyle. 
Fish Hatcheries. 
The Lick Trust. 
Horse Training. 
And many others. 


Other articles to be expected are : 
An Adventure in the Huachucas. 

Clara Spalding Brown. 
Impending Labor Problems. Austin 


The Footsteps of Pele. Mabel Closson. 
Tales of a Smuggler. 5. 5. Boynton. 

IT is expected that by January first 
the offices of the OVERLAND, both edi- 
torial and business, will be moved to the 
new building of the Pacific Mutual Life 
Company, on the northeast corner of 
Montgomery and Sacramento streets, 
where it will have better facilities for its 
work in many ways. Thence Volume 
XXI will be issued, and it may confi- 
dently be expected to be as notable in 
all its aspects, literary, artistic, social 
and industrial, as any of its predeces- 



HONOLULU $ 75 00 f 25 00 

.TUTUILA 17500 8500 

.AUCKLAND 20000 10000 

.SYDNEY 20000... .10000 

7740 MELBOURNE 212 50. 

106 25 

Sailings of Through Mail Steamers, 


Jan. 6th, Feb. 3rd, and March 3rd, '93. 


Dec. 21, '92, Jan. 6 and 18, and Feb. 3rd 
and 15th, '93. 

Excursions to the Sandwich .Islands. The splendid 3000-1011 Steam - 
of this line, are so well known from the thousands who have made voy- 
ages in them to and from the Sandwich Islands, that a description is 
almost unnecessary. 

To those who have not yet had this pleasure, we would simply say that 
there are no finer specimens of marine architecture afloat. They have the 
latest and best improvements. The staterooms are fitted up with every 

San Francisco Honolulu convenience. The dining saloons, social halls, smoking rooms, etc., in 
' finish and furnishing, are not surpassed by any steamers afloat. To make 

Auckland and Sydney. a trip on one o f these steamers is, as the poet Charles Warren Stoddard 
_ expresses it, " like drifting toward Paradise on an even keel." 

The climate of the Sandwich Islands is said to be the pleasantest in the world never hot and never cold from 
65 deg. to 90 deg. all the year round, with refreshing showers which keep the landscape perpetually green. 

Excursion Tickets to Honolulu and Return, goad for three months, $125, 

A trip from San Francisco to Honolulu and the volcano can be made in three weeks, and no more interesting 
and enjoyable trip is to be found in the world. f^^-PROMPT ATTENTION PAID TO TELEGRAPHIC 

Tickets or farther Information, cnll on or address 

j. o. SF>REOK:EI_S St BROS. oo. 

Send 10 cents stamps for new pamphlet of 
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337 Mai-feet Street, General Auoiit M. 

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BATES FOB BOABD : By the day, $3.00 and up- 
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PABTICULAB ATTENTION is called to the 
moderate charges for accommodations at this magnificent 
establishment. The extra cost of a trip to California 
is more than counterbalanced by the difference in rates 
at the various Southern Winter Resorts and the incom- 


The Attention of Tourists and Health-Seekers is called to 



America's Famous SUMMEB aad WINTER Resort, 


By Express Trains of the Southern Pacific Co. 

Intending Visitors to California and the Hotel del 
Monte have the choice of the " Sunset," " Central" 
or" Shasta" Routes. These three routes, the three 
main arms of the great railway system of the South- 
ern Pacific Company, carry the traveler through the 
best sections olCalifornia, and any one of them will 
reveal wonders of climate, products and scenery that 
no other part of the world can duplicate. For illus- 
trated descriptive pamphlet of the hotel, and for in- 
formation as to routes of travel, rates for through 
tickets, etc., call upon or address E. HAWLEY, 
Assistant General Traffic Manager, Southern Pacific 
Company, 343 Broadivay, New York. 
For further information, address 

GEOKGE CCHONEV7ALD, Manager Hotel del Monte, 
Monterey, California. 


NPRVP *\AI T for Headaches ' Nervousness, Exhausted Vitality, Sleepless- 
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The Pacific Mutual 

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The Pacific Mutual Life Insurance Co. of California, 

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When you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly." 

The Pacific Mutual 

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Assets, $2,600,000.00. Paid Policy=holders and 
Representatives, $6,000,000.00. 

The only Life Insurance Company organized under the Laws of California. 

For Policy-holders, the best organization of all American Companies. 
Most desirable forms of Insurance. 

Prompt payment of Claims. 

Liberal Dividends to Policy-holders. 

PRINCIPAL OFFICE, Company's Building, San Francisco. 
KILGARIF & BEAVER, General Agents Life Department for California. 
F. W. VOOGT & BRO., Pacific Coast General Agents, Accident Department. 



of the latest artistic designs and colorings for Fur- 
niture Coverings, Draperies and Hangings, in BROCA- 
Our Stock of 


comprises many novelties never before shown in this City. 
Draperies of original designs, sketches and estimates 
furnished on application. 

W. & J. Sloane & CO. Carpets. 

641-647 Market Street, Furniture. 

~ ,-v . Upholstery. 

ban rrancisco. 

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New Yost Writing Machine - 

the residuum of all that's good, the correction of all that's bad, in the former productions out of which the 
same^great genius has evolved it. 


It is the only typewriter with direct printing, automatic inking system (discarding ribbon) ; wonderful 
centre guide alignment^ velocity touch ; scientific keyboard ; ease, durability and superb construction. 
Exhaustively tested and widely accepted as the New and Higher Standard. We send free an interesting 
descriptive catalogue on request. % Address, 

L. H. CONDON & CO., General Agents, 
Successors to J. P. MIGHELL & CO., 

413 Montgomery St., S. F. 

' We carry a complete line of typewriter supplies for all machines, consisting of ribbons, carbons, papers, 
and cabinets. Send for our sample book of papers. Second hand typewriters of all kinds for sale and for 
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TJJB B|nftial Life Iq^uraqce (Jonpqij of Jew 

RICHARD A. McCURDY, President- 





















The Mutual I y ife Insurance Company of New York is the only 
one of the many Eastern Life Insurance Companies carrying on 
business in this State that has become the owner of real estate in 
San Francisco, and planted its funds here permanently. 

The plate annexed represents the building now in course of 
construction for the Mutual Life, at the southeast corner of Cali- 
fornia and Sansome Streets, in this city. 

It will be a massive and beautiful structure of granite and 
terra cotta, perfectly fire-proof, resting upon a solidly piled and 
concreted foundation. 

The building will be a grand and solid addition to the advanc- 
ing architecture of San Francisco, and will be first-class in all its 
arrangements and appointments. 

1843 1892 

The Best Company. 

The Best Company is the Com- 
pany that does the Most Good. 





Since its organization in 1843, up to J anuary 

i, 1892, has receiv- 

ed in premiums, 
and has returned to QOQ / I f\ QCfl 

its members - 0/J,4IU,ODU 

nearly 78 per cent, of the whole amount 

of premiums received. It now holds in 

trust for its policy <Mnn finn nnn 

holders upwards of 4> I D U , U U U , U U U 

cash assets, securely invested, to carry 
out faithfully all its contracts. 

The above is a wonderful stewardship, as 

shown by sworn statements made to the 

Insurance Departments of the 

several States. 

This Company's new Distribution Policy 
is the most liberal ever issued by any Life 
Insurance Company. 

Mutual Life Consols. 

~The Consol~Policy~ recently "announced 
by the Mutual Life Insurance Company of 
New York combines more advantages with 
fewer restrictions than any investment in- 
surance contract ever offered. It consoli- 
dates Insurance, Endowment, Investment, 
Annual Income. No other Company offers 
this Policy. Apply to Company's Author- 
ized Agents for details. 


General Agent for Pacific Coast, 


San Francisco, Cal. 

When you write, please metiti >u "The Overland Monthly." 



Awarded a 




i 55 05 


q; uj 

e8 S3 o 

|H a I 


rf-i s S- 
'& S 2 a 

"5 a - 



li" 1 


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12 o. 'S 


-r^fiC )v_ 2 


Invigorating Tonic, 




Pure Catalan Wine. 


When you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly.' 






.Jewelers and Silversmiths. 

Sterling Silverware suitable for Gifts and Wedding Presents. 

The largest and most complete assortment of Leather Goods in the City. 

Tortoise and Amber Shell Hair Pins in the newest and latest designs. 




The German Savings and Loan Society, 

526 California St. 

1892, a dividend has been declared at the rate of five 
and one-tenth (5 i-io) per cent, per annum on term 
deposits, and four and one-fourth (4^) per cent, per 
annum on ordinary deposits, payable on and after 
Tuesday, January 3d, 1893. 

GEORGE TOURNY, Secretary. 


San Francisco Savings Union, 

532 California St., corner Webb. 

Branch, 1700 Market, corner Po!k. 

1892, a dividend has been declared at the rate of five 
and one-tenth (5 i-io) per cent, per annum, on term 
deposits, and four and one-fourth (4^) per cent, per 
annum, on ordinary deposits, free of taxes, payable 
on and after Tuesday, January 3, 1893. 


On or about January i, the 
Editorial and Business, will be 
Removed to the 

Pacific flutual Life Building, 

508 Montgomery St., 

San Francisco. 


When you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly.' 


. WHY? 

ist Because this water is the best that liows 

between earth and sky. 
2d Because NAPA SODA WATER makes a 

delicious LEMONADE. 
3rd Because NAPA SODA is a splendid table 


4th Because NAPA SODA aids digestion. 
5th Because NAPA SODA is the best thing 

When you order NAPA SODA insist on having 

that and no other. 



The Best Cough Syrup. I 
(Tastes Good. Use in time.) 
I Sold by Druggists. 

I have 
|been cured 
entirely of 
consumption by the use of 
Piso's Cure. The doctor 
said I could not live till 
FalK That was one year 
ago. Now I am well and 
hearty, and able to do a 
hard day's work Mrs. 
Laura E. Patterson, New- 
ton, Iowa, June 20, 1892. 

When you ask your gro- 
cer for Java, he does not 
offer you Maracaibo and say 
it is "just as good." 

When you ask your drug- 
gist for Scott's Emulsion of 
cod-liver oil, if he is honest, 
he will not try to sell you 
something "just as good." 

Why do you want it ? The 
answer is in a book on CARE- 
FUL LIVING ; we send it free. 

SCOTT & BOWNE. Chemists, 132 South sth Avenue, 
New York. 

Your druggist keeps Scott's Emulsion of cod-liver 
oil all druggists everywhere do. Ji. 


For nearly half a century, Lowell Carpets have 
been acknowledged by all to be 

The word 


the back of Lowell, 

Wilton, and Body 

Brussels at every re- 
peat of the pattern. 
Look Carefully to 
the trade marks, and 
be sure you get the 





INttRAINS are 
wound upon a hollow 
stick, which the Unit- 
ed States Court de- 
cided to be a valid 
trade mark. The stick 
is in two solid pieces, 
with the name of the 


stamped within. 


These goods are invariably full width, and may 
be had in a large variety of designs, which for tech- 
nique and coloring are unequaled, rendering them 
especially appropriate for artistic homes. 



\Vheu you write, please mention " ~i'*>e Overland Monthly. 



Overland Monthly. 

Vol. XXI. (Second Series). January, 1893. No. 121. 

JARS' A p 



- A 


JrtAj oncE' WAS CPLD Ab 


V/ijrt P? 

"fM9\/ ViLJ C?ttE' BALK .Ay 
Buy -J-HOV CAN by NeVE'R BRIIHC^ > p 5V/M t 



yk&A^. ^ 

VOL. XXI. i. (Copyright, 1892, by OVERLAND MONTHLY PUBI.ISHING Co.) All rights reserved. 

Bacon & Company, Printers. \t g \\ 

Famous Pictures Owned on the West Coast. 



NUMBER of Loan Ex- 
hibitions held in San 
Francisco within a few 
years have made it 
evident that there are 
owned on the West 
Coast a good number 
of canvases that may properly be called 
famous. It is the purpose of the OVER- 
LAND to publish during the year a series 
of plates giving examples of these. They 
will cover as many artists as pictures, a 
wide range of subjects, and to the minds 
of critics perhaps as wide a range of 

The picture chosen to begin the se- 
ries is not the most noted picture, nor 
by the most noted artist. It is not in- 
tended to express a judgment of com- 
parative merit by the order in which 
they are presented. It is, nevertheless, 
a picture that has pleased many people 
more than others more famous, and has 
been owned in San Francisco for many 

It was bought by 'Miss O'Meara 
abroad, and after she entered the reli- 
gious life in a convent was stored for 
many years, before being sold to Baron 
von Schroeder, the present owner. 

The painting is now, during the Ba- 
ron's absence, hung in the Directors' 
Room of the First National Bank of 

San Francisco ; not, indeed, accessible 
to the general public, but to be seen by 
the courtesy of the Bank officials on 
special request. 

The canvas is not a large one, perhaps 
three and a half by five feet. It is 
painted in the careful German style, 
with nothing of the impressionist school 
about it. The coloring also is very dif- 
ferent from the light pinks and blues, 
and purple shadows of modern art, es- 
pecially of the French school. It is not 
somber in tone, however ; the cushions 
are rather a bright red, and the curtains 
a light apple-green. But there is plenty 
of deep, rich tone about it, and strongly 
marked shadows. 

The grouping and expressions are 
well shown by the reproduction, though, 
of course, any mechanical process fails 
of giving quite the touch of the artist's 

The " Friends " are, beginning at the 
left : the poet Reiner ; Schindler, (in the 
window,) famous as a composer, violinist, 
director, and critic, a friend of Beet- 
hoven's up to the last of his life, and his 
biographer; L'Abbe Maximilien Stadler, 
composer, organist, improvisateur, of 
Jesuit education, and afterward a Bene- 
dictine, friend of Haydn and Mozart as 
well as of Beethoven ; last, Von Swin- 
ton, Beethoven's beloved physician. 




A LINE of mist, a line of shore (quoth I), 

Tall masts that like black shadows intervene, 

A rain-bewildered sea, a barren sky, 

And the wild sweep of restless wings between. 

O desolated sea and sunless sky ! 

O bitter winds and mists that intervene ! 
A dream of Life, a dream of Death (quoth I), 

And the wild sweep of restless wings between ! 

Martha T. Tyler. 


A Kindergarten Christmas. 


dampness of last 
night's rain in 
the air with its 
traces on the 
black and bro- 
ken boards of 
the sidewalk 
make this De- 
cember morn- 
ing in Califor- 
nia raw and chil- 
ly out of doors. 
It is hot and 
close in the bed- 
room, however, 
with its two 
beds placed 
foot to foot, and 
Neely did not 
sleep well last 
night. He was 

in the street until ten o'clock, for his 
mother was having a slight difficulty 
with the "lady" next door, which de- 
manded much of her personal atten- 
tion and liberal supplies of beer from 
the " White Elephant " around the 

The smoke of the conflict and the 
foam of the beer completely obscured 
his existence from her mind during the 
early evening hours, and he only suc- 
ceeded in recalling himself to her recol- 
ection by prolonged whimpering and 
hanging to her skirts. He was then 
promptly whacked, so as to give him 
something to cry for, and put to bed ; 
but as it was bed for which he was 
whimpering he didn't so much mind 
the exercise which preceded it. He 
cuddled himself into the few inches 
of space next the wall, and dropped 
off into an uneasy sleep, which was 
broken before long by his three broth- 

ers, as they came heavily up the stairs 
and clumsily tumbled into bed. 

He was used to four in a bed, but the 
room was not always so smoky, the boys 
so noisy, nor his mother's voice so loud 
and angry when she scolded them. He 
grew a little nervous and thought of 
crying again, but concluded, on reflec- 
tion, that it would scarcely be wise in 
the present state of the family temper, 
so flattened himself against the wall 
and tried to sleep a second time. 

But the dreams which visit him are 
weird and fantastic as none but a child's 
dreams can be, and when he wakes it is 
distinctly not from "the azure." He 
tumbles out of bed with frowzled hair 
and heavy eyes, and pulls on the dress 
and shoes which were all that had been 
discarded the night before. If it had 
been Saturday or Sunday he would have 
said he was sick, and declined to raise 
his head from the ragged pillow , but 
who would stay in bed, sick or well, on 
a Kindergarten day ? 

He does not care much for his break- 
fast of bread and tea, it possesses 
none of that novelty which commends 
itself to an invalid's appetite ; for sup- 
per had been cold cabbage, tea, and 
bread, and dinner, bread and tea and 
hot cabbage. But his mother washes 
his face, and gives a perfunctory brush 
to his sandy curls, and suggests "hump- 
in' himself along to the Kindergarten 
quick, or - he '11 be late." This advice 
would be only too gladly acted upon, 
but where, oh crowning misery of a 
forlorn evening, a restless night, and a 
wretched breakfast, where have they 
hidden his hat ? Mrs. Doolan is inter- 
ested and aids in the search, which soon 
reduces Neely to such sobs and tears 
that she says not unkindly, " O git 


A Kindergarten Christinas. 


along with yer, without yer hat, Miss 
Mary won't mind, an' like 's not she '11 
give yer a new one. Git now, or you '11 
be late, sure." 

Mrs. Doolan approves of the Kinder- 
garten most heartily, not only in that it 
relieves her of much of the care of her 
youngest, and therefore gives more time 
to devote to the " lady " next door, but 
because, loud and quarrelsome, dirty 

Last Christmas his book of work was 
sent to his grandmother, with a letter 
proclaiming that he did it "all himself," 
and by the peat fire in the "old coun- 
try" its pages are turned with admiring 
fingers, and shown to Father O'Shaugh- 
nessy whenever he calls. , 

Mrs. Doolan has other reasons for 
approving of the Kindergarten : not 
only does it make Neely good and happy, 


and careless, though she be, she yet has 
a mother's heart, and the happiness and 
improvement of her little Neely are 
not indifferent to her. She sees how 
much more pleasing he is than were 
the other boys, and delights in his ac- 
complishments ; she has him sing his 
songs and make his bow to all her vis- 
itors, and bits of his handiwork are 
pinned to the wall here and there about 
the kitchen. 

but Miss Mary was so kind, " Rest her 
sowl," when "the old man" died last 
year, and in those struggling months 
afterward, before the boys "got work." 
Nobody knows exactly how Mrs. Doolan 
lived, through those bitter days,but Miss 
Mary and her friends, "The Helpers," 
could probably tell you, if you asked 

But here is Neely, trotting along 
the damp streets and over the muddy 


A Kindergarten Christmas. 

crossings, coatless and hatless, with his 
green plaid dress and brass buttons, his 
red stockings, his worn shoes, one 
pink toe peeping out from the holes 
thereof, and his little hands blue with 

The Kindergarten yard is empty save 
for a few brown sparrows ; the hall is 
empty too, the lunch baskets placed in 
rows in the closet, the hats hung on the 
hooks. He is late, without a doubt, and 
he softly opens the door and slides in, 
standing quietly there for a moment, 
for he must not make a noise while the 
morning prayer is being sung. Now it 
is over, and the children cover their eyes 
with their hands, while they "think 
about being good." Then Miss Mary 
beckons, and Neely tiptoes to her side 
to explain the hat-tragedy, and receive 
full sympathy. 

When he steps to his place in the 
ring, the songs of welcome and greeting 

begin. The children shake hands with 
each other, and throw kisses to the 
teachers, the flowers in the windows and 
the pictures on the walls. A smiling 
little girl takes from the piano a tam- 
bourine, a triangle, clappers, and a string 
of bells, and distr butes them to eager 
hands ; the accompanist strikes up a 
gay tune, and a morning dance begins. 
Notice that Neely selects a three-year- 
old baby as his partner; not that baby's 
step is at all correct or that he has the 
faintest idea of tripping to melody, but 
because the older children are always 
expected to help the little ones, and in- 
deed love to do so. 

Each child bows to his partner and 
returns to his place, and now all sit down 
for a morning talk. This is the first 
Monday in December, and the month's 
programme is to be outlined this morn- 
ing, so after a little talk on holidays, 
Miss Mary asks what beautiful day that 


A Kindergarten Christinas. 


H J.S. 


all children love comes in December, 
and when the older ones have excitedly 
answered, she skillfully questions as to 
what makes it so delightful. Visions 
of Christmas trees, Christmas stock- 
ings, Christmas presents, evergreen, 
and holly-berries, rise before the chil- 
dren's eyes, and there is a great deal of 
animated conversation on the subject, 
guided so gently by Miss Mary that 
there is no confusion, and yet each little 
one has an opportunity to express his 
opinions. Some of the children have 
been in the country and seen the Christ- 
mas trees growing, and can tell of their 
sharp, needle-like leaves, their brown 
cones, and straight, tall trunks. Almost 
all have seen pine trees in the Park, and 
know that they are always green, and 
exude a fresh resinous odor. 

Then Miss Mary gives a bit of per- 
sonal experience beginning with " When 
I was a little girl," at which fascinating 
phrase there is instant silence and quick 

return of all the wandering eyes. Miss 
Mary is something of a word-painter in 
her simple way, and she knows and loves 
the forests ; so she holds the children 
spell-bound as she tells of the tall, dark 
pine-trees, of the wonderful song that 
the wind makes as it sweeps through 
their branches, of the shining brown 
carpet of fallen needles that covers the 
ground, and of the cones that she used 
to gather and carry home in baskets for 
the winter fires. 

The picture which rises before the 
children's minds is almost as refreshing 
as the reality, and Neely dimly won- 
ders why his mother does n't live there, 
and contrasts it half-consciously with 
the noisy, confusing streets through 
which he passed this morning. 

Now thekindergartners sing a march- 
ing song, "Oh, what mirth and glee 
brings the Christmas tree," and the 
children go to their seats. Neely's class 
passes into another room with Miss 

A Kindergarten Christinas. 


Mary, where all is prepared for a delight- 
ful exercise. Boxes of earth, flower- 
pots, and jugs of water, are standing on 
the tables, and among them lie several 
little fir-trees waiting to be planted. 
" Oh, the baby Christmas trees," the 
children cry, and gather around Miss 
Mary to look at them. 

Each is allowed to examine a little fir, 
and attention is drawn to its fine root- 
lets, its green needles, and its straight 
stem. Then Neely is chosen to hold 
one, while the other children plant it ; 
and he proudly keeps the tiny thing 
erect, while they bring spoonsful of 
earth, and carefully cover the roots and 
fill the pot. Other children give it a 
drink of cool water, and then they place 
it in the shade for a little, until it grows 
wonted to its new home. 

Now comes play-time, and the game 
of the "Trees," is called for. A num- 
ber of tall, straight children are selected 
for a forest in the center of the circle, 
and they choose what they shall be, 

whether pines, firs, spruce, cedars, or 
hemlock. A few cones are given them 
to hold, and when the north wind, per- 
sonated by a chubby-cheeked boy, has 
blown a long and furious blast, the cones 


fall to the ground, and are picked up by 
a band of laughing children, who are 
wandering in the woods. Following 
the words of the song, 

Soon the best will chosen be 

For the children's Christmas tree, 

the tallest and straightest child is 
selected for the sacrifice, and is cut down 
by the wood choppers who now appear 
upon the scene. The small tree lends 
himself to the idea with great enthu- 
siasm, falls rigidly to the ground, and is 
hauled away by four sturdy horses. 

Play-time over, work begins again, 
though scarcely can one be called work 
when conducted in so playful a manner, 
nor the other play when so much is 
learned through its influence. 

The children in Neely's class have fir 
twigs on their tables, which they care- 
fully sketch and color with crayons. 
The babies meanwhile have gathered 
around the sand-box, and with much 
enthusiasm have laid out the country 
therein into hills and dales, and planted 
large and flourishing pine 'forests, 
through which strange animals from a 
Noah's ark are seen to wander. Another 
class has gone out under the charge of 
an assistant to plant a "baby tree," for 
each division is to have its own tree and 
tend it until Christmas comes. 

Neely has been happy all the bright 
morning, happy in the tree planting 


A Kindergarten Christmas. 



which has brought him so close to Na- 
ture's heart, in the games, in the draw- 
ing which followed ; happy too in the 
gayety of the babies who shout with 
glee and clap their fat hands as the ark 
is brought out, and the nondescript ani- 
mals stationed in the forest. The first 
division exchange glances of affection- 
ate amusement over this proceeding, 
and indulge in a few soft-voiced remin- 
iscences, as "I remember when I was in 
the Baby Class," or "Does you remem- 
ber, Miss Mary, when we was babies ?" 

Miss Mary remembers, bless her ten- 
der heart, just when each one of them 
came to the Kindergarten, and how they 
behaved on that eventful day, and while 
she relates a few of these anecdotes the 
children laugh and look back upon their 
past selves with an infinite sense of 
present attainment and superiority. 

Neely's head has ached all the morn- 
ing, though the Kindergarten atmos- 
phere has been so serene and joyous 
that he has almost forgotten the pain ; 
yet as he runs home after school, splash- 
ing through the puddles, dodging under 
the heads of the horses, slipping by the 
cars with a breathless rush, he is con- 
scious of being cold and uncomfortable 

and of a wish to cry again. 
But he heroically desists, 
and remembers that the 
dark is not so long after all, 
and that tomorrow is an- 
other Kindergarten day. 
He dreams at night that 
he is a squirrel in a pine 
tree, that the sun is fiery 
hot, and he can find no pro- 
tection from its burning 
rays. He fiercely tugs and 
pulls at his furry coat, en- 
deavoring to loosen it and 
cool himself ; but is wa- 
kened by sundry digs and 
punches from his brothers, 
who admonish him to "lay 
still now and keep quiet." 

Mrs. Doolan has more 
than half a mind to keep him at home 
the next morning, but he begs so pite 
ously to beset free that she relents, the 
more easily perhaps that there is a wash- 
ing to do, which has been lying about 
on chairs and floor several days. 

His heavy eyes and hot hands are 
anxiously noted by several of the teach- 
ers this morning, but he seems so bright 
and active that they conclude it to be 
a mere passing ndisposition. After 
the songs and morning exercises are 
over, the children have another Nature- 
lesson, this time on the cones with 
which Miss Mary has heaped a great 
Indian basket. There are the foot-long 
cones of the sugar pine, the round close- 
ly lapped cones of the fir, the tiny ones 
of the sequoia, disproportionate as the 
tail of an elephant ; and the children 
handle them all and note their shape, 
their color, and their hard, brittle scales. 
Miss Mary tells them that the cones are 
the house of the seed-children, that 
each one has a little roof under which he 
lives, and she shows them the delicate 
wings of the seeds, and describes how 
when the wind comes he carries them 
away and about the world, where they 
find pleasant places to live and grow in. 



A Kindergarten Christmas. 


Now it is time for the games, and 
the kindergartners sing a new song, to 
which the children eagerly listen. 

O fir-tree tall, O fir-tree tall, 

How fresh are thy green needles ; 

In summer days how green they show, 

But brighter still 'mid winter's snow, 

O fir-tree tall, O fir-tree tall, 

How fresh are thy green needles. 

O fir-tree tall, O fir-tree tall, 
Thou art so dear a treasure ; 
How oft for us at Christmastide 
Does joy among thy branches hide, 
O fir-tree tall, O fir-tree tall, 
Thou art so dear a treasure. 1 

The words are so simple, the tune so 
sweet, that the children easily learn 
them, and after a few repetitions can 
sing the song quite creditably. This is 
" Story Day," and when Miss Mary 
says, " Shall I tell you a story ? " there 
is quick settling into places and many 
a sigh of satisfaction. Miss Mary looks 
over her flock with eagle eye, and re-ar- 
ranges a few infants in a more satisfac- 
tory manner. She suggests that Jimmy 
Bigby shall sit by Miss Grace, that friv- 
olous baby Rudolph be escorted to a 
place between two of the First Division 
children ; that Olga Strelinski be re- 
moved from the too fascinating com- 
pany of Hazel Kirke Rudolphsen, and 
that Abie Isaacs be separated from 
Patsy Finnigan, with whom he always 

This done, she takes her seat, Neely 
grasps a soft fold of her dress, and lays 
his flushed cheek against her cool white 
apron, and the story begins : 

" Far away, in the depths of a great 
green rustling wood, there lived a fir- 
tree," says Miss Mary slowly : and 
every child leans forward a little to drink 
in the wonderful tale as it flows from her 
lips. It is an audience to gladden the 
heart of any story-teller, all sympathy, 
all interest, heartfelt and unfeigned. 
Hans Rothenhausler, who is only six 
months from the Fatherland, does not 

l Translated from ihe German by M. L. S. 

comprehend the finer touches, but he 
gets the general idea, a kind of soul- 
comprehension aided by the gestures 
and by the "brooding" of Miss Mary's 
voice on certain words. Even Jimmy 
Bigby, whose hand is continually raised 
against every child who crosses his path, 
is comparatively calm, and with the aid 
of an occasional warning touch from 
Miss Grace, manages to enjoy the exer- 
cise himself, and only to ruin the happi- 
ness of one other child in the immedi- 
ate vicinity. 

The story over, " Oh sing it again," 
the children cry ; but it is too late for 
that now, and we must go to our seats 
for a work-period. 

The children of the First Division 
are provided with smooth boards and 
lumps of clay, and they begin to model 
the cones which are placed on their 
tables. Sleeves are rolled as high as 
may be, disclosing a distinct line of de- 
marcation between white arm and dingy 
little paw, and there is a good deal of 
preliminary patting and rolling, until 
they settle down to quiet work, and close 
examination of the model before them. 

The babies meanwhile are having an 
ideal play with the fir and pine cones- 
First the large ones are mother cows, 
the small ones, calves standing by their 
sides ; next they are a brood of chickens ; 
now they are a herd of cattle driven to 
summer pasture ; again they become a 
band of wild horses and gallop over the 
plain. One is caught and tamed, a bit 
is put in his mouth, and he is set to draw 
a wagon brought from the box of play- 
things. The casual observer might 
think this all aimless play, but the kin- 
dergartner is there to guide it, to make 
a wise suggestion now and then, to 
restrain the selfish and grasping child 
and encourage the timid one ; while the 
free handling of the cones and occa- 
sional questions and answers impress 
upon the memory some useful facts. 

In the meantime the modeling has 
been brought to a successful close, and 


A Kindergarten Christinas. 

Neely holds up his clay cone 
to show a neighbor, the pride 
of achievement glowing in his 
eyes. But Jimmy Bigby, that 
prince of mischief-makers, 
reaches out his impish hand 
and strikes up Neely's elbow. 
The cone falls to the floor, a 
shapeless mass of mud, and 
Neely for the worm will 
turn gives Jimmy a hasty 
cuff and bursts into despairing 
tears. Miss Mary, who has 
seen the incident from a dis- 
tance, flies to the rescue. Jim- 
my is frightened and penitent 
in an instant, but regrets will 
not mend the cone. He offers 
his own in exchange, but the 
offer is refused and he is exiled 
from the little community to 
think the matter over in soli- 
tude. But Neely is not at all 
like himself, he does n't want 
to make a new cone, he cannot 
stop crying, and more than all 
he does not forgive Jimmy. 
His head is aching intolerably 
now, and it is so evident that he is ail- 
ing that Miss Mary thinks it he should 
be sent home with a note to his mother, 
which the boys can read to her at night, 
and which will warn her of his condi- 

So his face and hands are washed, he 
is given an orange and piloted across the 
street, and Miss Mary wonders a dozen 
times that afternoon if he is going to 
be sick, and if it would not have been 
better for her to have taken him home 

The next day is rainy again and many 
of the children are kept at home for 
want of shoes or coats ; but it is a very 
happy little band that gathers around 
the fire for the morning talk, happier 
still perhaps by contrast with the chill, 
dripping world outside. 

Miss Mary brings out a picture this 
morning, an engraving of Correggio's 


" Holy Night," and the children are 
entranced with the fair child lying on 
the furs, the sweet mother bending over 
him. the wild shepherd standing beside, 
and the angels adoring above. 

Today the Christmas work begins ; 
each child is to make two little gifts 
for his parents, and there is great excite- 
ment and mystery, for the spirit of lov- 
ing and giving is abroad in the air. 
Little thought of self here, little anx- 
iety as to what Santa Claus will bring ; 
each tiny traveler might have just 
arrived from " Altruria," and have 
brought its traditions with him. 

Neely has not come today and Miss 
Mary misses his bright eyes, his sandy 
curls, and his wise sayings. She will 
surely go to see him this afternoon, but 
when the time comes she is too utterly 
weary in flesh and spirit, and is obliged 
to postpone the visit for a day. 


A Kindergarten Christmas. 


Next morning is brighter than ever 
after the rain, and all the children have 
returned, save Neely. The Correggio 
picture is shown again, and finally hung 
where all can see it, and a fine copy of 
Murillo's " Adoration of the Shep- 
herds" is next brought out. The children 
are delighted with this also, and note 
the sweet expression of the Madonna 
and the white sheep standing by, gazing 
with mild-eyecl wonder at the Christ- 
child. Before they go to their seats, 
they hear the story of "Piccola" who 
had no stocking to hang up for Santa 
Claus, but put her wooden shoe in the 
chimney instead; and of the dear swallow 
with the broken wing she found in it 
next morning. 

The children have spoken of Neely's 
absence, and Miss Mary suggests that 
they make something to send to him 
when she calls this afternoon. A large 
pine cone is selected, each of its scales 
filled with wet sand, and tiny flowers 
and leaves which Miss Mary has brought 
are thrust therein. The cone is clipped 
smooth, and now we have a beautiful 
pyramid of flowers for Neely. Armed 
with this offering, and with a little pho- 
tograph of Richter's picture of the 
angel bearing the Christmas tree and 
the Christ-child, she seeks No. 9, in the 
rear, Lower Dutch Street. Mrs. Doolan 
meets her at the door, and tells her that 
Neely has been " awful bad," and that 
she's "giv him all the medicine she 
could stuff down his throat, an'" 
(strange to say)" he 's some better today 
and is callin' for his teacher." 

The kitchen floor is covered with an 
indescribable mixture of articles ran- 
ging from a bone to an old shoe, and Miss 
Mary feels that the only safe course 
would be to traverse it on stilts. The 
table has not been cleared, and the inev- 
itable teapot, bread crusts, and cabbage 
dish, are to be seen on its oil-cloth cover. 
There is a "shuddering" smell in the 
room, one impossible to describe, but 
only too familiar to Miss Mary's long- 

suffering nose. The bedroom is dark, 
redolent of cabbage, its two windows 
tightly closed, and hot to suffocation 
from the raging fire in the kitchen stove. 
In spite of all this, Neely is evidently 
better, and is charmed with the picture 
and the cone of flowers. He holds Miss 
Mary's hand tightly as she talks, and 
says he'll be " back to the Kindergarten 
pretty-soon-after-a-while. " Miss Mary 
covers him carefully, persuades Mrs. 
Doolan to open the windows and air the 
room a little, and gives various sugges- 
tions as to care and diet, which are re- 
ceived as from the lips of an oracle, and 
which are the more likely to be attended 
to, as she purposes asking the young 
ladies of the Fruit and Flower Mission 
to assist in looking after the case. 

Neely's lip quivers as she rises to go, 
but she promises to come soon again, 
and takes her leave ; not, however, be- 
fore Mrs. Doolan has hospitably pressed 
her to have a glass of something, "for 
indade yer look bad, Miss Mary." Miss 
Mary thinks this is probably true, for 
the room and its atmosphere have been 
almost too much for her ; but she tells 
Mrs. Doolan for the hundredth time that 
she never takes anything of the kind, 
and does not believe in it. Mrs. Doolan 
is unconvinced, and says " there 's noth- 
in' like it when you 're feelin' mean," but 
this is no time for a temperance lecture, 
which indeed would be " preaching in 
the desert "here, and the friendly visitor 
hurries away. 

The small sufferer on Lower Dutch 
Street is carefully tended for the next 
few days, and reports of his improve- 
ment are brought to the Kindergarten. 
Finally one morning Mrs. Doolan, red- 
faced and breathless, climbs the steps, 
Neely in her arms, and says she had to 
" fetch him, fer he would n't give her no 
peace ner rest, frettin' fer the Kinder- 
garten." The little fellow has grown 
thin and pale, his eyes are larger than 
ever, but there is a sweet expression of 
contentment in them, as he is placed in 


A Kindergarten Christmas. 


the red rocking-chair. The green plaid 
dress has been washed during his sick- 
ness, and has lost some of its bright 
hues, as well as a few of its brass but- 
tons in the process ; but the red stock- 
ings are still violent enough in color to 
have driven a turkey wild with rage had 
there been one in the vicinity. With 
what delight he is greeted, what kisses 
are thrown him, what smiles beam upon 
him ! He is asked to choose all the 
songs, and finally the children are al- 
lowed to give three cheers for his recov- 
ery, which they do with such a friendly 
energy that the canary flutters wildly in 
his cage, and the windows rattle in their 
frames. He is shown the Christmas 
pictures, to which have now been added 

Carl Muller's " Nativity " and Graes' 
" Holy Night " ; the baby trees are 
brought him, that he may* see how fresh 
and green they are, and finally he is car- 
ried to his place in a " chair," which two 
gallant comrades improvise. His work 
is waiting ; Miss Mary explains that he 
has plenty of time to make presents for 
his mother and brothers, and his baby 
heart so overflows with happiness that 
he softly begins to sing the song of the 
fir-tree, which he had learned before his 
sickness. The other children hear and 
take up the melody as they work, until 
the room rings with the clear, fresh 

Mrs. Doolan comes for Neely at noon, 
but not before he has heard Miss Mary 



A Kindergarten Christinas. 


repeat " 'T was the Night before Christ- 
mas," and finally Margaret Deland's 
poem of the " First, Best Christmas 
Night," over which he ponders at home 
in his quiet way, as he looks at the pic- 
ture of the angel and the Christ-child. 

He is well enough to come alone next 
morning, and steadily gains each day as 
the shining hours pass, each one filled 
with love and happiness. He is supplied 
with delightful employment, just fitted 
to his age and capabilities, with 
charming stories to feed his im- 
agination, and with well chosen 
pictures to gratify his budding 
artistic taste, so why should he 
not be well and happy ? 

The Kindergarten in these 
December days would be a sure 
cure for the cynic and the pessi- 
mist. Here indeed is the true 
Christmas spirit, everybody joy- 
ful and happy, everybody giving 
and receiving attention and com- 
panionship, everybody working 
for somebody else, and not 
troubling at all about his own 
unimportant self, nobody cross 
or fretful, no body exacting or 
irritable. Think of the value of 
this atmosphere of sunshine, of 
the sweet serenity surrounding 

each child, of the delightful moral 
climate in which he is living and 
growing ! 

The little gifts for the parents 
are all finished now, and most of 
the children, although bursting 
with importance, have managed to 
say nothing of them at home, save 
for a few dark hints which they con- 
sider too mysterious to be under- 
stood. They have helped to dress 
the room with gay paper chains, 
with evergreen branches and 
Christmas berries; for their fathers 
and mothers, and the teachers' fath- 
ers and mothers are coming to the 
Christmas party. They have made, 
too, most of the decorations for the 
Christmas tree, have strung pop-corn 
and cranberries, gilded cones to hang 
among the branches, and folded squares 
of gilt paper in such a way that they can 
be filled with air and converted into fas- 
cinating balls. 

As the busy fingers have toiled away, 
the kindergartners have recounted some 
of the sweet Christmas customs of other 
countries, have told what the German, 
the Russian, the Scandinavian, the 



A Kindergarten Christmas. 


Spanish, the Mexican children do on 
Christmas eve and Christmas day, that 
the touch of universal kinship may be 
felt, and it may be seen that this joy is 
for all nations. Nor have the " little 
brothers in feathers and fur " been for- 
gotten. Presents have been brought 
for the canary, lumps of sugar, red 
peppers, a box of sand, and a new perch. 
Paper balls have been made for pussy 
at home, and it was even suggested that 
bones should be saved for the dogs ; but 
as Miss Mary disapproved of the idea, 
it was decided to make tassels for their 

On the day of the Christmas party, 
the children " prevent the morning " in 
their anxiety not to be late, and Neely 
wakens his mother at midnight, assur- 
ing her that it is time to get up. 

Most of the children are very clean, 
some of them well dressed ; Neely has 
on his most violent stockings and a pair 
of new shoes which fill his heart with 
ecstasy ; Jimmy Bigby arrives at the 
eleventh hour, his eyes swollen with 
crying, his jacket encrusted with dirt, 
and announces in one burst of lamenta- 
tion that his father " was-drunk-all-day 
yisterday-an'-he-never-come - home-last- 
night-an' - his-mother's - out-a-lookin'-fer 
him - now - an'- she- can't - come - ter-the- 

He is hastily scrubbed, cuddled, and 
consoled, and his sins of costume cov- 
ered with a clean gingham apron drawn 
from the Kindergarten trunk, which is 
indeed a widow's cruse. 

The mothers, the grandmothers, the 
babies, and a semi-occasional stray 
father, are all gathered in the Kinder- 
garten room, and when the cohorts 
enter, brave with tissue paper caps and 
silken banners, there is a hum of ap- 
plause and interest. 

The children are grave with responsi- 
bility, for they know they are giving 
the party, and their attention is not 
even distracted by the Christmas tree, 
which they have not seen since it was 

Voi . xxi. 2. 

dressed, nor by the tables covered with 
mysterious white cloths which stand at 
its foot. The babies, it is true, are 
somewhat confused by the grandeur of 
the scene, and with fingers in mouths 
stray a little from the line of march ; 
but they are promptly recalled by the 
First Division, who have had this possi- 
bility in mind. 

The programme moves on smoothly. 
The songs of welcome, the carols, the 
family finger-plays, the appropriate 
games, all are rendered well. There 
is no self-consciousness ; indeed, why 
should there be ? The children have 
had visitors many times before, and 
they have two or three " Mothers' Par- 
ties " every term. There is a larger 
audience today, because this is Christ- 
mas ; but their only thought is to please 
the visitors, to sing sweetly, and pro- 
nounce the words well, so that their 
guests may enjoy the occasion. 

The songs over, they distribute the 
presents they have made, and then, 
oh, fascinating moment ! the cloths 
are raised, and they see that they too 
are to be remembered. 

The gifts are simple, but each child 
has fruit and candy, and a plaything ; 
and little they know or care if the toy 
cost a nickel or a dollar. 
They beam with joy, and throw kisses 
and " thank-yous " to the visitors and 
teachers. Each child shouts at the top 
of his voice the merits of his acquisi- 
tion to his opposite neighbor, and there 
is a hubbub of merriment for a few 
moments. But a chord is struck on the 
piano, thechildren rise and sing " Good- 
by," farewell kisses are given, and they 
march out for hats and coats, accompa- 
nied by their mothers, who display 
remarkable ingenuity in hunting for 
the raiment of their offspring in wrong 
directions, and still greater ingenuity in 
losing it as soon as found. All is settled 
at last, however; Neely runs back to 
hug Miss Mary again, and sidles down 
the steps, one foot at a time, bearing 




his wooden wheelbarrow, and the Kin- 
dergarten room is left in silence. 

The bright December days are over ; 
but what have they done for Neely, for 
Olga, and Rudolph, and Hans, for 
Abie, and Hazel, and Ingrid, and Patsy ? 

Have -not these little ones become 
more deft and painstaking, more help- 
ful'and loving, more prompt and obedi- 
ent? Have they not learned some of 
Nature's lessons, and studied in baby- 
fashion her principles of growth and 
germination ? Have they not been 
given a glimpse into the wonderful 

world of art, learning to shape material 
in accordance with the laws of beauty ; 
and more than all this, have they not 
grown into a sweet, wise, unselfish hab- 
it of the mind ? Surely, if "gentleness 
and cheerfulness are the perfect duties, 
and come before all morality," here they 
have been learned and practiced. 

Surely, if ever the Star of Bethlehem 
shone on earth, it has shone here in 
these December days, and its bright 
beams are resting now on every humble 
household which the happy children 

Nora A. Smith. 


SONG'S light into the chamber broke ; 
Mid that high brightness he awoke. 
Glories, not of earth, 
Looked upon his birth ; 
Loving, happy, happy faces, 
Leaning from the upper places. 


There is a way that runs apart 
From ours, into the summer-heart 
Of life. There beauties burn, 
New-hued at every turn ; 
Music falls upon the tongue, 
And the deathless songs are sung. 
The radiant singer, silent now, 
The mother darkness round his brow, 
Entered, at morn, this hallowed way, 
Nor left it, all the long, long day. 

John Vance Cheney. 


An Unromantic Affair. 




Since I have \>een told by my doctor 
that I must go south for the winter, I 
have remembered that you still live in 
San Alguno, that is, I have remem- 
bered it oftener than usual since you 
did not answer my last letter some years 
ago. I had supposed that you were to 
be married, perhaps, and gave my silent 
sympathy to some unknown fellow-man, 
who, it seems, did not need it after all, 
for Jack tells me that he found you more 
charming than ever, and still Miss Dar- 
rell. Now, Jack is sentimental, and I 
never was, you know; yet I do not want 
to go where I will have no one to quar- 
rel with, for I am in a beastly temper 
most of the time. You and I used to 
quarrel very entertainingly in our school 
days, even later ; we might do so yet. 

I warn you that I am a cranky bach- 
elor, thirty-three years old ; we are the 
same age, but you have probably forgot- 
ten that. I have the above temper, and 
a bald spot well begun. I also have sci- 
atica and another kind of rheumatism. 
I hate to be agreeable ; and with few ex- 
ceptions, I detest the society of women. 

These are, I sincerely believe, the 
worst traits of an otherwise angelic 
character. Knowing them, will you still 
use your influence with Mrs. Ellert, to 
induce her to give me a place in her 
household again ? To consider my tem- 
per, and pet me when I deserve scolding? 
You, I can depend upon to scold me 
when I deserve better treatment. 

If you and she say I may come, I will 
start upon receipt of an answer to this. 

Yours sincerely, but with misgivings, 

Rose Darrell pondered over the above 
letter for a few hours before submitting 
it to what she knew would be her aunt's 
instant approval. Then she wrote : 


Dear Sir: Auntie wishes me to say 
she will be glad to see you, and that you 
may have your old place by her side at 
the table, beginning immediately, you 
observe, thedebilitating treatment which 
I consider so bad for the disorders you 
mention. Some of them I consider in- 
curable in your case ; but the effect of 
the climate, and the tonic of my humble 
abilities at contradiction, may do you 
some good. 

I may have the assistance of another 
member of the detested sex, who, with 
a bachelor wiser than you, in that he 
does not tell his age, are the only other 
members of auntie's family, except, of 
course, myself. I am older, if not wiser ; 
at times unreasonable, and yet 


When Baily Bradford read his letter 
he felt the first lightening of his depres- 
sion, caused by a return of the illness 
that would take him away from his busi- 
ness for a whole winter, that must be 
spent in a little, dull place that he re- 
membered only in connection with a 
previous attack that had worn itself 
away under the sunshine of southern 

The only bright memory he kept was 
of Rose Darrell's face and laugh. She 
would tease and contradict him out of 
his doldrums when all else failed. He 
had known her years before when they 
went to school together, and, had either 
been sentimental, their acquaintance 
would have, perhaps, been something 
other than the guarded good comrade- 
ship it was then, and afterwards through 
the letters they exchanged, when she 
had moved from W. to San Alguno in 
Southern California. After a time her 
letters had ceased suddenly : he won- 
dered why for a few weeks, fancied he 


An Unroniantic Affair, 


had found the reason, and then let the 
whole affair sink into that substratum 
of consciousness where most men who 
are busy making money keep affairs of 
that kind, until his doctor had told him 
he must go south again for the winter, 
and, if possible, to live there perma- 
nently, or become a chronic invalid. 

He soon was ready, and when the 
monotony of his long journey really 
began, he thought a great deal of the 
people he was going to, particularly 
Rose : the memory of her sauciness 
seemed to make him feel less uncom- 
fortable. It was a painful journey, and 
at the end a haggard-faced man, stiff 
with pain, Mrs. Ellert saw when she 
opened the door ; a man glad to go to 
bed, and stay there until late the next 
day, when he moved painfully into a 
big chair in the sunny library window. 

Mrs. Ellert left him soon and went 
about her duties. He could hear her 
voice about the house occasionally, and 
another he knew must belong to Rose. 
His book wearied him. The air was 
still ; through a window he could see a 
bit of dusty street between the jessa- 
mine leaves, a bit of street over which 
no one ever traveled, evidently. 

His limbs ached and his head was hot. 
Why didn't Rose come in? He had 
been there nearly twenty-four hours, 
and not a sight of her yet. He felt in- 
jured. Was that her step ? It surely 
was not Mrs. Ellert's steady tread. He 
threw his book violently on the floor, 
and upset his foot-stool. The step 
paused, hesitated, then the portiere 
parted, and Rose came in. 

" O, you are in here. How are you ?" 

"Yes, I am in here, alone and help- 
less. My book fell to the fell out of 
my reach, and my foot-stool went over. 
What are you so busy about, that you 
have not been in to see your patient ?" 

" I did not know you were up yet. 
Are you better ? Auntie said you were 
very tired." 

" I feel weak. I need a tonic and 

some encouragement. You diagnosed 
my case in a very depressing manner in 
your letter. What makes you think I 
am ' incurable ! ? " 

" One of the most serious symptoms 
in your case is your duplicity ; you said 
your \)QQ\afell. How did it fall across 
the room and on the other side of the 
table ? And you kicked that foot-stool 
out of your reach. I know from the 
noise it made." 

He assumed a look of injured meek- 
ness, intended to be pathetic. 

" You should cultivate an expression 
of that kind for steady wear," she con- 
tinued gravely, with mischief in the eyes 
that observed his look of real illness, but 
knowing that it would be out of charac- 
ter to betray any sympathy. 

" How do I look ? " resentfully. 

" Seedy," she answered cheerfully. 
" Let me see what you have been read- 
ing ' A Modern Folly.' What interest 
have you in follies, ancient or modern ? 
After people get as old as you are it is 

" Rose, this chair is uncomfortable ; 
will you wheel that one within reach 
of your humbled and helpless servant ?" 

" In a moment, Mr. Bradford. I want 
to find the War Cry, as more suitable 
reading for. one who can now repent 
while he can do nothing else. Here it 

" I have repented, and am going to 
begin the expiation of my sins of omis- 
sion immediately." 

"Now, is this the chair?" pushing it 
near him. 

" Yes," pulling it up close. " Now you 
might take this cushion from behind me, 
I think." 

She leaned over him to secure it, and 
when she withdrew found the end of the 
long ribbon tied about her waist held 
fast in his fingers. 

" Sit here, will you, while I can hold 
you still long enough to see what you 
look like, since you have taken to calling 
me Mr. Bradford." 


An Unromantic Affair. 


" I thought you said you wanted this 
chair," with dignity. 

" You misunderstood. I simply re- 
marked that this was uncomfortable, 
and suggested that you push the other 
within my reach. I did not mention the 
fact that I wanted you to sit in it until 
it was past your power to deny me that 
simple favor. Sit down," pulling the 
ribbon a little tighter. 

She obeyed, a little round woman with 
clear, merry gray eyes and brown hair, 
not pretty, but womanly and spirited. 

" Very well, then," she said sweetly, 
sinking back against the cushion. "I 
will read the War Cry aloud to you. 
Here on the first page is something 
about deceit." 

He captured the paper and threw it 
under the table, and regarded her in si- 
lence for some time. No detail of her 
dress or curl of her shining hair escaped 

Her eyes began to flash. " Perhaps 
you will tell me the result of this scru- 
tiny ? " 

"No, I am too wise," he said. "Why 
don't you ask about Jack ? " 

She gave a swift look. " How is he ? " 

" He is well, and I believe happy in 
the society of another woman." 

She blushed deep and quickly, answer- 
ing, " I am glad to hear he is well and 
happy, indeed. I wish you were as well, 
and had the same reason for being 
happy !" 

She was getting angry now, and he 
laid his head back and laughed. "Tell 
me," he continued, "why did you refuse 
Jack last summer ? " 

" Did he tell you that ? " She stopped, 
and her blush grew deeper ; she hated 
herself and this man intensely. 

" No, no, he did n't tell me, but he 
moped around, and looked cross. I 
guessed it, and now you have told me." 

" I have told you nothing ! " 

" Your blush is as charming as ever, 
age cannot mar nor custom stale its 
infinite tell-tale-ability." 

" You are disagreeable." 

" I know it, and if I live through this, 
I am going to reform." 

" It will take you some time, I fancy ; 
perhaps you had better begin now." 

" I am going to, just as soon as you 
tell me why you said no to Jack. He is 
a fine fellow, and I always thought you 
were fond of him. He is handsome, 
even more so than I am, and we possess 
many of the family virtues in common." 

" You preposterous creature ! Have 
you no idea of the colossal impudence 
of your remarks ? " 

"Don't misplace your adjectives in 
that hearty way, it interferes with your 
naturally terse and pointed English. I 
know no other woman who misuses her 
native language less than you do while 

" I would be misusing it if I told you 
what you want to know." 

" No, you would not. To impart in- 
formation is the highest function of 
language ; and why any girl should re- 
fuse my brother Jack is a piece of in- 
formation T am bound to have. As for 
my impudence, it is a natural gift, high- 
ly cultivated for just such occasions as 
this, besides, the family honor is con- 

" Family nonsense ! Baily Bradford, 
it is nothing but the individual curiosity 
of an idle mind. The possibility of 
Jack's growing into a family likeness to 
you would be quite a sufficient reason 
for refusing him." 

"Baily Bradford, well, that sounds a 
little better. It really makes me feel 
young again to light that spark in your 

"That accounts for your childishness, 
perhaps. Will you release my ribbon, 
please? you are crumpling it." 

" No. Did you refuse Jack because 
you cared more for some one else ? " 

"I did not." 

"Then you refused him because you 
did not care enough for him ? " 

" I did. But I do not consider that 


An Unroniantic Affair. 


you have any right to question my mo- 
tives for any action, nor is it delicate or 
gentlemanly to introduce this subject. 
When Jack was here last year I realized 
that we had grown apart in tastes. I 
don't think he thought so, but it is true, 
and that was the end of it. He is, as 
you say, probably happy with some other 
woman, as he was numberless times be- 
fore. Why you should have any curi- 
osity on. the subject is quite beyond my 
comprehension. It is unlike you." 

She was really angry and roused. It 
seemed time for him to change the sub- 
ject, but he was not yet satisfied. 

" My reasons are good, and I believe 
them worthy of my ideal of a gentle- 
man, though I have not yet told them. 
Perhaps you and I have grown apart in 
tastes and ideals also. You may have 
forgotten that I am very direct, that 
when I want a thing I want it very 
much, and have no doubts on the sub- 
ject. As for being delicate, can't you 
see how delicate I am. I have rheuma- 
tism, headache, and a heretofore hope- 
less affection of the heart." 

" Indeed ! I supposed that organ was 
petrified long ago." 

" I am glad you thought of it at all, 
much obliged, I am sure. Besides this, 
in secret a ' cankering worm doth gnaw 
the roses of my cheek,' and see " bend- 
ing over until the thinning hair on the 
top of his head was on a level with her 

" Yes, I see, he gnawed that also. 
What a very indiscriminating appetite 
he must have ! " 

The head was turned slowly until the 
eyes met hers. They were black, and 
full of fire. His face wore a look of 
slight embarrassment that was unusual, 
for its normal one was perfect self-un- 

"What is the name of this trouble- 
some insect ?" she asked. 

" It is not an insect, it is a profound 
emotion, and its name is is Unrequited 

In the interest caused by this state- 
ment she forgot that she had been angry, 
and was lost in amazement at his droll 
evidence of confusion. Why, he was 
even blushing. Had any one ever seen 
him blush before ? 

She laughed merrily. " I am so glad. 
What a lot of contradictory maladies 
you have ! " checking them off on her 
fingers. " First, a bad temper. Second, 
a dislike for being agreeable. Third, 
an uncontrolled and unchastened curi- 
osity. Fourth, an unaccountable du- 
plicity, that manifests itself in curious 
ways. Fifth, rheumatism. Sixth, neu- 
ralgia. Seventh, baldness. Eighth, old 
age. Ninth, a fixed and irremediable 
dislike to the society of women. Tenth, 
last and most serious of all, he is in 
love ! Why, you miserable cynic, you 
must be mistaken ; it may be only some 
manifestation of neuralgia." This last 
in a mockingly hopeful tone. 

" I am glad you are interested in my 
case, and hope you will find your inter- 
est deepen as it grows more serious, for 
serious it is, though you mock me now," 
propping his head, with his elbows on 
his knees. 

"Well, it is said to be a relief to the 
mind in such cases to talk of the loved 
object. You might begin by telling me 
how she looks." 

There was total silence for a full min- 

"I will give you as much sympathy 
as is possible from one who is not in 

He fixed upon her a diagonal regard 
by turning his chin a trifle. 

"She is small," he said, "and has an 
air entirely out of keeping with her size 
and real importance, except to me, 
and O bother ! How can I tell how a 
woman looks, anyway ! " 

"That is a very meager descriptiop 
for a lover. If I had a lover, now, and 
he could not describe my appearance 
any better than that, I should not re- 
quite his affection, either." 


An Unromantic Affair. 


"Jack could tell how you looked, and 
yet you refused him." 

" Was Jack in your way, that you are 
so disappointed because I did not marry 
him ? Or are you in search of a clew 
to your own refusal, in the reasons an- 
other woman gives for not accepting a 
member of your distinguished family ? " 

"Jack was in my way until just a lit- 
tle time ago, and the reason I wanted to 
know about Jack was that I wanted to 
know if the same young woman would 
have the same objections to Jack's 
younger brother. This brother not 
being certain that matters were quite 
over between said Jack and said young 
woman, he determined to find out before 
interfering, and having resorted to a 
little of the duplicity of which she so 
confidently asserts that he is possessed, 
he finds out from her own account that 
he can with honor enter the lists that 
he has considered closed for years. He 
has entered them, and will fight like a 
knight of old for his lady fair ; only in 
this late day the manner of it will not 
be so picturesque, his only enemies 
being her prejudices, and cherished 

" What nonsense you are talking. I 
thought you came to Southern Cali- 
fornia to get rid of the rheumatism ? " 

" I did, incidentally, and if I were rid 
of it now I would fall gracefully upon 
my knees, and tell you well, a lot of 
things about my state of mind, which 
you probably would not believe any way. 
As it is, I just present the state of 
affairs for your consideration, and at 
some future time I hope you will listen 
to me with more kindness and less flip- 
pancy than you have today. You are 
well acquainted with my weaknesses. 
I beseech you consider my virtues, 
which are many, but passing small for 
thy great worth, my lady dear." 

Her hands had fallen motionless in 
her lap. The look, half-teasing, half- 
pleading, he bent upon her, met only an 
expression of boundless astonishment. 

He raised her hand, and touched the 
round wrist with his lips. Rose tried 
to speak, but failed, then rose quickly 
and moved out of the room. 

In the quiet of her own she attempted 
to realize that this quizzical, eccentric, 
but kindly practical acquaintance was 
posing as a lover. That he should 
assume that character for any one was 
strange enough, but her's she to 
whom he had so often inveighed against 
the frivolity of her sex, their inconsist- 
encies, and the pettiness of their aims. 
That view of his had always been a fruit- 
ful source of disagreement. 

Though she had liked him well enough 
between quarrels, this was sheer non- 
sense. He had not been thinking of 
her for years. Jack had said he was the 
most hopeless old bachelor in the State. 
She remembered that queer look of 
embarrassed determination, and rubbed 
her wrist as if to remove some spell 
that had been laid upon her. He had 
only asked her to " observe his many 
virtues," as if Auntie was not always 
chanting them ! Well, she would observe 
them at a discreet distance. 

She sat behind the coffee-urn at break- 
fast table the next morning, looking as 
" demure and unapproachable as the top 
of the chimney," she was told in the 
middle of a request for more cream. 

Mrs. Ellert had given him the place 
next the fire, on account of his rheuma- 
tism he had said, when making his re- 
quest for it with a touching look of suf- 
fering that had melted the heart of little 
silver-haired Miss Payne, and she had 
instantly resigned her place next to 
Rose, feeling amply repaid by the cour- 
teous attention the sufferer paid to her 
little needs and still smaller remarks. 

After one short glance of triumph and 
the remark above given, he paid no more 
heed to Rose's existence, but laughed, 
told stories, and complimented Miss 
Payne until the roses bloomed anew in 
her lovely old face. 

Mrs. Ellert said that he must be feel- 


Aft Unromantic Affair. 


ing the influence of the climate, and he 
answered that " taken with the tonic of 
hope, there are none of my disorders 
that will not yield to this climatic influ- 

It seemed true in his case, for in a few 
days the canes were laid aside, their 
owner walking about in the sunshine, or 
swinging in the hammock under the 
shadows of the rose leaves. 

A sparkling wood fire drew them to- 
gether in the evening, when Rose's 
quick answers would follow his teasing 
as brightly as ever, but she had always 
managed that some one else was now in 
hearing when she held any conversation 
with him. He respected her evident 
desire for some time ; but after several 
fruitless efforts to introduce the subject 
gracefully, he took matters into his own 
hands in his characteristic manner. 
Rose came into the room where Miss 
Payne and he were seated, after a paper 
for Mrs. Ellert, she said ; and having 
secured it was about to leave them, but 
Baily rose and closed the door, saying : 
" Now, I would like to know why you 
have not manifested more interest in my 
case lately ? Miss Payne, perhaps you 
did not know that Miss Darrell was to 
look after me a little, but has been ne- 
glecting her duty for some time. The 
climate has relieved my other troubles, 
but I have a trouble of the heart that 
threatens to become serious, so much so, 
in fact, that I have mentioned it to no 
one but her, and but once." And he 
turned a look of such meaning intelli- 
gence upon Miss Payne that she turned 
quite pink with surprise and delighted 
understanding, and saying that she 
hoped to hear of his having found a 
remedy soon, she went to "catch the 
next car." 

Rose felt trapped and indignant, but 
he calmly began, "You have avoided me, 
and I have endured it for a reasonable 
length of time. I hope you have been 
regarding me from the point of view that 
I presented to you in our last interview. 

Don't look so apprehensive, please ; it 
makes me nervous. Haven't I proved 
to you that I can be agreeable to peo- 
ple? In fact, I think I rather like it. 
Now let me be agreeable to you, don't 
whisk away and get Miss Payne every 
time I come in sight. She is an angel, 
but two of them confuse me. No, you 
needn't say anything about the compli- 
ment. Will you agree to treat me just 
as you used to do ? " 

" I will if if you don't talk non- 
sense to me. I am not prepared to ac- 
cept this new attitude of yours, it does 
not seem reasonable 

" O hang the attitude ! I want you 
to accept me. I have reason to object 
to your attitude, so remote and non- 
committal. Don't you think you could 
learn to like me a little better than any- 
one else in the course of time, if you 
began right now ? " 

"No, I remember too well all the things 
you have said about the shallowness of 
women, and what a chattering, tiresome 
lot they are, and how soon you tired of 
them. No, sir, you will never have an 
opportunity of knowing how very tire- 
some I can be." 

" I never said anything about your 
being tiresome, at any rate ; and what- 
ever I did say, your answer was some- 
thing worse, but J have forgiven you. 
Besides, we are shining exceptions to 
the general average of our fellow beings, 
in that we do not misunderstand each 
other's meaning, even in the extravagant 
expressions of our little quarrels. Rose, 
you know I do not despise any woman, 
but I love this one, and my feeling for 
all others is but comparative." 

" I find it difficult to realize. The 
side of your character that has always 
been presented to me has b.een, well, 
half-mocking, and wholly out of keeping 
with the state of mind you now pro- 

" Rose dear, believe me, I am quite in 
earnest, very much so." 

" I am not ' Rose dear,' please." 


An Unromantic Affair. 


"Thorny Rose, then. So you think 
my character lacking in seriousness, and 
my manner not in keeping, in fact, 
not lover-like. You will find out in 
time that both these impressions are 
false. What else is lacking ? I should 
like to know all of my disqualifications 
at once, that I may begin to eliminate 
them. How can I prove to you that I 
am in earnest ? " 

" I do not wish you to do so. I would 
rather not believe it." 


" I should have to take your meaning 
seriously. It would not be entertaining 
to take you seriously, it would be out of 

" Does it not occur to you that your 
remark is unkind ? " 

" I did not intend it so, really. Please 
do not talk of this any more. We shall 
disagree, and misunderstand each oth- 

"After we finish this little talk I will 
promise not to say any more about it 
for a time. But I have bought a place 
here, and closed out my business in W. 
I shall get my home ready for you, and 
wait. You will come, sometime. Tell 
me, is there anything in my past or 
myself that you object to ? " 

His cool certainty annoyed her ; she 
wished passionately that she could think 
of something disagreeable that he would 
be forced to explain ; but after walking 
about the room for a moment, she calmly 
said : 

"How do I know? How can any 
woman know what your self is ? Or 
your past, that will reflect itself in your 
future and mine, if I spend it with you? 
Don't think I fortify myself by picking 
out your faults. I do not. We have 
been apart so many years, and our hab- 
its have crystallized in a different envi- 
ronment. You are masterful, and I I 
am not meek. I have a horror of the 
possibilities of distress that have proved 
themselves in the homes of some I have 
known too well to doubt the good inten- 

tions of both parties, or the love they 
bore each other. Candidly, I am afraid 
of matrimony, of myself, of " 

Her earnestness baffled him fora mo- 
ment, in which he was silent, though 
not discouraged, and hoping that she 
would continue. 

" The sum of married happiness is 
always greater than that of its misery. 
You look on the wrong side of the sub- 
ject. I am not more selfish than the 
most of men, and I should try hard to 
make you happy. For you to be your- 
self would be enough for me." 

"All men say that, I think, and they 
mean it, perhaps, but 

Mrs. Ellert opened the door and asked 
about the paper Rose had come for. 
Baily handed it to her, with the ready 
explanation that he had bought the 
Parmlee cottage at the other end of the 
block, and had detained Rose to tell her 
about it. Yes, the physicians had told 
him that his health would be perfect if 
he would permanently change for the 
South, so he had taken advantage of an 
excellent opportunity to sell out the 
business at home ; he was tired of gro- 
ceries anyway, and would set up a reg- 
ular bachelor's paradise over there, if 
Mrs. Ellert and Rose would give him 
the benefit of their advice about the 
changes he wanted in the house, furni- 
ture, and so on. He had the key in his 
pocket ; would they not go then ? 

Rose excused herself, but for many 
weeks after she heard much about the 
changes going on, and her taste was 
appealed to in a delicate manner, that 
did not appear more anxious for her 
judgment than that of Miss Payne, who 
was puzzled by the manner of both, why 
Rose should be so indifferent or Baily 
so satisfied if things were as she hoped 
they would be. 

With her and Mrs. Ellert he held long 
conferences about paper, carpets, win- 
dow furniture, and so on, making fre- 
quent allusions to the perfections of the 
future Mrs. Bradford, who, he said, ex- 


An Unromantic Affair. 


isted in his mind ; he indulged in exag- 
gerated rhapsodies upon her beauty, and 
the comforting silence of her presence 
in his household. 

At last his home was ready, and he 
was established with a white-robed Chi- 
nese as chambermaid and cook, who, 
when fully acquainted with his duties, 
was left in charge while the master went 
away on a three-weeks' hunt. 

All this time he had said nothing to 
Rose of the subject she had tabooed? 
but something in his manner of security 
and purposeful calm was beginning to 
shake her faith in herself. His occa- 
sional remarks about this and that, that 
" Mrs. Bradford " would finally decide 
when she took charge, were taken as a 
joke by the others, but she knew were 
meant as an indication of a future fact 
in his mind. 

She missed him, his laugh, his joyous 
manner, his freedom of coming in and 
tousling up the papers, and leaving 
them about with the books he never 
put back in their places. She wondered 
how the inside of his house looked. He 
had shipped his books down. Were they 
scattered all over the place, or packed 
neatly away in the low shelves running 
about the library under the wide, short 
windows he had cut in the walls? 

She was sitting under the umbrella 
tree, where she could see those same 
windows one evening ; the sight of them 
suggested her train of thought, perhaps. 

Some one was in the parlor talking to 
Auntie, some one she disliked intensely, 
and had slipped out to avoid seeing. 

The quick falling twilight was almost 
over, and the voice of the sea and the 
salt breath of it were in the cool, deli- 
cious air. The stars were coming out, 
and some one was playing a sad refrain 
over and again on the saxaphone. She 
was getting blue, she wished that she 
saw some one else, or then she saw a 
light in those wide, short windows ; they 
seemed to smile. Baily had returned 
from his hunt. After reflection, she 

could not determine why she should find 
that simple fact so cheerful a thought. 
That she should do so seemed so incon- 
sistent with her intentions toward the 
subject of it, that she even tried to re- 
vive her previous mental state of gentle 
melancholy. While she was thus en- 
gaged, Baily came swinging along by the 
fence, and seeing the gleam of her white 
dress in the seat under the trees, he 
vaulted over, and came to her side. 

"Ah, this is fortunate !" he said. "I 
hope you have been missing me desper- 
ately ? " 

" O yes," she answered, a ring of gen- 
uine feeling in her voice for an instant ; 
" of course : tell me about your trip. 
That gossiping Mrs. Teedle is in the 
parlor with Auntie, and I don't want to 
see her ; she will go in a moment, I think, 
then we will go in." 

He sat down very close, Rose 
thought with a pang of alarm, which was 
justified by his opening remarks. 

" I will tell you about my trip some 
other time. I came home and found 
that house fearfully lonesome, Rose." 

" Why did n't your ' moon-eyed Celes- 
tial as yellow as gold,' and the figurative 
Mrs. Bradford have it cheerful for your 
return ? " 

He made no answer. The electric 
light on the corner suddenly shot out 
into the night, and lit every dew-wet 
leaf with white flame. The shadows, fell 
across his face, but hers was in strong 
relief against the dark beyond. She felt 
that this sudden exposure, and the 
silent, compelling regard of the man be- 
side her, were bringing about some sort 
of a crisis that she must avoid, even if 
at some cost of composure. She rose to 
her feet ; he also did at the same instant, 
and bending slightly took her by the 
arms, and kissed her on the lips. 

The cost to her composure was greater 
than she expected, and she could only 
ejaculate his name, as she struggled to 
free herself. 

" No, I will not let you go until you 


San Francisco Election Machinery. 


promise to become Mrs. Bradford, and 
consent to be cherished as a woman de- 
serves who is worth waiting sixteen 
years for, as I have waited for you." 

" You have not entertained the idea 
more than sixteen weeks at the utmost ! 
You have taken a most unwarranted 
liberty, sir ! Release my arms." 

He did, but put both his own around 
her, and in spite of her indignant efforts 
to remove them held her, while he con- 
tinued : 

" I know I am taking a liberty, for 
which I will apologize humbly, later on. 
I see Mrs. Teedle through the window ; 
she is going to come out on the front 
porch in a moment, and will see us. It will 
be awkward for you to explain this situa- 
tion to her satisfaction, unless you prom- 
ise to marry me ; in that case I will 
agree to explain it myself. We shall be 
happy, I have the place for my thorny 
rose all ready." 

" Baily Bradford, do you suppose you 
can force me to love you in this man- 

" No, for you love me now ; I heard 
it in your voice tonight for the first 

He saw tears on her cheeks, and the 
sight filled him with exultation. If she 

shed tears she was on the point of yield : 

" My dearest, Mrs. Teedle is now in 
the hall ; in another half-minute she will 
be at the door. Say, ' I promise. ' ' 

She glanced over her shoulder, and 
saw her. 

"Baily," in desperation, "I will 
promise anything, if you will let me go." 

He released her instantly, and as she 
fled around the house he walked to the 
front door, and surprised the elder ladies 
by asking them for their congratulations 
upon his engagement to Miss Darrell. 
"Yes," he said, "it is quite recent, 
though it has been under consideration 
for several years." 

Rose did not appear again that even- 
ing, though Baily told Mrs. Ellert all 
about his trip, and a great many other 
things having no connection with that, 
while he waited. 

He at last decided, as he sat on his 
own porch, and watched the moon 
through the wreaths of his cigar smoke, 
that he would take his next cue from 
her bearing when he met her the next 
day. It is supposed that it was the right 
one ; for Rose was seen to walk slowly 
over to the cottage, and go in for the 
first time with him. 



HE November elec- 
tion was the first 
^general election 
held in California 
under the so-called 
Australian ballot 
law of 1891. That 
law was radically 
modified and changed by the decision of 
the Supreme Court, in which its provis- 
ion giving party headings to the several 

political organizations was declared un- 
constitutional. As a result, each indi- 
vidual candidate had his name printed 
on the ballot, with his party affiliation 
added. In spite of the many prophecies 
of failure, the law so amended surpassed 
the most sanguine anticipations of its 
warmest friends. For the first time in 
the history of elections in San Francisco, 
it was impossible at any time during 
election day, or immediately after the 


San Francisco Election Machinery. 


closing of the polls, to tell in what way 
the electors had voted. There was ab- 
solute ignorance of the way in which 
the public had cast its ballots. The great 
end of secrecy of the ballot had prac- 
tically been reached. 

And more than that, there was a dis- 
crimination in the choice of candidates 
that had never appeared before. The 
old ballot put a premium on straight 
tickets ; the new encouraged the citizen 
to vote as he thought best, by rendering 
it easy for him to select the man of his 
choice. In the congressional elections, 
Geary and Caminetti, Democrats, who 
two years ago had been returned to 
Congress by very small majorities, were 
elected this time in strong Republican 
districts by enormous majorities. The 
voters had nothing against their oppo- 
nents ; but both Geary and Caminetti 
had made good records at Washington, 
and they were rewarded by a re-election. 
This would never have happened under 
the old system. In San Francisco the 
Democrats practically carried their en- 
tire ticket. But Ellert, the Non-partisan 
candidate for Mayor, Widber, and one 
or two others had made good and accept- 
able officers during the past term, and 
the voters of San Francisco returned 
them in spite of an adverse vote against 
their respective tickets as wholes. 

There are, however, two provisions 
of the law that militate against the abso- 
lute secrecy of the Australian ballot. 
These are the provision for the voting of 
illiterates, and the provision that allows 
an elector to vote for a person whose 
name is not printed on the ticket. By 
the first, an illiterate, by swearing that 
he was not able to mark his ballot, was 
allowed to select one of the election 
officers who went into the booth with 
him and marked the ticket. Many water 
front voters in San Francisco and many 
foreign-born voters took advantage of 
this provision, and were able to dispose 
of their votes to advantage. The bosses 
had election officers instructed, and 

gained many votes this way. The writer 
saw several men, who were able to sign 
their names at the time they registered, 
take oath that they could not mark the 
ballot, and secure the service of the ma- 
chine election officer. But the election 
officers in some of the precincts of the 
28th, 29th, 44th, and 45th Assembly 
Districts did not even ask electors 
whether they could mark their ballots 
or not. When an Italian or French 
voter who understood and talked but 
little English came to the booth, he 
was seized by a hoodlum inspector, 
pushed up against the wall, thoroughly 
shaken up, and then told that he could 
neither read nor write ; the inspector 
would then shove him into a compart- 
ment, go in after him, and mark his bal- 
lot. The protest of voter, Democratic 
election officer, or outsider, was alike 
entirely disregarded. I saw the police 
wagon telephoned for in one precinct on 
Telegraph Hill, because every voter who 
came along was treated as I described 
above. The presence of a police ser- 
geant stopped the worst of the acts, but 
the sergeant said that he had no right 
to interfere ; that the law made the in- 
spector of elections the judge. It is to 
be hoped that the coming Legislature 
will submit to the voters an amendment 
to the constitution, providing for the 
educational qualification demanded by 
the voters at the last election, and in this 
way allow no man to vote unless he be 
able to mark his own ballot. 

The section of the law allowing a 
voter to write in the name of an elector 
for an office to which said elector had 
not been nominated ought to be elimi 
nated altogether. By it voters were 
bought in several parts of the State, and 
especially in the recent Los Angeles 
local election. The purchasable voter 
agrees, for example, in voting the ticket 
chosen for him, that he, instead of put- 
ting the cross against twelve school 
directors of the party for whom he is 
casting his ballot, will vote for eleven of 


San Francisco Election Machinery, 


them, and for his twelfth name write in 
the name of Thomas Jones, and place 
his mark against it. In counting, as the 
ballots are called off by the election 
officers, the briber can know whether 
the bargain was consummated by listen- 
ing for the name of Thomas Jones 
among the candidates voted for school 
directors. We can see no reason why 
such blank spaces should not be taken 
from the ballot. The experience of all 
parties and all candidates at the last 
election was, that it was easy to secure 
the requisite number of voters to have 
the registrar print the names on the 
ticket. On the San Francisco ballot 
were independent candidates, nomin- 
ated by petition for the Legislature, 
Board of Supervisors, and Mayoralty ; 
also Non-Partisan, People's, and Prohib- 
ition party tickets placed on the ballots 
in the same way. 

But while on the whole the new law 
secures to the voter himself an abso- 
lutely secret ballot, still the actual ma- 
chinery by which that result is obtained 
stands badly in need of reform. With- 
out much question, the recent election 
in San Francisco was one of the most 
corrupt the city has ever had. And 
it is openly asserted among men who 
have been active in the machine politics 
of San Francisco for years, that if the 
Registrar of voters had been of the 
same way of thinking as the Election 
Commissioners, and disposed to second 
their efforts, it would have been useless 
to run a ticket against theirs ; that the 
election would have been decided before 
the votes were cast. And after the 
many disgraceful proceedings, that have 
attended it from nearly the first meet- 
ing of the Board of Election Commis- 
sioners in September up to the holidays, 
it ought to be possible for decent and 
respectable citizens to secure from the 
coming Legislature a complete and rad- 
ical revision of the election laws. The 
Citizens' Defense Association has al- 
ready taken full steps to prepare and 

urge the passage of various reforms in 
these laws, and unless all signs fail there 
will be little trouble in curing much of 
the present defective legislation. The 
Democratic and Non-partisan commit- 
tees have also appointed sub-committees 
to suggest and prepare amendments. 

The elections in the City and County 
of San Francisco are in the hands of a 
board of five commissioners, called the 
Board of Election Commissioners. The 
members are the Mayor, Auditor, Tax 
Collector, Attorney and Counsellor, and 
Surveyor of the City and County. These 
officers are all elective. The commis- 
sion of 1892 was composed of five Re- 
publicans. The result of a partisan 
board is shown in the work of these 
commissioners. During the month of 
October, 1892, their principal work was 
the appointment of probably the worst 
set of election officers that San Francis- 
co ever saw. Many of them had seen 
the inside of our jails and houses of cor- 
rection ; many more would retire there 
if they were punished for the corrupt 
and unlawful work done upon election 
day. One of the worst of the commission- 
ers, while the names were under consid- 
eration, cynically remarked that "an hon- 
est citizen would be in great danger if 
he met some of the proposed officers in 
a lonely neighborhood on a dark night." 

The Board even dared to consider 
the proposition of taking away from the 
Democratic party its right to a head- 
ing upon the official ballot, before the 
Supreme Court decided that no party 
should have a heading. The Board has 
approved of newspaper printing bills for 
a sum greater than ninety thousand dol- 
lars for election printing. This is an 
amount greater than the ordinary ex- 
penses of an election. And more than 
sixty thousand dollars is simply a 
steal from the city treasury. While 
having the Attorney and Counsellor of 
the City and County as a member of the 
Board and their legal adviser, they have 
ordered paid more than eleven thousand 


San Francisco Election Machinery. 


dollars in fees to outside attorneys. So 
flagrant were these two facts that the 
Citizens' Defense Association retained 
lawyers and enjoined the Treasury of 
the City and County from paying the 
money. The Auditor, one of the Com- 
missioners, in making up expenses of 
election allowed the sum of one hundred 
and forty thousand dollars for that pur- 
pose ; the Board of Supervisors cut this 
figure to one hundred and thirty-five 
thousand dollars. The Commissioners 
actually spent more than three hundred 
and ten thousand dollars. The various 
County Clerks throughout the State re- 
port that the actual cost of each vote out- 
side of San Francisco was from a dollar 
and a half to two dollars ; the San Fran- 
cisco Board took from the Treasury more 
than five dollars and a half per vote. 
The figures above are a sufficient com- 
mentary upon the work of a partisan 
board of election commissioners. 

And since the election the Boa rdhas 
been so dilatory in its canvass of the 
returns, that none of the officers chosen 
by the voters to fill the unexpired terms 
as county officers will have a chance to 
take their seats. Work that would take 
five or six ordinary clerks a week to per- 
form has taken the Board nearly two 

It is high time that the law-makers at 
Sacramento sweep out of existence such 
a Board. I can see no remedy except 
in the organization of a non-partisan 
commission, to be composed of, say, four 
members, two from each of the dominant 
political parties, and appointed by the 
governor of the State or the mayor of 
San Francisco. This board should hold 
office for four years, and its members 
should be forbidden to be candidates for 
any elective office during the. term of 
their appointment. In this way the 
board would be non-partisan in form and 
in reality, for as all acts would require 
the approval of at least three members, 
it would be impossible for one party to 
secure an advantage over the other; 

and as the members would not be can- 
didates for office, there would be no rea- 
son for the disgraceful proceedings 
which have characterized the acts of the 
present Board, wh o wished to serve the 
dear public again. 

The other great change that should be 
made by the coming Legislature is in the 
method of counting the votes. Under 
the present system an election officer 
must serve at least three nights and four 
days. It is impossible to secure the serv- 
ices of good men. As a result, men of 
dubious character are appointed. In 
many of the precincts in the last elec- 
tion, the entire board got drunk, and in 
many others the most outrageous frauds 
were committed. In the booth at the cor- 
ner of Bush and Montgomery, the officers 
moved the table over into the corner 
against the wall, and so hedged them- 
selves in that no one could overlook the 
calling off of the ballots. But they be- 
came so careless in their work that more 
than once it was evident that votes were 
stolen. When a protest was made, the 
protestant was politely invited to " Go to 
," and asked, " What are you going to 
do about it ? " Democratic and Republi- 
can officers were all of the same stripe. 
And when at last the police officer in 
charge of the booth had the courage to 
stop the count, and declare that the bal- 
lots must be exposed to outside view, 
the inspector ordered the United States 
Marshal to arrest the policeman, he 
did not quite dare to do that, however. 
In another precinct that I visited, no 
one was allowed inside the rail during 
the count, and the officers so placed 
themselves that nothing could be seen 
of their work. Then an order was pre- 
sented, bearing the signature of the 
Chief of Police, and giving the bearer 
admission; the card was taken away from 
the bearer and he was forcibly removed 
outside. In another precinct, the in- 
spector, half drunk, openly boasted that 
he had received sixty dollars to look 
after the interests of a certain candidate, 


San Francisco Election Machinery. 


and he did. In another, one of the 
Non-Partisan candidates was asked to 
leave ten dollars for the boys, and told 
that if he did so he would lead his ticket 
in that precinct. One of the Democratic 
supervisorial candidates dropped two 
dollars in a "poor-box " south of Market 
Street ; no other candidate treated the 
officers ; the generous man headed the 
Democratic ticket there. I might fill 
several pages in relating doings such as 

The polls closed at five o'clock on the 
eighth of November. The count imme- 
diately began, and was not stopped until 
completed. There are two hundred and 
seventy-five precincts in San Francisco. 
Two, at least, of the parties contending 
in the election endeavored to have the 
count watched. But it was found to be 
practically impossible. It would take a 
far larger amount of money than either 
could command to secure competent 
men to act as watchers. 

It would seem to the outsider that the 
provision of the law that requires the 
election boards to be composed of rep- 
resentatives from two different parties 
would be sufficient to check fraud. But 
in practice it is found that with the 
class of men employed, disagreement in 
their political faith has little to do with 
checking their fraudulent acts on elec- 
tion day, and during the count. I saw 
frauds committed in more than one pre- 
cinct, and was powerless to do more than 
protest. And to judge from the prepa- 
rations that are being made to arrest 
some of the officers, the amount of fraud 
was unexampled. 

Two remedies have been suggested : 

either of them would accomplish the 
result sought for. The one is the em- 
ployment of an automatic register and 
counter. Machines to accomplish such 
work were tried in Massachusetts and 
New York in November, and were found 
to work successfully. The result was 
known within ten minutes after the 
close of the polls. One of these machines 
has been sent for, and is expected to 
arrive in San Francisco in January. Its 
workings will be exhibited to the Legis. 
lature. The daily papers have contained 
full accounts of its trial in New York, 
so that I will not repeat them here. With 
out question, the ballots will finally be 
counted automatically. The other meth- 
od is where the count takes place at the 
City Hall. Let the ballot box be sealed 
at the close of the polls, and taken to the 
City Hall, there to be opened in the 
presence of all parties interested, and the 
votes counted by a corps of competent 
clerks. This is the way things are done 
in New York. The fact that election 
officers had to serve but one day would 
give good citizens no excuse for shirk- 
ing their duty, and would provide a far 
higher class of election officers. The 
count could be closely watched with 
small expense by the several political 
parties. The corps of trained clerks 
could count the ballots, and the result 
would be known as soon as it is under 
the present system. 

If the coming Legislature shall act in 
the amendment of the election law in 
the manner outlined in this paper, I am 
satisfied that the State of California will 
have as nearly an ideal election system 
as any State in the Union. 

William A. Beatty. 


Christmases and Chrisfmases. 



'HERE are 
samples some- 
where about 
the Pacific re 
gions of pretty 
much all the 
in the world. 
The Greek 
mas, eleven 
days later than ours, is celebrated in 
small in San Francisco and elaborately 
in Alaska. In Sitka the Christmas waits 
go about town all the long evening, from 
sunset at three in the afternoon, singing 
Christmas carols and carrying on a pole 
a revolving star to represent the star of 
Bethlehem. Masking parties go out 
making calls on their acquaintances in 
fantastic garb, disguised as Indians, Es- 
quimaux, or animals. They enter the 
houses at will, and gravely seat them- 
selves in dead silence. The people vis- 
ited set forth cake and wine, striving all 
the time to penetrate the disguise or 
make the maskers reveal themselves. 
If this is done a merry shout ensues. 
If not, the callers depart in the same 
solemn silence. The ceremonies in the 
church are very gorgeous ; the whole 
wealth of embroidered and jeweled vest- 
ments are brought out, and candles and 
incense and special chants celebrate the 
great day. 

The Indians feast themselves on 
smoke-dried salmon, venison, and their 
grea.test dainty, strawberries preserved 
in seal oil, and kept in old, square ker- 
osene cans. From Alaska to Puget 
Sound, wherever they have been in 
much contact with the whites, they pick 
up fragments and hints of the festival ; 
and about the missions they take their 

share in the Catholic or Protestant cer- 
emonials, a strange and picturesque 
element to the onlooker. 

The loyal colonists of British Colum- 
bia keep as English a Christmas as pos- 
sible about roaring fires of pine-bark, 
though the ranks of dark fir-trees and 
the dazzlingly white mountains might 
look more homelike to a Norwegian than 
to them : and in Washington and Ore- 
gon Christmas comes in much the same 
guise as in the Atlantic States, with 
snow and cold to the East, floods of 
rain, sleet, and the milder coast temper- 
ature to the West. From the vast snow- 
drifts of the northern mountains the 
train brings the traveler down in a few 
hours through the beautiful foothills of 
the upper Sacramento, where, perhaps, 
he will find no snow at all fallen yet, as 
he is whirled along through groves of 
Christmas trees enough to set the chil- 
dren of the whole world to dancing ; then 
down the Sacramento plain, perhaps 
dimly green under a gray sheet of rain, 
and traversed by rushing and swollen 
creeks, red with the clay of the Sierra ; 
or, perhaps, shining under a vivid sun 
and sky like blue crystal, with bluer 
ranges of mountains, white-tipped, along 
the eastern horizon. 

A few hours more will bring you to 
the Placer County orange belt, where 
you may find them celebrating Christ- 
mas with a " citrus fair," with all its 
devices of cottages built of oranges and 
lemons, and a whole pavilion filled, 
tables, walls, floor, and all, with heaps 
and masses of the golden globes. The 
devices are sometimes more wonderful 
than beautiful ; but their profusion and 
gorgeousness amazes the Eastern vis- 
itor, still brushing Sierra snowflakes 
from his beard. 


Christmases and Christmases. 

Photo by James W. Duffy. 


Or on southerly, without turning 
aside to see if the Bay cities are in shine 
or shade, you may reach Santa Barbara 
and Los Angeles, with their oranges 
yellowing on the trees, and their helio- 
tropes blooming in the gardens ; the 
warm sands of San Diego beaches, and 
look across the border into old Mexico, 
and think how along the Pacific shores 
for two thousand leagues to the south- 
ward Christmas is celebrated among the 
Spanish American peoples with the gor- 
geous ceremonials of the Roman Cath- 
olic Church, in regions where good Santa 
Claus has more use for a palm leaf fan 
and a straw hat than for his fur robes 
and sleigh. 

And east and west from San Francis- 
co the regular lines of travel will take a 
tourist across almost as wide a span of 
winter scenes, with the snow-bound 
Grand River, in Colorado, where the 
train comes put from the black arch of 
VOL. xxi 3. 

an icy tunnel, for a sample picture at 
one end, and the tropical sunshine of 
Hawaii Nei at the other. 

But to get a little closer idea of some 
Pacific Christmases, it may be worth 
while to picture one or two in detail. 

Christmas brings but little cheer to 
the lonely miner, snow-bound in a deep 
canon of the northern Sierra Nevadas, 
within sight of Shasta. Bill Dodge was 
leaning over his stove, warming his be- 
numbed fingers after a hasty reconnois- 
sance of the tall firs on the edge of the 
clearing about his log cabin. His look 
was troubled as he gazed absent-mind- 
edly into the fire, revolving in his mind 
the danger from a tree on the edge of 
the clearing, which manifested a threat- 
ening inclination toward the cabin. 

The man talked half aloud to himself. 
" Will it fall ? If it does, will it crush 
the cabin and kill me ? What part of the 
cabin will it strike ? I can't get out of 


Cliristinases and Christinases. 


here in this weather. How can I sleep 
with that thing hanging over me ?" 

To stay was no more dangerous than 
to climb over the hill two miles to the 
nearest neighbor's, in the storm that 
made the otherwise well-known trail 
unrecognizable as well as impassable. 
The new-fallen snow was too fleecy for 
ordinary traveling, and the snow-shoes 
had been taken by the "pard," three 
days before, when he went to town for 

supplies for a " way-up, big Christmas 
eat," to which some of the boys were 
invited. But the terrific storm had 
broken up the plan, and poor Bill 
Dodge was all alone in the mountains 
this bitter cold night, for even the pet 
collie had followed " pard " to town. 
With a sigh, Bill took a leg of venison 
from the rafters, and prepared the bacon 
and potatoes in the same absent-minded 

Photo by Taber. 



Cliristniases and Christtnases. 


I'lioto by Taber. 


" Poor Bill ! " said his ''pard " in the 
bar-room of the Sierra Palace Hotel, 
"poor Bill, if he ain't homesick this 
Christmas Eve, no one ever can be. I 
wisht I had 'a' left the snow shoes with 
hini, but he couldn't 'a' got out in this 
storm, any way." 

Around the large, circular railroad 
stove of the capacious bar-room of the 
small hotel were a number of chairs in 
various stages of decay, cane-seated 
chairs, and stiff- backed chairs of raw 

buckskin thongs, occupied by several 
unfortunates whom luck had deprived 
of a more homelike place to spend 
Christmas Eve. Behind the stove, tip- 
ping back in a corner, was "Old Fitz," 
short for Fitzgerald ; a "pussey" old 
Scotchman, of decidedly somnolent 
tendency this evening. Next him, be- 
tween the stove and the wall, was a 
thin, pop-eyed German, known as the 
"crazy Dutchman," on account of his 
unreasonable excitability. On the other 


Christmases and Christ-incises. 


Photo by H. B. Phillip; 


side of " Old Fitz " was the proprietor 
of the Sierra House, round, blond, jovial, 
and quiet. 

In front of the stove were " Sleepy 
Jim," Bill Dodge's partner, the swarthy 
little local editor, and a much-traveled 
mining expert. 

The town of Thermal Valley was 
snowed under to the eaves. News from 
the outside world had not penetrated to 
that important political outpost for three 

weeks. The village paper had been 
printed on the same patent outside for 
three successive issues, varied by fact 
and fancy gathered from the lips of the 
changing coterie of reporters about the 
stove. The snapping cold outside, or 
the warmth of the crackling pine knots, 
or the tobacco, had a stimulating effect 
on the memories of the oldest inhabit- 
ants, who spun endless yarns when cards 
grew tiresome, of mining, Indians, and 


Christmases and Christmases. 


snow storms galore, none of which were 
lost on the sharp-eared little editor, rav- 
enous for copy. 

The mining expert, a smooth-faced, 
dried-up little man, with an abnormal 
forehead, overhanging his bushy eye- 
brows like some bowlder, and an unusual 
monotony of red coloring in his face, 
eyebrows, eyes, and hair, stopped rub- 
bing electricity out of a cat, when Old 
Fitz sat back in his seat to laugh at his 
own threadbare wit, at the close of a 
wandering narrative. 

He gave the cat's tail a final pull, 
and, tipping his chair back, looked 
thoughtful. Nobody seemed disposed 
to speak, and he began to talk almost 
to himself: 

"Godfrey's cordial, how the wind 
does blow ! Hark ! what 's that ? O, 
nothing but the crackling of another 
pine. I wish I was back where I was in 
Hawaii, a year ago. I never saw such a 
change in a few weeks, as I did when I 

was compelled suddenly to take my wife 
out to the Sandwich Islands for her 
health, in the winter of '89 and '90. 

" As we got out of the alkali and sage 
brush into the Sierras, the cold got 
worse and worse, and the snow came 
down thicker and faster, till I saw we 
would be lucky if we got through. Sure 
enough, when we got to Emigrant Gap 
in the snow-shed region on the Pacific 
side, we were blockaded, sheds had 
broken under the weight of snow, and 
we had to wait for a rotary plow to dig 
our way through. The gangs of China- 
men and white laborers gathered from 
anywhere could n't make any impression 
on those banks of snow, until the great 
rotary plow, it took four engines to 
push it, had bored into them, and flung 
the snow one hundred feet off to the side 
in a cloud of flakes : it was a great show 
to see it. 

" Soon we cut through to Blue Canon 
which was pretty well snowed under, but 



Ckristinases and Christinases. 



we managed to amuse ourselves, one way 
or another. Luckily there was a Christ- 
mas pantomime troupe of high kickers 
on our train, and they used to sing for 
us once in a while ; but they lolled around 
most of the time, while the manager did 
all the kicking. They used to entertain 
us, and we thought we would have to 
return the compliment, so we looked 
around, and found a bilious young man 
with long hair, who thought he could 
play a scene from Hamlet. They made 
me the ghost of old man Hamlet, be- 
cause they said that I could act out of 
sight down cellar half of the time. I ob- 
jected on the ground that I was very 
hoarse, and had bow legs if I wore 
tights. They insisted that a deep, hoarse 
voice was what was wanted, and that I 
could keep my side to the audience, and 
they wouldn't "get on to my curves." 
Well, I could n't get out of it ; but it was 
my positively last appearance on any 
, stage, for when I went down cellar to do 
the underground act, and Hamlet said to 
the other fellows, ' Swear,' a confound- 
ed rascal in the cellar with me put an 
icicle down my back. I forgot there was 

an audience listening, and I swore a blue 
streak. They had to ring down the 
curtain till the ghost licked the young 
feller that done it. 

"Well, it wasn't more 'n two weeks 
from Christmas when we got through, 
and in three hours we was down in the 
Sacramento Valley, where the air was 
chilly but pleasant, even without an 
overcoat. Everything was green as you 
ever saw it, and looked all the greener 
after seeing everything white. The 
snow we brought down, piled up on the 
tops of the cars, went dripping and melt- 
ing all the way. After we crossed the 
Sacramento Bridge, we found the whole 
country under water as far as you could 
see, north and south, and about ten miles 
of track east and west was under a foot 
of water. We went along slowly with 
men wading ahead, testing the road-bed. 
The land was way off to the west, and 
water all around us : it seemed like cross- 
ing a great lake in a railroad train. 

" When, at last, we did get to San 
Francisco, the little fellows were selling 
violets in the streets, and my wife she 
was an Easterner, and never saw it 


Christmdses and Christmases. 


before walked round and looked at 
the gardens, and she was greatly taken 
to see chrysanthemums blooming and 
some roses and fuchsias and geraniums, 
and lots of Chinese lilies. I took her 
over to Tamalpais before we sailed, and 
had one walk in the woods. 

" The ground was not very wet for her 
with rubbers. There was plenty of 
those red toyon berries, and some man- 
zanita ; they don't have much manzanita 
down round the bay. This toyon is a 
smaller berry that grows on a big shrub 
in the canons down there, and they call 
it holly, and make great times over it 
Christmas in the city, sell wagon loads. 
If you fellows had all your manzanita 
berries handy by the city Christmas you 
could make some money on it. Well, 
my wife found a big bush all ready to 
come out with pink currant, and another, 
a basswood with yellow buds, and some 
willow pussies getting ready to come 
out ; she thought it must be spring sure. 
We ate our lunch on a redwood stump, 
close by a pretty little stream that ran 
out of a spring on the side of a rock, 
with ferns and moss all round it. 

"We took the steamer to Honolulu 
next day, I had business there, and 
could n't stop, and when we got to 
Honolulu it was about as big a surprise 
to me as California was to my wife. I 
could n't help looking up for the roof of 
the conservatory, there were so many 
hothouse plants around. There was 
bananas, and dates, and tree-ferns, and 
lots of other ferns, and vines till you 
could n't remember them all. It did n't 
seem much like Christmas to me, and 
less yet to my wife. She said it was like 
summer in Florida. 

"The Kanakas don't seem to keep 
Christmas like the white people there. 
The native don't know any particular 
celebration, except when he 's lucky 
enough to have a friend get married, or 
die. Then he goes and eats at his 
friend's Inau, (that 's a feast,) without 
the bother of chasing his own turkey, 
or catching his own fish. What with 
feasting and loafing the year round, it 's 
all the same to the native. They say 
down there that there isn't much dif- 
ference from their summer weather, 
except, perhaps, it rains a little oftener, 

Photo by Taber 



Christmases and Ckristntases. 


Photo by Tiiber 


and now and then a storm (they call it 
a kona) comes up. Christmas afternoon, 
as on most any other, you can take a 
book in a hammock, and loaf away the 
time in a sleepy way, if you don't hap- 
pen to feel like taking any of the long 
horseback rides out of the city. They 
are the finest sort of rides, but we were 
just off our voyage and didn't care 
for them. My wife was lolling in a 
hammock reading that afternoon ; royal 
palms, and date palms, and ferns, all 
round, tamarind and India-rubber trees 
for shade, and the night-blooming cere- 
us and other vines running wild over 
everything ; and the magnolia and Cape 
jasmine smell all round. The magnolia 
is one of those heavy, sweet smells ; the 
Cape jasmine is more delicate, but not 
as light as the old-fashioned jasmine, 
both of them the sort of smell that 
makes you feel lazy and easy-going. 
There was just a little wind from the 
south, warm and sleepy enough to make 
the liveliest American feel like loafing. 
My wife dozed off over her novel, and 

dreamed of the snow fields, and russet 
apples, and frost-bitten mince pies, she 
would have been getting if she had 
stayed at home in Yankee land. 

" Well, in that country, that time of 
year, if a couple of air currents meet 
and clinch, one is likely to be waked up 
pretty sudden by the leaves scurrying 
before a warm squall from the south, 
and a few drops of rain spattering down. 
That means the kona is just on you. 
You have to jump then, and pick up 
your novels and newspapers, and cut for 
the house ; grab up your pillows and 
your ukuleles from the cane chairs on 
the lauai, and help the women folks to 
shut the windows and doors, they 
stand open all the time, except when 
the kona comes. Then you get ready 
for a blow and a drenching." 

The howling night wind outside the 
little inn rumbled in the chimney and 
whistled around corners, an appropriate 
illustration of the kona. 

The jovial, round-faced proprietor of 
the Sierra Palace Hotel shivered, more 


Christmases and Christmases. 


from imagination than from any chill in 
the super-heated, smoky atmosphere. 
He waddled up behind the shabby 
counter of the fly -specked collection of 
damaged mirrors and gaudy whisky 
prints called a bar, which was now the 
cynosure of all eyes, except the Scotch- 

" Come on, boys," said he ; "this is on 
me. What is it?" 

The fat Old Fitz was tipped back in 
his corner behind the stove asleep, but at 
the sound of this voice he was on his 
feet in a moment, almost tripping in his 
haste over the feet of his nearest neigh- 
bor. . 

As the men gathered at the counter, 
the host straightened himself to his full 
height, and with a grand air waved his 
glass towards those in front of him. 

"A toast, gentlemen," said he. 

" Here 's to our noble selves. May we 
never wish for better company." The 
sentiment was highly approved by all 
save the traveler and the editor, whose 
faces bore a vanishing expression of dis- 

When Old Fitz had drained the last 
drop of "thistledew," which was his fa- 
vorite drink still, though he had been so 
long away from old Scotland as to have 
lost the burr from his speech, he as- 
sumed a contented expression, and sank 
into his corner by the fire, as before. 

" How much snow do you think fell 
last night ? Just guess ? 

' Thirty-six inches. I measured it my- 
self. Snow is all very well, but I don't 
like it spread on so thick. It took me four 
hours to tunnel out of my shanty, and 
crawl over here. I have n't been so long 
without an eye-opener since I was down 
among the Zuni Indians, where they 
don't allow liquor sold, and what you do 
get is about as much like Old Scotch as 
this here Christmas is like theirs. When 
I was down there about five years ago, I 
saw the most curious caricature of our 
Christmas tree festivities you can ima- 
gine. It was a medicine dance in the 
VOL. xxi 4. 

central court of a puebla, and it was a 
solemn occasion for them. Some Zunis 
were dancing around a tree, dressed in 
their brilliant blankets, chanting a weird 

"I don't suppose it really had any 
connection with our Christmas, but it 
would have made me think of some of 
the Christmas-tree parties I've taken 
my children to, if the children had not 
been compelled to keep away, and view 
the scene from the housetops. 

" Holy smoke ! how it does blow ! I 
hope no poor feller is out in it. 

" Jove ! I would like to be down with 
my family in Santa Barbara this Christ- 
mas Eve, and I would have been, too, if 
it had n't been for this confounded 
storm, and the washout down by the 
Ninth Crossing. I can see the very 
place now where they would have gone 
down to the train for me this afternoon, 
it would likely be sunny down there 
now, with date palms on one side of 
the road, and an orange orchard on the 
other. The calla lilies along the brook 
are in full bloom, and the roses open 
every day, Sundays included, in South- 
ern California, even in Pasadena. Little 
Annie would run out to meet me, and 
delve into the pockets of my overcoat 
(on my arm, not on my back) for candy ; 
and mother, how happy she would be !" 

Tears shone in the eyes of the discon- 
solate old man, when he looked up at the 
reflection of the light from the snow, 
banked up against the window panes, 
and with a sigh he closed them again. 

The others went on smoking in si- 
lence till the clouds of smoke gave to 
one looking on an effect of haziness and 
indistinct outline quite according to 
Turner's ideal. 

Sleepy Jim was a tall, raw-boned man, 
the more fortunate member of the firm 
whose other representative was away in 
the mountains alone that night. He 
was a bright man, though he did not 
look it ; partly owing to his peculiar 
fondness for wearing, whenever he came 


Christmases and Christmases. 


to town, an old thread-bare and crumpled 
Prince Albert coat. On this occasion 
the old coat was displayed with more 
than the usual pompousness. He arose 
lazily from his chair, yawned, and 
stretched himself, and stood gazing into 
the fire absent-mindedly a moment, while 
the mischievous Dutchman put a ball 
of pitch into one coat-tail pocket, and a 
ball of snow into the other. 

Slowly he turned his back to the fire, 
and spread his feet apart in an easy atti- 
tude. His fellow loungers saw that he 
was in a talkative mood, and all except 
the Scotchman looked up lazily, while 
he talked between long pulls at his 
strong pipe. 

" Me and my pard, Bill Dodge, had a 
funny Christmas dinner once. The first 
we knew of the fellow that gave it, we 
was repairing our canvas flume up near 
Eldorado Bar one day along about the 
fall of '52, when a green-looking young 
feller, tall, awkward, and honest-looking, 
came along, and began askin' us ques- 
tions about the best place to take up a 
claim. He said he was just from the 
States. We sized him up for what we 
call a tenderfoot nowadays. Bill wunk 
at me and I wunk at Bill. Then I said 
I thought I could show him a pretty 
good place to stake off a claim if he 
would stand treat ; and so, when we got 
tired working late in the afternoon, we 
went up to the store with him and had 
a drink, and then we climbed out of the 
canon, over a hill, into a little gulch way 
up above the canon, where there was a 
spring running out from the roots of a 
pine tree. We showed him a place 
alongside of this stream, a little ways 
from the spring, where you could work 
till the resurrection without getting a 
color. We said we liked his style and 
wanted to see him succeed, so we would 
put him on to a big thing if he would 
give us ten per cent. This was along 
about October, and the leaves were 
turning. The view up the American 
river canon was just bully, but we 

were n't out to look at views them days ; 
we had n't time for such things ; but the 
young tenderfoot, he went into raptures 
over it. 

" ' Look at them mountains piled on 
mountains, covered with fir trees, until 
way over there you see the jagged edge 
of the blue summit, like saw-teeth 
against that leaden sky.' 

"We interrupted the young teller's 
enthusiasm by tellin' him that we 
thought he could find good pay dirt near 
bedrock, after he stripped it. We gave 
him a few directions, and left him to 
pitch his camp there. How we did 
chuckle to think how the poor duffer 
would work in the rnud for a week or 
two! We enjoyed the joke just as we 
used to when we took a greeny out in the 
marsh to trap snipe at night with a lan- 
tern and bag, or when we sent a feller 
out over the foothills down in Monterey 
County with a shotgun, to shoot the 
swift-footed abalones. 

"Well, we went on three or four 
weeks, and had almost forgotten all 
about the tenderfoot. Of course, we 
never expected to see him again, when, 
along about dusk one day, I was cuttin' 
off a chunk o' bacon, and Bill was a- 
makin' the fire, when we see our friend 
coming down the trail as smilin' as you 
please ; and he thanks us for helpin 
him, and shows us a little bag of dust 
that was not to be sneezed at. I be 
hanged if that feller didn't have fool's 
luck, and open up a vein of decomposed 
quartz and take out an ounce a day. He 
had the laugh on us, now, for some of 
the boys we had told had let on that we 
was tryin' to play him, and thar was n't 
no use denyin' it. So we had to go up 
to town and set 'em up all around to 
keep them quiet. 

"After that things went on quietly 
enough, and we got to be mighty good 
friends. We saw more of the young 
feller when the snow came, and we had 
to abandon our claims in the river-bed. 
We found he was a first-rate sort of a 


Christmases and Christmases. 


chap, with a mighty fine edication, too, 
out of a college in the East. How he 
could quote poetry and Sh'akespire, 
though ! When the snow came we had 
made no preparations to leave, so we 
laid in provisions for the winter. How 
the snow did pile up that winter! Just 
as it does now against the windows, 
only we were on a side hill, and it was 
not quite so bad. 

"The young feller from the States 
had decided to stay with his new part- 
ner in the mountains that winter, and 
told us that he guessed he could afford 
to give us a rousing Christmas dinner, 
'cause we had showed him such a good 
claim. We did n't want to talk about 
no ten per cent. Bill and me crawled 
up the hill that Christmas to his new 
cabin ; you see, we had n't been up there 
before since the snow came, and we had 
no idea of the view you could get from 
there. You could look up the canon 
and over the mountains for miles, and 
everything was dead white, except a 
precipice of rock now and then, and the 
great fir trees standin' out. It was just 
like lookin' up the grand basin in Yel- 
lowstone Park in winter, when I was up 
there with a photographer who was 
huntin' winter photographs. We got 
some great views and struck a good way 
of making them geysers shoot up when- 
ever we wanted them to have their 
photos took. We tossed in a cake of 
soap, and pretty soon the thing would 
begin to boil and sizzle, and up she 
went, but not so strong as when you 
wait a day for them; but we wanted 
more pictures, an' could n't wait. It 
was mighty queer to see the hot steam 
coming out of the ground when all 
about there was so much ice and snow. 

" Well, when we had took in the view, 
we went in and played seven-up while 
.the young chap got the dinner ready. 
He said he' thought some apple sass 
would go well with the pork, and so had 
bought about ten pounds of dried apples 
at two bits a pound to make apple sass 

for us. He crammed the whole ten 
pounds into the beanpot, chock-full, 
poured water on them, crammed the lid 
down and set them on the stove. Bill, 
he wunk at me and I wunk at him, and 
pretty soon the lid began to raise. 

" ' Them apples swell considerable/ 
said the young chap. He took off the 
lid and took a couple of handfuls and 
threw them into a half-barrel close by. 
We went on with the game .and our 
cook went to peelin' some spuds, and 
I tell you they were a luxury then, and 
we had to make the most of them. Bill, 
he smiled, and I saw that them apples 
was coming up agin. With a tired look 
our cook just grabbed a couple more 
handfuls and pitched them in the bar- 
rel. We had n't dealt more 'n two hands 
more, and again them apples went siz- 
zling over on the stove. 

" ' Well, I '11 be teetotally chewed up 
and spit out, if them patent apples 
don't swell faster 'n an elected candidate 
takin' office for the first time.' And he 
scooped out all but a few in the bottom 
of the kettle, and then had a kettle full 
o' sass and a half-barrel o' soaked apples. 

"Even if the young fellow didn't 
know how to cook it, it was mighty good, 
I can tell you, with fried spuds, and 
bacon, and hard tack, and salt, and white 
sugar, and real condensed milk in the 
coffee ; we did n't care how the wind 
whistled outside any more than we do 
now, boys. Only I 'd enjoy it more if 
Bill was here now with us, instead of 
up there in that lonely cabin on the 
mountain in this blamed storm. I kick 
about this game of freeze-out with 
Natur' when she's dealin' the cards. 
Poor pard ! " And. turning to* the host, 
" Say, boss, set 'em up all 'round on me. 
Now, boys, here's to lonely Bill, poor 
pard, and his lonesome Christmas din- 
ner up in Hellgate Canon."' 

The pompous miner slowly took his 
pipe from his mouth, turned, and sat 
down on a mass of pitch, to the boister- 
ous merriment of the company. 


Christmases and Chris tmases. 


All lapsed at last into contemplative 
silence, puffing away to increase the 
already smoky atmosphere. 

When the silence had continued for 
several minutes, the sleeper in the 
corner behind the stove seemed to re- 
cover consciousness, sat up, and looked 
about, and began to stroke his chin. All 
saw that Old Fitz was about to have " a 
rush of words to the mouth." 

" When I made my first trip across 
the plains in '49, we were camped some 
one hundred miles west of Salt Lake 
City, when we were suddenly startled 
from our slumbers by an awful war- 
Some say that walls have ears. The 
narrator evidently thought not, for he 

smiled a sickly smile when his last 
auditor rudely disappeared precipitate- 
ly up the narrow stairway. Only the 
cat sat unmoved by his eloquence, lazily 
eying him with sleepy contentment. 

The old man looked about; his coun- 
tenance lighted up when his eye lit on 
the small glass barrel of pony brandy in 
the center of the bar. He helped him- 
self to a nightcap, and inclined the glass 
from force of habit in his dignified way 
to his only companion, and called it 
square with the boys. 

With a grunt of contentment he re- 
tired to his lazy corner once more, to 
mingle his sonorous sleeping accompani- 
ment with the Wagnerian roar of the 
storm without. 

Phil Weaver, Jr. 


WHAT the seed feels, when the sun 

Into Aries's sign hath run ; 

What the sharpest torment is 

In the depths of the abyss ; 

What behold the opening eyes 

Of the dead in paradise 

Those I felt and this I see 

T was a maid she taught them me. 



A Peninsular Centennial. 





read this frag- 
ment of history, 
one will need 
somewhat to 
have attained 
that "sight 
where," says Emerson, " facts yield their 
secret sense and poetry and annals are 

If the reader thinks such sense is 
worthy soberly to seek, let him try if 
his imagination be facile enough to lift 
him bodily that is, more Hibernico, 
mentally quite out of his later, in- 
formed day, and set him down this sun- 
rise one hundred years ago, beside the 
young explorer on the deck of the Dis- 
coverer, as ignorant and as alert as he. 
So doing, the reader fronts a half 
continent, walled in by a cloud denser 
and vaster than since the day of Pto- 
lemy has ever darkened the wilds of 
Africa. To him, thus unlearned, Amer- 
ica is the Dark Continent. This western 
half of it is in almost absolute solitude 
and night. Along this Pacific littoral 
is a thin rim of light, broken and waver- 
ing, with a penumbra reaching in 
around each of several seaports. Across 
Southern California to the mouth of 
the Colorado is a thin zone of light, and 
several threads of such are woven by 
the hands of Mackenzie and Hearne, in 
the dark stretches of northern Canada. 
Indeed, this very November day Mac- 
kenzie is moving there through the 
heart of the Rocky Mountains, running 
the first thread of discovery across the 
dark waste. But the shuttle will stick 
all winter in the mountain camp. As 
yet the continent north of Mexico has 
never been crossed by a white man. 

The darkness has its ignes fatui. 
The wonderful Shining Mountain, the 
Great River of the West, and the Straits 
of Anian, into which it is fabled to flow, 
are among these elusive false lights. A 
half century later Fremont will search 
for the mythical river said to flow from 
the Rocky Mountains through the Si- 
erras into the Pacific Ocean. 

Such is the strange land of myth and 
solitude lying just beyond this little 
range of Contra Costa, and stretching 
on nearly to the Mississippi River. 

Over those gray hills, this winter 
morning, November 20, 1792, breaks 
clear. The gale is over. The well-an- 
chored sloop-of-war has ridden safely in 
its exposed harbor, in which the light - 
anchored Spanish ships were often in 
peril from even the tides, here so pow- 

Breakfasting early, Vancouver puts 
forth in his ship's boat to land, to accept 
the invitation of the commandante and 
the padres to accompany them to the 
inland mission of Santa Clara, and the 
adjoining pueblo of San Jos, "the first 
of purely civil settlement in Califor- 
nia." [Hittell] 

But the storm that has delayed the 
acceptance of the invitation has given 
the leisure to his hosts, in which the 
official indiscretion of their offer is 
realized. Therefore, when the com- 
mander arrives at the Presidio, an op- 
portune pressure of duties gives Sefior 
Sal excuse for releasing himself from 
an implied or express engagement to ac- 
company his guest. An equally oppor- 
tune illness releases the padres when 
the Mission is reached. 

This, or more explicit suggestion, 
they meant so they themselves state, 


A Peninsular Centennial. 


when, later, they come under official 
censure to deter the English officer 
from his intention to make the journey 
which might be of strategic value if 
the Nootka or other diplomatic issues 
should become castis belli. 

Unobservant of any such suggestion, 
Vancouver left the Mission, accom- 
panied by Sergeant Pedro Amador and 
his "six stout soldiers." The soldiers 
led or drove a numerous relay of horses. 
Three natural highways lead down 
the peninsula. The central one is the 
ca'nada, between two parallel ridges 
of the Santa Morena hills. The others 
are the slopes on either side of these 
ridges ; one reaching to the ocean, the 
other to the bay. 

All these were traversed by the earli- 
est explorers. 

The coast route was that followed by 
Portala and his heroic party, in that 
epochal year of 1769, to the point from 
which the hunting party climbed the 
Santa Morena hills, to find themselves 
the discoverers of their patron Saint 
Francis's bay. On their return the 
party entered the solitude of the Canada, 
which they followed to its end, at the 
present site of Searsville. The second 
route was the one taken by several 
later parties. 

The first white men to traverse the 
third natural highway that along the 
bay shore were, I believe, Anza and 
his party, in 1776, on their expedition to 
select sites for the Presidio and Mission 
of San Francisco. 

This must soon have become the us- 
ual route, and was the one now taken by 

Riding around the Mission hill, and 
in view of the now-vanished laguna, 
their horses' hoofs crushing the fra- 
grant and famous little trailing yerba 
buena, the party emerge in the wide 
valley which descends into the Buri- 
buri plain. 

On the left are the massy, " templed 
hills '' of San Bruno, inviolate then by 

the spade and whitewash brush of the 
dealer in real estate. Travelers in the 
San Gabriel Valley will recall the huge, 
pre-historic arrow-head wrought on the 
mountain's slope. But that is pictur- 
esque, and was not mercenary. 

The San Bruno and the Santa Morena 
foothills here are nearly bare, save tor 
their gray velvet of dry grass, with the 
pale-green, new grass of this vernal win- 
ter tinting the inner folds. 

A clear sun lends its charm to the 
scene, whose varied beauty and repose 
must be very grateful to the eye weary 
of the monotony and unrest of the sea. 
Had he the knowlege that the eye of 
no other foreigner had rested on this 
sheltered plain ? 

Descending the slope and skirting the 
marsh, the party reach the well known 
spring in the "brae" to which Mr. D. 
O. Mills has given his name. We may 
conjecturally dismount our party here, 
to drink of the spring beside which 
Lieutenant William Tecumseh Sherman 
more than once encamped a little more 
than fifty years later. 

That a strange, hurried, yet orderly 
movement of history is defined by these 
two young officers, resting there by this 
meadow spring, the one in 1792, the 
other, say, in the same month in 1848, 
after the treaty of Guadaloupe has been 

That treaty was the conclusion of 
the varied process of arms, diplomacy, 
and purchase, by which the whole of 
this continent Mexico and Alaska ex- 
cepted had passed forever into the 
possession of % this Saxon race, whose 
two great families are here represented, 
in type and almost in ideal, by these 
two young commanders. When Van- 
couver stood by that spring, the United 
States did not include all of the terri- 
tory east of the Mississippi, nor any of 
that beyond it. But this very year, 
1792, the American ship Columbia en- 
ters the river to which it gave its name, 
thus constituting the initial step in the 


A Peninsular Centennial. 


diplomatic conquest. In 1803 Napoleon 
ceded the vast Province of Louisiana, 
in 1819 Spain ceded Florida, Oregon 
was finally conceded by treaty in 1846, 
Texas annexed in 1845, an ^ now Cali- 
fornia and the region eastward has be- 
come ours. Is there not an ordering 
thought which simultaneously with this 
transfer of the continent, step by step, 
moved the area of light over the Missis- 
sippi, across the prairies, over the moun- 
tains, and now this year of the Guada- 
loupe treaty washes bare that nugget 
of gold in the mill race, which shall 
bring the light to this remote land ? 

Somewhere near this site of Millbrae 
stood, I judge, the rancheria of the ma- 
rauding Buri-buri Indians. But their 
little basket huts must have been crowd- 
ed into some one of the wooded recesses 
opening into the plain, for Vancouver 
did not see, in the whole ride to Santa 
Clara " a house, hut, or any place of 
shelter excepting such as the spreading' 
trees presented." 

These trees elicited his admiring 
comment. He mentions "the holly- 
leaved oak [the common live-oak, Quer- 
cus agrifolia}, maple [nowhere in Cali- 
fornia the stately tree of the East], horse 
chestnut and willow . . . having 
some of the common English dwarf oak 
scattered amongst them." I am in- 
formed by Professor Edward Lee Greene 
that later and more trained naturalists 
mistook the white oak of this region, 
Q. lobata, for the English oak, Q. 

That it gave his soundly British heart 
a thrill of elation to believe that his way 
led under the boughs of the very tree 
that lends to his native land so much 
grace of form and legend, is easily real- 
ized. It is singular that he does not 
mention the laurel, so notable a mem- 
ber of these groves. 

" About noon, "his narrative continues, 
"having advanced about 23 miles, we 
arrived at a very pleasant and enchant- 
ing lawn, situated amidst a grove of 

trees at the foot of a small hill, by which 
flowed a very fine stream of excellent 
water. This delightful pasture is nearly 
enclosed on every side." 

Thiscampingplace has been identified 
with the grove of oaks and laurels on 
the banks of San Mateo Creek, and be- 
tween that "very fine stream," as it 
then was, although now a merewady, 
and the hillock on the property of Mr. 
and Mrs. H. P. Bowie, the el cerrito 
which gives name to their villa. After 
an examination of other possible sites, 
I judge that this identification is correct. 
The distance, however, the 23 miles 
being undoubtedly of nautical length, 
equal to 26.5 statute miles, would indi- 
cate the mouth of Belmont canon as the 
true site. Here are a small hill, a pic- 
turesque brook, a stately grove, and a 
nearly enclosed "pasture." 

But 'Vancouver was reckoning his dis- 
tance from the deck of a very unfamiliar 
craft, whose careenings,especially among 
the numerous squirrel and other burrows 
of which complaint is made, may easily 
have made the possible margin of error 
in calculations, which, with other con- 
siderations, would allow to the villagers 
of San Mateo their pleasantest tradition. 
It is something to a village to rest where, 
so far as I know, the first encampment 
of an Englishman in interior California 
was made, and his first meal eaten. This, 
apparently, was the usual camping place. 
Anza twice encamped here in 1776, the 
second time feasting about the camp 
fire with his ill-fed comrades on the meat 
of a large bear killed nearby. An adobe 
which stood here until recently, was - 
although, perhaps, originally a rancho 
building early used as an out-station 
of the Mission Dolores. 

" The bank which overhung the mur- 
muring brook," he states, " was well 
adapted for taking the refreshment 
which our provident friends had sup- 
plied,andwith some grog we had brought 
from the ship (spirits and wine being 
scarce articles in this country) we all 


A Peninsular Centennial. 


made a most excellent meal ; but it re- 
quired some resolution to quit so lovely 
a scene, the beauty of which was greatly 
heightened by the delightful serenity of 
weather. To this, however, after rest- 
ing about an hour, we were obliged to 
submit, when, a fresh supply of cavalry 
being selected from the drove of horses, 
we mounted and pursued our journey. 

" We had not proceeded far from this 
delightful spot, when we entered a coun- 
try I little expected to find in these re- 
gions. For about twenty miles it could 
only be compared to a park, which had 
originally been planted with the true 
old English oak ; the underbrush, which 
had probably attended its early growth, 
had the appearance of having been 
cleared away, and had left the stately 
lords of the forest in complete posses- 
sion of the soil, which was covered with 
luxuriant herbage,beautif ully diversified 
with pleasing eminences and vallies," 
with a " range of lofty, rugged moun- 
tains that bounded the prospect." 

This " park " is very nearly cotermin- 
ous with the noted Pulgas [fleas] Rancho 
of Governor Jose Argiiello, of the early 
years of the century. It had its name, 
probably, from the creatures infesting 
the large cattle corrals. 

But as our travelers move over its wet 
sod it is still in solitude. Their way 
leads past the gate of the exquisite 
amphitheater of hills, early called one of 
the numerous "Canons Diablo," but 
whose present name is Belmont. By 
the oak-lintel of this gate stands the 
modest and decaying country residence 
of one of California's earliest governors. 
Within the dreamy valley itself stands, in 
neglected grandeur, the residence built 
by Senator Sharon, but later famous as 
the scene of the baronial hospitalities of 
William C. Ralston, whose princely life 
and whose tragic death will always linger 
here in melancholy tradition. 

The villa with its memories stands as 
a monument of that development of 
Saxon character, in this Western envi- 

ronment, which is the ill omen of the 
race. This is said without disregard of 
the nobler native elements of Mr. Ral- 
ston. By reason of these he is a fitter 
type of the wasted wealth of nature, 
which Vancouver's race has bequeathed. 

Happily we shadowy attendants of 
these pilgrims find near a stately monu- 
ment of that other development of the 
free Saxon heart, which is the good 
omen of the race and of civilization. 
This monument is the noble pile of 
buildings, splendid material founda- 
tion upon which the master builder is 
with very patient but scarcely erring 
wisdom laying his squared stones, the 
Leland Stanford Junior University. 
Here is the material acquirement of the 
modern genius put, liberally yet judi- 
ciously, to the higher uses almost the 
highest. This is the alchemy which 
changes gold. 

Although this institution bears in its 
corporate and proper title the name of a 
young lad, it bears also, in usage, that of 
an old tree. Not uncommonly is the 
college called Palo Alto. 

This old tree is the strange wanderer 
from the hill tribe of redwoods, which 
stands erect, shaggy, superb on the 
banks of the San Francisquito Creek, 
beside which Senator Stanford has built 
his country residence and his University. 

Font, who saw this lordly tree from 
the San Bruno heights in 1776, gives its 
estimated stature as one hundred and 
fifty feet, and its girth as fifteen feet, I 
believe. It now lifts its frowsy head 
about two hundred feet, far above the 
oaks, and looks down, as a true autoch- 
thon, upon the emulous immigrants, the 
eucalypti, with easily imaginable dis- 
dain. Its circumference is about thirty 
feet, I think, including the stump of its 
twin or child tree, which fell some years 

A high bulwark guards the roots of 
the trees from the winter torrents of 
the stream. We like to think that a 
railroad company has so much corporate 


A Peninsular Centennial. 


soul as to build this for its nobler serv- 
ice. The creek on which the palo alto 
stands was originally called the Arroyo 
de San Francisco. And it was so named 
because, upon its bank where it leaves 
the cafiada, the cross was planted which 
marked the consecration of that valley 
for the Mission of St. Francis. The 
peninsular history would read differently 
had this brook been perennial. For it 
was only the want of sufficient water 
that determined the establishment of 
the mission at the present San Francisco 
instead of this older site of that name. 
The cross set up by Padre Palou in 1774, 
which Padre Font found standing in 
1776, may have remained until this time. 

It was near its site that the party of 
Portala, in 1769, had their melancholy 
camp for several days, " making them- 
selves ill by eating acorns, while the ser- 
geant and eight of the party are absent 
examining the country." On their return 
from the reconnoissance, the country 
is reported " sterile and the natives hos- 
tile." This was a little earlier in the 
winter than the time of Vancouver's 
visit, and the rains may have been later. 

Crossing the San Francisquito, our 
travelers find themselves already with- 
in the Llanura de los Robles. This 
plain of oaks now called the Santa 
Clara Valley, or forming the northern 
portion of it is the one traversed by 
all the discoverers, the cafiada route 
here opening into it. 

Leaving now " this imaginary park, 
we advanced," the journal continues, 
" a few miles in an open, clear meadow, 
and arrived in a low, swampy country, 
through which we progressed very slow- 
ly, the horses being nearly knee-deep in 
mud and water for about six miles." 
The marshes along the bay have always 
been an occasion of misadventures. Sir 
Edward Belcher was compelled to spend 
a dreary night in them, with thanks or 
other address to the " bad pilot." 
Much of these tidal lands has been re- 
claimed, and is richly fertile. 

The narrative continues : " Soon after 
night closed in we arrived at the Mission* 
of Santa Clara. Our reception . . . 
by the hospitable fathers of the Mission 
was such as excited in every breast the 
most lively sensations of gratitude and 

It is a pleasant picture. The weary, 
chilled, and probably very hungry young 
Saxon resting by the hearth fire, - 
doubtless such was needed and supplied, 
of these lonely pioneers of an alien 
race, and missioners of an almost alien 
faith, who receive him not as a heretic, 
but humanly and Christly as " a stran- 
ger" whom they took in, and whom, 
hungry, they fed. 

Such generous reception was, I think, 
usual to strangers that visited the early 
missions, and due to other impulse than 
merely pleasure at relieved loneliness 
and monotony. La Perouse, who rep- 
resented a less friendly power, although 
a common faith, was received at San 
Carlos with equal generosity. At a later 
date, 1824, Kotzebue was received at 
this same Mission of Santa Clara, he 
tells us, with " scarcely common civil- 
ity." But that was in a degenerate 
period, when the mission was " fast fall- 
ing into decay." Such incivility may 
also have had personal occasion. The 
Russian traveler saw things through 
very blue goggles, which fitted his nose 
ill, and kept him in habitual irritation, 
I believe. His harsh animadversions 
upon the Protestant missionaries in the 
Sandwich Islands were squarely contra- 
dicted by the more competent judge, 
Charles Darwin. 

I refer to this to suggest much cau- 
tion in taking the hasty and often un- 
sympathetic impressions of some early 
critics of the Franciscan missions, and 
of later critics of other missions. 

It is a relief, in looking beyond the 
merely money-getting immigration of 
later days, to feel critically justified in 
imputing a generally pure, if erring, 
philanthropy to those robed incomers, 


A Peninsular Centennial. 


with their crucifixes of a vicarious sor- 
row and their "scourges of small cords," 
with whose saving pains they thought 
to supplement those of the Vicar. They 
erred, but less in motive than in judg- 
ment. At first, at least, they chastised 
whom they loved. 

The winter evening "passed very 
pleasantly " to the friars and their 
guests. Of the former, Father Pena was 
the head of the mission, and with 
his nobler confrere, Murguia, the bosom 
friend of Jum'pero Serra was its found- 
er. Pena seems at this time passing 
under the cloud of melancholia, in the 
shadow of which his life ended. Such 
mental decay was not uncommon in 
these solitary missions. We may sup- 
pose, therefore, that the companionship 
of this genial and hale young officer was 
of peculiar delight to the moody friar. 
Perhaps some of the ship's grog re- 
mained to enliven the evening. Pena 
was a well informed man, and there was 
much to say of the affairs of that very 
critical day of modern history. 

The tired traveler doubtless sought 
his rude bed early, and probably unre- 
flecting that no other Englishman since 
Drake had slept on these shores, enjoyed 
the rest of the weary righteous. 

"After a most excellent breakfast 
next morning, the 2ist, on tea and choc- 
olate," he writes, " we took a view of 
the establishment and the adjoining 

The latter is '" an extensive fertile 
plain, the soil of which is a rich, black, 
productive mould, superior to any I had 
before seen in America." The tilling 
of this is in primitive fashion. " By the 
help of a very mean and ill-contrived 
plough drawn by oxen, the earth is once 
slightly turned over and smoothed down 
by a harrow. Tn the month of Novem- 
ber or December the wheat is sown in 
drills, or broadcast on the even surface, 
and scratched in with a harrow. This 
is the whole of their system of hus- 
bandry, which uniformly produces them 

in July or August an abundant harvest." 
The wheat returns "twenty-five to thir- 
ty for one." Maize, pease, and beans 
are also raised. " Here were planted 
peaches, apricots, apples, pears, figs, and 
vines, all of which, excepting the latter, 
promised to succeed very well." Santa 
Clara fruits were early a luxury in San 

The buildings of the mission were 
" on the same plan as those of St. 
Francisco, built near and connecting 
with the church, but appearing to be 
more extensive, and to possess more 
comforts or rather less inconveniences," 
than those of the other mission. 

There was the same cloistral system 
for the women, whose weaving Vancou- 
ver thought excelled that of the women 
of the other mission. Of their quarters, 
Kotzebue says that they "resembled a 
prison for state criminals." " I have 
occasionally seen the poor girls rushing 
out eagerly to breathe the fresh air, and 
driven immediately into the church by 
an old ragged Spaniard, armed with a 
stick." Some of the girls, he says, 
wore " bars of iron " on their legs. 

Vancouver, however, detected noth- 
ing harsh in the administration of the 
mission. As to Kotzebue's aged Span- 
iard, he may not have been at fault for 
his " rags," he certainly was not for 
for being " old," and his " stick " 
which it is not said he used may have 
been his cane. The " poor girls " could 
hardly have wanted for " fresh air " in 
their roofless quadrangle. The chains 
were humaner than a club to restrain 
the rebellious. 

The system were more accurately 
compared to our reformatory institu- 
tions than to slavery. The selfish mo- 
tive that dishonors slavery is here want- 

The notable building of the mission 
was the chapel, with which the quad- 
rangle connected. "This," says. Van- 
couver, " was long and lofty, and as well 
built as the rude materials of which it 


A Peninsular Centennial. 


was composed would allow." This ma- 
terial was the common adobe, which, 
although so unstable, lends itself well 
to the type of architecture in use. 
Kotzebue thought the material was 

A pathetic interest attaches to this 
church "the finest yet erected in Cal- 
ifornia "from the circumstances of its 
dedication. Designed by the saintly 
Murguia, who had some architectural 
training, it had been the object of his 
most devoted toil of brain and hand. 
At last he saw it ready for the solemn 
dedication by the aged Junipero, who, 
worn and diseased, was making his last 
itineracy. But when Junipero reached 
Santa Clara, the priestly builder had 
died, and lay buried beneath the work of 
his hands. This dedication, with the 
attending military pomp, on May 15, 
1784, was the last such service done by 
Serra. At its conclusion he took his 
weary way through the mountains to 
the San Carlos Mission at Monterey, 
and there peacefully fell asleep in the 
late summer of that year, leaving to 
this Western Slope its noblest personal 
tradition. At the altar of this church, 
therefore, his larger labors may be said 
to have ended. 

Of our party, it is of interest to note, 
the valiant Amador shall, after a sad 
and neglected age, find his grave here. 
Here Dona Martina Castro was wedded 
by proxy to Governor Alvarado, her 
marriage ring being of California gold. 
This church was, as Hit-tell believes, 
destroyed by earthquake. Bancroft, 
however, is of contrary opinion, believ- 
ing it still preserved. 

The Indians of this mission Van- 
couver found in "the same horrid state 
of uncieanliness and laziness " as those 
of the Dolores Mission. ' There is 
scarcely any sign in their general de- 
portment of their being at all benefited, 
or of having added one single ray of com- 
fort to their wretched condition," by the 
precepts and labors of the fathers. He 

adds : " Further efforts are now mak- 
ing . . . to break through the gloomy 
cloud of insensibility in which at pres- 
ent these people are enveloped, by giv- 
ing them new habitations." 

The new habitations, containing each 
two rooms and a garret, had each a gar- 
den and a poultry yard in the rear. It 
was probably these that Kotzebue called 
"stalls," affording hardly room for their 
inmates to lie down in. 

Vancouver does not mention the 
pueblo, two miles southeast of the mis- 
sion, and on the opposite side of the 
Little Guadalupe River. He probably 
considered it part of the mission, but, 
except as under the spiritual cure of the 
fathers, it was wholly distinct from the 
religious establishment. 

Founded in the same year as the 
mission, 1777, it is notable as the be- 
ginning of purely civil local govern- 
ment in California. The plan of the 
promoters of the settlement of Califor 
nia included originally, I think ; at 
least very early the three distinct but 
administratively co-ordinated institu- 
tions : the religious, mission, the civil 
and industrial pueblo, and the military 
presidio, the latter in effect the police 
adjunct of the others. The San Fran- 
cisco bay settlements were the first to 
include all three of these. 

The pueblo was a farming colony of 
Spanish immigrants, to each of whom 
was allowed " a tract of land that could 
be irrigated sufficient for planting about 
three bushels of maize, with a house- 
lot, ten dollars a month, and soldiers' 
rations." [Bancroft, Hist. Cal. i :3I3-] 
Here were the material conditions for a 
flourishing community, the beginning 
of an enduring and controlling Latin 
civilization. We may compare it, as the 
first civil community of California, with 
that community founded upon the other 
shore of this elect continent a hundred 
and fifty years before. The Plymouth 
colonists of the Teutonic blood had far 
inferior natural elements of prosperity. 


A Peninsular Centennial. 


Yet if there had been an ordering 
Plan into which the details of our his- 
tory fall, as the builder's details are in 
the architect's Plan, and we are now 
capable of broadly seeing that Plan, it 
was necessary that the Teutonic com- 
munity should grow, and establish its 
faith and civil order as a nation's and a 
civilization's sure foundation stone. It 
was also necessary that this Latin 
community and its faith should decay, 
and this before it had cumbered the 
land with the debris of a really estab- 
lished order of affairs, as Mexico is 

And this came to pass. The pueblo 
never throve. It soon became the prey 
of lawlessness and intemperance, which 
its alcalde of an early date, finding his 
jail and stocks constantly full, sought 
to correct by severe prohibitory regula- 
tions. The population soon decreased, 
and here, as elsewhere about this inland 
sea, the natural heart of the coast and 
of any civilization founded on it, the 
race and its order of things crumbled 
away like its adobes, leaving but dust. 

If one may think he sees other lines 
of that Plan : it was well that a formal 
possession of the region should be held 
by just such a people thus prejudicing 
or voiding the claims of stronger na- 
tions until the colonists on the other 
side of the continent should be ready 
to possess this side. When Kotzebue 
visited the same pueblo in 1824, he 
remarks: "It is a great pity that we 
[the Russians] were not beforehand with 
them [the Spaniards]. The advantages 
of possessing this beautiful bay are in- 
calculable" [Kotzebue, New Voyage, 

Now the very expedition of 1769 
which stumbled upon this bay had for 
one of its explicit objects that of secur- 
ing this region against Russian en- 
croachment. Had that party not blun- 
dered past Monterey, and possibly had 
not its deer hunters been led to the 
height from which the bay, so strangely 

hid until that supremely opportune 
moment, was revealed, the possibility of 
the Slavic race, with its Aryan vigor 
and the Greek faith, securing this center 
would have been not an improbability. 
It assuredly would have been disastrous 
to the movement of civilization. We 
were able to purchase Alaska, but how 
hardly could we have purchased Cali- 
fornia. The considerable Russian col- 
onies just north of the bay, made not 
long after Vancouver's visit, were a 
menace to larger interests than the ter- 
ritorial rights of Spain. One sees on 
early maps of that region such names 
as Kostromitinof, Khlebnikof, B. Rum- 
iantzof, and R. Slavianka. But in 1841 
these Slav colonists took their strange 
exodus, forever abandoning their terri- 
torial claims. But had they continued 
them another decade, would our arms 
and intrigue have availed to give us the 
full possession of this slope, or any pos- 
session on it ? And had the gold veins 
been laid bare half a decade earlier, 
would England have yielded, even to our 
threats, the great region of the Colum- 
bia River, which Captain Gray this very 
year informs Vancouver he has entered ? 
Without that concession our territory 
would have lacked its final symmetry 
and integral strength. 

These are not all of the greater move- 
ments of history on this Coast that are 
strangely rhythmical. Conceivably they 
may not be more than this, but is it not 
a sober sight that sees within this 
rhythm the " secret sense " which makes 
it of the "poetry of events," which Dan- 
iel Webster thought marks our nation's 
history above others ? 

The writer has supposed this " spirit " 
of his story of more concern than its 
"letter" of incident. 

The remainder of the story is brief. 

"In compliment to our visit," the 
journal continues, " the fathers ordered 
a feast for the Indians of the village. 
The principal part of the entertainment 
was beef from a certain number of black 


A Peninsular Centennial. 


cattle which were presented on that oc- 
casion to the villagers." 

The original herd of cattle was fifteen 
head, brought in 1778. On the rich 
plains they had increased so prolifically 
that now twenty-four cattle were every 
week slaughtered for this mission and 
pueblo. The herd also furnished the 
meat of the San Francisco and San Car- 
los missions, Bancroft states, although 
Vancouver saw cattle on the hills at the 
former place. As these herds ran nearly 
wild over the valley they had to be 
caught, as needed, with the riata. Van- 
couver rode out to witness the remark- 
able skill of the soldiers in the use of 
this. Each cow selected was pursued 
by two horsemen, who, riding one on 
each side of their game, at the same 
moment swung and shot their leather or 
horse-hair riatas, rarely failing to put 
both over the horns of the hurrying 
beast. The riatas being drawn taut, and 
hitched around the pommels, the animal 
was led helplessly to the slaughter. 

Vancouver gives no details of the feast 
or other incidents of the day. The fol- 
lowing, Thursday, morning they took 
their leave from the padres, having 
some difficulty in excusing themselves 
from the " pressing solicitation of these 
good people to prolong our stay." 

That this visit, a charming diversion 
to the seafarer, was a grateful relief to 
the lonely fathers, whose least priva- 
tions were those of physical comforts, 
is readily imagined. His sensitive, fine- 
ly-grained nature would be to their 
chords of higher thought and feeling 
what its sounding board is to a harp. 
Doubtless the lingering tones of that 
brief intercourse made sweeter many 
days of their dreary, unrequited toil. 

The return to San Francisco, which 
was by the same general route, was 
without especial incident. 

It was late in the evening when they 
reached the harbor, in which Vancouver 
was gratified to find the Chatham, ten- 
der to his own vessel, commanded by 
Lieutenant Brougham, at*anchor. 

The commanders hastened the stor- 
ing of their vessels. For those fur- 
nished by the commandante he would 
accept no payment, acting under ad- 
vices from Vancouver's friend, Sefior 
Quadra, then at Monterey. He ac- 
cepted, however, various gifts, including 
implements, ornaments for the church- 
es, and a hogshead each of wine and 
rum, to be distributed to the missions 
and the presidio. 

All being in readiness, on Sunday 
morning the vessels weighed anchor and 
worked out on the tide to the sea, where, 
with a fair wind, they sailed to the south. 

"Thus," Vancouver writes, "we quit- 
ted San Francisco, highly indebted for 
our hospitable reception, and the ex- 
cellent refreshments, which, in a few 
days, entirely eradicated every apparent 
symptom of scurvy." 

Of the port, he states that he had 
been able to obtain " no precise infor- 
mation," but adds : " Everything, how- 
ever, that we were able to notice tended 
to confirm the original opinion that it is 
as fine a port as the world affords." 

On his arrival at Monterey, on the 
following morning, Vancouver was 
shown utmost courtesy by all the offi- 
cials. He was permitted to construct 
an observatory on shore, and in all ways 
given generous and indiscreet liberty. 

For their incautious hospitalities, the 
authorities of Monterey and of San 
Francisco were called to stern account. 
When, therefore, Vancouver, in the 
following year, again dropped anchor 
before the Presidio, which had been 
given ampler armament during his ab- 
sence, he was amazed to find himself 
placed under severest, and, he thought, 
" insulting " restraints, although Sefior 
Sal in imposing them showed generous 
and considerate personal feeling. 

So ended this short poem of events, 
which, although quite pastoral in its in- 
cident is, I think, almost epic in its " se- 
cret sense." 

William H. McDougaL 


Four for a Cent. 



[70 ^ "DEAR" Editor: Like the 
Sappho of Green Springs, I have given 
up writing and married a farmer. My 
farmer is not Bret Hartean. No 
spiritual diamond gleams amidst his 
dust. He chews 'baccy. He talks cow. 
But he goes to bed with the hens, and 
I don't. My farmer got a poor bargain 
in me. He buys his cows with better 
judgment. But he cannot complain. 
For I told him beforehand that he had 
got all the work due him from his three 
dead wives, and that I had toiled, moiled, 
suffered, if not unto death as they had, 
at least all I ever intended to. 

He did not believe me. He does now! 
He has to hire "a help," and do the 
chores himself, while I, sure of food and 
shelter for the first time in my life, sit 
by the fire, and think. 

Do I weep then that dreams are flown, 
strength gone, and youth dead 1 Do I 
mourn that, rent and weatherbeaten, 
I lie a dingy wreck upon a stagnant 
shore ? Or do I chuckle, while the wind 
wails down the chimney, and tears fall 
from the black sky, that I have got my 
pottage at last, having never had a 
birthright save to famine. Marry, go 
to ! Whose business is it but my 
own ? 

When I destroyed my MSS this one 
somehow escaped. I send it to you, 
Dear Editor, whose race I unutterably 

loathe and abjure, that perchance some 
desperate sister sailing life's troubled 
main may destroy her's also, and espouse 
Hayseed or Death.] 

LET the clangor of life's battle music 
be hushed for a moment. Hushed be 
bugle and drum, flute and bassoon. Let 
the glad clarion cry be mute, while upon 
the cold bosom of silence a cracked 
little pipe wheezes its one mean tune. 

Nobody can call me a penny-a-liner ! 
For when was I ever paid so much ! 
The ooze of my brain is not often paid 
for by its specific gravity, or levity. 
Rather is it dealt with by dry-goods 
rule, as if I peddled tape or dress-braid. 
I am not even paid upon so noble a scale 
as the yard-stick, but by a mysterious 
calculation of " inches," which resolves 
itself into about one-quarter cent a line ! 

I have never been a journalistic free- 
booter, with thus the blessed privilege 
of "sassing back" when ill used. I 
am a mere hopeless, helpless drudge, 
forced into life without a chance to say 
"nay," obliged to eat and drink and to. 
cover my nakedness now that I am here, 
yet with no fiber of capacity for doing 
any work on earth better than I am do- 
ing everyday, selling my strength, yea, 
my very substance, flesh, nerve, mar- 
row, brain, by the "inch," at half a 
farthing a line ! 


Four for a Cent. 


" Go out into the sweet country," say 
you, "and enter some sunny kitchen " ? 

Prithee, how thus better myself ? I 
could n't lift a farmer's kettle of "boiled 
dish " to save my life. A country lass 
of fourteen can turn off more work in 
an hour than I in twelve. I should faint 
at the washtub, and weep at the ironing 
table. I love dawns and sunsets, to be 
sure ; but I hate pigs, I am indifferent 
to hens, and of cows I am afraid. Besides 
I am forty-three years old, and if pride 
did not reject the title "servant," cer- 
tainly I could not have the face to offer 
myself as a "girl." 

As a writer, I am strictly confined to 
the current journals, and such precari- 
ous earnings as I can entice from them. 
I am, in fact, a mere hawker of cheap 
wares from office to office. These wares 
are vastly in demand, the public is 
greedy for the stuff, but then, alas and 
alack, swarms of just such as I besiege 
every newspaper door. 

"Tricks in all trades but ours," we 
say. Certainly " poor but honest," this 
trade of inking fingers and pages, yet 
are there no "tricks" in it ? One who 
watches the whole press gang as I must, 
to see what each member is up to, and 
how it pays, how I may imitate " Clover 
Pink's" remunerative picturesqueness, 
or perchance filch some of her profit- 
able electricity from "Di Dashaway," 
might soon come to believe that few 
trades have more. 

That ridiculous goose, the Public ! 
Sometimes I wonder if the whole world 
is n't an idiot asylum for the castaways 
of happier planets. 

The Public fancies it reads fresh mat- 
ter every day. It never suspects that it 
so seldom gets anything better than it 
deserves ; stale old stuff hashed over, or 
spiced to take the taste of the preserv- 
ing pickle out. 

The massive majority of us farthing- 
a-liners have a very limited stock of ideas 
to work with. We have no time to read 
even if we wanted to, which the most of 

us don't, having a distaste rather than 
otherwise for printed matter not our 
own. Besides, how can we spare time 
from fighting that fanged beast sniffing 
and snarling forever at our doors ? Does 
man read in the tiger's mouth ? Or 
woman in the anaconda's caress ? 

In fact, we work more swiftly with but 
few ideas. We know just how to make 
our old soldiers run, trot, and canter. 
With new' ones we might become con- 
fused : lose the word of command, even 
perhaps get trodden upon and kicked 
out of the line by our new recruits. We 
can continue to deploy our veterans 
With less expenditure of vital energy, 
for the trick becomes easy in time, 
almost as easy as making shirts for six 
cents, and trowsers for twelve. 

The style of some of the Sunday pa- 
pers is our style. We wriggle in those 
papers like mites in antique cheese. 
We push and squirm to get there, and 
once there are sure of our lives for an- 
other week,unless something other than 
famine smites us. We are flippant there 
as "skippers," but is it our fault that 
the Public has a taste for skipping 
cheese ? 

If x traces of that same flippancy ap- 
pear in this over-true tale, written with 
tears in eyes that I dry with a Japanese 
napkin as cheaper than a mouchoir, 
know ye, know ye, that I would write 
like Mrs. Browning or George Eliot if 
I could. Would it not be prettier to 
write of moonlight and love, to mur- 
. mur of the sheen of midnight rivers and 
the matin chant of virginal souls ? 
Would I, think you, gyre and gimble in 
the wabe of print as>I do, could wishes 
make me a sweet little unspankable 
cherub, grown moon-cheeked upon a 
diet of air ? 

We liners, whose name is Legion, all 
gabble each in his or her little manner. 
One of us is strong on matters of the 
toilette, cosmetics, depilatories, and the 
influence on the complexion of all things 
in the heavens above, the earth beneath, 


Four for a Cent. 


and the waters under the earth. Twen- 
tyfive years ago that woman was writ- 
ing precisely the same stuff in precisely 
the same words, except that where then 
she would have said, " spun locks of by- 
gone harvests," she now says "straw." 
One's reason totters on its throne to 
realize how many thousand times she 
has rearranged her venerable advice to 
girls concerning coarse bread and tow- 
els, cold cream and cucumber water, of 
bathing in buttermilk or not bathing at 
all. So far as I can see, not a shadow 
of change has passed over her in the 
last quarter of a century. I reach again 
for my tear-dryer of Japan, remember- 
ing her cruel disappointment and mine 
when she failed once upon a time to ex- 
change her farthing-a-lining for a secre- 
taryship requiring ten hours' hard labor 
a day, and paid $40 a month. 

" When I get it," she made rainbow 
promise, " we will have a square meal, 
if it costs a dollar." 

The reason Selina is able to continue 
in this changeless way is that she is 
read now by chits of girls as always, 
but the daughters of the chits she wrote 
for originally. If she lives, I have no 
doubt she will pour forth the same un- 
changing flood for still other chits, 
grand-daughters of her first ones. 

Once we questioned Planchette in a 
pious parlor. Whether our foolishness 
disgusted the oracle or not, I can only 
suspect. It suddenly reared upon its 
hind legs, and cantered wildly over the 

Thus we read, 

Better go home, and put your heads in 
soak ! 

I sometimes wonder if Selina, in the 
utter weariness of her deadly struggle 
for bread, does not long to cry out to 
her chits in the same manner. 

Another of us started out twenty 
years ago, when St. Eastlake was in 
vogue, and Morris and Marshall choired 
his praises. She started out in the 
household decorative line. She is trot- 

ting its mazes yet, worn, and gray, and 
weary, but with exactly the same active 
trot, sometimes in the sublime aisles of 
tidies and splashers, sometimes in the 
picture galleries of merchant princes. 
She has never advanced a single theory 
or idea of art of her own in all that 
time. She has never had one to ad- 
vance. She can only describe things 
that already exist, theaters, club-rooms, 
summer cottages, and winter mansions. 
She "reconstructs" exactly as some 
write history, by re-aranging old facts. 
She makes new cottages, new mansions, 
new maidens' boudoirs, on paper, and 
she is known all over the city for the 
skill with which she idealizes into new 
copy the same old office decorations, 
and ornamental desks and railings. 

Dear, witless Public, for whom I have 
such loving contempt, know ye another 
of us (there are several of her) who goes 
about among unliterary professionals, 
singers, actors, cyclists, base-ballists, 
politicians, cooks, and borrows their 
names to masquerade under? It is she 
who writes all the fine and foolish things 
these unlettered people are supposed to 
say over their own names, in the public 

" O yes, you may have my name, and 
write up any amount of my experiences 
and opinions," a well-known actress said 
to me. " But I want you to read the 
manuscript over to me, to see if you 
have managed to stick pins enough into 
old Jezebel without naming her." 

Jezebel was, of course, sweet Candi- 
da's bosom friend. Their loving em- 
braces were photographed even then 
upon the mantel. . 

Others have no decided specialty. 
They grind all grist into chaff alike. 
One has an enormous horror of fatness. 
She writes nearly all the "copy " on the 
fat question that you see swimming 
about. She will tell what to do, and 
what not, to keep your flesh down, and, 
wish you so, you may read also what 
she writes about increasing one's weight. 


Four for a Cent. 


She makes about two hundred dollars 
a year out of human fat, and calls it 
journalism ! 

Nobody can suspect me of vanity, 
even though I say that of all our press 
gang, none so versatile as I. I write 
book reviews, editorials, fashion articles, 
stories, picturesque advertisements, sen- 
sational items, poetry, advice to readers, 
contributors' columns, questions and 
answers, art criticism, yea verily, even 
sermons. I'm a jack at all these branches 
of our trade. I have a finger in many 
pies. I never was led to the altar, yet 
as a liner on domestic and nursery sub- 
jects I feel myself a distinguished suc- 

How do I get my ideas ? 

Were I flippant in my literary style I 
might reply, "I bone them." Not being 
flippant, I sadly explain, "I assimilate 

I go to the library, turn over bound 
volumes of the domestic journals and 
trundle-bed literature, for an hour. 
Then I go home and spin out a three- 
dollar or so article from my notes, while 
my chocolate is warming over my kero- 
sene lamp. 

It takes much longer to dispose of my 
" copy " than to make it. I have never 
been able to secure any regular engage- 
ment, and Luck only is my patron saint. 
I often prefer to send my stuff to edi- 
tors by post, postage costing no more 
than car fares. Often my manuscript 
makes half a dozen journeys before find- 
ing its haven of rest. Thus out of the 
three or four dollars it brings me I 
lose from ten to fifty cents in postage 
money, but no more than car fare would 
cost me, and I save time. Naturally, I 
am solicitous always to have thin paper, 
we liners would fall into squalor the 
most abject, were we compelled to use 
the thick stationery of society women. 

With all my airy squeaks and gibbers 

and my desperate strainings, I cannot 

possibly make more than $300 a year. 

I live on this. Do not ask me how. 

VOL. xxi 5. 

Never will I reveal the secrets of the 
charnel house. 

With every recurring spring I turn 
off from half a dozen to a dozen articles 
of " Advice to Travelers." Only we 
and the public know what an appetite 
the public has for these vernal articles. 
That appetite comes with the first 
March sunshine, like a hanker for rhu- 
barb and dandelion greens. The bile- 
burdened public does n't ask that the 
greens and rhubarb of this year be dif- 
ferent from those of last, nor does it 
ask that our advice be. 

I am strongest on advice to European 
travelers, even though I was never 
nearer Europe in my life than the Bat- 
tery. More than once I have received 
letters from admiring readers, begging 
me to tell them more about waterproofs 
and foot-warmers for crossing the sea. 

Once upon a time many years ago, 
never then having seen the inside of a 
studio, I wrote an article upon art study 
from the nude for women. I was amazed 
at the success of this trifle, and moved 
out of my hall bedroom into a square 
garret room on the strength of it, and 
studied milliners' advertisements, and 
took pie for dinner. The article was 
copied all over the land. I received $5 
for it originally. Derivatively, I have 
since made at least $150. At judiciously 
chosen seasons and intervals ever since 
I have written it over and over again, 
and still make from $3 to $5 with every 

That seems easy enough, doesn't it? 

But who thinks farthing-a-lining a bed 
of roses, errs widely. For our hardships, 
we women count men-dabblers in the 
same work largely to blame. Those 
creatures have no sense of honor in 
business. Do you hint that women 
have no great burden of it ? I will only 
answer that Woman (with a capital) is 
what Man (with another) has made her. 

A man-liner will light upon a feminine 
subject like a bee on clover. He will 
reel off a page upon the Complexion ; 


Four for a Cent. 


upon Woman as a Cyclist or, a Factor in 
the Domestic System ; upon Woman's 
Wages in Literature, or Advice to 
Mothers, with dauntless cheek and a 
feminine name. These epicene objects 
are sublime in the Nursery, and I know 
one with fifty feminine nom de plumes 
who makes at east $ 100 a year by tricky 
re-arrangement of two articles popular 
in the " Households " of the semi-reli- 
gious weeklies, "The Secret of the 
Wife's Power" (good cooking), and 
" How to Clean House Gracefully," that 
is, in your best gown and with kid gloves 
on. I know another,mighty upon "Dress 
Reform for Women," and cooking arti- 
cles for the Epicure, and the annual ad- 
vertising pamphlets of the large grocery 

These men in petticoats do their best 
to imitate both the snipperty-snapperty 
style, and the languorous-moony-mur- 
mur supposed to be characteristically 
feminine. Here is a genuine specimen 
taken from a Sunday paper : 

Imagine a head, small, exquisitely poised, the 
crown caressed by blue-black hair that reflects a 
purple tint on every wave, growing soft and thick 
above a wonderfully low but arched forehead. Two 
great eyes [only two ! good gracious, why spoil all 
his lushness by chill numbers ?] of hazel-brown are 
guarded by brows of velvety black. [The velvety- 
arch is a favorite figure of this school.] Long, mys- 
terious lashes shade an olive cheek. [Only one ? 
dear, dear !] A small Grecian nose, beautiful, sen- 
sitive mouth, and radiant, laughing teeth, complete 
this perfect face. [Lacks a chin !] She has the full 
figure, with the ample lines of' a Greek Minerva 
[Minerva, ample !], and dresses in gracious [sic 
graceful, ^half-flowing robes, which takeaway from her 
amplitude [the idea of detracting from the " lines" 
of a Greek Minerva !], and clothe her with a double 
grace and softness. Her head is so beautiful in ex- 
terior you cannot all at once realize that it is but a 
casket which contains a gem of still rarer beauty. 
[And now comes the great anvil-crash of farthing 
rhetoric] Her brain power would not disgrace a 

Gladstone ; her marvelous and varied talents would 
not have discredited the gifted Edgar A. Poe. In 
language she is a Mezzofanti, in science she is a 
Huxley, in simplicity a true Woman [With a cap- 

She was born, must I say when ? No, but I will 
tell you about when. It was perhaps nearly three 
decades ago, [in fact it was in 1840,] and she so 
little looks it that the freshness of eighteen summers 
lights her eye and blooms on her cheeks. 

This is the chaff the dear idiotic Pub- 
lic feeds on. Does any one suspect me 
of caricature ? Then I am wronged, for 
I quote it word for word. 

If only a dozen or so of us were grind- 
ing chaff into this other chaff, we might 
possibly make butter for our crusts. But 
we are thousands, and go butterless to 

The above is one specimen of farth- 
ing-a-lining. Here is another, and an 
exact copy : 

Listen to the throbbing strains of the Sea-shore 
Band ; gaze upon the fluffy thing [he means a wo- 
man,] that looms and fades in star-like pureness, 
whirling and glad, and her hair moist from exertion. 
Then note her dash into the foamy sea, list the glad 
shout of her, study her round, supple firmness. Then 
walk along the midnight shore and list to the waves 
come in sobbing, just as they sobbed a year ago, 
when all was well, and the girl with the great golden 
hair walked with us. 

Except for its mumbling, sotto-voce 
voluptuousness, this might pass for the 
real feminine gush. But women are not 
given to study of each other's "sup- 
ple firmness," no matter how round, nor 
are they inspired by each other's per- 
spiration, even though under "great 
golden hair." 

And all this fine writing at a farthing 
a line. 

Of course, we might do better as 
hewers of wood and drawers of water. 
If only we knew how to hew, and to 


1893.] Spinning Song. 59 


TURN, wheel, turn ! while the hours are going and coming, 

And the fast thread flies, and shadows grow on the wall ; 
Turn, wheel, turn! and still like a honey-bee humming, 

With slow, drowsy drone, in a dream, let thy soft sounds fall. 
Steps pass in the street, and curfew rings, and the neighbors 

Smile as they meet, in the light of the sinking sun ; 
Poor weary feet, ye soon shall rest from your labors ! 

Sleep comes for all, when the toils of the day are done. 

Turn, wheel, turn ! the great sea echoes your whirring, 

All wide and blue, outspread on its shores below ; 
Murmuring still with a ceaseless panting and purring, 

Filled with a song that never the tongue may know. 
Boats slide in, and the waves in a whispering chorus 

Croon to the strand, with laughter and lisp of spray : 
Cold green caves are filled with the throb sonorous 

Of pouring tides that pulse from the far-away. 

Turn, wheel, turn ! I spin my thoughts in the spinning, 

Sun, and sea, and skies, in the whirling thread, 
Like a line of life without an end or beginning, 

Formed of the deeds that are dqne, and the words that are said. 
Faint, sweet hopes, and the faiths by love befridnded, 

Each dim light in the depth of the heart that burns, 
Here assembling, softly together are blended, 

While ever slower and slower the slow wheel turns. 

Turn, wheel, turn ! while the hours are coming and going, 
And the fast thread flies, and shadows grow on the wall ; 

Turn, wheel, turn ! and still like a honey-bee humming, 

With slow, drowsy drone, in a dream, let thy soft sounds fall ! 

M. C. Gillington. 


Not Unto Us Alone. 




NOT unto us alone, to every soul, 

This splendid inappropriable sea. 

To think that round the earth unceasingly, 
Year after year, these tireless surf-lines roll 
Upon the arid shore their silver dole. 

Not unto us, not unto you or me, 

The dawn's display, the purple pageantry 
Of sunset, nor about the distant Pole 
That mighty and mysterious diadem 

Which men have named the Morning of the North. 
Not unto us alone, but unto them 

Thrice happy, who perceive the dateless worth 
Of beauty, touch with awe her garment's hem, 

And strive to read the message she speaks forth. 

Julia Boynton Green. 


Brander's Wife- 




IT was a little after seven o'clock ; the 
most quiet hour of a winter day in the 
editorial rooms of the great morning 
paper. The rooms of the managing 
editor were still dark. A single editorial 
writer scribbled away at his shabby desk 
in a little den assigned to him. The 
local room, which but a moment before 
had been brisk movement and confusion, 
was silent and deserted. The big detail 
book, lying open on the shelf before the 
city editor's window, had issued its 
orders, and in obedience to them the 
small army of reporters had filed out : 
Jones to a wedding, Brown to secure the 
latest reports from the chamber of a 
dying man, Robinson to probe the vitals 
of the newest scandal, Smith to the city 
prison ; Tom, Dick, and Harry, to the 
various churches, to take note of the 
festivities in progress ; for the night was 
Christmas Eve, and rich and poor, the 
gay and the sorrowing, joined in homage 
to the babe who lay in the manger nearly 
nineteen centuries before. 

In an ante-room that led to the main 
hallway lounged Simpson, a general 
utility man, ready to serve in case of 
emergency. The only occupant of the 
local room was Brander, the city editor. 

Brander sat in his small private office, 
separated from the main room by a glass 
partition, through which he could see 
every man and every movement in it. 
It was not particularly pleasant to be 
under Brander's eye, and there was 
scarce a member of the local staff who 
had not freely cursed the little glass 
office and its point of vantage at the end 
of the long apartment, where its tenant 
could focus every corner and cranny. 
If Jones essayed to have a quiet chat 
with Robinson, there was sure to come 
a courteous summons from the glass 
office, calling his attention to an error 
in the copy he had just given in ; and if 
Robinson, in passing Smith's desk, halt- 
ed to laugh with him over the latest joke 
told by Chirkup, the clown in local pol- 
itics, he would receive a gentle reminder 
that when he had finished the story he 
had in hand there was another detail 
that he might work on ; and everybody 
knows that a second detail in the same 
evening, to a staff man, who has done 
his full duty by the first, is an indignity 
that no man who respects himself will 
patiently endure, and that no man who 
is not an ogre will inflict. 

Brander did not look as if the milk of 


Brander's Wife, 


human kindness flowed in his veins that 
night. He was a tall, raw-boned fellow, 
with a broad forehead and a face that 
could be kindly, but that wore an habit- 
ual frown. The strength and grace of 
the man lay in his sparkling, dark eyes, 
and a certain awkward dignity, that as- 
serted itself in his shambling, loose- 
jointed gait and his hesitating speech. 
He sat looking out of his window into 
the crowded street, where happy crowds 
jostled on the narrow sidewalks with 
smiles and cheer f ul salutations ; and 
shame and woe fought for the mastery 
in his heart. His mind again and again 
rehearsed the scene that had taken 
place at his home before he had come 
down for the night's work. 

" I asked her not to go. That should 
have been enough. How could I ex- 
plain to her the hints and insinuations 
I had heard ? Or define to her the sort 
of man I know Carew to be ? He never 
plays the 'squire to a pretty woman 
without a dastardly object. She believes 
in him ; more than she believes in me. 
Considers him a proper escort because 
there is a distant cousinship ; or she af- 
fects to. How far has it gone ? How 
far has it gone ? " 

He arose to answer a whistle for 
"copy," stuffing a bundle of sheets into 
a little hole in the wall, and jerking a 
cord that sent them spinning up to the 
composing room in the top story. He 
turned back to his desk, and tried to 
busy himself with the papers there, but 
his gaze traveled again to the brightly 
lighted street, and his thoughts wan- 

" I was a fool to have married her. 
She, young and pretty, fond of society, 
of music. I, getting old and gray, de- 
testing these things, caring only for 
home and her, and yoked to this jugger- 
naut that crushes those who draw it as 
well as those who are dragged under it. 
I haven't any time for idling, and I 
believe I 've forgotten how. She taxed 
me with it tonight, and said Carew was 

bright and agreeable, and she enjoyed 
his society. Talked of the matter with 
perfect indifference, her needles clickr 
ing in the most exasperating way while 
she worked steadily on at some fluffy 
pink thing, one of those bewitching 
scarf-like hoods, I '11 be bound, that 
pretty women like to wrap around their 
heads when they go out at night, for 
fellows like Carew to admire. And she 
said it was cruel for me to misjudge her, 
and to try to spoil her pleasure at this 
time. At this time ! By the Lord Har- 
ry, if Christmas time is n't a fit season 
for a wife to be true to her husband, I 
should like to know what is. 

" She is off with him by th time 
It 's to be a swell affair. Jenkins, whom 
we've sent over there, is a thorough 
man ; he '11 have the name and costume 
of every pretty woman there, and he 's 
not likely to miss her. I shall have the 
pleasure of editing his copy, and of learn- 
ing how she looked and dressed. How 
far has it gone ? God in heaven, how 
far has it gone ? " 

The door of the local room opened. 
A young special reporter, who had been 
hanging around for a month to secure a 
detail, walked briskly in, and seated him- 
self at a desk, with a look in Brander's 
direction that invited attention to his 
dispatch in discharging his mission. 
Brander scowled cordially at him. He 
did not approve of a fellow who took 
only half an hour to execute a commis- 
sion that would have justified half the 
evening. There was a jingle of the tel- 
ephone bell in the ante-room, and a 
man's voice assenting to some message 
whispered over the wires. Then Simp- 
son, the emergency man, strode through 
the local room, and flung open the door 
of the glass office. 

" My soul, Brander ! The most hor- 
rible accident " 

" Ah, is it possible ? What is it, Mr. 
Simpson ? " 

Brander always resented familiarity. 
The emergency man accepted the re- 


hranders Wife. 



proof, and changed his style of address, 
laying sarcastic emphasis upon the pre- 
fix, as he again addressed his superior. 

" I beg your pardon, Mr. Brander. 
The Water Nymph, 7:30 boat from the 
San Francisco side, has blown up. 
Loaded with city people going over to 
the entertainment of the Philharmonic, 
in Oakland. What 's the matter, Bran- 
der ? Are you sick ? " 

Brander's face was ghastly. It was 
the boat his wife and Carew were to 
have taken ; but he met the other's in- 
quiry with icy resentment. 

" You are deviating from your text, 
Mr. Simpson. What else have you 
learned ? " 

"The accident is attributed to some 
new cheap fuel experiment they were 
trying with the engines. The bay is 
strewn with wreckage and bodies." 

' Very well. Telephone the wharfin- 
ger at Broadway to charter the tug Dol- 
phin, and make your way there as fast 
as you can. Leave that rubbish, and 
join Mr. Simpson, "added Brander, step- 
ping out of the office and addressing the 
amazed special, who was slyly consult- 

ing a thesaurus. " I '11 have two or three 
other men there before you 're off. Get 
every item you can. Don't let any- 
thing escape you." 

He followed the departing men into 
the ante-room, and rung the telephone, 
calling up a reporter strong on descrip- 
tion, who had been sent to the Grand 
Opera House to write an account of an 
amateur spectacular exhibition ; and he 
sent a special messenger to another re- 
porter who was a walking directory of 
names and faces, ordering him to take 
up his post at the morgue and see every 
body as it was brought in. 

At this moment the assistant city 
editor made his appearance. He had 
been let off for the evening, but had 
made his way to the office at the first 
tidings of the disaster, led by that 
strange fascination that draws every 
newspaper man to the center of action 
when any great calamity is announced. 

"You may take charge of the office, 
Harry," said Brander quietly. "Hurry 
the men up on this Christmas stuff ; 
have them boil down every item. Send 
the men down to the water front as fast 


Branders Wife. 


as they turn off the work on hand. Run 
every line they bring in that is n't rep- 
etition. People will want to read noth- 
ing else tomorrow. You '11 have to fight 
Bangs." Bangs was the business man- 
ager. "He's been laying himself out 
on Christman ads, but if he wants to 
get them all in he '11 have to get out an 
extra sheet. He can arrange that for 
himself. Better send somebody down to 
the morgue, to see that Sterling keeps 
straight. He 's probably got a jag on 
already. It 's Christmas Eve ; but he '11 
have to sober up and keep his head to- 
night, and save his good time for tomor- 

" He has a cool head," commented the 
assistant, looking after the retreating 
figure with hearty admiration. "He's 
going to be in the thick of it, and keep 
the boys up to their work. We '11 sell 

a hundred thousand copies tomorrow. 
The other papers will be nowhere." 

David Brander was in the thick of it ; 
but his direction of the local staff ter- 
minated with his parting instructions at 
the office. Those who stood on the 
decks of tugs and steamboats and viewed 
the scene of the awful catastrophe, no- 
ticed a small boat carrying two men, 
one at the oars, the other, silent and 
watchful, at the helm, which glided about 
the locality, threading its way between 
the larger craft, in perilous proximity to 
them. More than once the tiny shell 
narrowly missed capsizal, as it made a 
sharp turn to avoid floating wreckage. 
But it had an advantage that was not 
possessed by the larger boats. Its pas- 
senger was close to the water, and he 
looked into dead faces that went float- 
ing past, and which smiled to him a 



Brander s Wife. 


ghastly greeting. Men and women and 
little children, a ghastly throng, borne 
up by the preservers they had grasped 
before the second and most fatal explo- 
sion, and swaying with the pulsing tide. 
He reached out his hand and touched 
long, wet locks, the color of her hair. 
And he gathered from the crest of a 
wave that tossed his little boat like an 
egg-shell a shred of some light cloak, 
embroidered with pearly beads, and 
looked at it long and closely, in the 
glaring search-light of a government 
steamer that had joined the sorry work 
of rescue. When boat-hooks grappled 
insensible forms that might never again 
know pain, he turned away, sick at heart. 
Once, with a glow of joy that overmas- 
tered his own black grief, he took from 
a dead mother's stiffening arms a little 
child that was still warm and breathing, 
and handed it to one who stood on a 
steamer's ladder to receive it, while the 
passengers sobbed and cheered. Off, 
again, through the floating debris. Bran- 
der was steering for the shallows near 
Goat Island, where the larger boats, 
drawing more water, did not dare to 
venture. His keen ears had heard what 
sounded like a husky cry, off in the dark- 
ness. The boatman, for the first time, 
entered an objection. 

"Sharp rocks under water; makee 
hole in boat ; water come in ; boat go 
down; me drown." 

Brander tossed him a purse. 

" My friend, you can swim like a duck," 
he said. "All you will have to do will 
be to paddle over there a little ways, be 
picked up for a survivor of the disaster, 
and be a hero among your fellows for 
the rest of your life." 

It is doubtful whether the boatman 
understood this glowing prospectus, but 
he knew the heft of gold, and grinned 
a cordial appreciation. 

They had reached the shadow of the 
island, where a steep ledge of rock 
dipped into the water. Something was 
clinging there, spent, exhausted, feebly 

VOL. xxi 6. 

moaning. They shouted to the shiver- 
ing creature to release its hold, but only 
a muttering response reached them. 
Against the Italian's warning cry, with 
a quick twist of the rudder, Brander 
shot the boat into the little cove and 
caught at the clinging figure, throwing 
his Own weight back upon the other 
side as it lurched and spun about, a 
trick that he had learned in black bass 
fishing down South. The boatman, 
calling (5h all the saints and fiends to 
witness that he protested against this 
suicidal proceeding, but being neverthe- 
less a human being, reached out a hand 
and helped him, and between them they 
landed their game. The fellow for 
Brander knew by this time that his sal- 
vage wore bifurcated garments sank 
shivering into the bottom of the boat. 
In very pity for his plight Brander 
flung his overcoat to him. The rescued 
man stammered his thanks, and sat up 
to wrap it about him. The boat swung 
into the search light of the war vessel, 
and they saw each other's faces. He 
had saved Carew. 

When the little boat was seen with 
its human freight, a glad cry rang again 
over the water. A tug hailed them, and 
offered to relieve them of their passen- 
ger. It was the Dolphin, chartered by 
Brander on behalf of his paper. The 
emergency man gave a shout when he 
saw his chief. 

" This is a big thing for the Anvil ; 
we'll make the welkin ring with it to- 
morrow," he said to Brander as he hung 
over the rail. 

" All right," coolly returned Brander, 
in whom the instinct of the newspaper 
man seemed to survive every other 
emotion, and who was not slow to see 
the advantage it would be for his paper. 
"All right. Use it as you like, only no 
names. Remember that." 

" By the great horn spoon ! What 's 
the good of it, without names ? " de- 
manded the emergency man, aggrieved. 

"Credit it to the staff at large," 


Brander s Wife. 


called Brander, as he disappeared down 
the ladder, 

He looked back to give a parting 
signal to the boys, but the only man he 
recognized was Carew, still wearing his 
overcoat, bending over the rail, search- 
ing the waters with ghoulish expecta- 
tion, and a wan face that to his rescuer 
seemed to bear the brand of sin. The 
pure exaltation of the moment was 
swept away by a sudden tide of passion 
that might have made him a murderer, 
had not opportunity been denied him. 

There was no longer any hope of find- 
ing other living souls among the wreck- 
age. They rowed once more to the is- 
land and skirted its shores, but no cry 
for help sounded over the waters that 
sobbed and flung themselves at its feet. 
Spreading a little sprit-sail, the skiff fled 
like a bird to its haven on the shore of 
the great city. 

Nobody was surprised to see Brander 
at the morgue. Sterling appealed to 
him at once with maudlin pathos, his 
brogue getting the mastery of his edu- 
cation, as it always did when he was a 
bit convivial. 

" The paper 's imposing oh me, indeed 
it is, Mr. Brander. It 's worse than the 
terrors a whole regiment of thim. 
Give me a drink, and I '11 wake the 
whole crowd in beautiful style. They 
do these things better in the ould coun- 
try :- 

"Oh, well I rimimber the day 

Whin we waked ould widdy Machree. 

We waked her with rum, an' we waked her 

with gin, 
An' we waked her handsome-ly.'' 

"Be silent, Sterling. Have some 
respect for the heartbroken people about 
you, if you have n't any for yourself," 
sternly commanded Brander. " How far 
have you got with your identification ? " 
he inquired, addressing Sterling's guard- 

" I 've named ivery one that is dacent- 
ly dressed," put in Sterling eagerly, for 
his mind was clear on everything that 

pertained to his profession, except his 
own representation of it. "And those 
that were taken off the upper deck that 
was blown off in a lump from near the 
engine : the legs, and arms, and heads : 
there is a miscellaneous lot, and I'll be 
dashed if I 'm anatomist enough to as- 
sort them. Mr. Brander, I '11 just be 
after steppin' round the corner a min- 

" Oh, we waked ould widely Machree ' 

" Were there any people that we 
knew ? " asked Brander of the youthful 
reporter who had Sterling in tow. 

" There is M-., the lawyer, Mrs. L., 
the rich widow, and quite a number of 
reputable business men. And there is 
one girl I used to go to school with " 

Brander respected the boy the more 
for the tear that stood in his eye. The 
young fellow was a protege^ of his wife's. 
But Sterling was breaking out again : 

" We waked her by day, an' we waked her by 


An' we waked her swate in the bright moon- 

"Drop that lunatic at the nearest 
saloon, Fred," he said kindly to the boy. 
" There is no message to deliver for me 
at the office, thank you. I shall not be 
down again tonight." 

He was at last on his way to the 
empty place he called home, and grief 
and shame walked beside him. Every 
block seemed a league, but when he 
reached his doorstep he would fain have 
been back at the beginning of his jour- 
ney. He put his key in the latch, and 
turned it softly, as he had been in the 
habit of doing when he came in late, 
lest he might disturb her slumbers, and 
he stepped lightly on the stairs, and 
opened and shut the door of their little 
sitting room with a stealthy touch, like 
one who comes as a thief in the night, 
looking upon that to which he has no 

How pretty the rooms were, with their 
vvarm-hued draperies, their modest but 


Bmnder s Wife. 


comfortable furnishings, the books and 
magazines scattered about, the glowing 
embers in the grate. They had made 
the best of it, although neither of them 
had ever approved of life in a flat. The 
dream of their early married life had 
been the possession of a little cottage 
across the bay. For upward of two 
years he had been striving to make the 
dream a reality, keeping up a special 
correspondence with an Eastern daily, 
turning off an occasional paper for a 
magazine, denying himself cigars, gloves, 
the books he wanted, going so shabby 
that she had noticed it, and had pout- 
ingly declared that she was ashamed to 
be seen on the streets with him. The 
deeds to a little home in Oakland were 
at that moment in his breast pocket, and 
they were to have been her Christmas 

Now all was changed. Tonight he 
wrestled alone with the loss that before 
another day had passed would be her- 
alded throughout the city ; but the 
humiliation and grief that underlay it 
would be forever locked in his own heart. 
He was not the same man that he was 
yesterday. The whole current of his 
life was changed, and his fool's dream 
of happiness was over. Yet so familiar 
and undisturbed were all the objects 
about him, that he could almost fancy 
the events of the day to be some hate- 
ful vision, and that he could hear the 
sound of her breathing, low and regular, 
in the darkened room beyond, whose 
door stood ajar. 

For his thoughts kept returning to her. 
Strive as he might to think of his future 
plans, or the effect this would have on 
his position among men, or what story 
he had best give the boys to morrow, 
he found himself perpetually dwelling 
upon her, and recalling little unheeded 
circumstances in their married life. 
What did it matter how the public took 
it, or what comments it would make? 
What did he care for Carew's silly van- 
ity, or the base purposes he might have 

harbored ? The one thing that absorbed 
him was the thought of his wife, and 
the relation between her and himself. 
And in agony of spirit he asked over 
and over again the question that had 
haunted him since sundown : How far 
had it gone ? How far had it gone ? 

Her work-basket stood on the mantel. 
The cover was slightly lifted, and he 
saw half thrust into it the filmy pink 
web and the glittering needles whose 
persistent click had so annoyed him. 
He reached out his hand and drew the 
little roll of worsted toward him with a 
fierce movement, dropping the ball on 
the hearth. He smoothed the work out 
on the mantelshelf, and straightened it 
into shape with his great hands, scarred 
and gashed with the work they had done 
that night. And it was a tiny shirt, 
fleecy and rose-tinted as the clouds of 
dawn upon which little new-born souls 
come sailing in their strange voyage 
from the great unknown. 

"At this time." So cruelly misjudg- 
ing her " at this time." Oh, blind, blind, 
blind that he had been ! At last his eyes 
were opened, and he saw her soul in all 
its purity and innocence. He groaned 
aloud, and a scalding tear baptized the 
tiny garment. 

" David ! " 

Do ransomed souls ever come back 
from paradise, bringing comfort and 
healing to the stricken hearts they leave 
behind ? With such divine tenderness 
might they speak. He raised his head, 
and saw her standing there in the 
doorway that separated the two rooms, 
clad in some light wrapper, her cheeks 
flushed with sleep, her eyes loving and 

" I tried to sit up until you came home, 
but you were so late that I thought I 
would lie down for a little time, and I fell 
asleep. You could n't think I would go, 
David, after what you said ? I thought 
it over after you were gone ; second 
thoughts are best ; and I saw that you 
were right. I will never let you be 


Original Research. 


troubled in that way again, for oh, 
David ! " 

The confidence that trembled on her 
lips, so long held in reserve by a young 
wife's instinctive delicacy, remained un- 
spoken, for she saw the gossamer web 
crushed beneath his hand, and with aery 
and a blush rescued it from him. 

He took her in his arms, to make sure 
that she was flesh and blood, and he 
prayed that she might never know how 
cruelly his thoughts had wronged her. 

" But you are so strange and silent, 
dear," she murmured. "And your 
clothes are damp. Where have you 
been, David, and what have you been 
doing ? " 

" Tomorrow I will tell you, dear. Not 

tonight. This is Christmas Eve," he 
replied, in a choked voice. 

Even as he spoke, a peal of bells an- 
nounced the day. 

" Do you hear their message, dear ? 
' Glad tidings ! Glad tidings of great 
joy ! ' That is what they are saying to 

. The young wife, looking up, was im- 
pressed by the solemn rapture in his 
face. His thoughts had traveled over 
nineteen centuries, and halted "at a 
manger, where shepherds watched and 
a holy baby lay. 

For the coming of a little child once 
gladdened and redeemed mankind ; and 
day by day the miracle is re-enacted in 
our homes. 

Flora Haines Longhead. 


THEY say the music of the crystal spheres 
Is only heard by philosophic ears; 
But I have heard it fifty times as well 
Watching the moon with Lady Isabelle. 


The Silver Question, from the International Standpoint. 




[The article was written last June, in 
the City of Mexico. The meeting of 
the International Monetary Congress 
at Brussels has since modified the situ- 
ation, but Mr. Brooks's foresight as to 
what that Congress would do seems to 
have been correct, and his article is of 
value as giving the view of the question 
from the standpoint of the exclusively 
silver countries. Ed.] 

THE silver problem has come to be 
considered an American question, prin- 
cipally, let us hope, because as a nation 
we have been more thoroughly educated 
to its importance than others. It is un- 
deniable, at least, that "America" is al- 
most the sole active champion of silver. 
It is one of the consequences of the bit- 
terness of modern commercial competi- 
tion that England has hitherto opposed 
the rehabilitation of silver, though it is 
gradually coming to be understood that 
Great Britain is much more largely in- 
terested in its restoration than even the 
United States. It is a misfortune that 
in Europe the masses of the people pay 
little cr no attention to the subject. On 
questions of finance they allow their le- 
gislators to think for them. Whereas, 
with us, nearly every intelligent man has 
an opinion upon the matter, and great 
effort has been made to place all the 
facts bearing upon it within easy reach- 
Scarcely a day but some paper or maga- 
zine has an article in relation to it. The 
very diversity of opinion, and the ex- 
tremely antagonistic views, all have a 
tendency to unearth the facts, and shed 
light upon their obscurest details. 

Great efforts have been made to epit- 
omize it, as a question of honesty or dis- 
honesty. The gold advocate scorns to 
pay his debts, or the debts of the nation, 

in silver worth only some seventy cents 
on the dollar. The silver man, entan- 
gled in the mysteries and intricacies of 
the question, cannot deny that silver is 
depreciated and degraded, notwithstand- 
ing the fact that the silver certificates 
in his pocket are just as good as the 
gold bills, and are in fact paid and re- 
ceived entirely without discrimination- 
Still the gold man insists upon the issue. 
" If," he says, " you force a depreciated 
currency upon the country and compel 
your creditors by law to accept it, that 
is fraud ! it is repudiation ! " Undoubt- 
edly it is, and with this admission let us 
leave what may be called the national 
aspect of the case for a few moments, 
and consider it from the international 
standpoint. There are two sides to the 
medal. We have read one, let us inter- 
pret the other. 

At the present moment, three fourths 
of the population of the world use silver 
as the sole standard. It is safe to say 
that they always have been, and always 
must be, silver monometallists, for the 
very sufficient reason that there is not 
gold enough for all. Comparatively few 
nations have the single gold standard. 
The rest have, or are trying to have, the 
double standard. Until quite recently 
gold and silver had a certain fixed rela- 
tive value, at which they were inter- 
changeable all over the world. So long ' 
as this was the case, the difference in 
standards occasioned no loss or incon- 
venience. There were certain periods 
when the precious metals, either or 
both, were scarce ; other periods when 
they were abundant, or even superabun- 
dant. It was with the product of gold 
and silver as with the crops : sometimes 
a bountiful harvest, sometimes an ap- 
proximate famine ; and with similar re- 


The Silver Question, from the International Standpoint. 


suits : men were happy and prosperous 
during -abundance, and suffered during 
periods of scarcity. We are apt to think 
our bonanzas of the precious metals the 
only bonanzas. We might as well think 
there were no bountiful harvests before 
our time. If we refer to Bible history, 
or to uninspired ancient history, to the 
history of the middle ages, or to time 
bordering upon our own, we find the 
harvests of the treasures of the earth 
yielding scarcity or abundance. Above 
all, it is not on record that people ever 
complained of having too much. During 
hundreds of years, the world produced 
its treasures, the nations using both 
silver and gold finding no serious em- 
barrassments in consequence of fluctu- 
ations in the product, wisely adjusting 
them by occasional modifications of 

It has been reserved for this age, the 
age of intense commercial activity, en- 
ergy, enterprise, and invention, to dis- 
cover that we have too much ! that 
God is too bountiful ! that our harvests 
of the precious metals are too abundant ; 
so great, in fact, that one must be de- 
monetized! Yet, within the last century, 
America alone has given birth to forty- 
four great States, some of them equaling 
or surpassing the second-rate nations of 
Europe in activity and importance, 
States at this moment growing as the 
newer European states never grew. 
Then consider the enormous colonial 
expansion of Great Britain during the 
same period, which has caused the 
mother country to be sometimes called 
" lesser Britain," States and colonies 
needing during the period of their ex- 
traordinary growth every facility which 
the bounteous harvests of the precious 
metals have provided for them ; which 
the bounty of God has furnished, but 
which the folly or the greed of men 
seeks to deprive them of. 

Let us remember that this silver 
question is entirely modern. The nations 
of the world entered upon the nine- 

teenth century in complete ignorance of 
it. The countless millions of the East, 
of China, India, Africa, the many states 
of South and Central America, Mexico, 
in fact, three fourths of the world, 
peaceably enjoyed an independent silver 
standard, while England, France, and 
the principal commercial states of Eu- 
rope used the double standard, so-called, 
the relative value of the two precious 
metals being established by interna- 
tional law and custom. 

During the early part of the century, 
England occupied a masterful position 
as the greatest manufacturing and com- 
mercial nation of the world. Europe, 
suffering from the prolonged Napoleonic 
wars, was a smoldering ruin, dejected 
and bankrupt. France, her greatest 
competitor, had suffered nearly as much 
as the nations she had overrun. " Amer- 
ica," or to speak more correctly, the 
United States, was a narrow strip on 
the Atlantic seaboard, her people strug- 
gling and poor. England controlled 
the commerce of the world ; she was 
the great creditor nation of the world. 
As such, she decreed the single gold 
standard, and by that decree annulled 
the heretofore existing law and custom 
relating to the precious metals, an act 
which attracted little attention at the 
time,but the consequences of which have 
been more momentous than any decree, 
ancient or modern. These consequences 
would have been felt more immediately 
but for the extraordinary discoveries of 
gold in California, and later in Australia 
and elsewhere. For a time these occa- 
sioned considerable alarm, and a single 
silver standard was talked of. Silver 
actually advanced to a premium, but the 
silver discoveries of Nevada followed, 
and subsequently those of Utah, Mon- 
tana, Colorado, and the great central 

Meanwhile the American civil war 
ensued, resulting in the suspension of 
specie payments. The Franco-German 
war followed, and Germany, elated by 


The Silver Question, from the International Standpoint. 


her victories, and emulous to make Ber- 
lin rival London or the great financial 
center of the world, followed the Eng- 
lish precedent, demonetized silver, and 
threw her enormous stock upon the 
market, thereby causing the fatal depre- 
ciation which speedily ensued. Other 
nations followed, or still seek to follow 
suit. As one after another of the great 
creditor and manufacturing nations of 
the world deliberately seceded from the 
ancient international standards, the 
whole financial world became alarmed. 
Silver, thus ignored and debased, became 
a commodity, alternately raised or depre- 
ciated in the interest of speculators. It 
became a favorite stock, listed upon the 
stock-board of nations : enormous com- 
binations were made still are made 
to raise or depress it, regardless of na- 
tional or international loss, of the ruin 
of commercial interests in the silver 
standard countries, or of the suffering 
and starvation of the poor. Let it be re- 
membered that the silver monometallic 
nations are the poor nations of the 
world. Three fourths of their people 
are constantly, in fact, on the verge of 
starvation. To force the still further 
depreciation of their standard, is to 
consign countless thousands of them to 
perish. The demonetization of silver 
was a " deal " of the rich nations against 
the poor, a grand international deal. 
At this moment, on the very borders of 
the United States, people, inhabitants 
of a silver monometallic state, are in a 
condition of semi-starvation, in conse- 
quence of a prolonged drought. Corn, 
their principal staple, which ordinarily 
sells at one dollar and a half a fanega 
of 160 pounds, is now twelve dollars and 
a half ! Corn is consequently being ex- 
ported from the United States to relieve 
them. The poor things pay for it in 
silver dollars, at thirty-five per cent dis- 
count ! That is the other side'of the 
medal, and its interpretation ! Let us 
compare both sides, and try to arrive at 
just conclusions. 

This article is written in Mexico, 
where silver is the one only standard. 
Certainly it must be called a standard, 
fluctuating as it is, since the prices of 
all articles here conform to it. Mexico 
is a silver-producing country, the great- 
est in the world next to the United 
States. Two thirds of all its product, 
estimated by value, is silver. Of silver 
it produces annually about thirty-five 
million dollars, and of gold seven hun- 
dred and fifty thousand. The country 
has few manufactures, no rivers to fur- 
nish cheap transportation or water pow- 
er, little or no coal. Thus it is, com- 
paratively speaking, a large importer, 
a small exporter, of raw material princi- 
pally, and the balance of trade is heavily 
against it. As with most silver mono- 
metallic countries, it is practically im- 
possible for it ever to adopt a gold stand- 
ard. All importations have therefore 
to be paid for in silver, at a discount at 
the present time of from thirty-five, say, 
to forty per cent. 

Business is done in Mexico at long 
credit. It has been heretofore almost 
altogether in the hands of European 
houses, who buy of the European manu- 
facturers at from one to two years' time, 
and sell at from eight months to a year, 
taking notes therefor. As the value of 
silver has depreciated twenty per cent 
since some of the merchants last pur- 
chased of the European manufacturers, 
and they have to remit silver, or buy 
drafts, which is the same thing, they 
lose twenty per cent ! It is, of course, 
practically impossible to mark their 
goods up or down to correspond to the 
constantly fluctuating value of silver. 
Think of the disadvantage under which 
the commerce of a great country labors 
while such a state of things exists ! Yet 
all the silver standard countries are 
suffering the same, and it does not 
appear that they are to have any voice 
in the coming international conference. 
That is a conference of creditors who 
are to sit in judgment upon their own 


The Silver Question, from tJie International Standpoint. 


acts ; of victors to distribute the spoils ! 
among themselves, of course. Try to 
realize what a discount of thirty-five or 
forty per cent really means in the case 
of a nation of all silver nations that 
must remit in silver. Think of great 
commercial houses, with branches in 
most of the large cities, remitting in 
payment of their annual purchases at a 
loss of twenty per cent ! But that is not 
all by any means ; it is the uncertainty, 
the unceasing dread of still further de- 
preciation, the certainty of continual 
fluctuation. Mexican dollars are now 
selling at sixty-eight cents. They have 
been still lower. Should nothing be 
done at the international conference, as 
the best informed predict, Mexican dol- 
lars will decline to fifty cents, perhaps 
even lower ! If such a state of things 
continues, it must ruin every commer- 
cial house in Mexico, and in all silver 
standard countries. India is not except- 
ed fortunately, perhaps, considering 
the great questions at issue. It is almost 
impossible for the officers of the Indian 
civil and military service to support 
their families in Europe, in consequence 
of the enormous discount. Nearly all 
South and Central America, and all the 
great nations of the East, suffer corres- 
pondingly, no doubt. The voices of 
most of those suffering people will be 
unheard at the congress ; or, if heard, 
will probably be ignored. 

The mills of the gods grind slow, but 
they grind sometimes more than is sent 
to the mill. He is an unwise creditor 
who ruins his debtor. He is also an un- 
wise merchant or manufacturer who so 
treats his poorer customers as to dis- 
courage the sale of his goods. Assur- 
edly these buyers from the silver nations 
will try are now straining every nerve 
to manufacture their own raw mater- 
ial, in their own land, with cheap labor, 
payable in silver at par, rather than to 
import from England or Germany, pay- 
ing in silver at an ever increasing dis- 
count. It may in fact be accepted as an 

axiom, that the depreciation of silver 
acts part passu as a premium to have 
manufactories in all silver standard 
countries. England kicks at " protec- 
tion," but every unit which she depre- 
ciates silver is equivalent to a cor- 
responding export tax upon her own 
manufactures, at least so far as the silver 
standard countries are concerned. At 
last, at last, they are beginning to see 
this ; hence the recent action of the 
Manchester Chamber of Commerce in 
favor of silver, and hence the change of 
attitude on the part of some British 
bankers and economists. It is a fact 
that in the silver monometallic coun- 
tries the poor cannot at present buy any 
imported articles. They go barefooted, 
or wear sandals of hide. Homespun 
linen and cotton suffice to clothe them ; 
native straw to cover their heads ; native 
corn, crude sugar, and chee;e, to feed 
them, except during seasons of drought 
like the present, when they starve and 
die like flies in response to the Europe- 
an decree, which depreciates their sil- 
ver, taxing them thirty-five or forty per 
cent upon the importation of food and 
clothing from more favored countries. 
England, the apostle of free trade! The 
demonetization of silver is doing more 
to destroy free trade than all the tariffs 
which have been invented from the al- 
cabalas of Spanish colonial times to the 
McKinley bill ! 

In India, England herself is straining 
every nerve to develop home, that is 
Indian, products, thereby decreasing the 
necessity of silver payments. But under 
her astute direction it is the product of 
the raw material which is encouraged. 
Their neighbor, the Chinese, however, 
are " catching on " to have manufacto- 
ries. They are shrewd enough to realize 
all that is at stake, and being independ- 
ent can develop their industries on their 
own lines. 

There is still another aspect of the 
question another source of leakage to 
the trade cf all European manufacturers 

1893.] The Silver Question, from the International Standpoint. 

who sell on long credits. The fluctua- 
tions of silver tend to encourage small 
and frequent purchases for cash, as op- 
posed to large purchases on long credit. 
Already in Mexico and South and Cen- 
tral America, the system of " expedi- 
tions," of imports by cargoes, is practi- 
cally at an end. The risks of having to 
pay such large sums in silver at an 
enormous discount are too great ; the 
trade is in fact gradually but surely 
passing from Europe to the United 
Scates. The Hon. M. Romero, in an 
article recently communicated to the 
North American Review, gives the im- 
ports into Mexico from the United 
States at sixty-six per cent of the whole ! 
It is true, several factors are responsi- 
ble for this, the fluctuations in silver 
which make it safer to buy for cash or 
short credit, the superior quality of 
many articles of American manufacture, 
and the facilities for speedy delivery 
afforded by the extension of railroads 
through all portions of Mexico. But 
those very railroads, initiated for the 
most part by American capital, have 
passed, or are passing, into English 
hands, and this is true of the majority 
of enterprises initiated by Americans in 
Mexico. Yet the dividends upon these 
investments are being sadly decreased 
by the depreciation of silver ; in fact, 
some are being carried on at the small- 
est possible margin of profit, some at a 
loss, and some are entirely suspended. 
So that from all standpoints the grind- 
ing of the gods is merciless as just ! 

But after all, the greatest, the most 
convincing, argument in favor of silver 
is the scarcity of gold. There is in fact 
hardly gold enough for the use of the 
few nations which have declared the 
single gold standard. The writer was 
in Europe, in London, during the great 
crisis consequent upon the failure of the 
Barings. Had the Bank of France not 
contributed its gold in aid of the Bank 
'of England at that time, the whole 
commercial and banking fabric of Great 

Britain would have gone to pieces. The 
crisis was no sooner averted in England, 
than the gold had to be exported to 
Germany. The struggle was compared 
to that of half a dozen men out in the 
cold, trying to cover themselves with a 
single blanket ! As one would pull and 
haul, another would be uncovered. 
After all, with due respect for the 
acknowledged great ability of European 
bankers, economists, and statesmen, it 
appears under such circumstances to be 
contrary to the dictates of common 
sense to demonetize silver, or rather 
not to remonetize it, since its demoneti- 
zation has been the cause of such world- 
wide tribulation. It is now proposed, if 
we can believe report, to put Austria 
and even India on a gold basis. Of 
course the more they try to cover with 
the blanket, the less completely will 
they all be covered, and the harder some- 
body will kick. 

There has been a slight but steady 
decrease in the product of gold during 
the past ten years, with the exception 
of the year last past, when there was a 
small increase over the preceding year. 
It is a well known fact, that the yield 
of gold is steadily decreasing at present, 
while its use in the arts, etc., is con- 
stantly on the increase. The yield of 
silver has steadily increased ever since 
the discovery of the great silver mines 
of Nevada, but during the long history 
of the world these variations in the rel- 
ative product have always existed. It 
is quite sufficient proof of the fact, as 
well as sufficient comment upon it, to- 
remember that silver not very long 
since reached a premium over gold, I 
believe as high as four and a half per 
cent. The steady decrease in the pro- 
duct of gold, and its acknowledged 
scarcity, coupled with the increased 
demand for use in the arts, certainly 
lend no encouragement to its sole use 
as a standard, or to the further demone- 
tization of silver ; nor does the tempor- 
ary increase in the silver product, judg- 


The Silver Question, front the International Standpoint. 


ing from the fluctuations of the past. 
All nations coined silver money free up 
to 1819, when England first demone- 
tized it. If the earth has endured six 
thousand, or six hundred thousand years, 
we have no record of a superabundance 
of either of the precious metals, or of 
the necessity of a gold standard. It 
has been reserved for this age of un- 
precedented development, of extraor- 
dinary commercial activity, to discover 
that we have too much,and that one m ust 
be demonetized, notwithstanding the 
fact that three fourths of the world 
must ever depend upon the silver stand- 
ard alone, and that the rest are con- 
stantly alarmed over an unequal and in- 
sufficient supply of gold. 

It is curious and painful to witness 
the attitude of the great English mer- 
chant princes, bankers, and others, rela- 
tive to this question. An American 
cannot be in their company many min- 
utes, without being attacked and made 
to feel that the knowledge of his coun- 
trymen in matters of finance is not 
highly esteemed in Great Britain. 

" Do you expect that you can establish 
the value of a commodity in the market 
by decree, by legislation ? " 

It is true we cannot, but what we have 
done and seek to do is, at least, a step 
toward undoing the wrong and repair- 
ing the follies which have been com- 
mitted ; and if our example shall lead 
other nations to join us, that which has 
been done can be undone, and silver re- 
stored by withdrawing it from the list 
of "commodities." 

But the ton de maitre, as though 
Americans were infants, at least as re- 
gards matters of finance, "Can you 
lift yourself by the waistband ? " 

No : but it is an attempt which the 
English also made, when they altered 
the laws which have forced themselves 
by ages of experience on the world's 
acceptance, when they decreed by law 
the value of land in Ireland, and ignored 
the proverb of caveat etnptor ! Neither 

nations or men are always equal to them- 
selves in wisdom. It is human as well 
as American to err. Has American 
legislation in regard to silver been a 
mistake ? Certainly it has not proven a 
success so far ; but efforts which fail 
temporarily, or even permanently, are 
not necessarily mistakes. So far as sus- 
taining the price of silver in the outside 
market is concerned it is a failure. Silver 
is selling in London today, June 27, 
1892, at 40 d. per ounce. That is nearly 
as low as it has ever been. But if the 
example of the United States shall fin- 
ally induce other nations to re-establisJi 
silver by restoring a fixed ratio between 
silver and gold, then American legisla- 
tion will have proven a success. It is 
probable that we have gone as far 
already as it is safe for us to go alone. 
If we throw cur mints open to the free 
coinage of silver, while the principal 
commercial nations refuse to do so, we 
certainly must become one of the silver 
monometallic nations. Practically, there 
is not a gold coin in Mexico, except in 
the windows of the money brokers. An 
American $100 silver bill is worth at this 
moment $149 in Mexican money. A 
gold bill has exactly the same value. 
They are received alike ; nobody ques- 
tions concerning them. So far, then, 
American legislation in regard to silver 
is a decided success. But if we decree 
free coinage, the United States will be 
swept as clean of gold as Mexico is to- 
day, and American silver bills will cease 
to command a premium in Mexico or in 
other countries. 

When, not long ago, we passed the 
law to coin four and a half millions a 
month, silver advanced rapidly and 
steadily from 94 cents to $1.20 per 
ounce. A portion of the American press 
thought it was then going to par, which 
is $1.29 29-100. The Mexicans did not 
think so. They are a people who rarely 
make mistakes of that character. On 
the contrary, at that critical moment 
every great bank and all the rich com- 


The Silver Question, from the International Standpoint. 


mercial houses rushed their silver into 
the American market. Probably, had a 
financial panic ensued, not a bank in 
Mexico could have paid ten cents on the 
dollar, so completely had they stripped 
themselves in order to realize the ad- 
vance which they knew must be only 
temporary. No doubt the same took 
place in all silver monometallic coun- 
tries. The movement could be com- 
pared only to a stream of water seeking 
to find its level. The level had been 
disturbed in the United States, and 
every stream, great and smalJ, at once 
discharged into it. Nothing short of 
draining the sources could have stopped 
it until the level was restored. We now 
understand what happened, and what 
must happen again and again under 
similar conditions. 

Are the sources of silver inexhausti- 
ble ? Not by any means. But they are 
sufficient to flood the United States, 
when the flood-gates are lifted without 
due precautions. Should the United 
States declare free coinage tomorrow, 
every ounce of silver that could be 
spared from the silver of every nation 
would be poured upon her. Every na- 
tion which, like Austria and India, seeks 
to establish the single gold standard 
would also hasten to change its silver 
for gold. In a few months we should 
find ourselves among the silver mono- 
metallic nations, while others obtained 
a gold basis at our expense. We should 
have relaxed correspondingly the ties 
which bind us to the great commercial 
West, and find but slender compensa- 
tion in the increased intimacy of other 
associations. We should have to buy for 
gold, and sell for silver. The loss of our 
gold would inevitably occasion contrac- 
tion. Years would elapse before the 
disturbed currents could settle to a 
calm. In short, it would be fatal ! 

It is rumored that the result of the 
coming International Conference will 
be determined by England. Little con- 
fidence is expressed of its success ; but 

it is the only way in which silver can be 
restored at present. If a ratio between 
silver and gold could be agreed upon, the 
flood-gates ivould not be opened, or the 
current disturbed. It would re-establish 
a constant relative price all over the 
world, as existed before 1819, and for 
some time after. The argument that 
this cannot be done is answered by the 
fact that it has been done. 

It is unfortunate that the restoration 
of silver is considered an " American " 
policy. England is not friendly at pres- 
ent to American commercial policy. As 
Lord Salisbury has said, there is a ver- 
itable " war of tariffs " all over the world. 
That war is very bitter, and necessarily 
produces hostility. There is a growing 
sentiment, even at home, that Ameri- 
can protection has perhaps been carried 
too far. A purely selfish policy may not 
prove politic for nations or men. It is 
doubtful whether any policy which pro- 
duces war, whether of arms or tariffs, is 
wise. Every effort which we have made 
to exclude British manufactures has 
been repaid by efforts to exclude our raw 
material, by gigantic developing in In- 
dia and elsewhere. But, right or wrong, 
the hostilities of such a war have been 
engendered, and we must expect to 
suffer from them at the conference. The 
consensus of educated opinion is at pres- 
ent that England will oppose us, and that 
nothing will come of it. England has 
only just awakened to the fact that she 
has been killing off a large proportion of 
her silver customers. At first she gained 
enormously by the single gold standard, 
buying for silver, and selling for gold. 
If not convinced that she will hereafter 
be a loser by a continuation of that pol- 
icy, she will not consent to a change. 

In that event, silver will no doubt go 
much lower than it has ever been, at 
least for a time, and its complete restora- 
tion will be relegated to the remote fu- 
ture. It will be our policy to continue 
to coin only " our own product, which 
amounts to about the sum of the present 


The Silver Question, from the International Standpoint. 


Treasury purchases. This will keep sil- 
ver at par with gold within our own lim- 
its. Other silver-producing and silver 
monometallic nations will gradually be 
forced to still further contract their pur- 
chases abroad, and to develop their own 
resources, both of products and manu- 

It remains to consider the probable 
output of the mines under these circum- 
stances, or under any circumstances. 
Of course, the product of silver will in- 
crease if encouraged, and decrease if 
discouraged. There is a certain dread 
that the product is at present too large, 
and that as it has increased steadily for 
a number of years past, it will continue 
to increase. A writer recently declared 
that it is produced at a cost of fifty-five 
cents, and that the present agitation is 
nothing but a conspiracy of the "silver 
barons " to enable them to sell at a dol- 

That is a grave mistake. No doubt 
there are certain bonanza mines in Col- 
orado, and perhaps elsewhere, which 
can produce silver at fifty-five cents ; 
but for every mine which so produces 
it, a dozen, or perhaps twenty, produce 
it at a loss. It is probable that every 
dollar of silver and gold produced in the 
world has cost a dollar that is, striking 
a balance of the general mining account. 
Even during the great bonanza on the 
Cornstock it was publicly asserted that, 
taking the losses with the gains, that 
was the case, although two of the mines 
declared two millions a month apiece in 
dividends for some years. But the con- 
sequent excitement was indescribable ; 
thousands upon thousands of " wild- 
cat " and unproductive mines were 
opened, worked for a time, and aban- 
doned at a great loss. It is believed 
now that the balance sheet of the min- 
ing upon the Comstock would show a 
profit ; but if a doubt existed as to the 
Comstock at the period of its greatest 
production, no doubt can exist as to the 
average cost of mining on inferior lodes. 

It is well known that, as a rule, there is 
not more than one, or at most two, 
paying properties, even in the richest 
mining district. The Comstock may 
be said to be worked out, though no 
doubt the upper levels of some of the 
mines will be worked at a small profit 
for some years to come. But in all the 
great State of Nevada there are now 
only some 30,000 people ! As it has 
been with Nevada, so it will be with 
Utah, Montana, Colorado, and else- 
where. Some of these States have al- 
ready skimmed the cream ; some are 
still gathering it. But even at this 
moment experienced miners and mining 
men will sustain me in the opinion that 
every dollar produced, whether of gold 
or silver, summing up the average total 
of losses and gains, costs at least a dol- f 

This is, of course, the fundamental 
fact which sustains the use and rel- 
ative valuation of the precious metals. 
The greater the bonanza, the greater 
the number of unproductive mines. 
Though there is no more legitimate 
business than mining, in a certain sense 
it may be compared to gambling, where 
the percentage in favor of the bank 
always wins in the long run. Perhaps 
five per cent of all mines produce a 
profit ; ninety-five per cent a loss ! 

If this be true, why is there an " over- 
production " of silver ? There is not 
overproduction. Like any other harvest 
it will prove a glut in the market if it be 
not distributed, or unequally distributed. 
Its distribution has been artificially dis- 
turbed by demonetization on the part of 
several of the greatest commercial na- 
tions. The remedy lies in its restora- 
tion. Of course, having been so long 
partially discountenanced in its use as 
a precious metal, there is now a super- 
abundance. Some change in its relative 
value to gold will probably be necessary, 
such as has been decreed in former 
times, when the yield of one metal 
seemed to be temporarily in excess of 


TJie Waiting Rain. 


the other. It is this compensation of 
scarcity and disturbance guaranteed by 
the use of the two metals which accent- 
uates the folly of the disuse of silver. 
To how great an extent the constantly 
recurring commercial crises of our day 
may be attributed to it, is an interesting 
subject of further enquiry. 

The one undeniable fact that three 
fourths of the nations of the world now 
use, and always must use, silver as the 
sole standard, is alone sufficient to deter- 
mine that its use as a precious metal 
can never be discontinued, and that con- 
sequently some permanent standard of 

value between silver and gold must ulti- 
mately be re-established. The United 
States may urge it in vain at present. 
England, and perhaps other nations, 
may refuse it. But truth is mighty and 
will prevail. They say there cannot be 
two standards. But there are two stand- 
ards. There always have been, and al- 
ways must be two standards. It only 
remains to readjust their relative value. 
Why do they oppose the logic of facts ? 

" For why ? Because the good old rule 

Sufhceth them : the simple plan 
That they should take who have the power, 
And they should keep who can." 

Henry S. Brooks. 


THE armored sun breaks swift 
His shining lance of gold, 
His brazen shield he rests 
Upon the mountain's breast ; 
His helmet's burnished crest 
Gleams like the knights' of old. 

Upon her bare, brown hills 

My California lie's, 

A bronze-brown goddess rare, 

Her gleaming limbs and sun-dried hair 

Flash back the naked light 

Of fervid southern skies. 


The Waiting Rain. [Jan. 

The slumbrous eyelids' droop 
Belies her heart's hot beat ; 
Her throbbing pulses leap 
To murmured secrets, deep, 
Of teeming life in hidden cells, 
Where occult forces meet. 

Bathed in the sunlight's glow 

Her veins secrete the wine 

Of purpling grapes' rich flood, 

The secret of the lily's bud, 

The petalled sheen of poppies' gold, 

The glints of tasselled pine. 

She waits the vintage of the dew, 
The heat's hot ministry; 
Her ear against the earth, 
She knows the season's birth, 
The stir of Eden's gifts renewed, 
The still of Nature's alchemy. 

A thrill within the cell, 

A stir in silk cocoon, 

In linnet's throat a softer strain; 

She calls the waiting rain, 

And bids unlock the cells of life, 

And make the brown earth bloom. 

Glow then, ye flushing hills; 

Bloom soft, ye valleys wide. 

A song, through all the air, 

A glowing pageant rare ! 

The noiseless noise of growing things, 

The purpling mountain's side ! 

O, then my goddess, brown, 

My California, queen, 

What gifts of bloom, and fruits of gold, 

What vintage rare, thy presses hold ! 

Thy girdle's clasp is virgin light, 

Thy robe, the morning's purple sheen. 

Eleanor Mary Ladd. 

1893. J 

A Limited Marriage. 



IT was early in the present century 
of grace and gift, when the new regime 
had been only some thirty years in op- 
eration, and many of the angles wanted 
smoothing an*d rounding. Many of our 
ancient garments of honor and probity 
had had to be refitted to new needs, and 
not all of us managed to make a success 
of these things. 

Amongst many other appalling chan- 
ges was the limited marriage, which 
bound people, not in the old, slow, thick- 
headed fashion, " till death or divorce 
did them part," but made each affair 
binding for three years, with a privilege 
of renewal for five ; and after that for 
the remainder of the virile portion of 
life. After old age set in, it mattered 
nothing to the State what arrangements 
were made ; each person being pension- 
ed according to the number of children 
which it had been his or her fortune to 

It was about this time that my daugh- 
ter Kate experienced the great disturb- 
ance of her life. I ought to say that 
Kate was not her name ; but the one 
which happened to fall to her in the 
State List had such disagreeable asso- 
ciations for me, and the mode of assign- 
ing names savored so of the ancient 
foundling asylums, that we had called 
her Kate in private. 

Her trouble was naturally about an- 
other woman. It had happened that, 
when she married young Mallory, that 
she really had no right to him, there 
being another girl, a Grace Stocton, on 
the list ahead of her. But as Kate and 
Mallory had fallen in love in quite an 
old-fashioned way, I had bestirred my- 
self, and visited the Superintendent of 
Marriages about the matter. He was 
an old acquaintance, and no more of a 
friend to the new order than I ; and 

somehow, I don't know how, he ar- 
ranged the affair. 

Miss Stocton, or Mrs. Meigs, as she 
had become, had felt herself aggrieved, 
having a penchant for Mallory ; and 
now that the three-year limit of his 
marriage was at an end, she made it 
clear to him that, as her own first mar- 
riage period was ended too, she would 
like to try the experiment with him. 

Now, if Kate had not been silly, she 
need not have been at all alarmed. 
Mallory was fond of her and little Dick, 
and did not wish the child to be educated 
by the State, as he would have to be if 
the marriage were dissolved. But Kate 
was foolish enough to be jealous, and 
to goad Mallory to the last extreme of 
patience, and I was very anxious about 
the result. I liked Mallory, and was 
sorry for him. He would have been 
much happier could he have been an 
architect, and had applied for the neces- 
sary training when he left the Inter- 
mediate School; but the official in 
charge could only send a limited num- 
ber to the architects' class; he had a 
protege of his own for the place, and 
poor Mallory had to suffer. He was 
made a surgeon, and never was a con- 
tented man afterwards. It seemed to 
me that Kate should have made allow- 
ances for him, and managed so as to 
keep what little happiness people suc- 
ceed in gaining nowadays. 

I was going to their house and pon- 
dering to this effect one morning, only 
a few days before the dissolution of 
partnership, and my surroundings added 
to my dissatisfaction. I never could 
get used to the new streets, numbered 
instead of named ; the rigid, unvarying 
rows of houses, or the uniformed pass- 
ers-by. The hardest thing for one to 
bear in silence was the modern flag, 

A Limited Marriage. 


which flaunted over the government 
buildings. The splendid stars, the glory 
of the ancient banner, were effaced, 
lest the sight of them should move men 
to desire to shine like them. 1'he 
stripes had been retained because of 
their beautiful parallel lines, but red 
being too sanguinary a hue, the colored 
stripes had been metamorphosed into a 
decorous black. It was all quite typical 
of the dead level in which we found 

Kate was at home, in her pretty bou- 
doir, which was homelike to me because 
of the old-world relics her mother and 
I had hoarded for her. We had man- 
aged to secrete them during the time 
when the great confiscation and re- 
division of property was made ; and 
now that the mother was long ago dead, 
these trifles were my chief reminder of 
the happy old days. Kate was in tears 
as usual at that time. She had no news 
except that Dick was more unkind than 
ever ; which I took the liberty of doubt- 
ing. At last I grew weary of her com- 
plaints, and I could not wonder that 
Mallory was also weary. 

" Well," I said, rising and buttoning 
my coat, "I '11 go to see Grace, my dear, 
and have a sober talk with her. She 
may see reason," and I escaped with a 
decided feeling of relief. 

It was a brief walk to Mrs. Meigs' 
house. She was at home, and as I had 
known her from childhood, I entered 
upon my mission without delay. 

"See here, Grace," I said. "What 
is this all about you and Mallory ? " 

She raised her great brown eyes lazily 
and smiled. 

"You do not finesse, Major," she 
said. " But what have I done ? " 

Now I was only a captain in the good 
old days before fighting was taboo, and 

it was now rank treason to be called 
even by that modest title ; but " major " 
was not only treasonable, it was delight- 

"My dear," I said severely, "I never 
got that step, as you are well aware. 
Let us stick to facts. Why won't you 
leave Kate and Mallory alone?" 

"Now, Captain Marion," she replied, 
with a smile, " Is n't it Kate's own 
fault ? Would Dick ever have thought 
of me, or I of him, but for her silliness ? 
I assure you I care nothing for Dick, 
except as a fellow-workman," (her en- 
forced trade was that of hospital nurse). 
" No, the man I love cares nothing for 
me, and never will. He is too wise 
to trouble with me, and. as I hate Mr. 
Meigs, I am making the best exchange 
I can." 

" It is a brutal system ! " I cried 
hotly. " But no man is too wise to be 
attracted by you, my dear. Tell me in 
confidence who he is, and I vow he will 
be at your feet in no time at all." 

She looked at me, laughed a little, 
and blushed. And as she lounged there 
in all her brown young beauty, some- 
thing flashed to my head that I had for- 
gotten was in the world ; and before I 
knew what-I was doing I was down on 
my knees before her, pouring out a 
foolish old heart that I did not know 

Well, that was ten years ago, and we 
are finally and happily settled. But to 
prove to you the unfairness of the so- 
called fair sex, Kate never will believe 
to this day that I was not inveigled into 
marriage with her charming step-moth- 
er. She is no longer jealous of Mallory, 
and, there being no further crisis in 
their fate, they cannot certainly expect 
to make marriage an affair strictly lim- 
ited to themselves. 

Florence E, Pratt. 


The Guarany. 




[Many books have been printed in 
America, from those of Mayne Reid and 
yet earlier writers, to that of Mrs. Alice 
Wellington Rollins, giving the impres- 
sions of travelers in Brazil, though' even 
these chiefly confine themselves to the 
neighborhood of Rio and the course of 
the Amazon. But very few books have 
been published in English written by 
Brazilians, or giving any view of their 
life as seen from within. This is the 
OVERLAND'S warrant for giving space to 
a translation of probably the most pop- 
ular of Brazilian stories. How little Bra- 
zilian literature is known to the English- 
speaking world is shown by the fact that 
'in none of the American or English cy- 
clopaedias or biographical dictionaries, 
save Appleton's Annual Cyclopaedia for 
1877 (p. 591), and Appleton's Cyclopae- 
dia of American Biography (in the lat- 
ter more briefly and with a misspelled 
name), is mentioned at all the most shin- 
ing light of Brazilian letters, 'Jose Mar- 
tiniano de Alencar. He was the son of 
a priest, and was born in Ceara, in 1829, 
was educated for the law at Sao Paulo, 
and established himself at Rio, where 
he gained distinction as a jurist and con- 
tributor to the journals of the day. He 
was in 1868 elected deputy from Ceara, 
and continued such to the end of his life, 
in 1877, at one time in the Government 
as Minister of Justice, but more often in 
the opposition. As deputy he spoke sel- 
dom, but with great effect. His princi- 
pal works are a poem, "Iracema," and 
two romances, "Urabijara" and "The 
Guarany." The latter has been trans- 
lated into German, and an opera found- 
ed on it has been played in New York. 
It has never been printed in English till 
VOL. xx. : . 7. 

now, it is believed, when we present it 
to our readers, translated by James W. 
Hawes. ED.] 



FROM one of the summits of the Or- 
gan Mountains glides a small stream, 
which flows northerly, and enlarged by 
the springs which it receives in its course 
of ten leagues, becomes a considerable 
river. It is the Paquequer. Leaping 
from cascade to cascade, winding like a 
serpent, it dozes at last in the plain, 
and empties into the Parahyba, which 
rolls majestically in its vast bed. Vas- 
sal and tributary of that king of waters, 
the little river, haughty and overbear- 
ing to its rocks, bows humbly at the 
feet of its sovereign. It loses then its 
wild beauty ; its waves are calm and 
peaceful as those of a lake, and do not 
rebel against the boats and canoes that 
glide over them. A submissive slave, 
it feels the lash of its master. It is not 
at this point that it should be seen, but 
three or four leagues above its mouth, 
where it is still free. There the Paque- 
quer rushes rapidly over its bed, and 
traverses the forests foaming and filling 
the solitude with the noise of its career. 

Vegetation in those regions formerly 
displayed all its luxuriance and vigor ; 
virgin forests extended along the mar- 
gins of the river, which flowed through 
arcades of verdure, with capitals formed 
by the fans of the palm trees. 

In the year of grace 1604, the place 
we have been describing was deserted 
and uncultivated ; the city of Rio de 


The Guarany. 


Janeiro had been founded less than half 
a century, and civilization had not had 
time to reach the interior. 

However, on the right bank of the 
river stood a large and spacious house, 
built on an eminence, and protected on 
all sides by a steep wall of rock. The 
esplanade on which the building was 
placed formed an irregularsemi-circle, 
containing at most two hundred square 
yards. On the north side there was a 
stairway of freestone, made half by na- 
ture and half by art. 

Descending two or three of the broad 
stone steps, one found a wooden bridge 
solidly built across a wide and deep fis- 
sure in the rock. Continuing to descend, 
one reached the brink of the river, which 
flowed in a graceful curve, shaded by 
large gamelleiras and angelins, that 
grew along its banks. On each side of 
the stairway was a row of trees, widen- 
ing gradually, enclosing like two arms 
the bend of the river ; between the 
trunks of these trees a high hedge of 
thorns made that little valley impene- 

The house was built in the plain and 
simple style of architecture that our 
ancient dwellings still show. It had 
five windows in front, low, wide, and 
almost square. On the right side was 
the principal door, which opened upon 
a courtyard, enclosed by a stockade, 
covered with wild melons. On the left 
a wing, with two windows overlooking 
the defile of the rock, extended to the 
border of the esplanade. 

In the angle that this wing made with 
the rest of the house was a garden, a 
pretty imitation of the rich, vigorous, 
and splendid nature that the sight em- 
braced from the top of the rock. Wild 
flowers from our forests, small tufted 
trees, a grass plot, a tiny stream of 
water simulating a river and forming a 
little cascade, all this the hand of man 
had created in the scanty space with 
admirable art and beauty. 

In the rear, entirely separated from 

the rest of the dwelling by a wall, were 
two storehouses or porches, which 
served as an abode for adventurers and 

Finally, at the end of the little garden, 
on the brink of the precipice, was seen 
a thatch cabin, whose supports were 
two palm-trees that had sprung up in 
the crevices of the rock. 

Now that we have described the local- 
ity where most of the events of this 
story are to take place, we may open the 
heavy rosewood door, and enter into 
the house. 

The principal room displayed a cer- 
tain luxury, which seemed impossible 
at that period in a wilderness like this. 
The walls and ceiling were whitewashed, 
but ornamented with a wide border of 
flower-work in fresco ; between the win- 
dows hung two portraits representing 
an aged nobleman and an elderly lady, 
and over the center door was painted a 
coat of arms. A large red damask cur- 
tain, on which the same arms were re- 
produced, concealed this door, which 
was rarely opened, and which led into a 
chapel. Opposite, between the two 
center windows, was a small canopy, 
closed by white curtains with blue loops. 
High-backed leather chairs, a rosewood 
table with turned feet, a silver lamp sus- 
pended from the ceiling, constituted the 
furniture of the room, which breathed 
a severe and gloomy air. 

The inner apartments were in the 
same style, save the heraldic decora- 
tions. In the wing of the building, how- 
ever, this aspect suddenly changed, and 
gave place to a fanciful and dainty one, 
which revealed the presence of a woman. 
Indeed, nothing could be more beautiful 
than this room, in which silk brocatels 
were mingled with the pretty feathers 
of our" birds, entwined in garlands and 
festoons around the border of the ceiling, 
and upon th.e canopy of a bedstead stand- 
ing on a carpet of skins of wild animals. 
In a corner an alabaster crucifix hung 
upon the wall, with a gilt bracket at its 

1893. J 

The Guarany. 


feet. At a little distance, on a bureau, 
was seen one of those Spanish guitars 
that the gypsies introduced into Brazil 
when expelled from 'Portugal, and a col- 
lection of mineral curiosities of delicate 
colors and exquisite forms. Near the 
door was an article that at first sight 
could not be denned ; it was a kind of 
bedstead or sofa of variegated straw, in- 
terwoven with black and scarlet feathers. 
A royal heron impaled, ready to take 
flight, held in its beak the curtain of 
blue taffeta that concealed this nest of 
innocence from profane eyes, opening 
it with the points of its white wings that 
fell over the door. The whole breathed 
a sweet aroma of benzoin. 



THE dwelling we have described be- 
longed to Dom Antonio de Mariz, a dis- 
tinguished Portuguese nobleman. In 
1567 he had accompanied Mem de Sa to 
Rio de Janeiro, and had aided in found- 
ing the city, and in consolidating the 
dominion of Portugal in that captaincy. 1 
He also served as superintendent of the 
royal revenue, and afterward of the cus- 
tom house at Rio de Janeiro, and showed 
in all these employments his zeal for the 
public good, and his devotion to the 
king. A man of valor and experienced 
in war, accustomed to combats with the 
Indians, he rendered great services in 
explorations. In reward for his deserts 
the governor, Mem de Sa, had granted 
him a square league of land in the inte- 

The defeat of Alcacerquibir 2 and the 
Spanish domination that followed it 
changed his life. A Portuguese of the 
old school, he considered that he was 

!The ancient territorial divisions of Brazil were called 
capitanias, captaincies. 

*A town in Morocco, where in 1578 Dom Sebastian, 
King of Portugal, with his whole army perished in battle 
against the Moors. This disaster was followed by a 
Spanish domination in Portugal of 60 years (1580-1640). 

bound to the king of Portugal by the 
oath of nobility, and that he owed fealty 
and homage to him alone. When, then, 
in 1582, Philip II. was proclaimed in 
Brazil as the successor of the Portu- 
guese monarch, the aged nobleman 
sheathed his sword and retired from the 
service. Afterward, finding his arm 
and valor of no avail to the king of 
Portugal, he swore that he would at least 
maintain his fidelity till* death. He 
took his family, and settled on that land 
which Mem de Sa had granted him. 
There, standing on the eminence where 
he was about to fix his new home, and 
looking proudly over the vast region 
that opened around him, he exclaimed: 

"Here I am a Portuguese ! Here a 
loyal heart, which has never proved false 
to its oath, can breathe at ease. In this 
country, which was given me by my 
king and conquered by my arm, in this 
free country, thou shalt reign, Portugal, 
as thou shalt live in the souls of thy 
sons. I swear it ! " 

This had taken place in April, 1593 ; 
on the following day they began build- 
ing a small dwelling, which served as a 
provisional residence, until the artisans 
from Portugal had constructed and dec- 
orated the house with which we are 
already acquainted. 

Dom Antonio had gained a fortune 
during the earlier years of his life as 
an adventurer, and not merely from the 
caprice of nobility, but in consideration 
for his family, sought to give to this 
dwelling, built in the midst of a wilder- 
ness, all the luxury and conveniences 
possible. He not only made periodical 
expeditions to the city of Rio de Jan- 
ero, to purchase goods from Portugal, 
which he obtained in exchange for the 
products of the country, but he had also 
ordered from the kingdom some me- 
chanics and gardeners, who employed 
the resources of nature, so bountiful in 
that region, in providing his family with 
every necessary. Thus the house was 
a genuine castle of a Portuguese noble- 


The Guarany. 


man, except for the battlements and 
barbican, which were replaced by the 
wall of inaccessible rocks, which offered 
a natural defense. Under the circum- 
stances this was necessary, because of 
the savage tribes, which, although they 
always retired from the neighborhood 
of places inhabited by the colonists, 
nevertheless frequently made incursions 
and attacked the whites by stealth. 

In a circle of a league from the house 
there were only a few cabins, in which 
lived poor adventurers, eager to make a 
rapid fortune, who had settled in that 
place in companies of ten and twenty, 
in order more easily to carry on the 
contraband trade in gold and precious 
stones, which they sold on the coast. 
These, in times of danger, always sought 
refuge with Dom Antonio de Mariz, 
whose house took the place of a feudal 
castle in the middle ages. Thus, in case 
of attack by the Indians, the dwellers 
in the ; house on Paquequer could count 
only on their own resources, and there- 
fore, Dom Antonio, like a wise and 
practical man as he was, had provided 
against every occurrence. 

He maintained, like all captains en- 
gaged in discoveries in those colonial 
times, a band of adventurers, who served 
him in his explorations and expeditions 
into the interior. They were brave, 
fearless men, uniting with the resources 
of civilized man, the cunning and agility 
of the Indian, of whom they had learned ; 
they were a sort of guerrillas, soldiers 
and savages at the same time. Dom 
Antonio, who knew them, had estab- 
lised among them a rigorous but just 
military discipline. 

When the time for selling the products 
arrived, which was always pr.ior to the 
departure of the armada for Lisbon, 
half of the band of adventurers went to 
the city of Rio de Janeiro, made the 
sale, purchased the necessary articles, 
and on their return rendered their ac- 
counts. Half the profits belonged to 
the nobleman as chief ; the other was 

divided equally among the forty adven- 
turers, who received it in money or in 

Thus lived, almost in the midst of the 
wilderness, unrecognized and unknown, 
this little community, governed by its 
own laws, its own usages and customs ; 
its members united together by ambi- 
tion for wealth, and bound to their chief 
by respect, by the habit of obedience, 
and by that moral superiority which in- 
telligence and courage exercise over the 
masses. For Dom Antonio and his 
companions, into whom he had infused 
his own fidelity, this region of Brazil 
was only a fragment of free Portugal ; 
here only the Duke of Braganga, the 
legitimate heir of the crown, was rec- 
ognized as king ; and when the curtains 
were drawn back from the canopy in 
the hall, the arms of Portugal were re- 
vealed,bef ore which all foreheads bowed. 

The nobleman's family was composed 
of four persons : his wife, Dona Lau- 
riana, a lady from Sao Paulo, 1 imbued 
with all the prejudices of nobility and 
all the religious superstitions of that 
time ; for the rest, a good heart, a little 
selfish, yet not incapable of an act of 
self-sacrifice ; his son, Dom Diogo de 
Mariz, who was later to follow the career 
of his father, and who succeeded him in 
all his honors and privileges ; still in the 
flower of youth, who spent his time 
in warlike excursions and in hunting ; 
his daughter, Dona Cecilia, a girl of 
eighteen, who was the goddess of that 
little world, which she illumined with 
her smile and cheered with her playful 
disposition and attractive ways ; Dona 
Isabel, his niece, whom Dom Antonio's 
companions, though they said nothing, 
suspected of being the fruit of the aged 
nobleman's love for an Indian woman 
whom he had taken captive in one of 
his explorations. 

VA Brazilian province on the coast, south of and bor- 
dering on that of Rio de Janeiro. The first white set- 
tlement in Brazil under the auspices of the Portuguese 
government was made within its present limits. Its 
inhabitants are still noted for pride of origin. 


The Guarany. 




IT was midday. A troop of horsemen, 
consisting, at most, of fifteen persons, 
was pursuing its way along the right 
bank of the Parahyba. They were all 
armed from head to foot ; besides his 
large war-sword, which struck the 
haunches of his animal, each of them 
carried two pistols at his girdle, a dag- 
ger at his side, and an arquebuse slung 
by a belt over his shoulder. 

A little in advance two men on foot 
were driving some animals laden with 
boxes and other packages covered with 
tarpaulins, to protect them from the rain. 
As often as the horsemen, who were 
proceeding at a gentle trot, overcame 
the short distance that separated them 
from this group, the two men, not to re- 
tard the march, would mount on the 
haunches of their animals and again ob- 
tain the lead. 

At that time those caravans of adven- 
turers that penetrated into the interior 
of Brazil in search of gold, brilliants, or 
emeralds, or for the discovery of rivers 
and lands vet unknown, were called 
bandeiras. That which at this moment 
was following the bank of the Parahyba 
was such an one ; it was returning from 
Rio de Janeiro, where it had been to sell 
the products of its expedition into the 
gold region. 

On one of the occasions, when the 
horsemen approached the pack-animals, 
a good-looking young man of twenty- 
eight, who was riding at the head of the 
troop, managing his horse with much 
grace and spirit, broke the general 

" Come, boys \ " said he cheerfully to 
the drivers, "a little exertion and we 
shall soon. reach home. We have only 
four leagues farther to go." 

One of the troop, on hearing these 
words, put spurs to his horse, and ad- 
vancing some yards, placed himself at 
the young man's side. 

" You seem to be in a hurry to get 
home, Senhor Alvaro de Sa," said he 
with a slight Italian accent, and a half- 
smile whose expression of irony was 
concealed by a suspicious air of friendli- 

"Certainly, Senhor Loredano ; noth- 
ing is more natural when one is travel- 
ing than the desire to get home." 

"I do not say it is not ; but you will 
admit, too, that nothing is more natural 
when one is traveling than to spare his 

" What do you mean by that, Senhor 
Loredano ? " asked Alvaro with an an- 
gry movement. 

" I mean, cavalier," replied the Italian 
in a mocking tone, measuring with his 
eye the height of the sun, " that we shall 
reach home today before six 'oclock." 

Alvaro colored. " I do not see why 
you take special notice of that ; we must 
get there at some hour, and it is better 
it should be by day than by night." 

"And so it is better it should be on a' 
Saturday than any other day," replied 
the Italian in the same tone. 

A new blush overspread Alvaro's 
cheeks, and he could not disguise his 
confusion ; but recovering himself, he 
gave a loud laugh, and answered : 
" Zounds, Senhor Loredano I you are 
talking to me in riddles ; on the faith of 
a cavalier, I do not understand you." 

" So it should be. Scripture tells us 
that none is so deaf as he that will not 

"Ah! a proverb, I see. I wager that 
you learned this but now in Sao Sebas- 
tiao. 1 Was it some aged nun, or some 
doctor of divinity that taught you it ? " 
said the cavalier jokingly. 

" Neither the one nor the other, cava- 
lier ; it was a trader in the rua dos Mer- 
cadores, who at the same time showed 
me costly brocades and pretty pearl 
ear-rings, very appropriate for a present 
from a gallant cavalier to his lady." 

1 The city of Rio de Janeiro, the full name of which 
is Sao Sebastiiio do Rio de Janeiro. 


The G liar any. 


Alvaro blushed for the third time. 
Clearly the sarcastic Italian found 
means of connecting with all the young 
man's questions an allusion that dis- 
concerted him ; and this in the most 
natural tone in the world. 

Alvaro wanted to end the conversa- 
tion at this point ; but his companion 
proceeded with extreme good nature, 

" You did not, perchance, enter the 
shop of this trader of whom I have 
spoken ? " 

" I don't remember ; I think not, for 
I scarcely had time to transact our busi- 
ness, and not a moment was left to look 
at ladies' gewgaws," said the young man 

" It is true," asserted Loredano with 
pretended frankness ; " that reminds me 
that we only remained five days in Rio 
de Janeiro, while at other times it was 
never less than ten or fifteen." 

" I had orders to act with all haste ; 
and I believe," he continued, fixing a 
severe look on the Italian, " that I owe 
an account of my actions only to those 
whom I have given the right to com- 
mand them." 

" Per Bacco, cavalier ! You under- 
stand everything contrarily ! No one 
asks you why you do whatever you like ; 
and you will also find that everyone 
thinks after his own manner." 

" Think what you please ! " said Alva- 
ro, shrugging his shoulders and quick- 
ening the pace of his horse. 

The conversation was broken off. 
The two horsemen, a little in advance 
of the rest of the troop, traveled in 
silence side by side. Alvaro now and 
then glanced along the road,as if to meas- 
ure the way they still had to go, and at 
other times seemed lost in thought. 

On these occasions the Italian would 
cast upon him a furtive glance, full of 
malice and scorn, and then continue to 
whistle between his teeth a song of the 
condottieri, of whom he exhibited the 
true type. A swarthy face, covered 
by a long black beard, through which 

his contemptuous smile permitted the 
whiteness of his teeth to glisten ; sharp 
eyes, a wide forehead, which his broad- 
brimmed hat falling upon his shoulders 
left uncovered ; a tall stature, and a 
strong, active, and muscular constitu- 
tion : these were the chief traits of this 

The little cavalcade had left the river 
bank, which no longer afforded a pass- 
age, and had turned into a narrow path 
in the forest. Although it was little 
after two o'clock, twilight reigned in the 
deep and shady vaults of verdure ; the 
light in passing through the dense foli- 
age was entirely absorbed, and not a 
ray of the sun penetrated into this tem- 
ple of creation, for which the ancient 
trunks of acaris and araribas served as 
columns. The silence of night with its 
vague and uncertain noises and its dull 
echoes slept in the depth of this soli- 
tude, and was scarcely interrupted by 
the step of the animals, which made the 
dry leaves crackle. It seemed that it 
must be six o'clock, and that declining 
day was enveloping the earth in the 
dark shadows of evening. Alvaro de 
Sa, although accustomed to this illu- 
sion, could not help being surprised for 
an instant, when, roused from his medi- 
tation, he found himself suddenly in the 
midst of the clare-obscure of the forest. 
He involuntarily raised his head, to see 
if through the dome of verdure he could 
discover the sun, or at least some ray 
of light to indicate the hour. 

Loredano could not repress a sardon- 
ic laugh. " Have no anxiety, cavalier ; 
we shall be there before six o'clock ; / 
assure you of it." 

The young man turned toward the 
Italian with a scowl. " Senhor Lore- 
dano, it is the second time that you have 
spoken that word in a tone that dis- 
pleases me ; you appear to want to tell 
me something, but you lack the courage 
to speak out. Once for all, speak open- 
ly, and God keep you from touching OH 
subjects that are sacred." 


The Guarany. 


The Italian's eyes flashed, but his 
countenance remained calm and serene. 
' You know that I owe you obedience, 
cavalier, and I shall not be wanting. 
You wish me to speak clearly ; to me it 
appears that nothing I have said can 
be clearer than it is." 

"To you, no doubt ; but this is no 
reason why it should be so to others." 

"But tell me cavalier, does it not 
seem clear, in the light of what you 
have heard from me, that I have divined 
your desire to get back as soon as pos- 

" As to that, I have already avowed 
it ; there is no great merit in divining 

" Does it not also seem clear that I 
have observed with what celerity you 
have made this expedition, so that here 
we are, in less than twenty days, at the 
end of it ? " 

" I have already told you that I had 
orders, and I believe you, have nothing 
to say against it." 

" Certainly not ; an order is a duty, 
and a duty is fulfilled with pleasure, 
when the heart is in it." 

" Senhor Loredano ! " said the young 
man, placing his hand on the hilt of his 
sword and gathering up the reins. . 

The Italian, pretending not to have 
seen the threatening gesture, continued : 
" So everything is explained. You re- 
ceived an order ; it was from Dom Anto- 
nio de Mariz, doubtless ? " 

" I do not know that anyone else has 
the right to order me," replied the young 
man haughtily. 

" Naturally, in pursuance of this or- 
der," continued the Italian politely, 
"you set out from the Paquequer on 
Monday, when the day appointed was 

" What ! did you notice that, too ? " 
asked the young man, biting his lips 
with vexation. 

" I notice everything, cavalier, and 
have not failed to observe likewise that 
you have made every exertion, in pursu- 

ance of the order of course, to arrive 
just the day before Sunday." 

"And have you observed nothing 
more ? " asked Alvaro, with a tremulous 
voice, making an effort to restrain him- 

"Another little circumstance has not 
escaped me, of which I have already 
made mention." 

"And what is it, if you please ?" 

" O, it 's'not worth the trouble of re- 
peating ; it's a matter of little conse- 

" Nevertheless, tell it ; nothing is lost 
between two men who understand each 
other," replied Alvaro with a threaten- 
ing look. 

" Since you wish it, I must satisfy 
you. I notice that the order of Dom 
Antonio," and the Italian emphasized 
that word, "directs you to be at the 
Paquequer a little before six o'clock, in 
time to hear the evening prayer." 

" You have an admirable gift, Senhor 
Loredano ; it is to be lamented that you 
employ it in trifles." 

" On what would you have a man 
spend his time in this wilderness, if not 
in looking at his kind, and seeing what 
they are doing ? " 

" It certainly is a good amusement." 

"Excellent. Look you, I have seen 
things occurring in the presence of 
others which no one else perceived be- 
cause no one would take the trouble to 
observe as I do," said the Italian, with 
an air of pretended simplicity. 

" Tell us about it ; it must be curi- 

" On the contrary, it is the most 
natural thing possible ; a youth gather- 
ing a flower, or a man walking by night 
in the starlight. Can anything be sim- 
pler ? " 

Alvaro turned pale this time. 

"Do you know one thing, Senhor 
Loredano? " 

" I shall know it, cavalier, if you do 
me the honor to tell me." 

" It appears to me that your cleverness 


The Guarany. 


as an observer has taken you too far, 
and that you are playing neither more 
nor less than the part of a spy." 

The adventurer raised his head with 
a haughty gesture, placing his hand on 
the handle of a large dagger which he 
carried at his side ; at the same instant, 
however, he controlled this movement, 
and resumed his habitual good nature. 

" You are joking, cavalier." 

" You are mistaken," said the young 
man, spurring his horse, and placing 
himself by the side of the Italian. "I 
speak seriously ; you are an infamous 
spy ! But I swear by God, that at the 
first word you utter I will break your 
head as I would crush a venomous ser- 

Loredano's countenance did not 
change ; it maintained the same immo- 
bility ; but his air of indifference and 
sarcasm disappeared under the expres- 
sion of energy and malice that lent force 
to his powerful features. Fixing a stern 
look on the cavalier, he replied : "Since 
you take the matter in this way, Senhor 
Alvaro de Sa, it is proper for me to tell 
you that it does not belong to you to 
threaten ; between us two you ought to 
know which it is that should fear." 

" Do you forget to whom you are 
speaking ? " said the young man haugh- 

" No, sir, I remember everything ; I 
remember that you are my superior, and 
also," 'he added in a hoarse voice, " that 
I have your secret." And stopping his 
horse, the adventurer left Alvaro to go 
on alone, and joined his companions. 

The little cavalcade continued its 
march along the path, and approached 
one of those openings which occur in 
virgin forests, resembling vast vaults of 
verdure. At that moment a frightful 
roar made the forest tremble, and filled 
the solitude with harsh echoes. The 
drivers turned pale, and looked at each 
other ; the horsemen cocked their arque- 
buses, and proceeded slowly, looking 
cautiously through the branches. 


When the cavalcade reached the bor- 
der of the opening, a curious scene was 
passing there. Standing in the center 
of the great dome of trees, and leaning 
against an aged tree riven by lightning, 
was seen an Indian in the vigor of youth. 
A simple cotton tunic, which the abo- 
rigines call aimard, fastened at the 
waist by a band of scarlet feathers, fell 
from his shoulders down to his knees, 
and revealed his figure, delicate and 
slender as a wild reed. Upon the trans- 
parent whiteness of the cotton his cop- 
per-colored skin shone with a golden 
light ; his short, black hair, smooth vis- 
age, and large, oblique eyes, with black, 
active, sparkling pupils, his powerful 
but well-shaped mouth, and white teeth, 
gave to his somewhat oval face the rude 
beauty of grace, force, and intelligence. 
His head was encircled by a leather 
band, to the side of which were fastened 
two variegated feathers, which, describ- 
ing a long spiral, touched his neck with 
their black points. He was tall of stat- 
ure ; his hands were delicate ; his agile 
and nervous leg, ornamented with a 
bracelet of yellow berries, rested upon 
a foot, small, but firm in walking, and 
fleet in running. 

He had his bow and arrows in his 
right hand, while with his left he held 
vertically before "him a long fork of 
wood blackened in the fire. Near him 
on the ground were lying an inlaid car- 
bine, a small leather bag for ammunition, 
and a rich Flemish knife. 

At that instant he raised his head and 
fixed his eyes on a tree some twenty 
paces distant, which was imperceptibly 
agitated. There, through the foliage, 
were distinguished the cat-like undula- 
tions of a black and shining back, spot- 
ted with gray ; at times two pale and 
glassy rays, like the reflections from 
some rock crystal struck by the sunlight, 
were seen shining in the gloom. 


The Guarany. 


It was an enormous ounce. 1 The an- 
imal was beating his flanks with his long 
tail, and moving his monstrous head as 
if seeking an opening through the foliage 
to make his spring. A sort of sardonic 
and ferocious smile contracted his black 
lips and showed the line of yellow teeth ; 
his dilated nostrils breathed forcibly, as 
if already enjoying the smell of the vic- 
tim's blood. 

The Indian, smiling and indolently 
leaning against the dry trunk, lost not 
one of these movements, and awaited 
his enemy with the calmness and seren- 
ity of one contemplating an agreeable 
scene ; his fixed look alone revealed a 
thought of defense. 

Thus, for a brief moment, the beast 
and the savage eyed each other ; then 
the tiger crouched and was about to 
make his leap, when the cavalcade ap- 
peared on the border of the opening. 
Then the animal, casting around a glance 
full of blood, hesitated to risk an attack. 

The Indian, who at the movement of 
the ounce had bent his knees slightly 
and grasped the fork, straightened him- 
self up again. Without taking his eyes 
from the animal, he saw the troop, which 
had halted on his right. He extended 
his arm, and with a kingly wave of the 
hand, for he was king of the forests, 
motioned the horsemen to continue 
their march. Then as the Italian, with 
his arquebuse at his face, was trying to 
get aim through the leaves, the Indian 
stamped on the ground in token of im- 
patience, and pointing to the tiger and 
putting his hand on his breast, ex- 
claimed, " It is mine ! mine only ! " 

These words were spoken in Portu- 
guese, with an agreeable and sonorous 
pronunciation, but in a tone of energy 
and resolution. 

The Italian laughed. " By my faith, 
an original claim ! You do not want 
your friend offended ? Very well, Dom 
Cazique," he continued, slinging his 

i'Fhe jaguar, called also on$a (ounce) and tigre (tiger) 
by the Brazilians. 

arquebuse over his shoulder; "he will 
thank you for it, doubtless." 

In answer to this warning, the Indian 
pushed contemptuously with his foot 
the carbine lying on the ground, as if 
to signify that had he wished he might 
already have shot the tiger. 

All this passed rapidly, in a moment, 
the Indian never for an instant remov- 
ing his eyes from his enemy. At a sig- 
nal from Alvaro the horsemen proceed- 
ed on their march, and entered again 
into the forest. The tiger uttered a 
roar of joy and satisfaction. A noise of 
breaking branches was heard, as if a 
tree had fallen in the forest, and the 
black form of the beast passed through 
the air ; at a single leap, he had gained 
the other tree, and placed a considerable 
distance between himself and his adver- 

The savage comprehended at once 
the reason of this ; the ounce had seen 
the horses. Quick as the thought, he 
took from his girdle a little arrow, slen- 
der as a porcupine's quill, and drew his 
great bow, which exceeded by a third 
his own height. A loud whiz was heard, 
accompanied by a cry from the beast ; 
the little arrow discharged by the Indian 
had penetrated his ear, and a second, 
cutting the air, struck him on the lower 

The tiger turned, threatening and 
terrible, and with two leaps approached 
again. A death-struggle was to ensue. 
The Indian knew it, and waited calmly 
as on the first occasion ; the disquiet 
that he had felt for a moment lest his 
prey should escape him had disappeared. 

This time the tiger did not delay ; 
scarcely did he get within some fifteen 
paces of his enemy, when he gathered 
himself up with extraordinary elasticity, 
and sprang like a fragment of rock riven 
by lightning. He struck on his great 
hind paws, with his body erect, his claws 
extended to rend his victim, and his teeth 
ready to devour him. 

But before him was an enemy worthy 


The Guarany. 


of him in strength and agility. The 
Indian had bent his knees a little, and 
held in his left hand the long fork, his 
only defense ; his fixed look magnetized 
the animal. Just as the tiger sprang he 
bent still more, and shielding his body 
presented the fork. The beast felt it 
close around his neck, and struggled. 

Then the savage straightened himself 
with the flexibility of a rattlesnake mak- 
ing its thrust, and placing his feet and 
back against the trunk, sprang upon the 
ounce, which, thrown on its back, its 
head fastened to the ground by the fork, 
struggled against its conqueror, striving 
in vain to reach him with its claws. 

When the animal, almost choked by 
the strangulation, made only a weak 
resistance, the savage, still holding the 
fork, placed his hand under his tunic 
and drew out a cord of ticum* that was 
wound around his waist in many coils. 
At the end of this cord were two nooses, 
which he opened with his teeth and 
passed over the fore-paws, binding them 
tightly together ; then he did the same 
with the hind legs, and ended by tying 
the jaws together, so that the ounce 
could not open its mouth. 

At that moment a wild and timid 
agonti appeared on the border of the 
forest. The Indian sprung for his bow, 
and stopped the little animal in the 
midst of its career. He then broke two 
dry branches of biribd, and drawing fire 
by rubbing them rapidly together set 
about preparing his game for dinner. 

In a little while he had finished his 
savage repast, which he accompanied 
with the honeycombs of a small bee that 
constructs its hives in the ground. He 
then went to a brook that flowed near 
by, drank a little water, washed his 
hands, face, and feet, and prepared to 
take his departure. Passing his long 
bow between the tiger's legs, he sus- 
pended it to his shoulders, and bending 
under the weight of the animal, which 

4 A species of palm, of the fibers of which the Indi- 
ans make nets, ropes, etc. 

struggled with violent contortions, took 
the path along which the cavalcade had 

Some moments afterward the thick 
shrubbery opened and an Indian ap- 
peared upon the now deserted scene, 
completely naked, except for a mantle 
of yellow feathers. He cast an aston- 
ished look around, cautiously examined 
the still-burning fire and the remnants 
of the game, and then lay down with 
his ear to the ground, and thus remained 
for some time. Rising, he entered 
again into the forest, in the direction 
the other had taken a short time before. 


Evening was approaching. In the 
little garden of the house on the Paque- 
quer a pretty maiden was swinging lazi- 
ly in a straw hammock fastened to the 
branches of a wild acacia, which, as it 
was shaken, let fall some of its small 
and fragrant flowers. 

Her large blue eyes, half closed, at 
times opened languidly as if to drink in 
the light, then the rosy lids drooped 
again. Her red and moist lips were 
like the wild lily of our fields, bedewed 
by the vapor of night ; her sweet and 
gentle breath exhaling formed a smile. 
Her complexion, white and pure as a 
tuft of cotton, was tinged on the cheeks 
with rose color, which, gradually fading, 
died out on the neck in pleasing and 
delicate lines. 

Over her white muslin dress she wore 
a light sack of blue velvet gathered at 
the waist by a clasp ; a kind of pearl- 
colored ermine, made of the soft down 
of certain birds, bordered the neck and 
sleeves, setting off the whiteness of her 
shoulders and the harmonious contour 
of her arm arched over her breast. Her 
long fair hair, negligently twined in 
rich tresses, left bare her white fore- 
head, and fell around her neck confined 
by a delicate loop of golden straw, braid- 


The Guarany. 

ed with admirable skill and perfection. 
Her slender little hand was playing 
with a branch of the acacia, which bent 
jeneath the weight of flowers, and 
which she grasped from time to time to 
give a gentle oscillation to the ham- 
mock. This maiden was Cecilia. 

What was passing in her mind at that 
moment it is impossible to describe ; 
her body, yielding to the languor pro- 
duced by a sultry afternoon, allowed 
ier imagination to run at large. The 
warm breath of the breeze that came 
aden with the perfume of honeysuckles 
and wild lilies excited still more that 
enchantment, and conveyed perhaps to 
that innocent soul some undefined 
thought, one of those myths of the girl- 
ish heart at eighteen. She dreamed 
that one of the white clouds that were 
passing through the blue sky, coming 
:nto contact with the rocks opened sud- 
denly, and a man appeared and fell at 
tier feet, timid and suppliant. She 
dreamed that she blushed, and a bright 
flush kindled the rosy hue of her cheeks, 
but little by little this chaste embarrass- 
ment disappeared, and ended in a gra- 
cious smile which her soul brought to 
her lips. With palpitating breast, all 
tremulous and at the same time pleased 
and happy, she opened her eyes, but 
turned them away in disgust, for, in- 
stead of the handsome cavalier of whom 
she had dreamed, she saw at her feet a 
savage. She then as she dreamed ex- 
hibited a queenly anger, contracting her 
fair eyebrows and stamping with her lit- 
tle foot upon the grass. But the sup- 
pliant slave raised his eyes, so full of 
grief, of mute prayers and resignation, 
that an inexpressible feeling overcame 
her, and she became sad, and ran away 
and wept. Then her handsome cava- 
lier came, wiped away her tears, and 
she felt consoled, and smiled again ; but 
ever kept a shade of melancholy, which 
her cheerful disposition only succeeded 
little by little in driving away. 

At this point in her dream the little 

inner door of the garden opened, and 
another maiden, scarcely touching the 
grass with her light step, approached 
the hammock. She was of a type en- 
tirely different from Cecilia; the true 
Brazilian type in all its grace and beauty, 
with its enchanting contrast of melan- 
choly and sportiveness. of indolence and 
vivacity. Her large black eyes, dark 
and rosy complexion, black hair, dis- 
dainful lips, provoking smile, gave her 
face a seductive power quite irresistible. 

She stopped in front of Cecilia, and 
could not disguise the admiration that 
her cousin's delicate beauty inspired ; 
and an imperceptible shadow, perhaps 
of envy, passed over her countenance, 
but vanished at once. She sat down on 
one side of the hammock, leaning over 
the maiden to kiss her, or see if she was 
asleep. Cecilia, awakened from her 
revery, opened her eyes and fixed them 
on her cousin. 

" Lazy girl!" said Isabel smiling. 

"True!" replied the maiden, seeing 
the great shadows cast by the trees ; 
"it is almost night." 

" And you have been sleeping since 
the sun was high, have n't you ? " asked 
the other playfully. 

" No, I have n't slept a moment ; but 
I don't know what is the matter with 
me today, that I feel so sad." 

" You sad, Cecilia ! It would be easier 
for the birds not to sing at sunrise." 

" You won't believe me then ? " 

" But pray, what reason have you to 
be sad, you who the livelong year wear 
only a smile ? " 

" It 's apparent enough ! Everything 
tires in this world." 

" O, I understand ! You are tired of 
living here in this wilderness." 

" Nay ! I am so accustomed to see- 
ing these trees, this river, these moun- 
tains, that I love them as if they had 
witnessed my birth." 

"Then what is it that makes yow 
sad ? " 

" I don't know ; I lack something." 


The Guarany. 


" I don't see what it can be. ... 
Yes, I see now ! " 

" See what ? " asked Cecilia with won- 

"O, what you lack." 

" But I don't know myself," said the 
maiden smiling. 

" Look," replied Isabel, " there is your 
dove waiting for you to call it, and your 
pretty fawn watching you with its soft 
eyes ; you only lack the other wild 

"Pery ! " exclaimed Cecilia, laughing 
at her cousin's idea. 

" The same ! You have only two 
captives to frolic with, and as you do 
not see the ugliest and most ungraceful' 
you are unhappy." 

" But now I think of it," said Cecilia, 
" have you seen him today ? " 

" No ; I don't know what has become 
of him." 

" He went away day before yesterday 
afternoon ; I hope no accident has be- 
fallen him," said the maiden with some 

" What accident do you suppose can 
happen to him ? Does he not all day 
long roam the woods, and run about 
like a wild beast ? " 

" Yes ; but he never stayed away so 
long before." 

"The most that can have happened 
to him is to have been seized with long- 
ings for his old free ife." 

"No," exclaimed the maiden with 
vivacity ; " it is not possible that he has 
abandoned us so." 

" But then, what do you think he can 
be doing in the forest ? " 

" True ! " said Cecilia pensively. She 
remained a moment with her head 
down, almost in sorrow ; in that position 
her eye fell upon the fawn, which had 
its dark pupils fixed upon her with all 
the soft melancholy that Nature had 
embodied in its eyes. She held out her 
hand and snapped her fingers, at which 
the pretty animal leaped for joy, and 
came and laid its head in her lap. 

"You will not abandon your mistress, 
will you ? " said she, passing her hand 
over its satin hair. 

" Nevermind, Cecilia," replied Isabel, 
observing her tone of melancholy ; " you 
can ask my uncle to get you another to 
domesticate, and it will prove tamer) 
than your Pery." 

" Cousin," said the girl with a slight 
tone of reproof, " you treat very unjustly 
that poor Indian, who has done you no 

" But, Cecilia, how would you have 
one treat a savage that has a dark skin 
and red blood ? Does not your mother 
say that an Indian is an animal, like a 
horse or a dog ? " 

These last words were spoken with a 
bitter irony, which the daughter of An$ 
tonio Mariz comprehended perfectly. \ 

" Isabel ! " exclaimed she, offended. 

" I know that you do not think so, 
Cecilia, and that your kind heart doei 
not look at the color of the face tQ 
learn the soul. But the others ? . . | 
Do you think I do not perceive the dis- 
dain with which they treat me ? " 

" I have told you again and again that 
it is a suspicion on your part ; all like 
you and respect you as they ought." 

Isabel shook her head sadly. " It is 
very well for you to console me ; but 
you, yourself, have seen whether I ani 

" O, a moment of aversion on the part 
of my mother " 

"It is a very long moment, Cecilia," 
answered the girl with a bitter smile. 1 

" But listen," said Cecilia, putting her 
arm round her cousin's waist. " You 
know that my mother is a very severe? 
mistress, even to me." 

"Don't trouble yourself, cousin ; this 
only serves to confirm still more what I 
have already said : in this house you are; 
the only one that loves me ; the rest 
despise me." 

"Well then," replied Cecilia, "I will 
love you for all ; have I not already asked 
you to treat me as a sister ? " 


The Guarany. 


" Yes ; and that gave me a pleasure 
you cannot imagine. If I only 
/ere your sister ! " 

" And why will you not be ? I would 
ave you so." 

"To you, but to him. . . This 
im was murmured in her soul. 

" But, look you, I demand one thing." 

" What is it ?" asked Isabel. 

" It is that I shall be the elder sister." 

"In spite of your being the younger ? " 

" No matter ! As elder sister, you 
mist obey me ? " 

" Certainly," answered her cousin, un- 
ble to keep from smiling. 

" Well then! " exclaimed Cecilia, kiss- 
ng her on the cheek, " I don't want to 
ee you sad, do you hear ? or I shall be 

' And were you not sad a little while 

" O, it's all gone now ! " said the girl, 
pringing lightly from the hammock. 

In fact, that sweet melancholy that had 
lossession of her a little while before, as 
he was swinging and thinking of a 
housand things, had entirely disap- 
eared ; the spirit of joyous and bewitch- 
ng childhood had yielded but a moment 

the enchantment, but had returned 
igain. She was now as ever, a laughing 
md attractive girl, breathing all the 
;race and beauty, combined with inno- 
cence and unrestraint, which open air 
md life in the country impart. 

Rising, she gathered her red lips into 

1 rosebud, and imitated with an enchant- 
ng grace the sweet cooings of \.\\ejurity ; 
mmediately the dove flew from the 
aranches of the acacia, and nestled in 
icr bosom, trembling with pleasureat the 
ouch of the little hand that smoothed its 
loft plumage. 

" Let 's go to bed," said she to the 

dove, with the tenderness of a mother 

alking to her babe ; " the little dove is 

ileepy, isn't it?" And leaving her 

cousin for a moment alone in the garden, 

she went to take care for the night of 

he two companions of her solitude with 

so much affection and solicitude that the 
wealth of feeling existing in the depths 
of her heart, hid in the infantile charm 
of her disposition, was clearly revealed. 

Soon the tread of animals near the 
house was heard ; Isabel looked toward 
the river, and saw a troop of horsemen 
entering the* enclosure. She uttered a 
cry of surprise, joy, and fear at the same 

" What is it ? " asked Cecilia, running 
to her cousin. 

" They have arrived ? " 


"Senhor Alvaro and the others." 

"Ah !" exclaimed the girl blushing. 

" Do you not think they have returned 
very quickly?" asked Isabel, without 
noticing her cousin's agitation. 

" Very ; who knows but something 
has happened ! " 

" Only nineteen days ! " said Isabel 

" Have you counted the days ? " 

" It is easy," replied she, blushing in 
her turn; "day after tomorrow it will 
be three weeks." 

"Let 's go and see what pretty things 
they bring us." 

" Bring us? " repeated Isabel, empha- 
sizing the word with a tone of melan- 

" Bring us, yes ; for I ordered a string 
of pearls for you. Pearls ought to be- 
come you. Do you know that I enjoy 
your dark complexion, cousin ? " 

"And I would give my life to have 
your fair skin, Cecilia." 

" O, the sun is almost setting ! Let 
us go." 

And the two girls passed through the 
house toward the entrance. 



WHILE this scene was taking place in 
the garden, two men were walking on 
the other side of the esplanade in the 
shade of the building. 


The Guarany. 


One of them, of tall stature, was rec- 
ognized immediately as a nobleman by 
his proud air and his dress of a cavalier. 
He wore a black velvet doublet, with 
loops of coffee-colored silk on the breast 
and the openings of the sleeves ; breeches 
of the same stuff, likewise black, fell 
over his long boots of whiteJeather, with 
golden spurs. A ruffled collar of the 
whitest linen bordered his doublet, and 
left uncovered his neck, which sustained 
with grace his handsome and noble head. 
From his dark felt hat, without plume, 
his white locks escaped, and fell upon 
his shoulders; through his long beard, 
white as the foam of the cascade, shone 
his rosy cheeks and his still expressive 
mouth. His eyes were small but pier- 
cing. This was Dom Antonio de Mariz, 
who, in spite of his sixty years, showed 
a vigor due perhaps to his active life ; 
his body was still erect, and his step firm 
and secure as in the strength of youth. 

Walking by his side with his hat in 
his hand was Ayres Gomes, his esquire 
and former comrade in his life as an 
adventurer: the nobleman placed the 
greatest confidence in his zeal and dis- 
cretion. This man's face, whether from 
the restless sagacity which was its ordin- 
ary expression, or from his elongated 
features, bore a certain resemblance to 
that of a fox, a resemblance enhanced 
by his odd dress. He wore over his 
doublet of deep chestnut-colored velve- 
teen a sort of waistcoat of fox skin, and 
the long boots that served him almost 
for breeches were of the same material. 

"Although you deny it, Ayres Gomes," 
said the nobleman to his esquire, slowly 
pacing the esplanade, " I am certain that 
you are of my opinion." 

" I by no means assert the contrary, 
cavalier; I confess that Dom Diogo 
committed an imprudence in killing that 
Indian woman." 

" Say a barbarity, a madness. Do not 
think that because he is my son I ex- 
culpate him." 

"You judge with too much severity." 

"And I ought to, for a nobleman who 
kills a weak and inoffensive creature 
does a mean and unworthy act. Accom- 
panying me for thirty years, you know 
how I treat my enemies ; but my sword, 
which has struck down so many men in 
war, would fall from my hand if, in a 
moment of insanity, I should raise it 
against a woman." 

"But we should consider what this 
woman was, a savage " 

" I know what you would say ; I do 
not share those ideas that prevail among 
my companions : For me the Indians, 
when they attack us, are enemies whom 
we must fight; when they respect us 
they are vassals of a land that we have 
conquered ; but they are men." 

" Your son does not think so, and you 
know well what principles Dona Lauri- 
ana has instilled into him." 

" My wife ? " replied the nobleman, 
with some sharpness. " But it is not of^j 
this that we were speaking." 

"True; you were mentioning the 
alarm that Dom Diogo's imprudence 
caused you." 

" And what do you think ? " 

" I have already told you that I 
not see things so black as you do, Dor 
Antonio. The Indians respect you, fc 
you, and will not dare to attack you." 

" I tell you that you are deceiving 
yourself, or, rather, that you are seeking 
to deceive me." 

" I am not capable of such a thing, 
cavalier ! " 

"You understand as well as I, Ayres, 
the character of these savages ; you 
know that their dominant passion is 
revenge, and that for it they sacrifice 
everything their life and their liberty.'^ 

" I am not ignorant of this," answered 
the esquire. 

"They fear me, you say ; but from 
the moment when they think they have 
been injured by me they will suffer 
everything to avenge themselves." 


The Guarany. 


"You have more experience than I, 
cavalier ; but God grant that you may 
prove to be mistaken." 

Turning at the edge of the esplanade 
to continue their walk, Dom Antonio 
and his esquire saw a young cavalier 
crossing in front of the house. 

"Leave me," said the nobleman to 
Ayres Gomes, "and think on what I 
have said : in any event, let us be pre- 
pared to receive them." 

" If they come ! " retorted the obstin- 
ate esquire, as he was going away. 

Dom Antonio proceeded slowly to- 
ward the young nobleman, who had 
taken a seat some steps distant. 

Seeing his father approaching, Dom 
Diogo de Mariz rose, and uncovering 
himself, waited in a respectful attitude. 

"Cavalier," said the old man sternly, 
"you infringed yesterday the orders 
that I gave you." 

" Sir" 

"In spite of my express directions 
you have injured one of these savages, 
and brought down upon us 'their ven- 
geance ; you have put in jeopardy the 
lives of your father, your mother, and 
our devoted men. You ought to be sat- 
isfied with your work." 

" Father" 

" You have done an evil act in assass- 
inating a woman, an act unworthy of 
the name I gave you ; this shows that 
you do not yet know how to use the 
sword you wear in your belt." 

" I do not deserve this wrong, sir. 
Punish me, but do not degrade your 

" It is not your father that degrades 
you, cavalier, but the act that you have 
perpetrated. I do not wish to humiliate 
you by taking away that weapon which 
I gave you to wield in the cause of your 
king ; but as you do not yet know how 
to use it, I forbid you to take it from its 
scabbard, even to defend your life." 

Dom Diogo bowed in token of obe- 

"You will start soon, immediately 

upon the arrival of the expedition from 
Rio de Janeiro, and will go and seek 
service with Diogo Rotelho in his ex- 
plorations. You are a Portuguese, and 
must maintain fidelity t to your legitimate 
king, but you will fight like a nobleman 
and a Christian for the advancement of 
religion, conquering from the heathen 
this country, which will one day return 
to the dominion of free Portugal." 

" I will obey your orders, father." 

" Until then," continued the aged 
nobleman, " you will not stir from this 
house without my order. Go, cavalier ; 
remember that I am sixty years old, and 
that your mother and sister will soon 
need a valiant arm to defend them, and a 
wise counsellor to protect them." 

The young man felt the tears start in 
his eyes, but did not utter a word ; he 
bowed, and kissed his father's hand 

Dom Antonio, after looking at him a 
moment with a severity under which 
appeared signs of a father's love, turned, 
and was about to continue his walk, 
when his wife appeared on the thresh- 

Dona Lauriana was a lady of fifty-five ; 
thin, but robust, and well preserved like 
her husband ; she still had black hair, 
interspersed with some threads of white, 
which were concealed by her lofty head- 
dress, crowned by one of those ancient 
combs so large as to encircle her head 
like a diadem. Her smoke-colored dress, 
long-waisted and a little short in front, 
had a respectable train, which she swept 
with a certain noble grace, relic of her 
beauty long since departed. Long, gold 
ear-rings, with emerald pendants that 
almost grazed her shoulders, and a col- 
lar with a golden cross around her neck, 
were her only ornaments. 

In character, she was a combination 
of pride and devotion ; the spirit of 
nobility, which in Dom Antonio served 
to set off his other qualities, in her be- 
came a ridiculous exaggeration. In the 
wilderness in which she was placed, 


The Guarany. 


instead of seeking to diminish the social 
distinction that existed between her and 
the people among whom she lived ; she, 
on the contrary, took advantage of the 
fact that she was the only noble lady in 
that place, to crush those around her 
with her superiority, and to reign from 
the elevation of her high-backed chair, 
which for her was almost a throne. In 
religion it was the same, and one of the 
greatest griefs of her life was not to see 
herself surrounded by all those para- 
phernalia of worship which Dom An- 
tonio, like a man of robust faith and 
sound judgment, had known how to dis- 
pense with perfectly. 

In spite of this difference in character, 
Dom Antonio, either by concession or 
sternness, lived in perfect harmony with 
his wife. He sought to satisfy her in 
everything, but when that was impossi- 
ble, expressed his will in such a man- 
ner that the lady knew at once it was 
useless to insist. Only at one point had 
his firmness been baffled ; he had not 
been able to overcome the repugnance 
that Dona Lauriana had for his niece ; 
but as the aged nobleman felt, perhaps, 
some twinges of conscience in this re- 
gard, he left his wife free to do as she 
pleased, and respected her feelings. 

" You were speaking too severely to 
Dom Diogo ! " said Dona Lauriana, de- 
scending to meet her husband. 

" I gave him an order and a punish- 
ment which he deserved," replied the 

" You always treat your son with ex- 
cessive rigor, Dom Antonio ! " 

"And you with extreme indulgence, 
Dona Lauriana. Therefore, as I do not 
want your love to ruin him, I find my- 
self obliged to deprive you of his com- 

" Mercy ! What do you say, Dom 
Antonio ? " 

" Dom Diogo will start, in a few days, 
for the city of Salvador, 1 where he will 

!Bahia, the full name of which is Sao Salvador da 
Bahia de Todos os Santos. 

live like a nobleman, serving the cause 
of religion, and not wasting his time in 
wild conduct." 

" You will not do this, Senhor Mariz!" 
exclaimed his wife. "Banish your son 
from his father's house ! " 

" Who spoke of banishment, Madam ? 
Do you want Dom Diogo to pass his 
whole life tied to your apron-string ? " 

" But, sir, I am his mother, and I can- 
not live away from my son, full of anx- 
iety for his lot." 

"Nevertheless it must be so, for I 
have decided it." 

" You are cruel, sir." 

" I am only just." 

It was at this point that the tread of 
animals was heard, and Isabel saw the 
troop of horsemen approaching the 

"O, here is Alvaro de Sa ! " cried 
Dom Antonio. 

The young man with whom we are 
already acquainted, the Italian, and their 
companions dismounted, ascended the 
declivity leading to the esplanade, and 
approached the cavalier and his wife, 
whom they saluted respectfully. The 
aged nobleman extended his hand to 
Alvaro, and answered the salutation of 
the others with a certain amiability. As 
for Dona Lauriana, the inclination of 
her head was so imperceptible that she 
scarcely saw the faces of the adventur- 

After the exchange of these saluta- 
tions, the nobleman made a sign to Al- 
varo, and the two stepped aside to con- 
verse in a corner of the esplanade, seat- 
ing themselves on two large trunks of 
trees rudely wrought, which served as 
benches. Dom Antonio wished to learn 
the news from Rio de Janeiro and Por- 
tugal, where all hope had been lost of 
restoration, which only took place forty 
years afterward, when the Duke of Bra- 
ganga was proclaimed king. 

The rest of the adventurers pro- 
ceeded to the other side of the espla- 
nade, and mingled with their comrades 


The Guarany. 


who came out to meet them. There 
they were received by a volley of ques- 
tions, laughter and jests, in which they 
took part ; afterward, some desirous of 
news, others eager to relate what they 
had seen, they began to talk all at once, 
so that no one could be understood. 

At that moment the two girls appear- 
ed at the door ; Isabel stopped trem- 
bling and confused ; Cecilia descending 
the steps lightly, ran to her mother. 
While she was crossing the space that 
separated her from Dona Lauriana, Al- 
varo, having obtained permission from 
the nobleman, advanced, and with hat 
in hand bowed blushingly before the 

" Here you are back again, Senhor 
Alvaro ! " said Cecilia somewhat abrupt- 
ly, to conceal the embarrassment which 
she also felt.' " You have returned 

"Less so than I wished," replied the 
young man stammeringly ; " when the 
thought remains, the body hastens to 

Cecilia blushed and fled to her mother. 

While this brief 'scene was taking 
place on the esplanade, three very dis- 

similar looks were accompanying it, 
starting from different points and meet- 
ing on those two heads, which shone 
with youth and beauty. Dom Antonio, 
seated not far off, contemplated the 
handsome pair, and a heartfelt smile of 
happiness expanded his venerable face. 
At a distance, Loredano, a little with- 
drawn from the groups of his compan- 
ions, fastened upon the young couple 
an ardent, hard, incisive look, while his 
dilated nostrils inhaled the air with the 
delight of a beast scenting its prey. 
Isabel, poor child, fixed upon Alvaro 
her large black eyes, full of bitterness 
and sadness ; her soul seemed to escape 
in that luminous ray and bow at the 
young man's feet. Not one of the mute 
witnesses of this scene perceived what 
was passing beyond the point where 
their looks converged, except that the 
Italian saw Dom Antonio's smile, and 
understood it. 

Meantime Dom Diogo, who had with- 
drawn, returned to greet Alvaro and his 
companions. The young man had still 
on his countenance the expression of 
sadness that his father's severe words 
had left. 

James W. Hawes. 


VOL. xxi 8. 


A Story of the Nortlnvest, 



STANDING under the low porch of an 
old, time-painted, New England-looking 
house, we glanced up at the venerable, 
ivy-clad oak, whose branches nestlingly 
shelter the mossy roof above, and at the 
honeysuckle, clambering at its own 
sweet will, and reaching out dainty 
fingers for clinging-places along the 
porch. We knocked again, and waiting 
still, turned to look at the bewildering 
mass of color, and drink in the fragrance 
of the thousands of flowers in the care- 
fully kept beds, through which we made 
our approach, wonderful even in this 
land of flowers. If there was anything 
lacking of old favorites or modern novel- 
ties we did not miss them. The exqui- 
site thrift and taste that distinguished 
the garden made a striking contrast 
with the decadence of the house. 

But our rap was answered, and 'we 
turned again, and entered the low-ceiled 
front room. The contrasts here were 
quite as marked as without. The fur- 
niture of the apartment was a bewitching 
mingling of elegance and plainness, of 
native and foreign, of past and present. 
In front of the home-made lounge on 
which we were seated lay a rug of 
which a prince might be proud, in the 
deep, soft fur of which our feet nestled 
restfully. On an old-fashioned square 
stand in the corner were a miniature 
Chinese pagoda and other curios; while 
at the farther end of the room a beautiful 
modern writing desk hobnobbed with 
an old Franklin stove, surmounted by a 
dragon, in whose open, upturned mouth 
were half a dozen Chinese incense 

But more interesting than all these is 
the little woman who admitted us, and 
who hovered about us like a very angel 
of hospitality. Nor was the law of con- 
trasts that governed everything else 

broken here. The mouth told a story 
of age that was flatly contradicted by 
the eyes, which snapped in repartee or 
twinkled with mirth, just as they must 
have done three score and ten years 

Seven sons and one daughter have 
called this house "home," and the little 
woman "mother." Four of the sons 
have at one time or another been 
engaged in Indian school work. One 
other, his father's namesake, Reverend 
Elkanah Walker, is a missionary in 
China. The youngest, one of the four 
mentioned above, a man in middle life, 
whose passion for flowers is perhaps sec- 
ond only to his filial devotion, stays with 
his widowed mother, refusing every in- 
ducement to leave her. 

" Grandma Walker," as we call her, 
was a schoolma'm in far away Maine 
when Neal Dow began his life battle 
with intemperance, and helped him to 
" sow Maine knee-deep with temperance 

She talks familiarly of the early days 
of Daniel Webster. 

"There 's one story," she said, "about 
Daniel Webster, that I don't believe 
was ever in print. A girl was the mak- 
ing of him." 

The poor farmers' boy had proposed 
marriage to one who perhaps felt above 
him, and when she refused him, with 
his pride stung to the quick, he turned 
away vowing, "I'll make Jier sorry!" 
He had a purpose now ! Whether the 
girl was ever sorry or not, Webster, the 
great statesman, was a man of whom any 
woman might be proud. 

Coming in at the back door of the 
Walker home one day, I said : 

" Grandma, why is that big box on the 
back porch all marked over with Cyrus 
Hamlin's name?" 


A Story of the Nort/nvest. 


" O, that 's Cy's work ! He was al- 
ways writing his name everywhere. 
You see Cyrus Hamlin was Mr. Walk- 
er's chum in the seminary. When they 
graduated he was under appointment 
of the American Board for Constanti- 
nople, and we for South Africa. But the 
war that broke out in Africa just then 
made it unadvisable for us to go there, 
and so they decided to send us to the 
Indians in Oregon. And Cyrus Hamlin 
would not start for Turkey till he had 
seen us off for the West. Cyrus Hamlin 
Walker was the first white child born 
west of the Rockies." 

One day she brought out the water- 
proof she had worn " all the way from 
Maine," and the saddle upon which she 
had ridden the long journey from the 
Missouri to the Columbia, both now 
long past service. Putting the saddle 
on the big box on the back porch, she 
girlishly mounted upon it, and gaily 
told again the story: 

" Our bridal tour was a bridle tour. 
We went from Portland, Maine, to the 
Missouri River by public conveyance. 
But that was the end of the lines of 
travel. That was in the spring of 1838. 
At Frontier we set out to cross the 
plains in company with traders of the 
Northwestern Fur Company, for protec- 
tion. I had a pony at first, but in a few 
days the Indians stole that, and then I 
took a pack mule, and rode it all the 
rest of the way, fording on it every 
stream between the Missouri and the 
Columbia. I was the first white woman 
to ride horseback the whole distance. 
.Mrs. Eells, Mrs. Gray, and Mrs. Smith, 
of our company, rode in wagons as far 
as Fort Hall, and so did Mrs. Whit- 
man and Mrs. Spaulding, who had made 
the trip two years before. Mrs. Spaul- 
ding was feeble, and they extemporized 
an abridged sort of vehicle for her, from 
Fort Hall on. Those where the first 
wheels that ever went over the moun- 
tains. It was said that a wagon could 
not go farther west than Fort Hall. But 

Doctor Whitman taught them better 
than that." 

The scrap that she tore from the old 
waterproof, and gave to me, is put away 
among our choicest treasures. 

Mrs.- Walker was evidently the life 
of the company on this long, tedious 
journey. But one night her cheerful- 
ness deserted her. Rain had come like 
a flood, and was pouring in on the 
ground around the sides of the tent. 
She had gathered everything together 
into the middle, placed her saddle on 
the heap, and climbed upon it. There 
she sat, crying, when the other ladies 
came in. 

" Why, Mrs. Walker ! " they exclaim- 
ed ; " what is the matter ? " 

Her sense of fun could not yield even 
to the blues, and she replied, sobbing : 

"I was just thinking how com- 
fortable my father's hogs are at 
home ! " 

The missionaries found no buffalo 
west of the mountains. The Indians 
have a legend that there used to be large 
herds there, but the Great Spirit had 
warned them that a certain one was not 
to be killed. This was accidentally 
done, and the buffalo left, never to 
return. Neither were deer plenty. The 
richer chiefs used to take large parties 
and go to the " Buffalo Country." Of 
them the missionaries bought supplies 
of dried buffalo. But they " lived on 
'horse beef.'" 

Referring to this, Grandma Walker 
laughingly affirms, "Nice, tender cayuse 
is good. I 'd like some now." 

And so with ready mirth she beguiles 
the listener, and brightens all her stories 
of the trials and privations of their 
early years in Oregon, all save one. I 
never heard from her a light or merry 
word concerning the long, terrible win- 
ter after " the Whitman massacre," 
when they were shut in by deep snows, 
never daring to have a light after night- 
fall, always on the watch, and terrified 
at the slightest alarm. But with the 


A Story of the Northwest. 


winter went the terrors, and her eyes 
twinkle as she tells how volunteer sol- 
diery was sent up to bring them down 
to the white settlements. The soldiers 
merely a band of frontiersmen 
had been off on an expedition " to 
punish the Indians," and on their return 
volunteers were called for from their 
number to go for the Walkers and 

"Two things," she says, "were neces- 
sary ; first a willingness to go, they 
were all willing ; second, clothing suffi- 
cient to enable them to appear in the 
presence of ladies, 'and that was a re- 
quirement not so easily met ! " 

But a force was finally made up and the 
two missionary families were escorted 
down into the Willamette Valley. 

The place that I liked best in the old 
house was "grandma's room." Here 
were old - fashioned, straight - backed 
chairs, mysterious drawers and pigeon 
holes, a cosy fire-place, and a high-post 
bedstead, which "one of the Gulick 
boys " had brought from the Sandwich 
Islands, when he came to the United 
States for his health. 

One day I sat down beside the Gulick 
bedstead, with a little old trunk open on 
a chair before me, and looked over the 
contents. There were papers, and let- 
ters, and diaries, all yellow with age. 
More than one letter bore on the out- 
side the simple inscription : 

Rev. Elkanah Walker, 

Beyond the Rocky Mountains, 

But that which possessed for me the 
most interest was the "journals," from 
which I was permitted to copy extracts. 
Here was the account of that fateful 
meeting of the three stations of the 
mission, at which the other missionaries 
gave a somewhat reluctant consent to 
Doctor Marcus Whitman's purpose of 
going to Washington to attempt to save 
Oregon to the United States, as the 
Hudson Bay Company's men had just 
brought the report to Fort Walla Walla 

that it was in a short time to be 
transferred to Great Britain. Oregon 
embraced at that time all the territory 
north of California and west of the 
Rocky Mountains. It was represented 
at the East as practically worthless and 

'Tell me all about it," I said. "What 
was the treaty that the United States 
was about to make ? " 

" Ask Doctor Geiger," was her reply. 
"He knows more about it than anyone 
else. He stayed at Doctor Whitman's 
station, and took charge of his school 
while he was gone. He was there when, 
he came back, and heard him tell the 
story over and over again." 

Doctor Geiger lives in this same 
town of Forest Grove, and is an ency- 
clopedia of information regarding the 
history of those early days. Circum- 
stances brought him into better ac- 
quaintance with the intentions and plans 
of the British at that time and with Doc- 
tor Whitman's undertaking, than any 
man now living. It is a rare* privilege 
to listen while he tells again the story 
of Doctor Whitman's ride to Washing- 

Doctor Whitman was not a man to 
dally when once his mind was made up. 
Summoning the young Mr. Geiger from 
the Willamette Valley to take charge 
of his school, but not awaiting his ar- 
rival, he left his wife alone, and with a 
single companion for his journey was off 
and awav on a swift horse before the 


Hudson Bay Company's men could be 
apprised of the fact or its significance. 
He directed his course as far south as 
Taos on account of the rapidly approach- 
ing winter ; for it was now autumn, and 
snows come early on the mountains 
that lay across his path. 

At one point a river that must be 
forded was frozen at both margins. 
Without hesitation he forced his resist- 
ing horse into the icy flood, and swam 
him to the farther side. There he threw 
himself off, scrambled upon the ice, and 


A Story of the Northwest. 


throwing his lariat around the animal's 
neck, drew it tight till he was choked 
and rolled on his side floating on the 
water. Then hauling him upon sglid 
footing, he helped him up, mounted him, 
and in his frozen clothes rode on again. 
Thus, brooking no delay, he pressed 
forward. For just one day, one hour, 
one minute too late, and the great, fair 
Northwest would be lost to the country. 
He must reach Washington before that 
treaty was ratified. Sheridan's ride was 
nothing in comparison with Whitman's. 
No sound of artillery reached Whit- 
man's ears to fire his zeal, no clouds of 
battle smoke spurred him on. Only the 
echo of a far-away report came to him, 
and he was four thousand miles away ! 
From morning till night, as the days 
grew into weeks, and the weeks into 
months, with long swinging gallop his 
horse told off the distance behind him. 
Three thousand miles away ! Two thou- 
sand ! One thousand ! The race grows 
exciting, and yet the silence beyond it 
is unbroken. What sublime patriotism 
nerved this man to undertake that long, 
lonely ride, and sustained him through 
all its sufferings, and desolation, and 
dangers ! His companion deserted him, 
and he pushed on alone. Climbing the 
mountains, threading the valleys, swim- 
ming the rivers, then sweeping the vast 
plains, he tarried not. 

At St. Louis he met again the report 
that had started him on his perilous un- 
dertaking. Availing himself now of the 
more rapid means of public transit, he 
took the shortest route for Washington. 
We catch one glimpse of him at this 
point. On the boat that is to take him 
to Pittsburg he stands, a strange-look- 
ing, unshaven man, in the greasy buck- 
skin clothes in which he had ridden, 
and cooked, and eaten, and slept all 
these months, surrounded by an eager, 
curious crowd, full of earnest question- 
ing about the wonderful country be- 
yond the mountains. At Pittsburg the 
boat was exchanged for the stage, and 

in the shortest possible time he was in 
the presence of the President of the 
United States. 

Just in time ! The treaty ceding to 
Great Britain our Northwest territory, 
in return for certain Newfoundland cod- 
fisheries, had been signed by Daniel 
Webster, then the Secretary of State, 
and only awaited the signature of Presi- 
dent Tyler and ratification by the Sen- 
ate. The result of his interviews with 
Tyler was the promise given by the 
President and emphasized by a familiar 
slap on the knee of the buckskin trow- 
sers : 

" If you will pilot a wagon train over 
the mountains next summer, I will not 
sign that treaty ! " 

" I will do it," was the reply. 
With the gaining of the President's 
promise, the first part of Doctor Whit- 
man's work at the East was accom- 
plished. He could now turn his steps 
towards Boston, and report himself to 
the American Board, whose missionary 
he was. Their first astonished greeting 
was, "What are you here for?" The 
next word, " Go and buy yourself a suit 
of clothes." 

He not unwillingly obeyed, and soon 
presented himself again in their rooms, 
clad like a civilized man. If at first they 
thought that he had exceeded the bounds 
of his commission as their missionary, 
they,as well as his missionary associates, 
long since ceased to have any other feel- 
ing concerning it than one of pride in the 
man whose far-sightedness grasped the 
importance of the crisis, to whom con- 
siderations of personal ease counted for 
nothing when the public good was at 
stake, and with whom to decide was to 

During the remainder of the winter, 
Doctor Whitman was busy writing 
pamphlets and newspaper articles to in- 
duce emigration. Spring found him 
ready to fulfill his promise to the Presi 
dent. For the fifth time he crossed the 
plains and mountains, this time accom- 


A Story of the Nortlnvest. 


panying a train of emigrants and render- 
ing them every service in his power. 

The codfish treaty never received the 
President's signature, was therefore not 
presented before the Senate, and so 
found no place on the government rec- 
ords at Washington. But it has played 
too large a part in the lives of those 
missionary pioneers and their children, 
for one of them willingly to see it rele- 
gated to the realm of doubtful tradition. 
History would be meager enough if we 
should eliminate from it every event 
that cannot be verified by records made 
at the time and on the spot. 

Emigrants poured into the newly 
opened country. With them came the 
measles, which spread with fatal results 
among the Indians, and brought the 
horrors of an Indian massacre upon 
Doctor Whitman's station and settle- 
ment in the autumn of 1847. It came 
like a thunderbolt and fell first upon his 
own head. He was dealing out medicine 
for an Indian, when the treacherous sav- 
age dealt the blow that was the signal 
for the wholesale slaughter that followed. 
Mrs. Whitman defended herself and a 
company of women and girls for hours 
in an upper room, by pointing an unload- 
ed musket down the stairway. She 
finally surrendered, under promise of 
protection, only to be murdered a short 
time later. 

The news spread like wild-fire, east 
to the station of the Spauldings and 
Grays at Lapwai, away north to the 
home of missionaries Walker and Eells 
at Tshimachain, near Spokane Falls. 
The plan of the Indians embraced the 

whole mission. But those at Lapwai 
escaped, and at Tshimachain the snow 
fell so deep that none could go out or 
come in. 

The Indians here were friendly, and 
promised the missionaries protection 
and safety. The chief collected his 
warriors, who, all armed and mounted, 
on any sign of danger rode to their 
dwellings, surrounded them, and became 
a body-guard to them, till spring made 
it possible for them to seek temporarily 
the stronger help of the Hudson Bay 
Company. In the early summer the 
company of volunteer cavalry came to 
rescue and bring them out. 

Doctor Whitman's station was blotted 
out ; the other two were abandoned. 
One family went here, another there, 
carrying with them a sacred and tender 
memory of a man whose gentleness was 
equaled only by his firmness of purpose 
and indomitable spirit. Doctor Marcus 
Whitman's name is enshrined in the 
sanctuary of those households, and 
children's children speak it with loving 

His work was done. But the wagon 
train was started across the continent, 
and from that time the tide of emigra- 
tion poured on incessantly with horse 
and wagon, until the steam engine and 
emigrant car superseded the more prim- 
itive means of conveyance. 

The missionaries have almost all gone 
the long journey which each must make 
alone. A few yet remain, and Grandma 
Walker is still waiting her time in the 
old house among the flower-beds. 

L. A. M. Bosivorth. 

In Lincoln s Home. 



MORE than forty years ago, I, then a 
mere lad, set foot, unknown and unher- 
alded, in the unassuming little village of 
Springfield, Illinois, there to find myself 
in very truth a stranger in a strange 
land ; though for that matter most that 
I had seen since leaving home had been 
cause for constant wonder and surprise 
to me. 

The thing, perhaps, which impressed 
me as most wonderful of all was the 
seemingly illimitable expanse of the 
region then known as "out West," as 
day after day we journeyed on towards 
our destination. Not very long there- 
after it was my way to speak of all the 
land between sunrise and the Rockies 
as "away back East." 

But then one measures distances 
quite differently when traveling in the 
mode I did, than when seated in a flying 
palace car. True, the start was made 
by rail, but the road came to an end at 
Harrisburg. From thence we journeyed 
by canal to the foot of the Alleghanies, 
which range we crossed by a cable road 
worked by a stationary engine on the 
summit, then by canal again to Pitts- 
burg. Boat number one next carried 
us to Cincinnati ; number two, to Louis- 
ville ; number three, to St. Louis ; num- 
ber four, to Alton ; and from thence to 
Springfield over the the only completed 
railroad in the entire State. Six days 
of constant travel, and we were told 
we had made an unusually quick trip 
for that season of the year ! 

Doubtless I had many times heard 
the name of Lincoln spoken, and also 
seen it in print ; but it had been to me 
a name only, and had made no lasting 
impression on my mind ; in fact, I think 
it had not once occurred to me that 
Springfield was his home until I was 
introduced to him in the store in which 

I found employment, and in which I 
enjoyed at least a liberal share of his 

Later he told me that when he took 
my hand that day an unmistakably 
homesick look monopolized my features. 
Great cause for thankfulness have I 
that that homesick look made itself so 
conspicuous at the moment. It served 
me royally, grandly. It caused his 
great heart to warm in sympathy 
towards me, and his lips to give me a 
kindly welcome to old Sangamon. Cer- 
tainly, no adventitious circumstances 
paved the way for me to his friendship; 
and yet I thereafter walked therein to 
my infinite comfort and enjoyment. 

I imagine those great-hearted West- 
erners knew not how to do anything by 
halves. When bearing down upon you 
to confer a kindness they never touched 
foot to the brake, but came on at full 
tilt. Telling and direct, in fact, were 
all their methods, as if there had been 
something fatal to conventionality in 
the very air they breathed, as in resist- 
less fashion it swept over their won- 
drously beautiful prairies. 

Lincoln's first great kindness to me 
came in the form-of an invitation given 
while he yet held my hand that first 
time, to " Come around to the house this 
evening and see my folks " ; of course I 
went, and there met the members of 
his immediate family. Presently, how- 
ever, a young couple came straying in, 
by chance, as I supposed ; a little later, 
two or three young men also " chanced" 
to drop in upon us; but when the door 
quickly opened again to admit still 
others, I realized the true state of the 
case, that I had been neatly trapped 
into being made a sort of show or exhi- 
bition of ; and the young people of the 
town kept trooping in, until I felt con- 


/// Lincoln 1 s Home. 


vinced that they were about all collected 
beneath that hospitable roof. Spurred 
on by the example of our host, we were 
soon in the high tide of hilarious enjoy- 
ment ; my kind friend and entertainer 
finding opportunity to say to me, " I 
thought it best to resort to a trifle of 
strategy to make sure of your coming, 
for I knew that when once you had met 
our boys and girls, you'd quickly feel at 
home here in our lively little settle- 

No need for me to attempt to formu- 
late here the nature of my feelings 
towards Old Abe as some even then 
called him from that day on. They 
suggest themselves to the reader much 
better than I could hope to express 
them. The priceless treasure of his 
friendship even to the end has bright- 
ened all my after life. The times have 
been I use the plural rightly when 
adversity rained cruel blows upon me, 
almost to my undoing. Perhaps with 
blankets on shoulder, weary and foot- 
sore, I would be tramping over unfamil- 
iar mountain trails, having long been 
vainly striving to discover Dame For- 
tune's hiding-place, when my mind 
would providentially revert to some 
happening in which Lincoln took a 
part ; then instantly pleasurable feelings 
would dispossess certain undesirable 
ones, and though my stomach and purse 
might both be empty, my heart would 
be throbbing joyously, and vocal echoes 
would be sounding through the forest 

On one such memorable occasion, 
when my untrained voice was murder- 
ing a tune in shocking fashion, a loud 
" Hallo, there ! " reached me from the 
stream far below, followed by an invita- 
tion to "Come down and sample our 
trout and venison." 

In the evening, as we all lay stretched 
out on a thick carpet of pine leaves be- 
fore a f oaring camp fire, one of the 
party told me how it came about that I 
was their guest that night. Said he : 

"When you first broke loose up 
there, I grabbed my rifle and ran out in 
the clear ready for fun ; but when you 
hove in sight I called out to Bill here, 
and says I, ' It 's only a prospector, Bill, 
and he limps in both legs ; but Lord, 
how he sings ! There/ s nary a limp in 
his voice sure, and as I 'm thinking a 
hot supper would taste good to him, I '11 
call him down.'" 

Pardon the digression, whosoever 
reads ; but I find it impossible to let 
slip my opportunity to tell of the old 
miner's way of dealing with practical 
Christianity, even though he had quite 
forgotten or ignored all of its forms. 
He never prated of creeds or doctrinal 
mysteries to the hungry wayfarer, if in- 
deed he knew the meaning of the terms, 
but for all that there was a blessed up- 
lifting sermon, with a benediction 
thrown in, in a little speech of half a 
dozen words which he was ever making, 
said speech being, 

" Draw up, stranger, and take hold." 

Lincoln's kindness to me knew no 
abatement during my entire two years' 
residence in Springfield. When at home 
he quite often dropped in at the store, 
for a few minutes' chat with some of us, 
and occasionally came up into the count- 
ing room, where I had him all to my- 
self, bringing his mail with him, to be 
there examined in quiet and freedom 
from interruption which his office but 
seldom afforded him. At these times 
he seemed to derive much amusement 
from answering my numerous questions 
concerning leading Western characters ; 
questions which his close analytical ob- 
servation of most with whom he came 
in contact made him better fitted to 
answer than perhaps any other man 
then living. 

On one occasion, however, he called 
purposely to question me concerning a 
trivial happening which I cannot resist 
the impulse to relate here ; a trifling, 
unimportant incident, but one which 
has somehow ever since occupied quite 


In Lincoln's Home. 


extensive quarters in my mind, with its 
every detail vividly impressed thereon, 
while at the same time public events of 
much importance which my position 
gave me inside views of have been 
crowded away into cobwebbed corners 
of my memory, and now seem to me to 
be little more than indistinct shadows of 
a dream. Then also I think the incident 
will afford the reader some share of en- 
tertainment ; for nothing connected with 
Abraham Lincoln's life can be quite 
devoid of interest to any one who ever 
truly knew him, nor do I think its re- 
cital at this late day can possibly give 
offense in any quarter. 

One quiet Sabbath summer morn I 
was seated at the open window of the 
second story of our store, when two 
boys, each probably about six years of 
age, rounded the corner. When directly 
under the window, one said to the other, 
" Say, Bob, let's have a game here." 

Bob's terse reply was simply, "It's 

"O pshaw, that's nothing," was the 
rejoinder ; and the tempter continued, 
" You're afraid ! I dare you ! " 

Now there was something in that lit- 
tle fellow's make-up, inborn there doubt- 
less, which rebelled against the mere 
thought even of taking a dare ; he looked 
up and down the street, and felt sure 
the coast was clear ; had he glanced sky- 
ward he would probably have postponed 
the game. But he neglected taking that 
precaution, and drawing the ubiquitous 
fragment of chalk from his pocket, he 
commenced to make a regulation ring 
on the shady sidewalk. In another min- 
ute he was scoring some masterly shots, 
and pocketing the other's marbles. 

Then very quietly, in absolute silence 
as it seemed, there came a certain 
pompous deacon upon the scene, closely 
followed by two lady companions. The 
deacon was directly upon the boys be- 
fore either knew of his approach, and 
he at once proceeded to launch a species 
of anathema upon their heads in his 

customary harsh and overbearing man- 

I remember some said of him that he 
never could have been a boy at all, so 
little consideration did he ever show for 
children's feelings ; but that he must 
have come into the world a full-fledged 
deacon, and a fussy, crusty old bachelor 
at the same time ; a most deplorable, 
miserable combination, truly, as every 
real live boy knows. 

I had noticed a flush of indignation on 
little Bob's face when first he tackled 
that dare, but the deacon's cruel repri- 
mand and his after-questionings had 
robed said face in full war regalia. But 
he bided his time ; his adversary's last 
marble was there in that inner ring, and 
he wanted it ; he took good, deliberate 
aim, and zip ! the marble was his ; and 
as he stooped to pick it up he relieved 
his mind in a few semi-respectful words, 
so apropos to the occasion as to hint at 

There was no disguising the fact, 
however, that he was rather frightened 
when he noticed the deacon was not 
alone ; he cared not for further parley, 
but beat a hasty retreat, though not 
forgetting to remove his little cap as 
he withdrew. 

At that moment the deacon was, and 
probably knew he was, just about the 
maddest man alive ; as angry as any one 
could be and continue to be a Christian ; 
and yet he grew a few degrees hotter 
upon noticing that the ladies were fairly 
convulsed over his complete discomfi- 
ture. To cap the climax, one of them 
did just then glance skyward and bowed 
a laughing recognition to me. The dea- 
con's glance following hers, he promptly 
took on the appearance of a confirmed 
imbecile. If he could have followed 
the traditional habit of the woodchuck, 
crawled into his hole and drawn the hole 
in after him, he certainly would have 
done so. 

Of course I could not keep this hap- 
pening to myself, nor did I feel it in- 


In Lincoln's Home. 


cumbent upon me to do so. Most likely 
I made the most of it in the telling, nor 
spared that ancient church prop in the 
least, not feeling especially friendly 
toward him, as may perhaps have been 
surmised by the reader. It needed but 
a few hours for the story, grotesquely 
contorted, to find its way to many ears, 
to Lincoln's among the number ; hence 
he called upon me on the following day 
to obtain a correct version of it. 

I then regretted having permitted my 
tongue to wag as freely as it had done. 
It did not follow that because I was on 
Bob's side in the matter, his father 
would also be there, and if any un- 
pleasantness should now occur between 
them, the blame therefor would all be 
on me ; and so in fear and trembling I 
told the story, taking much pains to 
bestow a few hard blows upon the 

I was sure I had never seen Lincoln 
looking more serious than while listen- 
ing to me. Throughout the telling no 
least hint of a smile showed on his lace 
to reward me for my efforts in that 
direction ; and when at last in sober 
mood he thanked me and rose to go, a 
sense of having been guilty of treason 
in some sort towards my little friend 
was my dominant feeling. 

While yet his hand was on the latch, 
however, he turned again towards me, 
and requested me to repeat the deacon's 
exact words, and the replies thereto ; 
this I gladly did,, and now in hopeful 
mood. Then appeared the welcome 
smile, broadening and deepening, until 
it gave place to a hearty, ringing laugh 
that would no longer brook restraint, 
and grasping my hand he exclaimed, 

" How I wish I had been here at the 
window with you, and could have seen 
and heard it all ! " 

I borrowed no further trouble con- 
cerning Bob's continued comfort and 
peace of mind, and the echo of that 
hearty laugh remaining with me, I pic- 
tured Lincoln that night bending over 

the form of his sleeping child, and think- 
ing the while : 

" And so you downed the deacon, did 
you, Robert ? You did wrong to answer 
him in that way, and yet it was neatly, 
beautifully done, my boy." 

One thing they had at that time in al- 
most too great abundance in Sangamon 
County, and that was the ague ; few ap- 
peared to be exempt from it, and more 
than my fair share, I thought, was ap- 
portioned to me. So also said my doctor, 
who counseled flight ; which decided 
me upon climbing still others of those 
Western hills, and to climb on and on 
until my feet should press the region 
" where rolls the Oregon." 

Little time was lost in completing my 
preparations ; three roving lads were 
found who would accept me as a partner 
for the journey ; and one Saturday 
morning, that being our market day, 
when the place was always thronged 
with farmers, they came to town with 
our just purchased outfit, consisting of 
five yoke of young cattle, attached to a 
new regulation emigrant wagon. 

They were not there, however, on 
business connected with our trip, but 
only to have some, perhaps considerable, 
fun at my expense ; for a challenge had 
been received and accepted by me from 
some of my brother clerks, to drive our 
new team around the State House square 
at such time as they might name ; and 
they had selected a day when the un- 
usual noise and bustle would be most 
apt to entail disaster upon the under- 

Even to myself it seemed inevitable 
that my foolhardy attempt would come 
to grief ; or at least until I had talked 
with the boy of whose father we had 
purchased our leaders ; for questioning 
the lad concerning the docility of John 
and Bill, he assured me that no whip 
was needed for them, and that he could 
drive them anywhere by merely whis- 
pering to them, while the others w.ould 
follow along all right. The appraise- 


In Lincoln's Home. 


ment I instantly put upon that boy's 
services for the day was a joyful sur- 
prise to him. 

The stores then all faced the square, 
and when the hour for the trial arrived 
every one was on the street to have a 
hearty laugh at my expense ; and 
derisive laughter quickly sounded when, 
whip in hand I took position on the off 
side of the team and loudly called to 
them "to come up there." 

It was not verdancy, however, as 
every one believed, that located me on 
that side ; I wished to concentrate the 
attention of all upon myself, and away 
from my whispering ally, and perfectly 
succeeded in so doing. Some no doubt 
noticed the boy near by the leaders, but 
had no thought of his being in any way 
connected with the outfit, while in truth 
he was head manager, for I did no more 
than use my voice freely, and now and 
again make a feeble demonstration with 
the whip, being kept busy in dodging 
the heels of one of the oxen who sav- 
agely resented my presence in his vicin- 

I only mention the incident for the 
reason that it gave Lincoln an oppor- 
tunity to write a long, humorous letter 
concerning me, which I would hold as 
invaluable were it still in my possession ; 
but an ice-encrusted log on which I one 
day attempted to cross Trinity River is 
responsible for its loss to the world. 

On the morning of my departure by 
train from Springfield to join our team 
then en route for St. Joseph's, Lincoln 
made his appearance at the station but 
a moment before the train started, his 
errand there to hand me three very kind 
letters of introduction to old-time 
friends of his, who had become residents 
of Oregon. In the letter alluded to, 
which he requested me to read before 
delivering, I remember he wrote that 
though my business was really that of 
an accountant, he imagined I would 
prove equally expert at almost anything 
I undertook, this belief founded on the 

fact that only a few days before he had 
seen me assume entire control of a team 
of young cattle, then for the first time 
hitched together ; and while walking on 
the wrong side thereof I succeeded in 
driving entirely around the State House 
square without damage to life, limb, or 
property, of any description, though 
the presence of a boisterous crowd of 
amused spectators rendered the feat a 
hazardous one even for a practiced hand 
at the business. 

And now that I had gone on my way 
from out his sight and knowledge, one 
would quite naturally suppose that not 
only my name but even my existence 
would be forgotten by him ; at least, that 
is what would have happened with al- 
most any busy public man, say with all 
but one or so out of a million. Abra- 
ham Lincoln was not one of the forget- 
ting kind, however. 

The election was over, and in his 
keeping had been placed the destiny of 
millions. The day being near at hand 
on which he was to take this crushing 
weight of empire upon his shoulders, he 
bade goodby to friends and neighbors, 
and humby, hopefully journeyed on to- 
wards the Capital. 

But conspirators, it was feared, were 
abroad, who with lead or steel would at- 
tempt to stay his march, so said his 
friends, and with much reluctance he 
relinquished the order of his advance to 

They decided that a brief reception 
should beheld in Philadelphia, and then 
away to Harrisburg, from which point 
a secret forced march, as it were, would 
be made under cover of darkness, that 
would, it was hoped, land him in safety 
in Washington. 

What busy thoughts must his have 
been, as standing there in old Indepen- 
dence Hall he grasped the hand of 
stranger after stranger, as they filed by. 
Is it likely, say you, that at that trying 
hour he gave least heed to them, or 
even heard their names when spoken? 




Abraham Lincoln's thoughts were al- 
ways on his work. 

The little procession halts, and while 
retaining the hand of the stranger just 
introduced, he says to him : 

"That name sounds very familiar to 
me. It is that of a young friend of 
mine who years ago left our town for 
Oregon in search of health, and by the 
way, he was a Philadelphian too." 

On being told of the relationship, he 
expressed much pleasure at the meet- 
ing, made several inquiries concerning 

me, nor forgot to send me precious 
greetings of remembrance. 

Who with such a priceless heirloom 
as this of mine could help being a veri- 
table Tapley ? The load may be heavy, 
and the trail at times somewhat rugged 
and trying, while the night's stopping 
place seems a long ways ahead, when, 
unbidden, certain thoughts come to me, 
that flash my heart all aglow with hap- 
piness, and the listener in the valley 
soon has reason to exclaim : " There 's 
nary a limp in his voice, sure." 

William S. Hutchinson. 


PERHAPS the fact that most of the magazine edit- 
ors had to write their Christmas editorials about the 
middle of November had something to do with the 
deprecatory tone of the Christmas editorial of the 
year. To work one's self up to the exuberant genial- 
ity, the " God bless us, every one " spirit of the 
holiday week, long before any one else is beginning 
to think seriously of Christmas shopping, and about 
the time housewives have their whole minds on 
Thanksgiving, is one of the difficult things the editor 
is called on to do in the name of timeliness. Not as 
difficult, perhaps, as to dfaft two editorials the day 
before election, one of triumph and one of resigna- 
tion, to be put in type in case the final result should 
be announced about ten minutes before the paper 
goes to press, as our friends of the daily and weekly 
press are popularly supposed to do, but still not an 
easy thing to accomplish with freshness and spon- 
taneity. In this matter the daily editor has an ad- 
vantage : he need not begin to talk Christmas until 
Christmas is already in the air. A smell of newly 
cut pine and cedar up and down the street is a great 
inspirer of holiday feeling. 

BUT it is not fair to attribute to this small practi- 
cal embarrassment all the reluctance to write a hol- 
iday editorial that we have commented on before, 
and are freshly impressed with this year in reading 
such as have already seen the light. It may be 
that Americans are more self-conscious than other 
people, or it may be they have more of that subtle 
insight, usually apparent as a sense of humor, 
that makes it impossible to surrender one's self in a 
whole-hearted way to ceremonial or formal illusion 
of any sort ; and there is an element of ceremonial 
and of illusion in the observance of anniversaries. 

The behavior of foreigners among us on this day, 
and indeed their attitude toward anniversaries in 
general, is much more naive than that of our own 
people. Yet we are capable now and then of sur- 
render to the spirit of such an occasion, as was 
shown in New York by the unexpected and genuine 
feeling called out by the Columbus celebration. The 
difference in the feeling toward Christmas is prob- 
ably partly because it is a regularly observed anni- 
versary, and it somehow strikes the mature Ameri- 
can as perfunctory to adopt once a year, when the 
fixed time comes around, a given frame of mind and 
a given set of thoughts ; partly because all honest 
Christians live the year through in more or less 
consciousness of the events that Christnfas com- 
memorates and the lessons that it teaches, 
while to dishonest Christians, and unbelievers in 
Christian doctrine it is not a day of much value as 
an anniversary in any case ; and partly, it cannot 
be doubted, because a great many people feel 
that luxury and extravagance have so invaded the 
day as to spoil it. The gift-giving feature, a mere 
symbol, and an adjunct of the other ceremonies, 
has become the main thing, and has reached among 
rich people, and among those poorer ones that 
are asily moved to follow the ways of the rich, the 
proportions of a real tax. It is peculiarly a holiday 
of childhood, and children are its saviors from much 
that would spoil it ; yet even for the little ones fool- 
ish and lavish parents can undermine its pleasure 
and good. The worst form extravagance in gift- 
giving can take is the destroying of childhood's sim- 
ple and easily satisfied tastes. Every one has seen 
children made fretful and exigent by having too many 
things, and too much entertainment ; even worse, 
made greedy, calculating, and envious. But it is 




I worth while to remind ourselves very often that 
I though folly and extravagance make the most show, 
I we have over and over again had reason to believe 
I that plain and sturdy folk are in the majority after 

all, and that there is a great deal of saving common 

sense in the world. 

ONE difficulty that besets the editors, and the nov- 
elists, and the essayists, is that most of them get at 
I least their current impressions from city life ; if they 
were once of the country, they have lost touch with 
it. And country life the life of plain, middle-class 
countrypeople has great weight in nuking up the 
balances of national character and opinion. The 
country family of comfortable but limited means 
does not live in sight of the luxury and display of the 
very rich as a general thing, nor under the tempta- 
tion of the city's display of merchandise and con- 
venience of buying, as a similar family in the city 
does. One sees and hears little in the country of 
onerous standards of expense in Christmas gift -giv- 
ing. And how simple a thing it is, after all, any- 
where, for families of sturdy sense to keep the genial 
custom within the limits of good taste and sincerity, 
by the exercise of a little independence. There 
must be a great many people, and these mostly 
people of a solid and inherited social influence, who 
hold to a good old-fashioned unwillingness to receive 
over-costly presents. 

AND what unbounded opportunities the annual 
holiday of peace and goodwill really does offer for 
simple joyousness, especially among children ; for 
the infusion of geniality into a wise charity ; for the 
recapitulation of those principles of human brother- 
hood which, we are glad to believe, more and more 
rule men's minds throughout the year. If the oppor- 
tunities are sometimes mismanaged, the joyousness 
perfunctory, the charity for advertising purposes, 
the preaching conventional, no one can doubt that 
every year sees them in many a case well used. 
It is impossible to estimate what has been the total 
effect on modern civilization of an annually recurring 
day, devoted to the demonstrations of human good- 
will and to reverence for childhood, for whatever 
its original significance was, these two things are 
what Christmas now symbolizes. The sentiment of 
the day has overshadowed its character as a celebra- 
tion of the birth of Jesus of Nazareth, perhaps on 
account of a continuing influence from its semi-pa - 
gan origin, so that it is not a strictly religious fes- 
tival ; and unless one goes to church for it he may be 
in the thick of Christmas-keeping all day, and hear 
nothing about the Nativity. It is noticeable how 
small a part the symbols of that event bear in Chri st- 
mas decorations, and how secular in general cast 
Christmas stories are. Holding as its chief meaning the 
thought that was half of Christianity, yet no sec ret 
to any creed in which devout men of any race or 

tongue ever lived the brotherhood of man the 
holiday, one may almost say, has merged its Chris- 
tianity in a creedless humanity. 


I AM sorry to learn that in the closing paragraph of 
my article on the University of California, in last 
month's OVERT AND, I inadvertently yet by fault of 
my own memory alone misquoted Mr. Melvil 
Dewey. I quoted him as saying that the four great 
university centers of America would ultimately be 
Harvard, Johns Hopkins, Chicago, and the Univer- 
sity of California. Mr. Dewey in fact named Harvard, 
Columbia, Chicago, and the University of California, 
Columbia rather than Johns Hopkins, because of 
its metropolitan location. 

Milicent W. Shinn. 

Three Voices. 

The First Voice. 

Great is the woe of the world ! Sin, grief and 
physical agony forever range over the earth, sending 
dark shadows before them, leaving black gloom be- 
hind them. They cast a hideous blight upon beauty, 
love, and strength, making of them a threefold curse 
instead of a blessing; they force into the service of 
evil all the powers of the universe. 

All good is but a mockery. A man seeking to do 
good suffers much in his own soul for the sake of 
what he shall accomplish, and lo ! when his work is 
done he finds that he has been deceived ; the good 
he thought to accomplish proves to be but evil in a 
strange guise. Or again, he labors long for a real 
good, and ere he has quite ended his task Death 
comes, and he is laid low ; his work to be left un- 
done, or marred by other hands. Or even yet again, 
his work is noble and his soul is exalted, when 
Temptation with strong hands drags him down ; he 
is caught in the mire of disgrace, from which, strug- 
gle fiercely as he may, he cannot rise. 

The Spirit of Unrest passes to and fro among the 
sons of men. It breathes upon the soul of a king, 
and straightway the longing for conquest seizes him. 
He musters his armies ; he calls the peasant from 
his plow, the merchant from his desk ; he calls the 
young man from his sweetheart, and the middle-aged 
from his wife and children ; he calls them all to- 
gether, and sends them out to kill and be killed. 
They go forth as innocent men ; but the scent of 
battle maddens them, and soon, red-handed and 
black-hearted, they do the work required of them 
with an awful faithfulness. 

Again, the Spirit of Unrest passes over the soul of 
a man, and straightway he longs for wealth. One 
by one he sacrifices peace, honor, and love, until at 
last he finds that all semblance of joy has left him. 
Then the gold that he has gained becomes a heavy 
burden, and maddened by the knowledge of his 




errors, he plunges deeper and deeper into mercenary 
sins. He is sold into slavery for a bag of gold ; he 
too has become the servant of Evil. 

The murderer, hurrying towards his victim ; the 
robber, lurking in his den ; the smart man of bus- 
iness, scheming to succeed by the ruin of others ; 
the hypocrite, ostentatiously saying his prayers ; are 
not these, the workers of Evil, numerous on the 
earth ? Yea. and yet even they are not altogether 
happy in their wickedness ; remorse gnaws at their 
hearts, and in the fear of hell their souls tremble and 
grow faint. 

Great is the woe of the world ! Wheresoever it 
turns, suffering of body, mind, and spirit greets the 
storm-wearied soul. Who shall dare to open his 
eyes and look out upon such misery ? What soul is 
strong enough to behold the awfulness of its sur- 
roundings, and yet retain its sanity? 

Few, indeed, are they who desire to see such 
sights, and fewer still are they who can behold them 
and live. Nevertheless, blessed are they who see 
clearly, and fear not ; who, looking with awed eyes 
upon the tumult, stand steadfast, resisting the tem- 
pest that sweeps round them, compelling peace to 
dwell within their souls. 

The Second Voice. 

Great is the joy of the world ! Love and truth, 
holiness and peace, these are born in the soul of 
man, and their beauties are made manifest by him. 
In the very midst of misery he finds peace, and even 
in degradation he shows forth the beauties of holi- 
ness ; out of falsehood he brings forth truth, and 
over the dark places of earth he sheds the radiance 
of love. 

Death is no curse. Over the graves of those 
whom we have loved bright flowers wave, and the 
memory of the dead is sweet with recollections of 
their virtues ; all evil is forgotten of them, and only 
their good deeds are enshrined in our hearts. 

The Spirit of Love passes over the souls of men, 
ever strengthening them in good works, ever urging 
them forward to the goal of perfection. The rich 
man, spending his wealth in noble projects ; the 
poor man, laboring faithfully at his daily toil ; the 
musician, sounding the harmonies of the world ; the 
artist, showing forth the beauties of the world ; 
the poet, proclaiming the truths of the world, all 
these are moved to their work by the Spirit of Love ; 
for the Spirit of Love is the Spirit of God, the source 
and inspiration of all that is good. 

Blessed is man in the days of his strength. He 
walks upon the earth like the demi-gods of old ; the 
beasts of the forest, the flowers of the field, all 
things that are upon the earth, minister to his en- 
joyment. Nevertheless, blessed is he in the days 
when strength has failed him. Then the nobility of 

his nature is made manifest ; his spirit battles with 
the flesh, and conquering lifts him high above" the 
earth, even very near into the heavens. Physically 
weak, he becomes spiritually strong ; he loses com- 
munication with the pleasures of earth, to partake of 
the joys of a higher sphere. 

Blessed is man in the day of prosperity, when all 
the glories of this world are laid at his feet. Never- 
theless, more blessed is he in the day of adversity, 
when the stings of ingratitude are sharp, when sordid 
poverty and petty cares unite to drag him to the 
earth. Then shall he show forth the mighty strength 
that is in him ; by sheer force of will he shall put 
his troubles behind him, and go bravely forward to 
the better things that await him. 

Great is the joy of the world ! Look where we 
will, we find beauty of color and sound, noble as- 
pirations, strong souls fulfilling the will of God ; ev- 
erywhere Evil overcome and Good triumphant ; Love 
forever leading the souls of men, even unto Him 
from whom they came, and losing none. 

Dazzling in its intensity is the joy of the world, 
and few there are who can behold the full light 
thereof without shrinking. For one brief moment a 
man will say, " Lo, I see ! " Then the glory of the 
vision overcomes his soul ; he turns away from the 
light, he shuts his eyes, and says that all is dark. 
Or, confused by what he has seen, he becomes dis- 
satisfied with the place assigned to him in the scale 
of creation, and running wildly hither and thither, 
proclaims himself first god, and then devil. 

Verily, blessed are they who see clearly, yet shrink 
not ; who in the very moment of ecstasy keep their 
hold on the facts of life, and are not swept away by 
the whirlwind of their own imaginations. 

The Third Voice. 

The light of the world and the darkness thereof: 
whosoever hath seen these two, hath seen the throne 
of God. 

The song of the world, and the wail thereof: 
whosoever hath heard these two, hath heard the 
harmony of God. 

The joy of the world, and the grief thereof : who- 
soever hath known these two, hath known the Spirit 
of God. 

Thine own light or darkness ; thine own wail or 
song ; thine own joy or grief : these must be merged 
into the fuller life of the Universe, if thou wouldst 
lead the highest existence. So shall a man lose his 
life to save it. 

Good or evil may be thy place, and thy time ; the 
wise man looks out upon the Universe, and away 
into Eternity, and says that it is well. 

Look forth, O sons of men, and fear not ; the 
order of the Universe is excellent, the sum of all 
things is good. 

Geraldine Meyrick. 


Book Reviews. 


Two Letters. 


My trusted friend, long yeais have passed away 
Since we have met. Your letter strongly stirred 
Old instincts, as when girls, no thought of mine 
Arose by you, dear friend, unshared, unheard. 
And now, since you have written lovingly 
To know my life, and happiness, and woe, 
The old strings vibrate, and I bare my heart 
That you may sympathize as long ago. 

You say that happy lot is surely mine 
With friends, and wealth, and husband. Yes, I 


And do I love my husband ? Surely, yes, 
With love as true as found on earth below : 
And he loves me. 

But O, at times, strange fear 
And chilling sadness fill my soul. I hear 
Dim warnings in 'the silent midnight drear. 
Dear friend, I doubt that I can make it clear, 
But questions come. What life is this I lead ? 
Ah, to be sure, I do no conscious wrong. 
I give to charities ; and many times 
The poor have blessed my name. I also long 
Have helped sustain the church attended prayer 
Been faithful every way. I have the name 
Of purest Christian ; and my husband smiles 
On all my works, is proud of my fair fame. 
In fact, for pride of me he toils and gains 
Whereby my clothes may well become my face, 
My house and all may well become me ; and 
That I may live as well becomes my grace. 
But, O, dark mutterings have reached my ears 
Of iron grasp for money day by day, 
Of struggling ones deprived of daily bread, 
Of widows wronged, and orphans turned away. 
Do you not see what causes me such pain? 
For I, who love each creature God has made 
Am cause of sorrow, I, who e'en to die 
For human kind would scarcely be afraid. 

What is this life ? Why live it ? What in store 
Does that unknown beyond earth's journey hold ? 
O, pray for me, my clearest friend ! Entreat 
That God may help me, guide me to his fold. 
And pray for him, my friend, the man I love. 

I long to see you, dear. I cannot tell' 

But maybe I shall visit you ere long, 

Since you '11 not come to me, my love. Farewell. 


Dear fellow, thanks ! In truth I know 

Congratulations are the proper thing. 

But coming, as they do, from you, 

They seem to lose convention's hollow ring. 

Strange, is n't it, that such a rake as I 

Could win a girl like her? I know 

I should have thought one surely going mad 

To hint as much six months ago. 

It happened thus : Her heart, of erst toward all 

Quite cold, to my entire surprise 

Succumbed at my first glance. I knew enough 

Of womankind to read her eyes, 

And I, of course, felt flattered much, 

As who would not ? and drifted with the tide. 

' T was easy, Jack, to ask her hand 

When all the world would envy me my bride. 

But, Jack, do you recall that little girl 

With wavy hair, who lived down town ? 

I love her yet. Don't be too hard, old chum, 

Nor hit a fellow when he 's down. 

Of course I am the only one to blame ; 

But, since affairs have happened in this way, 

I 've half a mind to do a shabby thing 

And break entirely with my fiancee. 

Of course, the world will disapprove 

And everyone will shake his head and frown, 

But very little will I care 

If I can win my pretty Daisy Brown. 

And as for Hilda, why you know they say 

Her talent needs but sorrow's touch 

To blossom into genius. Surely, Jack, 

Then Borrow will not harm her much. 

It seems to me that worthless I 

Can never do a better deed on earth 

Than furnish tribulation where 't will serve 

To bring about fair Genius's birth. 

By all means write, old fellow, soon, 

And give a friendly word or two 

Of wise advice to this down-hearted chap 

Who knows his argument is lame. Adieu. 

Jessie Norton. 


The Sleeping Princess, California^ is an unusually 
pretty and appropriate gift-book just brought out in 
San Francisco. It is an illustrated poem, in which, 
as the title implies, the figure of the Sleeping Beauty 

1 The Sleeping Princess, California. By Alice Ed- 
wards Pratt. Illustrated by E. Mabel Dillaway. San 
Francisco : William Doxey : 1892. 

story is carried out, " The free-born Manhood of the * 
Atlantic Shore" being the Prince who comes at last. 
The verse i refined and intelligent, and never be- 
low a good poetic grade, while some passages have 
a quiet and suggestive beauty. Thus 

Its valleys filled with tremulous oaten seas 
Broken by rainbow crests of flower foam; 


Book Reviews. 


Its foothill slopes, soft-rounded, overgrown 
With dimpled pastures such as wild bees love ; 
Its rugged mountain monarchs, range on range, 
Here wooded to the peak, there crowned with snow; 
Its placid sapphire lakes, and living streams. 

The illustrations, bits of California scenery, and 
studies of wild flowers, are exceedingly pretty, and 
far superior to the usual ones in such books in appro- 
priateness and illustrative quality. There is an ab- 
sence of perfunctoriness in them, a sympathy with 
the text, that is unusual and pleasing. The artist, 
Miss Dillaway, is not a Californian, but has rendered 
California, with the help of photographs, very well. 
The author is a Californian, and writes of the State 
with love, and still more with high purpose and 
aspiration for the State's future in the things of the 
spirit . 

THE pretty calendar by Pauline Sunter that comes 
out annually under title All Around the Year, ap- 
pears as usual promptly, a dozen tinted cards, with 
quaint child and bird figures, strung together with 
ring and chain. The figures as usual are in delicate 
and unusual colors, and original designs. They im- 
prove from year to year in drawing, and make a very 
pleasing little group. 

It is pleasant to note that a second edition has 
oeen called for of Jack and Jill ',1 the pretty gift book 
of last year written by W. E. Brown, and illustrated 
by Elisabeth Curtis. It was published for the ben- 
efit of the Silver Street Kindergarten, and is still to 
be sold for that good object. Mr. Brown's verses 
wear well, and the book with its dainty pictures and 
fitting dress ought to sell as well this year as last, 
and on into the future. The second edition has 
added to it a number of full -page half-tone cuts from 
photographs of the Boys' Free Reading Room, a 
branch of the Kindergarten, the fruit of last year's 
sales of this book, a tangible proof of the good it 
has done. These pictures are commented on in an 
introductory essay by the poet, Joaquin Miller. 

People that have attended the First Unitarian 
Church of San Francisco, have had frequent occa- 
sion to comment on the taste with which somebody 
had selected the matter for the little leaflets that 
have been scattered in the pews. They were selected 
and printed by the ladies of the Channing Auxiliary 
Society, and have now been gathered into a pretty 
little volume. 2 They cover a wide range of subjects, 
and include selections from Emerson, Ruskin, 

ijack and Jill, a Poem in Aquarelles. By W. E. 
Brown, San Francisco. Doxey & Co : 1892. 

' 2 Scattered Leaves. Essays in Little, on Life, Faith, 
and Work. San Francisco: C. A. Murdock & Co : 

Browning, Bryant, Whittier, and other English clas- 
sics, as well as pages written by local lights of the 
liberal faith. 

The most sumptuous of the books printed this 
year by San Francisco Writers is Atlina^. Mrs. To- 
land has deeply felt the mystic charm that hovers 
around the Atlantis legend, and has clothed it in three 
cantos of verse, that gives, by its picturesque lines, 
many happy opportunities to the artists. They have 
improved these chances well. There are titles and 
decorative bits through the text by Jaccaci, and ten 
landscape and figure studies by Bloomer, Weir, 
Church, Dielman, Jones, Denman, Du Mond, 
Twachtman and Jaccaci. These are full -page pho- 
togravures on Japan paper. " The Fruit Offering," by 
Weir, and " Atlina and Diotheus in the Barge," by 
Du Mond, have pleased us most. The dolphin de- 
sign on the cover is appropriate and pleasing. 

Books Received. 

An Artist in Crime. By Rodrigues Ottolengui. 
New York : G. P. Putnam's Sons : 1892. 

The Old English Dramatists. By James Russell 
Lowell. Boston : Houghton, Mifflin & Co. : 1892. 

The Story of Mary Washington. By Marion Har- 
land. Boston : Houghton, Mifflin & Co. : 1892. 

Mr. Billy Downs and His Likes. By Richard 
Malcolm Johnston. New York : Charles L. Web- 
ster & Co. : 1892. 

Illustrated Sketches of Death Valley. By John 
R. Spears. Chicago : Rand, McNally & Co.: 1892. 

Best Dressed Man. Boston : J. G. Cupples & 
Co. : 1892. 

The Real and Ideal in Literature. By Frank 
Preston Stearns. Boston : J. G. Cupples & Co. : 

Atlina, Queen of the Floating Isle. By M. B. M. 
Toland. New York : J. B. Lippincott & Co.: 1892. 

Under Summer Skies. By Clinton Scollard. New 
York : C. L. Webster & Co. : 1892. 

The Chosen Valley. By Mary Hallock Foote. 
Boston : Houghton, Mifflin & Co. : 1892. 

Ten Selections from the Sketch-Book. By Wash- 
ington Irving. New York : American Book Co. : 

The Tragedy of Julius Caesar. By William Shake- 
speare. New York : American Book Co. : 1892. 

The Sir Roger De Coverley Papers. By Addison, 
Steele, and Budgell. New York : American Book 
Co. : 1892'. 

Ivanhoe. By Sir Walter Scott. New York : 
American Book Co. : 1892. 

SAtlina. By M. B. M. Toland. Philadelphia: The 
J. B. Lippincott Co. : 1893. 

















25C. All 



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Rambler is so comfortable. 
S Try it yourself, dear. 

jl A handsome book of Rambler in- 
3 formation free at any Rambler 
| agency, or by mail. 




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Flannels ought to 
be washed with Pearl - 
inc. If you're buying new 
ones, start right. Have them washed only with Pearline 
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for the old ones, Pearline can't make them any larger, 
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As one wash is sufficient to ruin flannels, great 
care should be exercised as to the use of the many 
imitations which are being offered by unscrupulous 
grocers or peddlers. 314 JAMES PYLE, N. Y. 

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Each tablet contains one grain pure pepsin, suffi- 
cient to digest I, ooo grains of food. If it cannot be 
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Hair Vigor 

Is the best prepara- 
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world. It restores 
faded, thin, and gray 
hair to its original 
color, texture, and 
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Ayer's Hair Vigor 

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Not poisonous tobacco, but 

Marshall's Prepared Cubeb Cigarettes. 




Contain no tobacco and can be smoked by ladies. Recommended by physicians. Beware of 
injurious imitations. Sold by druggists, or sent by mail on receipt of 25 cents. 

JAMES B. HORNER, 44 Cedar Street, New York. 

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OVER THIRTY YEARS the IMPERIAL QRANUM has been the leading 
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and popularity have constantly increased, and it is RECOfinENDED BY THE 
nor has it ever seemed to give more universal satisfaction; and it is an 
undeniable fact that during this time IT HAS 5AVED THOUSANDS OP LIVES, 
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is based on merit and proven success in the past. 

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in 1817, have been the shipping agents for the IMPERIAL GRANUM ever since 
its first introduction into this country, and they write as follows: ' We recom= 
mend the IMPERIAL GRANUM in the strongest terms, having sold it for over 
thirty years, and having used it in our own families with such good results that 
we feel we cannot say too much in its favor.' " 

The IMPERIAL GRANUM is sold by Druggists everywhere. 

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Staging in the Mendocino Redwoods, I. Ninetta Barnes. 

With 15 illustrations. 
A Voiceless Soul, Carrie Blake Morgan. 
Verses from the Japanese, Flora B. Harris. 
The President's Substitute, Sybil Russell Bogue. 
Tahoe, Elizabeth S. Bates. 

The Repeating Rifle in Hunting and Warfare, /. A. A. Robinson. 
Greeting, Aurilla Furber. 
Salt Water Fisheries of the Pacific Coast, Philip L. Weaver, Jr. 

With 8 illustrations. 

The Economic Introduction of the Kangaroo in America, Robert C. Auld. 
The L,egend of Rodeo Canon, Helen Elliott Bandini. 

With 5 illustrations. 
Serenade, M. C. Gillington. 
The Second Edition, Agnes Crary. 
Mission San Gabriel, Sylvia Lawson Covey. 

From New Orleans to San Francisco in '49, Mrs. T. F. Bingham. 
The Undoing of David L,emwell, L. B. Bridgman. 
The Bath of Madame Malibran, V. G. T. 
Etc. and Book Reviews. 


California, Charles A. Gunnison. 

lyos Farallones de los Frayles, Charles S. Greene. 

With 13 illustrations. 
To Ina D. Coolbrith, Ella Higginson. 
An Interesting Historical Discovery, John S. Hittell. 
A Bare- Faced Deception, Charles E. Brimblecom. 
At Anchor, Isabel Hammell Raymond. 
In Mendocino, Lillian H. Shuey. 
Staging in the Mendocino Redwoods. II. Ninetta Eames. 

With 1 6 illustrations. 

Quail and Quail Shooting, J . A. A. Robinson. With 3 illustrations. 
The Storm, Sam Davis. 
Two Gourmets of Bloomfield, Alice S. Wolf. 
Russia and America, Horace F. Cutter. 
The Wrong Trump, Emma A. Thurston. 
Recent Verse, Etc., and Book Reviews. 


Frontispiece. President Henry Durant. 

The University of California, Milicent W. Shinn. With 17 illustrations. 

L,awn Tennis in Calif ornia.,James F. J. Archibald. With 14 illustrations. 

Minerva's Mother, Annie Getchell Gale. 

Possibilities, M. C. Gillington. 

An Alaskan Summer, Mabel H. Closson. With 7 illustrations. 

An Electrical Study, Vere Withington. 

County Division in Southern California, E. P. Clarke. 

With Fancy, Sylvia Lawson Covey. 

Burke 's Wife, Beebe Crocker. 

Fiction Review, Etc., and Book Reviews. (SEE OVER.) 



Over the Santa Lucia, Mary L. White. With 15 illustrations. 


Fisheries of California, David Starr Jordan. 

True Greatness, E. E. Barnard. 

The University of California. II. Lick Astronomical Department, Milicent 

W. Shinn. With 17 illustrations. 
Siwash, E. Meliss. With 5 illustrations. 
Old Angeline, the Princess of Seattle, Rose Simmons. 
How Mrs. Binnywig Checked the King, R. 
What Constitutes a Mortal Wound, /. N. Hall, M.D. 
The Mother of Felipe, Mary Austin. 
In the Last Day, M. C. Gillington. 
A Snow Storm in Humboldt, E. B. 
A Physician's Story, Theoda Wilkins. 
The Sea-Fern, Seddie E. Anderson. 
George William Curtis, Citizen, Warren Olney. 
Love's Legend, Lenore Congdon Schutze. 
Etc. and Book Reviews. 


The Restaurants of San Francisco, Charles S. Greene. 
With 12 illustrations. 

The Sacking of Grubbville, Adah Fairbanks Batelle. 

Indian Traditions of Their Origin, William E. Read. 

Aged, Juliette Estelle Mathis. 

The University of California. III., Milicent W. Shinn. 
With 9 illustrations. 

A Peninsular Centennial. Vancouver's Visit in 1792 to the Bay and Penin- 
sula of San Francisco, with Map, W. H. McDougal. 

A Last Walk in Autumn, Neith Boyce. 

Mexican Art in Clay, E. P. Bancroft. 
With 6 illustrations. 

Point Lobos, Virna Woods. Illustrated. 

Congressional Reform, Caspar T. Hopkins. 

A Mexican Ferry, A. D. Stewart. 
With 10 illustrations. 

Helen, Marshall Graham. 

Down o' the Thistle, Ella M. Sexton. 

The Illuminated Certificate, Marcia Davies. 

Recent Fiction, Etc. and Book Reviews. 

COMMENT ON DECEMBER ARTICLES :" The three papers by Miss 
Shinn complete the most satisfactory history of the University that has ever been 
written." San Francisco Bulletin. 

The Restaurants of San Francisco : Handles an old and well worn subject with 
a light touch and considerable humor." San Francisco Chronicle. 

' ' Nor can the article be passed without reference to the illustrations which 
particularly the types of waiters are most happy." San Francisco Commercial 

Other Articles : In the paper entitled " A Mexican Ferry," A. D. Stewart de- 
scribes, in delightful strains, a journey from the City of Mexico to Puebla. Caspar 
T. Hopkins contributes a thoughtful article on " Congressional Reform," in which 
there are some valuable hints for saving time in debate. ' ' The Sacking of Grubb- 
ville, " by Adah Fairbanks Batelle, and "The Illuminated Certificate," by Marcia 
Davies, furnish some amusing and interesting reading. The editorial und literary 
department are up to the usual high standard for which the OVERLAND has become 
famous. ' ' Philadelphia Item. 










ryeed rye/en be crsKed if youf 6oods foeatft)is 

crs it ^uararvtees TH E QUALITY. 



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obtained, address THK MBRIDBN BRITANNIA Co., Meriden, Conn. 

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has a sliding door and removable sieve, and is 
perfectly tight. We refer to all Chicago as to 
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Ibs. always in stock. Sold by dealers every- 

Or, on %1^^^ fj Fj we will send di- 
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factory the 50 pound bin here illustrated, made 
of tin and nicely japanned. 



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plete, absolutely free of charge. This offer is made in order to introduce our new Portraits and Frames in your vicinity. 
Put your name and address on back of photo, and send it to BROOKLYN ART UNION, 627 MARCY AVE., COR. 
HART ST., BROOKLYN, N. Y. Refer you to any banks in this city. 


The National Method. Prin- 

irLIUHILTiniOI. ciple entirely new, and very 
simple. 20 original deals, $1.00 Competitive tests with 
other methods invited. Highest in merit ; lowest in price ; sim- 
plest in detail ; greatest in possibilities. Sent postpaid for $1.00. 
CASSIUS M. PAINE, Editor of " WHIST," Milwaukee, Wis. 

"For the enlightened owners of gardens and woodlands 
this journal is invaluable." 2V. Y. Tribune. 


m$ /^ N D ms 



Filled every week with original, entertaining and 
exact information from the best American and 
European authorities about trees, shrubs, flowers 
and fruits ; the beautifying of home-grounds, road- 
sides and parks ; the preservation of forests and of 
natural scenery, together with vigorous editoral 
treatment of topics within its field, and illustrations 
of the highest artistic finish. 

" The foremost journal of its class." Boston Herald. 
"A capital specimen of pure liteiature." N. Y. Journal of 
Commerce. "The arbiter in matters of rural taste." Boston 
Transcript. " Crisp and fresh text." N. Y. Tribune. 
" Illustrations of rare excellence." Buffalo Courier. " Edited 
with signal ability." Cincinnati Times-Star. " A model of 
first-class journalism." Philadelphia Press. 

Published weekly, $4.00 a year. Specimen Copy Free. 
"^~ New subscriptions to Garden and Forest and 
the OVERLAND MONTHLY in club, $5.25. 



EXTRAORDINARY CLEANSER. If our women readers 
could only understand what a convenience, economy 
and thorough cleanser " PYLES PEARLINE " is, they 
would never use anything else. It is pure and free 
from any injurious ingredient. It is economical, 
because only the requisite quantity is used at a time. 
While soap may slip from the fingers and be lost in 
the water to dissolve, Pearline is used only in quan- 
tities required. It is better adapted for cleansing 
around the house than any known article. It is 
more convenient than anything ever discovered, and 
it is as suitable for the most delicate lace or the 
finest linen, as for the dirtiest horse-blanket, and it 
will make either as "clean as a whistle" in short 
order. All grocers sell it, and if the reader don't 
know of it she may take our word for it. Troy 
N. Y. Press. 

Dainty Desserts (or Dainty People. 

A little Cook Book, just out, filled with Choice Recipes. 

Send 2ct. Stamp for one to 
Knox Sparkling Gelatine Works, Johnstown, N. Y. 

Breakfast foods 



Roche's Herbai Embrocation. 

The celebrated and effectual English cure without internal 
medicine. Proprietors, W. Edward & Son, Queen Victoria 
St., London, England. Wholesale of E. Fougera & Co., 
30 North William St., N. Y. 




225 Rooms. Single or En Suite. 

American Plan. Rates $2.00 to $2.50 per day. Parlors 
and rooms with bath extra. 

Coach and Carriage at depot on arrival of all trains. 


When you write, please meution " The Overland Monthly." 



PARIS, 1878 & 1889. 

The Most Perfect of Pens. 

HE Story of Southern California, the beauty spot of 
America, told by its leading newspaper in 28 pages. Col- 
uihiiiii Number. 100 fine illustrations. A mine of infor- 
llion for home seekers in the most attractive section of the 
nion. 10 cts. a copy. Weekly, $1.30 a year: 624 pp. Ad- 
ess Times, Los Angeles, Cal. 

A magazine for the study of the 
German Language and Literature, 
is highly recommended by Col- 
lege Professors and the Press as 
: best effort yet made to assist the student of German, and 
terest him in his pursuit." Its BEGINNERS' CORNER fur- 
:s every year a complete and interesting course in German 
imar. $2 a year. Sample copies free. P. O. Box 151, 
Chester, N. H. 





iuiu have a few hours spare time, can get work to do at home 
r o occupy their spare time profitably. Address : L. WHITE 

JoUnOTUANn BY MAIL or personally. 3 TRIAL 
IVnUn I nRllU LESSONS FREE by mentioning this 
H) Mag. Simplest and best system, acquired in 3 months. Sit- 
juations secured graduates of Business, Telegraph or Shorthand 
IDepts. R. R. fair paid. Kansas City Business University, 
Kansas City, Mo. 


I FILL A treatise by A. B. GIBSON, M.E., sent free 
^1 on application to F. H. LAY, M. D., 1705 


THE NAME TO REMEMBER when buying a. 
DI/*VS*I E A. W. OUMI' A CO., 



S3O.OO to i*5O.OO saved on many 
new and secoiid-liund Bicycler. 
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Rational Method. For particulars write UN IVER- 
SITV MEDICAL CO.. 75 43d St.. Chicago, III. 


W in abooklMt, SENT FREE. New ' 


I Dialogues, Speakers, for School, 
Club and Parlor. Catalogue free. 
T S DEHISOM, Publisher, Chicago. 



8 to 12 weeks' study. No shading, no 
position ,read like print. Trial lesson 

Detroit, Mich. 


THOMAS P. SIMPSON, Washington, 
D. C No pay asked for patent until 
obtained. Write for Inventor's Guide. 

Souvenir Coin (coined by the GOT- 
nm prnment) sent by registered mail de- 
Tiv ("rVgu'iJranteed, au d our Lithograph Portfolio, <iontain- 
I ing Exposition Views in colors, with descriptive text, hand- 
nomi-lv printed in English, French or German, BOTH FOR $1.65 
Mate .dllio* d.ired. B. SV WAS8ON * CO., 8J-83 8. J e ff.r.on St., tfitcag. 


1 is the surprise of all practical ladies. Directions with every 
(system Easy to use without instructions. Just what every - 
Jbody needs. Price, $2.00 Address, The Lalla Rookh Pat- 
tern Co., 180 Grand Street, New York. Agents wanted. 

Exercise and breathing. An im- 
portant paper that should be read 
by everyone. Sent free. Address 
J. C. HENRY, Yonkers, N. Y. 


I Ar\Tl?0 T PILLA SOLVENE. Only hair sol- 
III* Ml r, A I vent known. Permanently dissolves su- 
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minutes without pain, discoloration or injury. Particulars, 6c. 
MA MA I CUC Develops the Bust. Change in ten 
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lars, 4 cts. WLLCOX SPECIFIC CO., Phila., Pa. 

By Mail,Crayon Portrait Painting, 

I guarantee to learn anyone who can read 
and write, to paint a Life Size Crayon Por- 
trait in four lessons, by a new and easy method.' Send stamp 
for particulars. Picture Agents Instruction how to alter a 
picture free of charge it will save you many rejections. _ I 
wish to employ one energetic and honest person in each locality 
to sell my celebrated Hand Painted Crayon Portraits. Send for 
Price List. 

H. A. GRIPP, German Artist, 

Tyrone, Pa. 

Pure Wines^Liquors 

$4.OO per Case and upwards, 


Via Express or Freight. 

~\ T"O by mail post paid, $1.50 per 100 
CL1 Vj 

an( i u p. Complete price list free. 
/. C. Childs e^ Co., 346 8th Ave., N. Y, 

You can save so PER CENT, by 
purchasing direct from our factory. 
Send for price list and directions 
for self measuring. 




An elegant dressing. Prevents 
baldness, gray hair, and dandruff. 
Makes the hair grow thick and soft. 
Cures eruptions and diseases of the 
skin. Heals cuts, burns, bruise* and 
sprains. All druggists or by mail 50 cts. 44 Stone St.N.Y. 




Soft, Smooth Skin. 

No Chapped Hands, Face or Lips 
No Freckles, Sunburn or Tan. 
So Satisfactory after Shaving. 

Sample Bottle only four cents. 

F. COL.MAN & SONS, Kalamazoo, Mich. 


fllrC IOU DO IT FOR THE iflO.Nti. 
* | O Bays a $6&.O3 Impr.ited Oxford Kiugcr 
V I L Sewing Machine ; perfect working tell* 
able, finely finished, adapted to light and h envy 
work, with a complete set of t be 1 a test Improved 
attachment! free. Each machine guaranteed for ft 
'ears. Buy direct from our factory, and gave dealer* 
id agents profit. Send for P>"*% CATALOGUE. 


Model 1891 In .32 cal. uses the reg- 
ular short and long rim and center- 
fire cartridges In the same rifle. 
Saves 60 per cent, on cost of ammu- 
nition over any other 82 calibre 
repeater made. 

Made in all styles and sizes. 
Lightest, strongest, easiest- 
working, safest, simplest 
most accurate, most com- 
pact, and most modern. 

The Martin Fire Arms Oo. **!** 

When you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly." 







The Celebrated 


Mineral Water. 

This water is bottled JUST AS IT FLOWS FROM THE EARTH, 
THE SPRING, therefore consuriiers can be assured that what they receive 

Your druggist or grocer has it or will procure it for yon. 
Circulars sent on application to 

THE flANITOy MINERAL WATER CO., Manitou, Colorado 

MANITOU GINGER CHAMPAGNE is made from the Manitou Mineral 
Spring Water combined with Jamaica ginger and fruit syrups. Absolutely non-alcoholic 
and specially recommended for ladies and children. 

When you write, please mention "The Overland Monthly." 











174. TREMONT ST., 



Syphon Wash Basin 

Prevents sewer gas or overflows. Send for our Circular and 
Catalogue of Water Closets, etc. 


Manufacturer of Permanent Plumbing Goods, 

148 Franklin St., CHICAGO. 

Patent Foot Power Machinery 

Complete Outfits. 

Wood or metal workers, without steam 
power, can successfully compete with the 
large shops, by using our new LiABOR 
SAVING Machinery, latest and most im- 
proved for practical shop mse, also for 
Industrial Schools, Home Training, etc. 

Seneca Falls Mfg. Co. 



This beautiful miniature CPHOtSTERKD PARtOR RET of 

three pieces (for the next 60 days) will be sen to any address on 
receipt of 9.1 rents to pay expenses, bo.xii g, packing, adver- 
tising, etc. This is done as an advertisemen and we shall ex- 
pect everyone getting a set to tell their fricn s who see it where 
they got it and to recommend our house to th m. This beautifu] 
set consists of one sofa and two chulrs. Th -y are made of fine 
lustrous metal frames, beautifully finished a'nd decorated, and 
upholstered in the finest manner with beautiful plush (which we 
furnish in any color desired. I To advertise our house, for 60 
days, we propose to furnish these sets on receipt of 95 cents. 
Postage stamps taken. No additional charge for boxing or ship- 
ping. No attention paid to letters unless they contain 95 cents. 

U. S, Furniture Co., lllNassau St., New York. 

* U^ou might kill your stomach on 
your meat," yet not enjoy your 
meal had it not good relish. But 
Shrewsbury Tomatoketchup ensures 
a good relish. 

E-c-Hazard * c 


For Hot Water Heating. 



405 Market Street, San Francisco, Cal. 

When you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly.' 



of the increasing influence of science in all fields of human 
activity is apparent on every hand. The farmer is looking to it for better 
methods in cultivation and the raising of stock. The manufacturer asks of it 
cheapened processes to meet ever sharper competition. The economist seeks in 
it a firm basis for his policy. The doctor and sanitarian call upon it for a more 
perfect equipment for their struggles with disease. The educator consults it 
with reference to more rational methods of instruction. Literature, politics and 
the Church are among its most interested listeners, since it is testing their re- 
spective claims in a way that compels attention. 

THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY has long borne a leading part in making 
the general reader acquainted with this great and rapidly-growing department of 
human knowledge. It has aimed to do this with perfect fairness, and with all the 
tolerance of earnest beliefs that is consistent with a fearless adherence to the truth, 
and the same attitude will be maintained in the future. 

SCIENCE AT THE WORLD'S FAIR. Among the special features of this 
standard magazine for the coming year will be accounts by competent specialists of 
the present standing of the several departments of science as exhibited at the 
Columbian Exhibition in Chicago. The marvels of Electricity to be displayed 
there will be described and explained by MR. CHARLES M. LUNGREN. Large pro- 
vision has been made for the exhibit of Anthropology, and this department will be 
carefully treated by Prof. FREDERICK STARR, of the Chicago University. Mr. 
BENJAMIN REECE will treat of the application of science in the vast interests of 
Transportation, and the scope and significance of the exhibits in other departments 
will be set forth by able hands. 


The splendid series of illustrated articles under the above title will be continued, 
and probably brought to a close in the coming year. Among the subjects that re- 
main to be treated are Glass, Silk, Paper, Agricultural Machinery, and Ship- 

Miscellaneous contributions may be expected from the able writers who have 
been in the habit of addressing the readers of the MONTHLY. 


$5.00 a Year; 50 cents a Number. 

D. APPLETON & CO., PUBLISHERS, i, 3, & 5 Bond Street,|New York. 

When you write, please mention "The Overland Monthly." 


In 1893 will enter its YEAR OF JUBILEE, 

hence a retrospective glance at its history may be now appropriately taken. 

In establishing this magazine its founder sought to present in convenient form a his- 
tory of the world's progress, by selecting from the whole wide field of European Periodical 
Literature the best articles by the most eminent writers in every department, Biography, 
History, Literature, Travels, Science, Politics, Art, Criticism, in a word, " de omnibus 
rebus," including Fiction and Poetry. 

The plan thus originally proposed has been faithfully followed during the forty-nine 
years of its existence, with what measure of success the uniformly high character of the 
articles presented to its readers for 2530 consecutive Weeks and the contents of i ts 195 
Octavo Volumes sufficiently attest. 


A.D. 1844. " I have never seen any similar publication of equal merit." GEORGE TICKNOR, August, 1844. 
A.D. 1869. " Still as fresh, as racy, as enchanting, and full to the brim of scientific value, as when it rejoiced in its first year." 
ALFRED B. STREET, in Albany Evening Journal, Nov., 1869. 

*" A.D. 1892. " Only the best has ever filled its pages ; the best thought, rendered in the purest English. Nothing poor or un- 
worthy has ever appeared in the columns of The Living- Age." THB PRSSBYTBRIAN, Philadelphia, rjt/i April, 1892. 

In the coming year THE LIVING AGE will continue to be 


Fiction will still occupy its accustomed place in the magazine, and the exquisite short stories which appear 
in every number and which have been so well received during the past year will remain a prominent feature 
of this department. 

OBSERVE ! THE LIVING AGE is a Weekly Magazine of sixty -four pages, giving more than 

double column octavo pages of reading matter yearly, forming four large volumes, thus presenting a mass of 


by any other publication in the country. 

~The Boston TRANSCRIPT of Sept. j, 1892, says of THE LIVING AGE: "No well-ordered and intelligent 

household should be without this publication." 

J^That every household may be induced to subscribe for the magazine, extend its sphere of usefulness, and 

double its circulation during the coming year, the publishers make the following 


for the consideration of an intelligent and cultured class of American readers, viz : 

fci-> fkr J LITTELL'S LIVING AGE, One lew, Postpaid, - - $8.00 > p nr> do 

J>I3.OO | BIDPATH'3 HI3TOBY OP THE tf. 8. OP AMEB1CA, - - 5.00 j r r 4>O.5 

This splendid offer is open to all subscribers, old and new alike. 


by JOHN CLARK RIDPATH, LL.D., author of the " History of the World," etc., has received the emphatic endorsement of leading 
educators and of the press of America. 

Prof. M. J. WHITNEY, Houghton, Mich., says, " Your history of the United States is the best work upon the subject that has 
ever come under my observation. The historical charts alone are worth the price of the book." 

Hon. EovjaMD H. BBXNSTT, Professor of Law, Boston University, says, " Ridpath's History combines many new and valuable 
features, and is written in a graphic and vivid style. I regard it as the most valuable history of our country yet published." 

" The publishers of THE LIVING AGE are having prepared for their use A SPECIAL EDITION of this 
great work, which, by the addition of new matter appearing in no previous edition, will bring the his- 
tory down to the present time. It will be printed in bold, clear type, on heavy, white book paper, and 
bound in extra fine cloth, making one large Koyal Octavo volume of over 800 pages. 

"Tor two New Subscribers. We will send RIDPATH'S HISTORY free to any one sending us two new subscribers to The 
Living Age, and the subscription price, $16.00. 

No one should delay in taking advantage of the remarkable opportunity here resented to become the possessor of a copy of 
this valuable history at the nominal price of 50 cents. Send for descriptive circulars. 

* The prices given in the above "OFFERS" include postage on THE LIVING AGE only. The book must be sent at the sub- 
scriber's expense. 

THE LIVING AGE is published weekly at $8.00 a'year, free of postage. 

tST TO NEW SUBSCRIBERS for the year 1893, remitting before Jan. I, will be sent gratis the two 
October issues, containing a powerful story by Frank Harris, editor of THE FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW, entitled 
PROFIT AND Loss, and also the numbers of 1892 published after the receipt of their subscriptions. 

B3f~ The publishers continue their popular clubbing arrangements, whereby one or more other periodicals 
may be obtained at greatly reduced prices. 

82^" Clubbing rates and circulars more fully describing the History will be sent on application. Sample 
copies of THE LIVING AGE, 15 cents each. 

Address MTTHTL. &. CO., 31 Bedford St., Boston. 

When you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly." 

The Evening Bulletin 

San Francisco, Cal. 


IS the leading evening journal in circulation and influence west of the 
Rocky Mountains. It is recognized authority in mercantile and 
financial circles. Its high character, tone, and general worth commend 
it to, and have obtained for it an entrance into the refined and cultured 
home circles, and have made it the most popular family newspaper in 

It is distinguished for the brilliancy of its editorial matter, the ac- 
curacy and completeness of its local and telegraphic news, its interesting 
correspondence from all parts of the world, reviews of current literature, 
art and theatrical criticisms, the extent of its foreign news, and its free- 
dom from highly colored sensationalism. 

It is Valuable to Advertisers for the Following Reasons: 

It has a long sustained circulation among a prosperous class of 
readers, who have learned to appreciate its special value. 

Every page contains fresh telegraphic or local news, affording every 
advertisement in its columns a good position. 

The Weekly Bulletin 

Is the largest and best weekly newspaper published in the West, and is 
in every respect a first class Family Paper, appealing to the interest of 
every member of the household. 

The Semi -Weekly Bulletin 

Is the regular Weekly Bulletin and Friday's issue of each week. 

. . 


difTHE DAILY BULLETIN is served by carriers in San Francisco and the large towns 

of the interior at 15 cents per week. 

Daily, by mail or express, per year, $6. 00 

Weekly, alone, 1,50 

Weekly, with Daily of Friday, 2,00 

Farts of a year in proportion. 


San Francisco Bulletin Co. 

No. 622 Montgomery Street, San Francisco, Cal. 

Eastern office, No. 90 Potter Building, New York City. 
When you write, please mention "The Overland Monthly." 

Three Acts from liife 



, ACT I. 

MRS. NEWLY-MARRIED : Home early to- 
night, Paul? 

MR. NEWLY-MARRIED : Yep. Hello ! How 
clean and bright our little home looks ! How's 
this, Virginia? 

SHE : Well, I purchased from the grocer a 
bottle of Greer's Washing Ammonia and 
Bridget and I have clean. the painted wood- 
work, the windows, the oil-cloths and all the old 
brass work, and removed spots from the carpets 
and pictures, etc., etc. Greer's Washing Am- 
monia is a marvelous preparation for cleaning 
and is so cheap. 

HE : That's right, Virginia. Cleanliness 
is next to Godliness, you know. 


SHE : Well, how does this shirt suit your 
fastidious taste ? 

HE : Whew! It's dazzling! Come from the 
French Laundry, hey? 

SHE : No, sir, our own laundry, if you 
please, and by the use o Greer's Washing 
Ammonia Bridget uses in the water, which rend- 
ers it soft as rain water, saves her labor and soap, 
and the clothes come out snowy white. 


> HE : Well, Virginia ! What fool said 
" marriage is a failure ? " ( Gazing at her face. ) 
I notice that your skin is fairer and clearer than 
it used to be. 

SHE : Yes, Paul. I am using Greer's 
Toilet Ammonia ; it makes a delightful and re- 
freshing addition to water for the bath and toilet, 
keeps the skin clean, soft and healthy, which is 
the secret of a good complexion. It is common- 
ly used by English girls, and you know what fine 
complexions they have. 

HE : Well, Virginia, we must recommend 
Greer's Washing Ammonia and Greer's 
Toilet Ammonia to all our friends. 

SHE : Yes all of them. Bridget 's through 
with her washing early today ; supper is now 
ready (skip off arm in arm). 




When you write, please mention 

Greer's Washing Ammonia! f g r y s a a n e }Grocers 
Greer's Toilet Ammoma{ fo b r y s a a n Druggists 

' The Overland Monthly." 




Postage added to Foreign Countries. 

The only daily paper published keeping accurate records of the Shipping bound to and from I 
Pacific Coast ports, giving accurate reports of the grain and merchandise markets of Sail Fran- 
cisco. Freights, (grain, lumber and coal), wheat, lumber, and marine insurance news are special 



Postage added to Foreign Countries. 

The most reliable insurance and commercial paper published on the Pacific Coast. Review- 
ing all branches of insurance, maritime and commercial affairs. 


34 California Street, San Francisco, Cal., U. S. A. 




Montgomery Block:. 

San Rrancisco. 


The above monthly periodical is a Statistical, Real Estate, Commercial and Bankers' Magazine, which 
has been established by subscription among the bankers, merchants, and members of the Chamber of Com- 
merce on the coast. The leading bankers of San Francisco, as well as the leading members of the Chamber 
of Commerce, and railway presidents have subscribed. Intending subscribers will please apply at the office, 
Room 50, Montgomery Block. 


Formerly Member London Stock Exchange. 

l|50 Wne t. 

an rancisco: 

California Orchard and Farm 

MONTHLY, $1.00 A YEAR. Address, THE CALIFORNIA COMPANY, Publishers, 

Sample copy, 10 cents. 416 Sacramento Street, San Francisco. 

The "California Orchard and Farm'' and the OVERLAND MONTHLY for $3.50. 

When you write, please mention "The Overland Monthly." 



Sold for Cash or on Installments. Pianos Rented, 
Tuned, Moved or Repaired. 

Knabe. Pronounced by p'Albert, Von Bulow. Griin- 
feld, and other renowned pianists, the best piano in ex- 

Haines. Celebrated for purityand volume of tone and 
extraordinary durability, and preferred by the world's 
famous prima donna, Adelina Patti. 

Bush & G-ert-. Strictly first-class in every particular, 
and at a very moderate price. It excels many pianos for 
which a much higher price is asked. 

Sterling Organ Handsome in design, elegantly fin- 
ished, unsurpassed in tone, durable. The price moder- 

Wilcox & White S^lf-playing Symphony. A full 
orchestra in itself. Call and see it, and listen to it. 




BEHR BROS. Pffifto 

Endorsed by 

Xaver ScharwenkaL 
Dr. Hans Von Bu.elo\v 
Conrad. Ansorge 
Moritz Mosko \vski 

And other leading Artists. 

Call or send for Catalogue. Pianos sold on easy payment 
ii desired. Satisfaction guaranteed. 


Each member of the following list of attorneys has been recommended as 
thoroughly reliable, and of good standing in his profession. 

San Francisco, California. 

F. A. BERLIN, Mills' Building. PRINGI.E, HAYNE & BOYD, Mills Building. 

HENRY E. HIGHTON, Mills Building. F. R. KING, 530 California St. 

JOHN B. HARMON, 405 Montgomery St. HORACE W. PHILBROOK, 325 Montgomery St 

Fox & KELLOGG, 530 California St. A. H. RICKETTS, Crocker Building. 

V. ALLEYNE ORR, 420 Montgomery St. CHARLES J. SWIFT, 216 Bush St. 

CHARLES E. WILSON, 420 California St. 


* * Attorney-at-Law, Academy of Sciences 
Building, 819 Market Street, Room 50, San 
Francisco, Cal. 


Attorney and Counselor-at-Law, Office 
530 California Street, Room i, San Francisco, 


I,ate of Darwin & Murphy. 


^^ Attorney-at-Law, 636 Clay Street, Rooms 
17, 18 and 19, San Francisco. 


( Ex-Judge of the Superior Court) 

Attorney^Counsellor at Law, 

No. 119 Bush Street, Rooms 5 and 6, 
Telephone No. 156. SAN FRANCISCO. 




This institution offers superior facilities 
for a thorough Medical and Surgical Edu- 

The Intermediate Course of Lectures 
begins on the First Monday of February in 
each year, and continues three months. 

The Regular Course begins on the First 
Monday in June and continues six months. 

Three regular sessions are required for 

For further information address the Dean, 


6 Eddy St., San Francisco. 

When you write, please mention "The Overland Monthly." 


: ?:?::-: AYE.. ssw 


Upright Cabinet 
* *__BED. 

i UP. omci AID inuirra- 

z i j z n 1 2 r z T r 


Adjustable Cable Sus- 
pension Spring. 
Guaranteed not to Sag. 

for Illustrated Catalogues 

~:".:x :i?s sr:i::i" 




C. F. WEBER & CO. 

Sous AGENTS FOR Cor. Post and Stockton Sts. 229 SECOND STREET, 



For Obstetrics, and Medical and Surgical Diseases 
of Women. 

Office, St. Ann's Building, San Francisco, 

Rooms 37 and 38*. 
Hours, i to 4 and 7 to S p. M. 


Sole Agent for 

HaTJett & Daris Co.'s, Boston. 
Francis Bacon. New York, 
W. W. Kimball Co. s, Chicago, 

Abo W. V. Kimhall Co.'s Parlor and Vestry Organs. 

H*. TVS Market SU Hfatorr Bailding, ground floor, 



Book and Pamphlet Bindery 

Work Promptly Done at Low Prices, 

\ Pianss 



15 Fourth. Street. 

Catalogues on application. Libraries purchased. 


_ \_ - Has removed his stock of 



Large additions to his Stock have lately been made 
of Old and Rare Volumes, which are offered at a 
small advance on Auction Prices. 


*!. per ! 

nia Street, San Francisco, will send "OVER- 
LAND MONTHLY" and "Trestle Board" for 
$3-75 per year. 

See Spedmens of Onr En| 




St. Matthew's 


SAXX 1VI t e o . OA.1. 



Open for both sexes with a fall corps of teach- 
es. Full Academic and Collegiate Courses, 

Conservatory of Music, etc. 
Spring Session opens January 4th, 1893. 

SAMUEL B. MORSE, President, 

Highland Park, Oakland, Cal. 


534 Mission Street, San Francisco. 


Prepares for 

School Opens January 9th, 1893. 



Established in 1850, removed in 1883 from Chestnut 
street. Philadelphia, to Ogontz, the spacious country 
seat of Jay Cooke. For circulars apply to Principals. 
Ogontz School. P. O. Ogontz, Montgomery County, 


Ladies m 

:u.-vr : ; 




...-:-. Niive 

to art. Particular 
social tralming. 

For Circulars, Address MRS. W. B. HYDE. 

Our lady of tl?e Saered jteart 


Thorough in its Education, Homelike and Beautiful 

in Surroundings. 

For terms, address MOTHER SUPERIOR, 
1534 WetMter Street, 


District Schools. Academies, Seminaries and Colleges supplied with Teachers. Kindergarten 
Instructors, Private Tutors and Governesses furnished; also Specialists in all branches of Instruc- 
tion, including Music, Drawing, Painting. Ancient and Modern Languagss, Military Tactics, etc. 
None but thoroughly prepared and well qualified Teachers are recommended by this Agency. 

SCHOOL OFFICERS, in sending for Teachers, will please give definite information on the 
following points: Grade of School, Salary, Time of Opening. Length of Term, Certificate 
required. Cost of Board, etc. 

TEACHERS seeking positions will make application upon Blanks specially prepared for the 
purpose, which blanks will be furnished on application, inclosing Stamp,) to the Manager. 


Well known for many years as Deputy Superintendent of Schools in the City of Oakland, and also as Depmty State 
* Superintendent of Public Instruction of California, is the in>g-r of this Agency. 

All communications should be addressed to 


HISTORY BvnunA. 721 Market Street. 

c^:::-^: A;er.;y 





Sixteenth Year. Eighteen Professois and Teachers. Every 
home comfort and care. Private assistance to rapid and 
thorough advancement. Full Academic Course. Ancient 
and Modem Languages, Vocal and Instrumental Music, 
Drawing and Painting. 

For illustrated circular, address 



When you write, please mention " The Ovt1an<? Monthly." 


76 FIFTH AVE., NEW YOBE. ^ fl fl$jffiwi>\ rf) 215 WABASH AVE " CHICAG - 

Upright Cabinet 
. BED. 

Numerous Styles. 


Adjustable Cable Sus- 
pension Spring. 
Guaranteed not to Sag. 

C. F. WEBER & CO. 






for Illustrated C "^K^ 


Cor. Post and Stockton Sts. 229 SECOND STREET, 


For Obstetrics, and Medical and Surgical Diseases 
of Womeu. 

Office, St. Ann's Building, San Francisco, 

Rooms 37 and 38. 
Hours, i to 4 and 7 to 8 P. M. 


Sole Agent for 

Hallett & Davis Co.'s, Boston, 
Francis Bacon, New York, 
W. W. Kimball Co.'s, Chicago, 

Also W. W. Kimball Co.'s Parlor and Vestry Organs. 

No. 725 Market St., History Building:, ground floor, 



Book and Pamphlet Bindery 

Work Promptly Done at Low Prices. 

\ Diaries 



15 Fourth Street, 


Catalogues on application. Libraries purchased. 


\ I Has removed his stock of 



Large additions to his Stock have lately been made 
of Old and Rare Volumes, which are offered at a 
small advance on Auction Prices. 


$1.OO per annum In advance. 

nia Street, San Francisco, will send " OVER- 
LAND MONTHLY" and " Trestle Board'' 1 fo 
$3. 75 per year. 



See Specimens of Our Engraving in this Publication. 

When you write, please mention "The Overland Monthly." 

St. Matthew's 


o, CA.1. 




Open for both sexes with a full corps of teach- 
ers. Full Academic and Collegiate Courses, 

Conservatory of Music, etc. 
Spring Session opens January 4th, 1893. 

SAMUEL B. MORSE, President, 

Highland Park, Oakland, Cal. 


>534 Mission Street, San Francisco. 


Prepares for 

School Opens January gth, 1893. 



Established in 1850, removed in 1883 from Chestnut 
street, Philadelphia, to Ogontz, the spacious country 
seat of Jay Cooke. For circulars apply to Principals. 
Ogontz School, P. O. Ogontz, Montgomery County, 


In important respects the best equipped Seminary for Young 
Ladies in America. Term opens August gth. Send for cir- 
cular to DR. HOMER B. SPRAGUE, President. 



Offers superior advantages to those desiring a thorough ed- 
ucation. All departments In charge of specialists. Native 
teachers In French and German. Special advantages In vocal 
and Instrumental music, and In art. Particular attention 
given to health, general culture, and social training. Build- 
ings Inviting and comfortable. Grounds ample and attractive. 

For Circulars, Address MRS. W. B. HYDE. 


Our lady of tye Sacred J-ieart 


Thorough in its Education, Homelike and Beautiful 

in Surroundings. 

For terms, address MOTHER SUPERIOR, 
1534 "Webster Street, OAK.I,AJrD. 


District Schools, Academies, Seminaries and Colleges supplied with Teachers. Kindergarten 
Instructors, Private Tutors and Governesses furnished; also Specialists in all branches of Instruc- 
tion, including Music, Drawing, Painting, Ancient and Modern Languagss, Military Tactics, etc. 
None but thoroughly prepared and well qualified Teachers are recommended by this Agency. 

SCHOOL OFFICERS, in sending for Teachers, will please give definite information on the 
following points: Grade of School, Salary, Time of Opening, Length of Term, Certificate 
required, Cost of Board, etc. 

TEACHERS seeking positions will make application upon Blanks specially prepared for the 
purpose, which blanks will be furnished on application, inclosing Stamp,) to the Manager. 


Well known for many years as Deputy Superintendent of Schools in the City of Oakland, and also as Deputy State 
Superintendent of Public Instruction of California, is the manager of this Agency. 
All communications should be addressed to 


HISTORY BUILDING. 721 Market Street. 

Pacific Educational Agency, 





Sixteenth Year. Eighteen Professors and Teachers. Every 
home comfort and care. Private assistance to rapid and 
thorough advancement. P'ull Academic Course. Ancient 
and Modern Languages, Vocal and Instrumental Music, 
Drawing and Painting. 

For illustrated circular, address 



When you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly." 


9 Fremont Street, San Francisco. 


WIRE NAILS, best steel. 

BARBED WIRE, regularly licensed. 



Hallidie's ENDLESS WIRE ROPEWAY for transporting ore and other 
material over mountainous and difficult roads. 

22 Front Street, ) BRANCHES. \ 201 IM. Los Angeles Street, 


: : BANK SAFES : : 

Diebold Safe and Lock Go. 



411 & 413 Market Street, 


A large assortment of Fire and Burglar-proof Safes 
constantly on hand ; also second-hand Safes taken in 
exchange, and Safes repaired. 


Seasonable Offerings, 25 to 1OO per cent, less 
than elsewhere. Get more pay less. We have 
every tiling?! 


Ripans Tabules cure dizziness. 



Saws of every description on hand or 
made to order. 


P. O. Box 1699. 

Established in 1852. 


Manufacturers, Importers and Jobbers of 

Wooden and Willouu Ware, 

Wrapping Papers, 

Paper Bags, Twines, Brooms, Brushes, Efc. 

233, 23O and 826 Front Street, San Francisco. 



Office, No. SO 7 Sacramento Street, 

Factory, Corner i6th and Utah Streets. 


rubbing, and does not injure the clothes. The Largest Family Washing in 
the city can be done in three to four hours. A girl of twelve years of age 
can do a washing with this soap. 


When you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly." 


Given by the Oldest Newspaper 
in New York City. 

In addition to the numerous new and original premiums 
jffercd to subscribers, we propose to present them with 100 
.Vatclics, all of which are guaranteed by T. LYNCH, 14th 
f treet and Union Square, New York City, who furnishes them 
o us. 

HE ADVERTISER is the oldest newspaper in New York 
f. Its Weekly edition is published In two sections, and 
ies out every Tuesday and Friday 104 times during the 
r; ha- six to eight pages every issue, is well printed, has 
ity of pictures, short stories, telegraphic news, financial 
market reports, a woman's page, and the ablest editorials 
ilghed by any New York paper. It is a model home 
er, witli elevating and entertaining reading matter, 
old of sensations and objectionable advertisements. All 
$1.00 a year. 

peclmen copies and Premium Lists with full particulars of 
Attractive Inducements for Agents, sent Free on appllca- 


29 Park Row, N. Y. 

Fine Fishing Tackle 


Guns ^ Hunters' 

* Equipments. 


By the month, week or day. 

GEO. W. 

525 Kearny Street, San Francisco. 

"Columbia" Leads. 

A full line, medium grade 

401 Market Street, 

For Barbers, Bakers, Boot- 
blacks, Bath-houses, Billiard 
Tables, Brewers, Bookbind- 
ers, Canners, Candy-makers, 
Dyers, Flour Mills, Foundries. 
Laundries, Paper-Hangers, 
Printers, Painters, Shoe Factories, Stablemen, Tar- 
Roofers, Tanners, Tailors, Etc. BUCHANAN BROTH- 
ERS, Brush Manufacturers, 609 Sacramento Street. 



On the Light-Running 











(Opp. Pacific Mutual Building) 


Goods we believe to be as good as can be produced. 

When you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly." 


Sure Cure for Catarrh, Bron- 
chitis, Asthma, Colds, etc. 


Breaks up a cold in one night 
Sure preventive for infectious 

For sale by all druggists, or sent 
post paid for $1.50, by the 

Welch Inhaler 1 and IJediDine Co, 



56 Dearborn Street, CHICAGO, 11,1,. 

The Graham Paper Company 


St. Louis, Mo. 

Supply tine paper on. 
wnien tine OVERLAND 
MONTHLY is printed. 



Agent for Pacific Coast, 



Ladies' and Gentlemen's Dining Parlors, 
112 Powell St., between Ellis & 

Delicious, home-like, popular priced Meals. If you 
don't like common restaurant cooking, TRY THIS. 



Promptness of delivery is a prominent 
characteristic in our business. Orders 
troiu the interior filled at city prices. 
Taper Ruling Blank Books 

and Hook * \ nianufact'd 


Cor. Clay and Sansome 

San Francisco. 

We Print the Overland. 

TUC PDflOUCIUnD Elegant New House, 
I nt UnUolLHUn, Choice Rooms, Central Location. 

317, 319, 321 Suiter St , near Stockton. 

Incandescent Lights, Porcelain Baths, Sunny Rooms, Single 
o r en Suite of 2, 3 or 4 Rooms, and Offices for Physicians or 
Dentists ; Crane Elevator, Prompt Service. 


(Late of the Oriel Hotel of this city) Proprietors. 

Strictly First-Class for Gentlemen and Families. 


This Agency has taken its place in the center of Educational information for the Pacific 
Coast. School Trustees and Superintendents everywhere are constantly availing themselves of 
its service in filling vacancies. In so large a field, some reliable medium of communication be- 
tween Teachers and Schools is an absolute necessity. The Bureau is prepared to give information 
in regard to the educational needs of this and adjoining States and Territories, and to furnish 
Teachers of the highest standing for all lines of Educational work. All such are invited to put 
themselves into communication with us. School properties rented and sold. Address, 

30O POST STREET, San Francisco, MAY t. CHENEY, 

Union Club Building. WARREN CHENEY 

\. lieu you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly." 



"the beautiful is sometimes as useful as the 
useful.' 5 Emerson declared that it was often 
more so. 

If grass and leaves were a dead white, 
and if sky and clouds were a changeless 
black, the rain might fall, and trees and 
cattle might thrive as well, but the charm of 
the world would be gone. 

Just so when the varnish is gone from 
your beautiful things. 

Our "People's Text-Book" tells you of 
varnish that lasts. 



Head Office : Newark, N. J. 

Other Offices : Bostotf, Cleveland, St. Louis and Chicago. 

Factories : Newark and Chicago. 

When you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly." 







> s| > not purchase so"* 
'"'I expect it to 
ract will. Pe 


"Reading maketh a ready man, 
Writing maketh an exact man." 

Over Two Thousand 


Now in Use in our Schools, 

Making the young ready and exact in spelling, punc- 
tuating and phrasing. 


and increase your exactitude many fold 

Manufactured by 



CHA3. E. WAVLOE, Agent, 19 Montgomery St., San Francisco. 


" When in doubt " SCRIBNER'S 

use Sapolio. 

" Press the Button," KODAK 

Sapolio brings the rest. 

" For that tired feeling." HOOD 

Still Sapolio. 

" Don't be a clam," SIDDALL 

but try Sapolio. 

" Has cured others, will cure you " AVER 
of care, says Sapolio. 

" See that hump ? " DELONG 

Brass polished with Sapolio. 

" Good morning ! Have you used " PEARS 
Sapolio ! 

" Greatest speed consistent with safety " 

secured with Sapolio. PENN R. R. 

" The best, because it is " DREYDOPPEL 


When you write, please nienti 

" Grateful and Comforting " EPPS 

to housekeepers, Sapolio. 

" Worth a guinea a box." BEECHAM 

Just the price of Sapolio. 

" For that full feeling " -ADAifl 

if dirt, use Sapolio. 

" Best and goes farthest.'' VAN HOUTEN 
True of Sapolio. 

" Yours for health " LYDIA P. 

saved by Sapolio. 

" If you see it in the ' Sun,' " CHAS 

V is an ad. of Sapolio. 

" Do you wear pants ? " PLYMOUTH ROCK 
Tell her to use Sapolio. 


" It is a solid cake " MORGAN 

in every se^e Sapolio. 

" Keeping everlastingly at it " AYRE, N. W. 
is unnecessary ivitk Sapolio. 

on "The Overla-,1 Monthly." 

Pears' Soap 

Unless you have used Pears' Soap, you probably do not 
know what we mean by a soap with no free fat or alkali in 
it nothing but soap pure soap. 

If there is too much fat in a soap, it is slow, disagree- 
able; tries your patience, but does no harm. 

.If there is too much alkali in it, it cuts the skin a little, 
makes it rough if the skin is, delicate. You can stand it, 
unless your skin is very delicate. 

Pears' is perhaps the only soap in the world with no free 

alkali. It would be absurd to say that you can't bear alkali. 

Liquid ammonia (household ammonia) is a familiar alkali. 

Try it on your hands-it cleanses effectually; but it cuts 

too deep, it does not stop at dirt, it leaves the skin rough 

and harsh, it kills. 

Soap without alkali nothing but soap pure soap- 
Pears' Soap does what you want done, and stops right 
there. It washes and does no harm. 

You can have such a skin as you never dreamed of by 
using Pears' Soap, because there is nc alkali in it- nothing 
but soap. 

When you writ., plea* mention The Overland Monthly." 

tit rtLlUR WAItK WltttL 

Address, 121 Main Street, San Francisco, Cal., or 143 Liberty Street, New York. 

Adapted to all con 
variety of service. 





Old instruments t;vkcn in ex- 
and full Information. 




. BAKER & Co.? 


from which the excess of 
M . :ias been removed, 

Is Absolutely Pure 
and it is Soluble. 

* No Chemicals 

T used in its prepar- 
.it on. It has more 
than three times the 
.length of Cocoa 
mixed with Starch, 
and is therefore far 
-..riff less than one cent a 
u rishing, strengthen- 
, and admirably adapted 
for persons in health. 
ers everywhere. 






CAPITAL (Fully Paid), 



P. J. STAPLES, President. W .ice-President. 

J. B. LEVISON, Marine Secretary. LOUIS W ..*NN, Assistant Secrel 

-?I:AP .r $3,000,000 

STEPHEN D. IVES, General Agent. 









NO. 122 




COAST. /'//// ll'eai'er, /;- 113 

Illustrated from Drawing by ]Valter and from 
1'hotos hy A. A. Martin, J. W. Hutchin- 
son, F. A. Gabbs, Taber, Marceau, and Elite. 

SILKNT PARTNERS. C. A. Steams 132 


II. 'I'm: MAN WITH A HOE 144 


Helen .17. Carpenter 146 

Jlli/strat. 'd from Drawings hy Grace Hudson, 
and from Photos by Carpenter. 
KNE AND FANTASIA. Charles I'.. Brim- 

blecom 1 56 

I.IKE IN AN INSANE ASYLUM. Charles IV. Coyle.\6i 
Illustrated from Drawings by Peixotto, and 
from Photo. 



//'. IVarino 

Illustrated from Washes by l\'i.\iitto, and frc 

Photos by Taber and Tash- 
JARDIN DE I!OKDA. Arthur Hazard .Noll . . . . 

Illustrated horn Photo by Ste-n-- 
MERIT. Elizabeths. Bates.. 

IN VESI-EKO. Isabel E. Owens 


CODRUS. Lewis Worthington Smith. 

Si <>l 


1 ! - 


The Overland Monthly Publishing Company 

San Francisco: Pacific Mutual Life Building 

The Pacific Coast : San Francisco News Co. 
New York and Chicago : The American News Co. 

For members of the OVKRI.AND prior to 1892, apply to Healy's Old Book Store, 408 O'Farrell Street. 
[Kntered at San Francisco Post-office as Second-class Matter.] 



The Only Natural Boiled 
Water on the Market. 


See that All Bottles have these 

When you write, please meution "The Overland Monthly." 




HONOLULU S 75 00 $ 25 00 

.TUTU1LA ..17500 8500 

.AUCKLAND 20000 10000 

.SYDNEY 20000 10000 

.MELBOURNE 21250 10625 

Sailings af Through Mail Steamers, 


Feb. 3rd, and March 3rd and 31st. 


Jan. 18, Feb. 3rd and 15th, and 
March 15th. 

Excursions to the Sandwich Islands. The splendid 3ooo-tou Steam- 
of this line, are so well known from the thousands who have made voy- 
ages 111 them to and from the Sandwich Islands, that a description is 
almost unnecessary. 

To those who have not yet had this pleasure, we would simply say that 
there are no finer specimens of marine architecture afloat. They have the 
latest and best improvements. The staterooms are fitted up with every 

San Fr-in u convenience. The dining saloons, social halls, smoking rooms etc., in 

llu ' finish and furnishing, are not surpassed by any steamers afloat. To make 
Auckland and Sydney. a tr j p on one o f these steamers is, as the poet Charles Warren Stoddard 

expresses it, " like drifting toward Paradise on an even keel." 

The climate of the Sandwich Islands is said to be the pleasantest in the world never hot and never cold from 
65 deg. to 90 deg. all the year round, with refreshing showers which keep the landscape perpetually green. 

Excursion Tickets tn Honolulu and Return, good for three months, $125, 

A trip from San Francisco to Honolulu and the volcano can be made in three weeks, and no more interesting 
and enjoyable trip is to be found in the world. ^p-PROMPT ATTENTION PAID TO TELEGRAPHIC 

BST'For Tickets or farther Information, call on or address 

Send 10 cents stamps for new pamphlet of J. O. SPRECFCEL-S SL BROS. CO. 
photogravures, " Paradise of the Pacific." 327 market Street, General Agents. 

CALIFORNIA Summer or Winter. 



KATES FOB BOARD : By the day, $3.00 and up- 
ward. Parlors, from fi.ooto $2.50 per day, extra. Chil- 
dren, in children's dining-room, $2.00 per day. 

PARTICULAR ATTENTION is called to the 
moderate charges for accommodations at this magnificent 
establishment. The extra cost of a trip to California 
is more than counterbalanced by the difference in rates 
at the various Southern Winter Resorts and the incom- 


The Attention of Tourists and Health-Seekers is called to 



America's Famous SUMUEB and WINTER Besort, 


By Express Trains of the Southern Pacific Co. 

Intending Visitors to California and the Hotel del 
Monte have the choice of the " Sunset," " Central," 
or "Shasta" Routes. These three routes, the three 
main arms of the great railway system of the South- 
ern Pacific Company, carry the traveler through the 
best sections ofCalifornia, and any one of them will 
reveal wonders of climate, products and scenery that 
no other part of the world can duplicate. For illus- 
trated descriptive pamphlet of the hotel, and for in- 
formation as to routes of travel, rates for through 
tickets, etc., call upon or address E. HAWLEY, 
Assistant General Traffic Manager, Southern Pacific 
Company, 343 Broadway, New York. 
For further information, address 

GEOKOE SCECNEWALD, Manager Hotel del Monte, 
Monterey, California. 

forHeadaches, Nervousness, Exhausted Vitality, Sleepless- 

ne ss,Etc. BOERICKE&RUNYON.S.F. 5 oc. per bottle. 

When you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly." 

The Pacific Mutual 

Life Insurance Co. of California. 


The Pacific Mutual Life Insurance Co. of California, 

Northeast corner Montgomery and Sacramento Sts., San Francisco, 
When you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly." 

[The Pacific Mutual 

Life Insurance Co. of California. 



Assets, $2,600,000.00. Paid Pol icy = holders and 
Representatives, $6,000,000.00. 

The only Life Insurance Company organized under the Laws of California. 

For Policy-holders, the best organization of all American Companies. 
Most desirable forms of Insurance. 

Prompt payment of Claims. 

Liberal Dividends to Policy-holders. 

PRINCIPAL OFFICE, Company's Building, San Francisco. 
KILQARIF & BEAVER, General Agents Life Department for California. 
F. W. VOOQT & BRO., Pacific Coast General Agents, Accident Department. 


Nairn Linoleum. 

We call particular attention to this fabric as the best water- 
proof floor covering made. It is composed of cork and linseed 
oil on a substantial back, and is not cold and hard like oil- 
cloth, but as warm as a carpet, and nearly as noiseless. Made 
in a great variety of artistic patterns, and also in plain colors 
with appropriate borders. It is especially suitable for offices, kitchens, halls, 
bath rooms and in fact, every place where a serviceable, noiseless, and easily 
cleaned floor-covering is desired. 

W. & J. Sloane & Co. 

641-647 Market Street, 

San Francisco. 




When you write, please meutiou "The Overland Monthly." 





Upright Cabinet 
* * BED. 

Numerous Styles. 

Adjustable Cable Sus- 
pension Spring. 
Guaranteed not to Sag. 




C. F. WEBER & CO. 



for Illustrated Catalogues."^! 


Cor. Post and Stockton Sts. 229 SECOND STREET, 


Savings and Loan Society, 

101 Montgomery St., corner Sutter. 

1892, a dividend has been declared at the rate of 
five and one-tenth (5 i-io) per cent per annum on 
Term Deposits, and four and a quarter (4^) P^ 1 " 
cent per annum on Ordinary Deposits, free of taxes, 
payable on and after Tuesday, January 3d, 1893. 


The Good & Reese Co., Springfield, Ohio, publish 
a beautiful 144 page illustrated Catalogue of Seeds, 
which they will send post paid to our readers for loc. 
in stamps. 



Roche's Herbal Embrocation. 

The celebrated and effectual English cure without internal 
medicine. Proprietors, W. Edward & Son, Queen Victoria 
St., London, England. Wholesale of E. Fougera & Co., 
30 North William St., N. Y. 

-7 s * New Yost Writing Machine - 

the residuum of all that's good, the correction of all that's bad, in the former productions out of which the 
same great genius has evolved it. 


It is the only typewriter with direct printing, automatic inking system (discarding ribbon) ; wonderful 
centre guide alignment ; velocity touch ; scientific keyboard ; ease, durability and superb construction. 
Exhaustively tested and widely accepted as the New and Higher Standard. We send free an interesting 
descriptive catalogue on request. Address, 

L. H. CONDON & CO., General Agents, 
Successors to J. P. MIGHELL & CO., 

413 Montgomery St., S. F. 

' We carry a complete line of typewriter supplies for all machines, consisting of ribbons, carbons, papers, 
and cabinets. Send for our sample book of papers. Second hand typewriters of all kinds for sale and for 
rent. Catalogues, price lists and samples of work furnished to all interested. 

When you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly." 

St. Matthew's 




Established in 1850, removed in 1883 from Chestnut 
street, Philadelphia, to Ogontz, the spacious country 
seat of Jay Cooke. For circulars apply to Principals. 
Ogontz School, P. O. Ogontz, Montgomery County, 


1534 Mission Street, San Francisco. 


Prepares for 

School Opens January gth, 1893. 



Our l^ady of ttye Saered J-ieart 


Thorough in its Education, Homelike and Beautiful 
in Surroundings. 

For terms, address MOTHER SUPERIOR, 
1534 Webster Street, OAK I. AM). 


This Agency has taken its place in the center of Educational information for the Pacific 
Coast. School Trustees and Superintendents everywhere are constantly availing themselves of 
ts service in filling vacancies. In so large a field, some reliable medium of communication be- 
tween Teachers and Schools is an absolute necessity. The Bureau is prepared to give information 
.n regard to the educational needs of this and adjoining States and Territories, and to furnish 
Teachers of the highest standing for all lines of Educational work. All such are invited to put 
themselves into communication with us. School properties rented and sold. Address, 

300 POST STREET, San Francisco, MAY !L. CHENEY, 

Union Club Building. WARREN CHENEY, 

6 1 

EY, ) 




408 O'Farrell St., San Francisco. 


The largest collection of old Books, Pamphlets, and 
Magazines offered for sale in San Francisco. Special 
attention given to the Collection of Books or Pamphlets 
published in or relating to the Pacific Coast. Back 
numbers of California Magazines bought, sold, and 
exchanged. We want back numbers of the Pioneer and 
Hutchings' Magazine, bound or unbound. 

Having purchased the whole edition of several Cali- 
fornia Pamphlets, we are desirous of exchanging with 



15 Fourth Street, 


Catalogues on application. Libraries purchased. 


\ v Has removed his stock of 



Large additions to his Stock have lately been made 
of Old and Rare Volumes, which are offered at a 
small advance on Auction Prices. 




Sixteenth Year. Eighteen Professors and Teachers. Every 
home comfort and care. Private assistance to rapid and 
thorough advancement. Full Academic Course. Ancient 
and Modern Languages, Vocal and Instrumental Music, 
Drawing and Painting. 

For illustrated circular, address 



When you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly." 


Is not, like many mixtures, an ordinary compound of 
drugs but is the result of laborious research, and has 
for its basis a combination of all the principals of the 
best Cinchonas (Peruvian Bark), with a rich wine, that 
is specially prepared for M. Laroche ; a grand National 
prize of 16,600 francs has been awarded him, together 
with gold medals at the expositions of Paris, Vienna, 
Sidney, etc. 

QUINA LAROCHE is par-excellence the tonic to combat 

QUINA- LA ROCHE is a powerful preservative against 
intermittent and continued fevers, rebellious to sulphate 
of quinine, and is also of exceptional value in cases of 
tardy convalescence, etc. 

QUINA-LAROCHE in combination with Iron is especial- 
ly recommended in cases of impoverishment of the 
blood, chlorosis, debility, difficulty of assimilation, <fec. 

Paris, 22 rue Drouot. 


Agents for the United States, 
30 'North William Street, New York 

When you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly." 



ist Because this water is the best that flows 

between earth and sky. 
2d Because NAPA SODA WATER makes a 

delicious LEMONADE. 
3rd Because NAPA SODA is a splendid table 


4th Because NAPA SODA aids digestion. 
5th Because NAPA SODA is the best thing 

When you order NAPA SODA insist on having 

that and no other. 



These Garments are perfectly Waterproof, and can 
be worn in place of overcoats or outside wraps. 

577 and 579 MARKET STREET. 




Alfalfa Grass 

Clover, Vegetable, 
Fruit and Every 
Variety of Seeds. 

Every Grocer, 
Every Druggist 
Sells It. 



425 Washington St., San Francisco. 


9 Fremont Street, San Francisco. 

WIRE NAILS, best steel. 

BARBED WIRE, regularly licensed. 



Hallidie's ENDLESS WIRE ROPEWAY for transporting ore and other 
material over mountainous and difficult roads. 


22 Front Street, ) BRANCHES. $ 201 N - Los Angeles Street, 


When you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly." 




"A Blessing to Babies 

A Boon to Good Cooking. 

20 cents a can, 6 cans for One Dollar. 



The Best Cough Syrup. I 
I Tastes Good. Use in time.) 
ISold by Druggists. 


I have 
jbeen cured 
entirely of 
consumption by the use of 
Piso's Cure. The doctor 
said I could not live till 
Fall* That was one year 
ago. Now I am well and 
hearty, and able to do a 
hard day's work Mrs. 
Laura E.Patterson, New- 
ton, Iowa, June 20, 1892. 

It may be to the scorchers 
I prefer to sit upright 
But that's a good point in 
they're made both ways 
"sit up or hump over" suit 
yourself they're all very com- 

Much valuable cycling information is open to 
you. Send for a "Book of Ramblers" it is free. 

Cormully &. Jeffery Mfg. Co., Chi- 
cago, Boston, Washington, New 


For nearly half a century, Lowell Carpets have 
been acknowledged by all to be 


The word 

the back of Lowell, 
Wilton, and Body 
Brussels at every re- 
peat of the pattern. 

Look Carefully to 

the trade marks, and 
be sure you get the 





wound upon a hollow 
stick, which the Unit- 
ed States Court de- 
cided to be a valid 
trademark. The stick 
is in two solid pieces, 
with the name of the 


stamped within. 


These goods are invariably full width, and may 
be had in a large variety of designs, which for tech- 
nique and coloring are unequaled, rendering them 
especially appropriate for artistic homes. 



when you write, please mention 

Overland Monthly." 


Overland Monthly 

Vol. XXI. (Second Series). February, 1893. No. 122. 


From the north comes word of a team 
at Seattle playing the Multnomah 

XLY those who 
have sat for hours 
on a hard bench 

H^ andl watched Felton 

-g-~^ - _ * 

Taylor or Leroy Hunt 
" buck the center " for a fifteen-yard 
gain, or a Hittell or a Clemans run 
around the end, only those who have 
seen Henry get down under a punt by 
Oscar Taylor, or seen a long return by 
Tobin, while cold chills chased each 
other delightfully up and down the 
thousands of vertebral columns to the 
accompaniment of a pandemonium band 
of anything that will blow, ring, or rat- 
tle, and the air is filled with red and 
white, cardinal, or blue and gold, only 
those who have been there can under- 
stand the strong hold that football is 
taking on the fancies of the public on 
this Coast. It is an imported infection, 
whose germs have been carefully prop- 
.agated by Camp and McClung, though 
the disease has long lurked in the blood, 
and broken out in more or less violent 
attacks for the last ten years. 

The present inoculation bids fair to 
produce a mania. Since the last spasm 
between the University of California 
and the Stanford University, football 
teams are forming all over the Coast. FELTON TAYLOR , . B.-OVLMPIC CLUB TEAM. 

VOL. XXL 9. (Copyright, 1893, l>y OVERLAND MONTHLY PUBLISHING Co.) All rights reserved. 

Bacon & Company, Printers 


Intei'-Collegiate Foot- Ball on tlie Pacific Coast. 


Photo by Marceau. 


FRICK, L. T. f. TAYLOR, L- H. B. 



Athletic Club of Portland, and from 
Southern California that the local edu- 
cational institutions and the athletic 
clubs have their football teams. News 
of the gathering rush-lines is coming 
from all parts of the State. High 
schools, academies and towns are 
throwing aside the baseball mask for 
the nose protector and the padded 
trousers. The tennis dude is substitut- 
ing for his immaculate flannels the 
mud-stained canvas jacket and cultivat- 
ing a football bang. In other words, 
football has become fashionable and 
popular beyond all precedent. 

It has not always been so. The found- 
ing of a great rival to the old Univer- 
sity of California, and to some extent, 
the appearance of the present strong 
Olympic team, have been the causes of 
the present boom. The rivalry of the 

two universities and the consequent 
importation of famous Eastern coaches, 
has done more to attract attention to 
foot-ball than could have been done by 
a mere series of league games like that 
of 1886. 

The men who have foreseen the 
pleasures of football and labored to de- 
velop the game amid little encourage- 
ment, deserve more credit than those 
who will hereafter step on to the grid- 
iron field before large and enthusiastic 
crowds to gain popularity. Feltoi 
Taylor is by far the oldest veteran 
on the Coast. Sutton, Turner, Hittell, 
Nourse, and Reed, have come and gone, 
but Taylor plays as hard a game as 
ever, with but one injury to tell of his 
ten years' experience. Taylor has grown 
up with football on this Coast, playing 
first in small school games, and later in 


Inter-Collegiate Foot-Ball on the Pacific Coast. 


'83 with the Union team, made up of 
San Francisco High School boys, who 
won laurels in the spring of '83. 

Football in California began to at- 
tract some attention on the part of 
those who were not interested in a 
school or university as early as 1882, 
when the old Phoenix team, composed 
of business men who needed Saturday 
afternoon exercise, was organized, and 
defeated the team of the University of 
California at the old recreation grounds 
in San Francisco. Up to this time it 
was played for the most part between 
rival schools, or between the Freshmen 
and Sophomores of the University of 
California, and excited no interest out- 
side of their intimate circle of friends. 

Within those circles however, the in- 
terest sometimes was considerable ; as 
for instance, in the great game between 
the classes of '80 and '81 at Berkeley in 
'78, when the feeling between the two 
lower classes ran high. The contest 

was arranged, as usual, to be played in 
Berkeley, with a ball paid for by both 
classes, and to belong to the winning 
team. The honor of the two classes 
was at stake, and the greatest of local 
interest was aroused. The game played 
was the old Rugby game. Buckley, '80, 
made the winning kick, amid the wild 
enthusiasm of his classmates, who car- 
ried the triumphant man off on their 

Tom Williams, '81, the horseman, was 
waiting with a buggy, when McGilli- 
vray, '81, also of the losing side, grabbed 
the ball and started toward the waiting 
team ; but Enslow, '80, soon saw the 
trick and started so close on his heels 
that there was no time to reach the 
buggy. By this time the crowd saw the 
play, and dropping Buckley, the whole 
mob started in chase after the escaping 
half-back. It was the longest run in 
California football history. Haifa mile 
through the village, the howling mob 

\. A. Marti 



Inter-Collegiate Foot- Ball on the Pacific Coast. 


Photo by M;meuu. 





followed, until McGillivray attempted 
to get under a fence and escape, and 
was tackled in the ankle by the pursu- 
ing Enslow. McGillivray, '81, fumbled, 
and Enslow, '80, dropped on the ball, 
with four classmates on top of him to 
protect the ball. The scrimmage began 
there. Outside these four '80 men was 
the whole class of '81, and outside of 
them the whole class of '80. That was 
the greatest scrimmage on record. A 
solid mass of men, twenty feet in diam- 
eter, fought for two hours, tearing each 
other's clothes to pieces in a vain effort 
to get the ball, both sides mad. 

There were at that time two judges 
at goal, two field judges, and a referee. 
They awarded the ball to '80, but '81 
was a big class, and the fight continued. 
After nightfall the battered collegians, 
tired and torn, made a compromise by 

which the holders of the ball cut it up 
and carried off only the worthless 
pieces. Enslow was thereafter known 
as the " Iron Duke " among his class- 

As has been said, little interest was 
shown in foot-ball until '82, when the 
Phoenix team defeated the University 
team by a score of two tries to one 
goal, equivalent to 8 to 6 of the present 
counting system. 

This defeat of the University was 
what they needed to stimulate practice 
and improve their playing, which was 
crude enough. After the defeat in the 
fall of '82 they were undefeated, until 
the Orions of Oakland surprised the 
supposed invincibles in the spring of '86, 
when a boom in foot-ball occurred, which 
subsided gradually until '90 when no 
games were played, to be revived in '91 


Inter-Collegiate Foot Ball on tlie Pacific Coast. 


and given an unprecedented popularity 
for this Coast in '92. 

A glance at foot-ball history on this 
Coast suffices to show that a narrative of 
its development is a narrative of con- 
tests between the University of Califor- 
nia team and various teams from San 
Francisco or Oakland. It is a manifes- 
tation of the spirit of the townsman 
against the gownsman. Anything to 
beat the University boys, has been the 
motive of the many clubs which have 
organized against them, only to be de- 
feated for the championship, until '91 
witnessed their defeat at the hands of 



the San Francisco team, n the only 
game that team could be induced to 

The games of '82 and '83 were played 
at the Recreation Grounds, and it was 
deemed worthy of mention that a num- 
ber of ladies witnessed the game, so 
little was the game attended by the gen- 
eral public ; but '83 witnessed a growing 
interest in foot-ball matters, owing to the 
appearance of the Unions, rivals to the 
Phoenix and University teams. In the 
Unions were a few good players, notably 
Ed Foster, William Groth, and especially 
the well known Felton Taylor. 

In 1883, only a few games were played, 
in which the Phoenix team was first tied 


Inter- Collegiate Foot- Hal I on the Pacific Coast. 

and then defeated by the University 
team, after which it never rose from its 
ashes. The Unions made it interesting 
for the University boys, but went down 
before them. 

The play at this time was the old fif- 
teen game, with a peculiar wedge-shaped 
rush line, and the half backs far out on 
each flank, much of the game depending 
on their runs around the end ; " bucking 
the center" was unknown. The game 
was a sort of a cross between the pres- 
ent inter-collegiate game and the Asso- 
ciation kicking game. The forwards, as 


BENSON, y. B. 

they were then called, must get down 
with the ball on a long, low punt which 
was frequently used, and rely on captur- 
ing it if possible. 

In the scrimmage, a good play of the 
forwards was to keep the feet together 
and push the other line and roll the ball 
along with the feet without letting it 
roll out of scrimmage. The seven for- 
wards were not allowed to pick up the 
ball, and the two quarter-backs could 
only pass it after it came out of scrim- 
mage. Twenty yards would sometimes 
be gained by these tactics. When the 
bail was kicked back out of the scrim- 
mage, the nearest quarter-back must 
pick it up and pass it to any one behind 


Inter-Collegiate Foot-Ball on the Pacific Coast. 


Photo by Marceau. 

SUB. C. R. H. B. 

SU3. Q. SUB H. B. 


SUB. G. Q B. L. E. SUB. E. 




the line he chose, to whom no one knew, 
to either half-back with a long pass of 
ten or twelve yards, to be caught on 
the bounce, perhaps, or taken around 
the end and stopped by an ankle tackle. 
Good dodging was a feature long after 
this game, and so little had the play de- 
veloped that the arm ward-off was con- 
sidered a great innovation at this time. 

Few games were played in 1884. The 
Merion team was organized out of the 
Merion Cricket Club, but it included 
many outsiders. They failed to score 
against the University team, notwith- 
standing the reckless dash of Ed Foster 
and the strong work of J. J. Theobald 
and Bob Gibson. 

So with the Wanderers, a San Fran- 
cisco club, who had a very good half-back 
in Nichelson, a splendid kicker in Pe- 

terson, and a strong addition in Cohen, 
nicknamed "the Prince of Tacklers." 



Inter-Collegiate Foot- Bali on the Pacific Coast. 


They were no match for the Berkeley 

Button's dodging was a feature of these 
games, a trick made possible by the cus- 
tomary high tackling and lack of team 
work. Rothganger also, introduced a 
new play for that time, in getting through 
between the forwards and tackling one 
of the quarter-backs as soon as he had 
the ball. The University boys played 
together better than their opponents, 
and were quite skilfull in their charac- 
teristic play of passing back the ball to 
a running mate when tackled. This 
play was made possible by frequent 
high tackles, often slow and inefficient. 
Blanchard's strength in the rush line of 
the University team and Woolsey's sure 
tackling were prominent features of 
those games. 

In the play with the- Merion Club, Will 
Magee made a touch-down after a " maul 
in goal." With a long run he had carried 
the ball behind the goal line, where he 
was tackled and held, but without touch- 
ing the ball to the ground, as was then 
ruled necessary. His tackier was the 
only man allowed to try to prevent his 

touching the ball down, while the teams 
stood around and watched the 'maul, 
which sometimes lasted as long as 
twenty minutes, in case the men were 
evenly matched ; or, on the contrary, 
when an ordinary half-back got into a 
" maul in goal " with Felton Taylor and 
tried to compel him to make a safety 
touch-down, he has been seen to get up 
and walk out of danger with the tackier 
on his back. 

The winter and spring of '85 were dull 
ones for foot-ball, though a new club 
called the Wasps was organized, which, 
with the Merions, played against the 
University team, and failed to score in 
two games each. The games were played 
on the old University campus, where the 
teams tossed up for the upper side of the 
sloping campus. Frank Hittell was the 
backbone of the Wasp team, whose play- 
ing displayed little but the remarkably 
strong and quick half-back work of their 
leader, on whom they depended. Hittell 
was a natural foot-ball player, he was 
born with a foot-ball in his mouth. 

With the adoption of the inter-colle- 

WII.SOX, I.. K. 


Inter-Collegiate Foot- ti all on the Pacific Coast. 


Photo by James \V. Hutdiinson. 


giate rules on this coast in 1886, a Cali- 
fornia Football League was formed, of 
which the old player, Felton Taylor, was 
president. This league was made up of 
five clubs, some old and some new. 
There was the Reliance Team with Tay- 
lor, captain, the Orion Team of well 
trained Oakland High School boys, with 
Fred McNear, Gamble, and Fred Lang, 
the baseball player, as stars, the Law 
College Team, the University Team 
with valuable additions, and the Wasps 
with Hittell. 

With the change of rules all teams 
had cut down to eleven men, but still 
there were no signals, the quarter-back 
taking the ball on a snap-back and pass- 
ing to whom he chose. The play was 
open, the forward line was scattered, and 

the half-backs standing twenty or thirty 
feet out to each side of the quarter-back 
with the ball. Every play was made 
around the end, the center was passed 
only when a chance opening occurred. 
The business of the rushers was to get 
down the field on a long, low punt, and 
prevent a return, which was a frequent 

The season began in January and 
continued to June, with two series of 
games. The games were played at 
Fourteenth and Center streets, Oak- 
land, where crowds began to gather as 
the contest grew closer. The Wasps 
tried for the championship, but Hittell, 
with his slippery dodging, warding-off, 
impetuous dash, speed, and endurance, 
could not win with poor support against 


Inter-Collegiate Foot Ball on tJie Pacific Coast. 



the more general excellence of the Uni- 
versity team, poorly trained as they 
then proved to be, when the well-trained 
young Orion team taught them what 
good team work, for that period, could 
do against the superior individual play 
of a heavier team. The University, as 
usual, had great confidence and little 
practice, as before depending on match 
games for practice. Their play was 
marked by fumbling and careless pass- 

The Orions, whose team work was 
as good as any ever seen on the Coast 
at that time, had early learned the value 
of pushing the forwards under a punt, 
and dropping on a fumbled ball, a play 
the importance of which Camp and Mc- 
Clung have emphasized. The play of 
the University men needed improve- 
ment, and the right man appeared in 
Shafter Howard, whose experience at 
Harvard enabled him to instruct it in 

the methods of Eastern play. He intro- 
duced the line scrimmage and the high 
punt to enable the forwards to get down 
under the ball. He himself was a prac- 
ticed punter, and used the play with 
effect later in the season ; indeed, the 
play of all the teams was improved by 
the introduction of the new tactics,, 
which they were quick to pick up from 
the University team. Even with the 
line scrimmage, blocking was not under- 
stood and Taylor went through the line 
to spoil Howard's punting. 

The triumphs of the Orions, who had 
defeated the other teams as well as the 
University, only increased the excite- 
ment. The University had not been de- 
feated in four years, and scored against 
only by Hittell's team, until defeated by 
this High School team. 

Taylor, by this time, had worked the 
Reliance Club into excellent condition, 
with such men as Jim Snook for center,. 


Inter-Collegiate Foot- Ball on the Pacific Coast. 


supported by the good, all-round work 
of Charley Downey in a strong rush line, 
and the strong tackling of E. H. Brei- 
denbach as half-back. In March he tied 
the University team, but was defeated 
two weeks later, 10 to o, after consider- 
able training on the part of the Uni- 
versity, in a determined effort to win 
back their prestige, aided by Shafter 
Howard, who really introduced inter- 
collegiate football on the Coast. Taylor 
had to depend on comparatively un- 
trained men, who got down under a punt, 
and rarely risked a pass on a down, which 
was the play of the Orions and the Uni- 

uncertain tackling. Once in the game, 
the Orions managed, by putting three of 
their backs forward, to hold the Uni- 
versity forwards and force a safety. Tur- 
ner, the University half, managed to 
kick a goal from the field in this game, 
the first time it had ever been done on 
this Coast. The struggle was decisive, 
and Berkeley won amid wild enthusiasm. 
Her triumph was not long, however, 
for a month later the University was de- 
feated by the Reliance team, and the 
season closed with the championship 
for the University and Reliance second, 
each having won a game from the other 

i photo by V. A. C, 


versity team. His team was ready for 
a timely kick rather than a quick run, 
thus making the most of his skill with 
the least risk on account of fumbling. 

Great crowds gathered in Oakland to 
see the return match between the Orions 
and the University, though nothing like 
the multitudes that gather since the for- 
mation of the Stanford University team. 

The team work at that time, consist- 
ing mostly of passing back on a down, 
was well practiced. The playing was 
excellent on both sides, but the superior 
weight of the University told against the 
light Orions. Both sides played with 
precision ; there was little fumbling, no 
chance kicking, no wild passing, little 

besides a tied game. The Orions were 
finally defeated after a brief but brilliant 
record. Machine-like system had given 
them advantage over a collection of 
superior individual players. The Wasps 
with Hittell and Groth had defeated 
them by the end of the season, and 
gained third place. Thus ended the 
most enthusiastic foot-ball season ever 
known on this Coast supported entirely 
out of the assessments of the clubs, as 
no admission was charged. The league 
was never revived. 

The year 1886 had its sad story behind 
its gay aspect. In March of that year 
there occurred the tragedy of foot-ball 
history on this coast, and happily the 


Inter-Collegiate froot-Ball on tlie Pacific Coast. 


From photo by 

I. Henry, Jr. 


only one. At a practice game on the 
Berkeley campus Michael E. Woodward 
of the Law College team tackled a Uni- 
versity club player in the old fashion of 
low tackles below the knee, and struck 
his head somewhere between the knee 
and thigh of the runner. He dropped, 
rolled on his back, and never moved 
again, though he was able to talk and 
direct his comrades how to carry him off 
the field to a house in Berkeley, where 
he died three days later. 

With the spring of '87 the Wasps and 
Orions did not appear. Hittell of the 
Wasps and McNear of the Orions joined 
the University team, leaving the Reli- 
ance of Oakland and the University to 
fight for championship honors. Only 
two games were played that year, but 
both were hotly contested. Downey 

and Taylor were prominent on the Re- 
liance team, and Reed came into prom- 
inence as a tackier and punter, aided 
by Gaillard Stoney. In the rush line 
were the old players, Woodhams, 
Blanchard, and Rothganger,with Turner 
and McNear back of the line. This 
combination proved too strong for the 
Reliance, and they were defeated in 
both games. 

The season of '88 opened with bright 
prospects, for four teams appeared to 
dispute the championship. The Volun- 
teers of Oakland took the place of the 
Reliance team to contend with the re- 
vived Wasps, the San Francisco team, 
the University team, and the Law Col- 
lege team. 

The Volunteers were the most for- 
midable rivals of the University, with 


Inter-Collegiate Fool- Ball on the Pacific Coast. 


Nourse, an Amherst player, as captain, 
supported by the now well known end 
slayer, Sherrard, and Howard Conger, 
3Oth of whom were very skilfull tack- 
ers and rushers. 

The University team was ably hand- 
led by C. W. Reed, half-hack, with a 
good support, most of whom were vet- 
erans. M. S Woodhams, in the rush 
line, had played in that position ever 
since the games with the Merions in 
'84; J. H. White and J. H. Hely had 
come to college with reputations in the 
local school league. Hittell of the 

Nourse, whose strength, speed and en- 
durance, and the difficulty of downing 
him, made one of the best halfs that has 
ever played here. His skill in warding 
off was noticeable. He had a peculiar 
way of getting down low with the ball 
when about to be tackled, placing his 
bent arm under a man, and then straight- 
ening up to throw the tackier over. 
Nourse was the man who brought the 
half-backs up near the line, and intro- 
duced on this Coast the play of " buck- 
ing the center " with great effect. He 
was prominent in most of the plays. 

Wash by Solly Walte 


Wasps and McNear of the Orion were 
familiar names ; on the ends Roy Gal- 
lagher makes his first appearance, with 
the late Tom Eichbaum, a very hard 
tackier, on the other. 

Signals began to be used in this 
year, at first very simple ones, how- 
ever. Words, and not combinations of 
numbers, were in vogue, such as " play 
hard," "get down low." It was not 
very difficult to learn the opponents' 
signals in this system, and numbers 
were not substituted till '91. 

The Volunteers had a rare player in 

The grand stand was filled with Oak- 
land sympathizers of the Volunteers. 
Sometimes, when he would make a great 
gain through the center and go down 
under White's tackles, the crowd would 
shout, "Nourse, Nourse!" "What!" 
exclaimed a sympathetic young lady, 
who was viewing the game for the first 
time, "Is he hurt ? Have they got a 
nurse ? Well, they need one !" 

The year's contests resulted in an- 
other championship for the University 
team, which had won two games and 
lost one with the Volunteers. The San 


Inter-Collegiate Foot-Ball on the Pacific Coast. 


Franciscos had not scored in three 
games with the champions. The last 
game between them resulted in a score 
of 36 to o, and foot-ball diedfor two years 
so far as San Francisco was concerned. 
Two years later, in the spring of '91, the 
revived San Francisco team caught Ber- 
keley napping, and played a return 
match, reversing the score. This was 
due in great measure to the excellent 
work of Hittell and Gallagher of the 
Law Department of the University play- 
ing against their former comrades. 
Since the healthful rivalry between the 
two great universities has developed 
greater loyalty and college spirit, it is to 
be hoped that such desertions will never 
happen again. It is only right that 
Sherrard and his comrades should use 
any good players they can persuade to 
enter the contest, and the fault lies with 
the recreant collegians. 

Early in '89, the San Franciscos pre- 
pared to play the Volunteers and the 
University team, but the Volunteers got 
new suits and changed their name to the 
Posens, whereupon the San Francisco 
team refused to play with them to help 
advertise their backer, the actor, Samuel 
Curtis. The Posens made it a sine qua 
non, and the San Franciscos withdrew, 
and left the Posens to the mercies of 
the University team in a series of three 
games, in which the Posens made but 
one touch-down. 

In this series of games, Nourse and 
Conger maintained their reputations as 
dashing players with poor support. Gal- 
lagher and McNear showed their pre- 
vious training, and the former proved 
himself an excellent half-back. Hittell 
worked well for the University, and 
White and Frick were excellent low and 
hard tacklers. 

For some reason the season of 1890 
witnessed an apparent dying out of in- 
terest in football, unless we consider a 
few matches between the classes at 
Berkeley or among the teams from pre- 
paratory schools. The signal triumphs 

which the University had enjoyed in '88 
and '89, perhaps, discouraged the for- 
mation of teams. At any rate, foot-ball 
had not fallen so low since its begin- 
ning, in '82. 

The spring of '91 found Berkeley 
asleep, so far as foot-ball is concerned. 
Many good players refused to play again 
or were laid up in practice games, when 
a challenge came from the re-organized 
San Franciscos to play for the best two 
out of three. One game was played, 
with the result already spoken of, 36 o, 
against the college boys ; and then the 
San Franciscos disbanded. 

Early ir the season, the Charlestons, 
made up of officers from the cruiser of 
that name, played the San Franciscos 
and defeated them. Many of the Charles- 
tons were old hands at the game, nota- 
bly Catlin, whose half-back work was 
remarkable for its activity in running 
and dodging through a crowd in addition 
to good tackling. 

The San Franciscos played some hard 
games with the soldiers of the San Fran- 
cisco Presidio, and were in good shape 
to do up the weakened team from Berke- 
ley, in spite of the hard work of the old 
veteran, J. H. White, who had played 
for five years on the college team, the 
tackling of Eichbaum, and the support 
of the promising novices, Foulks, Tay- 
lor, and Hunt. Hunt broke his ankle 
early in the game, and with him retired 
the hopes of the Berkeley boys. 

The spring of '92 marks an era in 
foot-ball history ; for the Berkeley team 
now had another college team to play 
against, and their rivalry promoted the 
popularity of the game greatly. The 
Berkeley team improved their play and 
opposed a strong team to the Olympics, 
a re-organization of the old San Fran- 
ciscos who had defeated them the year 
before. The team work of the Univer- 
sity consisted in great part of line wedg- 
es, and a few end runs by Hunt with a 
slight showing of interference, which 
was yet to be developed. Hittell and 


I uter-Collegiate Foot Ball on the Pacific Coast. 


Tobin made beautiful runs, and the 
tackling of Sherrard and Henry were 
features of the game, score 6 o in fav- 
or of the Olympics who defeated Stan- 
ford in the same season. Matters stood 
thus when the great contest between 
the two universities took place in the 
spring of '92, when the heavy rush line 
of the Berkeley team was opposed to the 
fast runners of the Stanford men, with 
the result of a score of 1410, in favor 
of Stanford, after a close contest be- 
tween slow wedging tactics and rapid 
end running. Code's quarter-back work, 
passing, running, and tackling, and 
Clemans's end running with interfer- 
ence, which first began to show its 

as the Olympics was organized. It is 
safe to say that if his team of football 
veterans had the opportunity for train- 
ing the college teams have, they would 
be an invincible combination, but the 
teams must depend upon individual ex- 
cellence to make up for team work. 

The match between the Stanford team 
and the Olympics was unsatisfactory, 
resulting in a tie, both sides claiming 
superiority. It is remarkable how Sher- 
rard's team holds down the university 
elevens, and displays skill in doubk 
passes and some good team interfei 
ence, despite a lack of team practice. 

Under the cool-headed Code the Stan- 
ford team played their usual running 

Photo by James W. Hutchinson. 

possibilities, were noticeable. Henry's 
work stopped any gains on his end, and 
Hunt's fierce tackling and endurance 
were remarkable. 

The fall of '92 witnessed a new sea- 
son between the two universities, and 
the Olympic Cl.ub, the time of playing 
being changed to suit the college stu- 

A series of games was played by the 
University of California with the Olym- 
pic team, resulting in a victory for Berk- 
eley after a very close contest. 

Captain Sherrard of that team de- 
lights his friends by his sure and hard 
tackling on the end. It is also due to 
him that such a remarkably good team 

game, but Taylor and Wilcox, of the 
Olympics, were great ground gainers as 
well. Pugh as quarter was quick and 
sure, and his tackling good. 

The fall game excited even greater in- 
terest than the previous game, owing 
to the careful training of both teams 
under the great Eastern players and 
coaches, Camp and McClung. Never 
before had a training table been estab- 
lished for any team. Stanford's praise- 
worthy efforts established a training 
table, and secured the greatest coach of 
the United States for two weeks' train- 
ing. The University of California men, 
likewise, were hard at work as soon as 
college opened, to get into condition, 


Inter-Collegiate Foot-Ball on the Pacific Coast. 


under the training of Walter Magee. 
They went to the training table under 
the instruction of the great half-back, 
McClung. Managers Champlin and 
Brann, though they receive little notice, 
spared no pains to give their teams every 
facility to get into condition. They 
worked as no managers ever have worked 
before, with the result that after unpre- 
cedented outlay the teams have cleared 
expenses, with a little to spare, in spite 
of the gate-keepers' sleight-of-hand or the 
poor interference of a mysterious miss- 
ing picket that admitted about 2000 peo- 
ple unaccounted for. In this respect it 
resembled the first game of foot-ball in 
New York, told about by Camp, where 
there were four hundred people present 
and three hundred of those got through 
a hole in the fence. 

The last match game at Haight Street 
grounds was witnessed by the largest 
crowd that ever attended a foot-ball 
match here. Experts place the attend- 
ance at from 9000 to 10,000 people, ev- 
ery one of whom wore the cardinal, or 
the old familiar blue and gold. 

The game was played like the previ- 
ous one under satisfactory decisions. 
This time the experts Camp and Mc- 
Clung acted as officials. The kick-off 
was chosen by the Berkeley team, and 
breathless silence was preserved by the 
great throng when the wedge of Berk- 
eley formed to begin the play with a 
gain of fifteen yards. The game was 
started and played through with busi- 
ness-like regularity, and no protesting 
against decisions, which has been a 
weary feature ot other games for many 
years. The play was slower than was 
expected after the incessant urging of 
the coaches in training. It developed 
no new characteristics in either team 
over the previous year except a develop- 
j ment of interference, which was more 
evident on the Stanford side because of 
the pretty criss-crosses of Clemans and 
Walton, who were kept busy. 

The first kick-off of the Stanford 
VOL. xxi 10. 

team excited much interest. It was the 
first play of the Delland flying-wedge 
ever seen here, and gained twenty yards 
for them. 

Berkeley again depended on her pow- 
erful rush line to repeat wedge plays 
which were not very successful, until 
her superior endurance showed in the 
second half. The Berkeley men had 
little opportunity to display their inter- 
ference, which was not as good as Stan- 
ford's, though Oscar Taylor's long run 
was well protected. The features of 
the Berkeley play were the wedges, 
Hunt's irresistible rushes through the 
line, and Henry's swift end work in get- 
ting down the field on a punt, which he 
combined with tackling that was rivaled 
only by Hunt and Foulks on the Berk- 
eley side. 

Benson was cool and sure, and quick 
as a cat, in saving the ball on a fumble 
by his team. Code, of Stanford, served 
his team in the same way, for both teams 
fumbled. He had the same faculty of 
being omnipresent, which, combined 
with heavy tackling, made his reputa- 
tion in the spring games. Wilson showed 
himself a sharp, quick player, a strong 
end and a hard tackier. Cochran's 
tackling was low and hard. Oscar Tay- 
lor of Berkeley had no rival as a punter, 
the Stanford team having lost Jones by 
a badly sprained ankle. It was the 
question of the spectators why the 
Berkeley team did not punt more on a 
third down. 

It is a fault of all this Coast playing 
that the teams are afraid to punt, and 
do not practice it even on a third down. 
Tobin of the Olympics is the best ex- 
ponent of this play. 

Clemans elicited the usual admiration 
for his dashing end runs, in spite of the 
fact that he was laid off with an injury 
for some time, and could not receive all 
the benefits of Camp's instruction, and 
no time was allowed the team to block 
for his peculiar style of running. His 
tackling had lost none of its former vim. 


Inter-Collegiate Foot- Ball on the Pacific Coast. 


Hunt was a marvel of endurance at 
continual bucking the center, which he 
did well with able support, playing as 
fiercely up to the last moment, when 
the continual strain of the advancing 
wedge was wearing out the Stanford 

A tie game with two teams of such 
entirely different abilities is a curious 
decision of fortune to make the Yale 
coaches go back contented. After a 
review, it seems that either team ought 
to have won with better strategy. 
Berkeley has no excuse for neglecting 
the cool punting of Taylor, supported 
by Henry's swift end play. Stanford is 
regretting the failure to use some re- 
serve tricks, which they consider would 
have won the game for them, and the 
silver foot-ball awaits a winner, at the 
University Club of San Francisco. 

Two urchins who must have reached 
the game on account of the missing 
picket, were heard to criticise it fairly : 

First urchin (with a cardinal ribbon). 
Say, Jimmy, Stanford played all 'round 

Second urchin (with a blue and gold 
flag). Yes, Billie, and Berkeley went 
right t'roo der center. 

As it is, the season's games have re- 
sulted in a tie between the universities, 
and between the Olympics and Stan- 
fords ; and the series between the old 
rivals, the Olympics, and University of 
California, resulted in the University's 
winning two out of three games. 

Foot-ball was started in Los Angeles 
in 1888 by the formation of the Alliance 
Team, through the efforts of W. L. 
Stewart, J. Pitblado, and a few others. 
The first game played was with a team 
of Englishmen from San Pedro, who 
were badly defeated. The rest of the 
season was made up of games with the 
team from the University of Southern 
California, which proved superior to the 
Alliance Team that season, and also in 
the seasons of '89 and '90, the Alliance 
once tying the score. 

Southern California has been given an 
exhibition of the real game by Stan- 
ford's team, which defeated the Los An- 
geles Athletic Club's eleven 72 to o, and 
the Chaffey College team 68 to o. The 
Los Angeles team were heavy men, 
but the game has progressed beyond 
the individual play, and nothing could 
be done against the well-trained inter- 
ference and endurance of the Palo Alto 
boys with Harrelson's quick half back 

Foot-ball was inaugurated in the north 
by a game on Thanksgiving Day, '90, 
with a club of Englishmen, Scotchmen,, 
and a few Americans, calling themselves 
the Portland Foot-Ball, Cricket, and 
Athletic Club, which were defeated by 
the Bishop Scott Academy, in spite of* 
the good work of Lipman, the quarter- 
back, and Shipley, center, who were sup- 1 ' 
ported by a team unaccustomed to the 
inter-collegiate game. In December,' 
'91, the team played an Astoria team 
under Rugby rules, and the Englishmen 
won with a score of 10 to o. 

From this club 
resulted thepres- 
ent Multnomah 
Amateur A t h- 
letic Club,found- 
ed in February, 

The following fall J. R. Savage, a very 
powerful veteran from the University of 
Pennsylvania,coachedateam which met 
the Academy boys and deafeated them, 
after which they defeated a Tacoma 
team in Portland 36 to o. Captain Savage 
was supported by two of the best half- 
backs ever seen in the Northwest, Mark 
Brooke and W. L. Kendall, backing aj 
line in which there were many veterans. 
Glisan, L. G., and Garin, L. T., were 
Yale men, Greene, R. E., a Harvard 
man, and Montgomery, R. T., a Trinity 
man, who did not play in the second- 
game. The others had had no training 
in college teams. 
The Multnomah team of '92 was re- 

1893. J 

Inter-Collegiate Foot-Ball on the Pacific Coast. 


organized and captained by Railey, an 
Amherst man, with six of the old men. 
They had lost Kendall and Brooke, but 
their captain was a very great addition. 

A game with the Pacific University 
of Forest Grove resulted in another vic- 
tory for Portland, 16 to 6. This team 
was substantially the same that played 
in the greatest game of the Northwest 
on January 2, '93, when the Multnomah 
team of Portland went to Seattle to 
play the team there. 

The field was very muddy, and run- 
ning was quite difficult. The game 
would have been surprising for its devel- 
opment of the latest tricks, were it not 
known that the Portland team had many 
men who had learned the game in East- 
ern colleges. The Multnomah team was 
a reorganization of the '91 team, cap- 
tained by Railey, an Amherst man. The 
Seattles had a heavier team, but were not 
coached so well. 

The Portland team's most effective 
plays were the revolving wedge, and 
her mass plays, while Seattle's individual 
work, Church's center work, Atkinson's 
punting, and Folsom's running, were 
brilliant. The game ended in a draw, 
neither side scoring. 

The Eastern coaches have come and 
gone ; they have treated us very fairly, 
pointing out our strength and our weak- 
ness. They have taught us what they 
could in a fortnight, but the fact remains 
that we have the whole game before us, 
for they found it necessary to lay the 
foundations of the game, as developed 
in the East, and were left little time to 
train team plays. The chief value of the 
instruction received has been to teach 
us how little we know about the game, 
which has cultivated a desire to improve 
until we reach the Eastern standard ; a 
possibility more attainable since the pre- 
paratory schools of the Coast have caught 
the fever, and will cultivate the raw ma- 
terial to be fully developed later at the 

The rules need revision. Princeton has 
pointed out a defect in the present rules 
which it would be well to consider. In 
case the defensive team make an offside 
play just previous to a gain of fifteen 
yards by their opponents, the present 
rules require that the ball be brought 
back and five yards measured off for the 
offensive team from the place where the 
offside play was made, a clear loss of 
ten yards by the offensive team through 
no fault of its own. 

One of our own old foot-ball players 
makes another suggestion which is wor- 
thy of thoughtful consideration. J. H. 
White suggests that a change be made 
in the system of counting for a goal 
kicked. The present development of 
the game is all towards team play, and 
still the two points of a successful kick 
are made by two men, working but few 
moments, whereas only twice that num- 
ber of points are made by more than 
five times that number of men, working 
an indefinite period ; rarely, however, as 
short a period as it takes to kick a goal. 
The desire is that the score represent 
the comparative merits of the team, 
which will hardly be done unless the 
points made be in proper ratio to the 
number of men engaged in the two plays. 
A change in the counting for a touch- 
down should be made which would more 
closely approach the ratio of n to 2, 
as for instance, counting a touch-down 
five and a goal one. A goal, kicked from 
the field, might be left as it is on account 
of its difficulty. There is no reason for 
holding to the old system except prece- 
dent, and the reasons for that precedent 
have changed with the evolution of the 
old fifteen into a team unit of eleven. 

Hereafter, it will be quality of games, 
not quantity, for the game has passed 
into the hands of experts and veterans. 
No longer can it be considered a Sat- 
urday afternoon pastime for bank clerks 
to go out and rub the college boys in the 

Phil Weaver. Jr. 


Silent Partners. 




THE Black Tangle was not a spot to 
charm the eye, or, for that matter, any 
other sense. Nature did what she could, 
with foliage upon trees and underbrush, 
and with vines and creepers, festooning 
unsightly dead trunks, and screening 
dark, stagnant pools to cover the na- 
ked hideousness of the swamp ; but it 
still remained a black, dismal expanse, 
over which a ragged mist always hung. 
It was dense, foul, and treacherous. 
The place, too, had its secrets, both 
base and pathetic, relating to human 
life, and revolting human sentiment, as 
the spot itself revolted the senses. 

It was in a sort of angle of this swamp 
that the old Ellerton plantation stood, 
quite by itself. The soil was very rich, 
and the stately house, with its orderly 
row of whitewashed slave cabins, had 
been placed as little within the baleful 
influences of their dismal neighbor as 
the limits of the plantation permitted. 
Mistress Judith Barnaby had spent her 
life on the place, keeping a sharp eye 
upon her property and its interests ; but 
the last ten years of her life she had 
been an invalid, with no end of aches 
and pains, and after her the house was 
left vacant, and allowed to go out of 

It happened in this way. Mistress 
Barnaby's heir was her cousin, Mr. Jo- 
siah Wapham. That gentleman, on his 
way to inspect and take possession of 
the property, was set down at Burkville 
in fine spirits, greatly pleased with his 
new turn of fortune. In a short time 
his queer figure with its round head, 
set closely upon a body that was like- 
wise almost spherical, and mounted 

upon a pair of short, round legs, so fat 
that their action was a little stiffened at 
the knees was bustling about the vil- 
lage, in search of a carriage to continue 
his journey. Here he met the young 
Burkville doctor, who had brought a, 
great deal of new-fangled wisdom to the 
town with him, and who happened to 
express to Mr. Wapham his opinion that 
Mistress Barnaby's death, and all her 
long aches and pains, were due to her 
residence so near the Black Tangle. 
Of the Black Tangle Mr. Wapham had 
as yet no very clear idea, but the young 
doctor's remark was a slight shock upon 
the blithe spirits of the heir. 

The road from Burkville, passing at 
first within view of thrifty plantations, 
with their fine houses, perhaps, almost 
concealed among oak and magnolia 
trees, or bright with the glory of count- 
less flowering plants, restored Mr. Wap- 
ham's spirits from their sight depres- 
sion. But after a time the road forked. 
Neither fork was much traveled. Eithe 
might be taken to reach the Ellertc 
place, and the two were much alike 
One was a little longer, and was grace 
by the presence of a negro buryir 
ground, and the other was not so goc 
a road. 

Mr. Wapham went by the shorte 
road. The scene became less charming 
plantations were fewer and more of the 
landscape was in a state of nature, the 
road at times passing among scattered 
trees with barren looking hrlls on the 
east; sometimes over vacant, lonely, 
monotonous tracts with almost nothing 
to arrest or please the eye. Near the 
end ot the journey the Black Tangle 
rose upon Mr. Wapham's vision, and the 
road kept near to that dreary scene, so 


Silent Partners. 


that the traveler had opportunity to 
| gather in all its charms. His spirit sank 
steadily as a stone might sink in that 
slimy ooze beside 'him. He felt at once 
that he had no taste for the weird in na- 
ture ; no ear for the music of owls and 
frogs: his disposition shrank from the 
damp, misty atmosphere, and the pecu- 
liar odors of that region. 

When with some uneasiness he had 
forded the slow waters of Snake Creek, 
and found himself within a short dis- 
tance called upon to venture into the 
broader waters of Long Creek, his 
thoughts had already gone back, hover- 
ing about Burkville and a possible place 
in the neighborhood of that village to 
establish his residence. He was already 
a firm believer in the ideas of the young 
Burkville doctor about Mistress Barnaby 
and her fate, and anxious that his ro- 
tundities might escape the like miseries. 

There was, of course, a good road to 
the Ellerton plantation, if one were al- 
ways content to approach it from Mark- 
ham. Markham was well enough as a 
shipping station, but it was nothing 
more than that. Besides, if the road 
difficulty could be arranged, there was 
still the Black Tangle with all its pecu- 
liarities, and there it was likely to re- 

So Mr. Josiah Wapham used part of 
the wealth that had now fallen to him 
to buy another plantation more to his 
mind among those beautiful homes in 
the neighborhood of Burkville, and the 
Ellerton Place with its twenty or thirty 
negroes, he placed in charge of an over- 

When Mr. Wapham made this ar- 
rangement he intended to inspect the 
old place often, and look carefully to its 
interests : his visits were at first very fre- 
quent, but they fell off rapidly after the 
novelty wore away. For one reason, he 
felt less and less inclined to travel that 
bad and dreary stretch of road between 
his two plantations. Another reason 
was that the overseer he had employed 

for the Ellerton Place proved to be a 
good manager, at least, matters al- 
ways appeared to be in fine shape, and 
returns quite as good as could be ex- 
pected. Again, Mr. Wapham gradually 
settled down to the enjoyment of his 
wealth with a disposition to shirk its 
cares ; he became too indolent, too fond 
of his ease and comfort, to make the 
trip unless there was some pressing rea- 
son for it. 

For all this, as may soon appear, the 
owner of these two plantations was in 
a certain sense an iron man. Among 
his own negroes his will was obeyed in 
respectful silence, no matter how un- 
reasonable it might be, and he delight- 
ed to be unreasonable, as old Aunt 
Venus, the cook, could find a torrent of 
words to show. To be sure, Tad, the 
stable boy, took some liberties, but it 
was his nature, and nobody ever had 
quite curbed him. He had a merry, 
good-na!ured way, that disarmed anger 
and compelled good-will. He was a 
"likely little nigger," apt and useful as 
well as mischievous. But if " Marse Si " 
was thoroughly roused and set, even 
Tad had to bend like the rest, or be 
broken. Nor would that gentleman spare 
even himself when his excitable nature 
was stirred up, or a set purpose was 
strong upon him ; then his indolence 
left him, then his love of ease was for- 
gotten, and his actions were as reckless 
as the spring of a tiger. When " Marse 
Si " sharply gave as a reason, " Because 
I 'm a min' ter," or, " Because I ain't a 
min'ter," that was the reason that com- 
manded the most profound respect un- 
der his rule, and everybody was on the 
lookout for something stirring. In such 
moods he seemed to be tireless ; his 
round head and fiery, evil eyes seemed 
to be peering everywhere. 

It is an old story that nowhere will 
the master's mind be exactly carried out 
without the presence of the master's 
eye. It proved so to some extent at the 
Ellerton plantation. Changes came 


Silent Partners. 


slowly, but they came. The. overseer 
was a cautious man, but left so much to 
himself and in a situation so out of the 
world, he did some things that could 
never have received Mr. Josiah Wap- 
ham's approval. For instance, twice a 
year, if the work of the plantation had 
been well carried forward, the overseer 
fell into the way of allowing the negroes 
under him to have a dance at night in 
the vacant house, and on these occa- 
sions he absented himself from the scene 
and left the hands to have things their 
own way. Mr. Wapham's idea was that 
" niggers should be worked 'nough by 
day so they 'd want'er sleep come night, 
an' dancin' an that sort'er thing spoilt 

There was another matter, too, which 
the overseer had no hand in. Of course 
the Black Tangle, dismal as it was, was 
sometimes the retreat of runaway slaves. 
There they could lie hid as long as they 
could obtain food. The hands on the 
Ellerton Place, left with little over- 
sight at night, were often able to sup- 
ply food and other necessaries to blacks 
that were hiding in the swamp, and 
the fact was soon known among slaves 
far and near. This on the property 
of Mr. Josiah Wapham, to whom an 
act of aid and comfort to a runaway 
nigger was more infamous than a breach 
of the whole moral law ! The secret 
was well kept, but secrets like every- 
thing else grow weaker as they grow 


IN the course of time Mr. Josiah Wap- 
ham formed in his mind a purpose to 
add another horse to those already in 
his stable, and set out one day to inspect 
an animal that was offered for sale at 
the Merton plantation. On this trip 
Tad rode a bay horse behind his mas- 
ter's carriage. It might be seen at a 
glance something of what Tad was. To 
begin with, he was dressed in a smart 
blue suit with bright brass buttons on 

his jacket, and upon his head he wore a 
little round cap with a visor. These 
things and his sleek, well-fed appearance 
bespoke either the master's pride in the 
boy, or his favor, or both. For the rest, 
there was a soft, merry lurking gleam 
in the boy's eyes ; it was always there, 
sometimes subdued and quiet, but upon 
slight occasion intensified, and dancing 
with spirit. His lips too, even in repose, 
adjusted themselves so that they hinted 
at merriment, or perhaps it was mis 
chief ; they were at their soberest i 
what might be called a sort of " un 
stable equilibrium." 

At the Merton place, Uncle Luke, 
slow, stooping, gray-headed negro, led 
from the stable the horse to be in 
spected, tied the halter through a ring 
in the door-post, and retired to the old 
red pump for a drink, while his maste 
talked up the good points of the horse 
to Mr. Wapham. Tad wanted water, 
too, after his ride in the heat and the 
dust ; he dismounted and joined Uncle 
Luke at the pump. 

" Dat a good boss ? " asked Tad, jerk- 
ing his thumb over his shoulder towards 
the group at the stable : his tone was 
low, as if inviting a confidence. 

" Yaas," drawled Uncle Luke slowly, 
as he took the drinking cup from his 
mouth, and looked off under his eye- 
brows towards the horizon, "good 
hoss." The last words were spoken 
with a rising inflection. 

Tad looked at the old man curiously. 
" Got no tricks, nor nawt'n ? " 

"Naw, not to say tricks," answered 
Uncle Luke in the same manner as 

Then he turned his eyes slowly, and 
saw the boy's face full of question 
marks. " Good hoss, but yo' wanter 
know how ter han'le 'im, boy. Yo' 
cayn't put no whip onter 'im. Mighty 
fine saddle hoss, too. But I don' nebber 
wanter ride behind dat hoss, n'r be on 
his back, when er whip teches 'im ; no, 
sah ! " 


Silent Partners. 


" What yo' reckon he gwineter do? " 

.Uncle Luke snorted a little. " I 
reckon his heels gwineter go up, an' his 
head gwineter go down, an' dey gwineter 
keep a gwine up an' a gwine down, an' 
he ainter gwineter wait fur yo' to git 
fixed fur it, an' no mo' he ainter gwineter 
stop it on 'count er perliteness." 

Merton was just saying to Wapham : 
"He's as kind and stiddy a horse as I 
ever drove, and he goes right along ; 
but he won't bear the whip. That 's all 
yo' got to look out for." 

Uncle Luke heard the words. He 
was an important personage in his own 
eyes, and in that tender spot it touched 
him to have his communication so free- 
ly published, as if anybody could have 
told as much as that. An air of being 
able to tell more than anybody else 
when he set out to bestow a confidence 
came over him. 

"Dar's anodder little ting," he said, 
in a moment or two, " but I reckon 
't ain't much 'count. Yer cay n't git ole 
Rock inter water, n'r trough water, no 
way. I don't reckon Marse Merton 
knows dat hisself. Dis child found it 
out sorter permiscuous like ; but it am a 
fac'. Mighty little need to git a hoss 
inter water, no how." 

The horse was a bay, a very good 
mate for old Pete, the horse Tad had 
ridden, and this was what Mr. Josiah 
Wapham wanted. The difference in the 
appearance of the two horses was very 
slight, except that there was a white 
spot on Rock's face. 

Yet Mr. Wapham rode away as he 
had come, that is to say, with Tad 
riding behind him on Old Pete, and 
without the horse he had been inspect- 
ing. Of course, he knew his own bus- 
iness. Perhaps he intended to buy the 
horse later ; perhaps, for some reason, 
the horse did not suit him ; perhaps that 
disposition in the animal to resent the 
whip was too trying to Mr Wapham's 
masterful spirit. He was not always a 
harsh master, but the whip he was ac- 

customed to use when he was " a min' 
ter, " and he expected it to be submitted 
to gracefully until his mind changed. 
Perhaps he deferred buying the new 
horse until he could make careful trial 
of the animal's speed and other points. 
At any rate, an opportunity to do this 
soon offered. 


AT the Ellerton Place the 'spring 
planting was all done, and the grand 
semi-annual " break-down " for the 
hands was^to take place in the spacious 
old house. Word had been secretly con- 
veyed to the hands on Mr. Wapham's 
home place, and after dark all of them 
that could be absent without risk of be- 
ing missed the field hands, chiefly 
were to steal away and be in at the 
merrymaking. This they always did ; 
they were careful to return before day- 
light ; their trip at night, over an unfre- 
quented road, involved no great risk ; 
and there was zest enough in the occa- 
sion to tempt them to the long tramp 
and the sleepless night. 

Nothing whatever could be done at 
the old house in the way of preparation 
for the merry occasion, until the near 
approach of evening made it reasonably 
certain that " Marse Si " would not come 
upon the scene. 

As soon it was dark, lights began to 
flash from its usually mournful and for- 
saken-looking windows ; the tramp of 
heavy, clumsy footsteps was to be heard, 
hastening through its deserted rooms 
and halls, and a loud babel of coarse 
voices, eager, excited, and happy, made 
its old walls ring. The preparations 
were few and simple ; to sweep the floors, 
to arrange a place for the fiddler, and a 
few rude seats for an occasional rest, and 
to put up decorations, here and there, of 
green boughs, bouquets, and wreaths. 

Among the merrymakers there were 
some strange faces, some that wore 
amid the gayety an uneasy, sad expres- 
sion. These were inhabitants of the 


Silent Partners. 


Black Tangle, seizing this occasion of 
seeming safety to mingle with their 
kind, and to get once more a touch of 
light and life, so rare to their hard lot. 
Of these, Merton's Clorindy was one, a 
small mulatto girl of very spare figure, 
whose hollow features, large, staring, va- 
cant eyes, and painful expression of woe 
were almost enough to give an air of 
mockery to the merriment around her. 

At Mr. Wapham's home place, before 
the evening was far advanced, Tad, who 
stood leaning upon the gatepost, heard 
the sound of horses' hoofs approaching, 
and in a few minutes was able to recog- 
nize the stooping, bony figure of the 
rider : it was old Uncle Luke. 

" Marse Wapham done bought dis 
hoss ? " asked Tad, as he noticed, by the 
aid of the starlight, a white spot in the 
animal's forehead. 

"Some'n a heap bigger 'n de hoss 
business ternight, boy," Uncle Luke an- 
swered in a quavering whisper. He dis- 
mounted and placed his lips near Tad's 
ear ; he was trembling and excited. 
"Tings gwineter be shuck up mighty 
lively on dis yeah plantation onless dis 
chile am a yearlin' ! " 

" Yo' ain't fetched 'long no eart 'quake 
'bout yo' clothes ? " inquired Tad pertly. 

" It mought be an eart 'quake an' den 
agin it mought n't ; I ainter sayin' what 
it am, but I does say tings gwineter be 
shuck up ; yo' heah me a' tarkin', boy ! " 

His trembling hand was tugging at 
his ragged coat pocket as he spoke, and 
at last came out with a letter, which he 
shook menacingly at Tad. 

" Yo' see dis yeah ? " 

" Fo' Marse Si ? " enquired Tad. 

Uncle Luke could contain himself no 
longer ; he moved nearer to Tad again 
and dropped his voice still lower ; at the 
same time his huge, misshapen hand 
came up with an earnest gesture. 

"Yo' know our yeller gal, Clorindy, 
done run away las' week ? " he gasped 
out. " Reckon Marse Merton got he 
heart sot ter kill dat gal, an' dar war n't 

no peace ob her life. I nebber see any- 
ting like de way he kep' a-floggin' her 
des' fur not'n 't all. Wall, in co'se, she 
am in de Black Tangle, and Marse Mer- 
ton he 'spicions dat. Den what should 
Clorindy's mammy do but tek sick an' 
go crazy ober it terday, a-hollerin' ter 
Clorindy ter get inter de Black Tangle 
an' keep herself hid away, an' a-tellin' 
her agin an' agin dat she can git viddles 
fum de Ellerton niggahs, an' a-sayin' it 
all right afore Marse Merton, 'r Missus, 
'r any on 'em. 

"Den ternight out comes Marse Mer- 
ton, an' he says, ' Uncle Luke, put de 
saddle on Rock an' hab him ready fur 
me -in 'bout five minutes.' I seed Marse 
war kin'r stirred up, an' I got dat hoss 
out in partickler haste. Den comes 
Marse Merton, an' says, 'Heah, Uncle 
Luke, git ohter ole Rock an' tek dis let- 
tah to Mr. Josiah Wapham. I was 
gwineter see him, but I cayn't go ter- 

" Now what yo' reckon gwineter be in 
dat lettah, boy ? an' what yo' reckon yo' 
Marse gwineter do when he see it. 

Tad was dumb ; he stood immovable, 
watching the slow-moving form of the 
old man as it faded into the darkness on 
the path toward the house. He heard 
the door of the house open and shut ; in 
a very short time he heard it open again 
and Marse Si Wapham's voice pitchec 
in a high key and stammering with fury. 

" Heah, tell Tad ter saddle ole Pete an' 
have him ter the gate fur me quicker'i 
lightnin' ! " The order was given to Un- 
cle Luke. 

Tad felt himself grown suddenly weal 
at the words, and leaned heavily against 
the gate muttering hoarsely, "Lawdy, 
he cayn't be agoin' ter de Ellerton Place 
tonight ! Lawdy ! Lawdy ! De ober- 
seer am away, an' dar 's de dance, an' 
dar 's de fiel' hands dar, an' dar's Cl( 
rindy wid de res' of 'em, and mebt 
dar's one er two mo' dat orter keep dar- 
selfs outer sight. Lawdy ! Lawdy 
Lawdy! " 


Silent Partners. 


In a few minutes Uncle Luke took 
form once more out of the darkness and 
came up with the order for old Pete. 

Tad hurried to the stable, Uncle Luke 
going with him to help, for in this mood 
Mr. Josiah Wapham was not to be tri- 
fled with. The two negroes were too 
much hurried and frightened to talk. 
Aided by the feeble light of the lan- 
tern they moved nervously about the 
stable, and in spite of much awkward 
fumbling and blundering the horse was 
led out towards the hitching post at the 
gate before Mr. Wapham appeared. 

Rock had been tied at the post near- 
est the gate, and it was now necessary 
to lead him away and hitch old Pete 
there for the greater convenience of 
"Marse Wapham." As Tad proceeded 
to do this, he heard the front door of 
the house open, and saw a stream of 
light flood a small section of the dark- 
ness among the trees ; then he heard 
his mistress's voice pleading : 

" Why must yo' go ternight, Si ? Yo' 
know what the roads is, an' thar 's the 
creeks to cross. Why not wait till 
mawnin' ? " 

He heard, too, his master's reply, 
pitched in that high key of wrath. 

" I 'm agoin' ternight 'cause I 'm a 
min'tergo ternight, an' I can 't wait till 
mawnin' 'cause I ain'ter min'ter wait till 
mawnin'. Yo' jest go ter bed, an' I '11 
min' my own business ! " 

If the two listening negroes had had 
the least doubt before of what was on 
foot, this reference by the mistress to 
the character of the roads left no further 
chance for it. 

At that moment Tad was just in the 
act of untying Rock ; without any 
change of manner he changed his pur- 
pose and retied the knot. That done, 
he quietly took Old Pete from Uncle 
Luke's hands, and without a word led 
him to the next post, hardly a rod from 
where Rock stood. Then he walked 
away into the darkness and Uncle Luke 
hobbled off after him. 

Immediately Mr. Josiah Wapham 
rolled rhto sight, stormed through the 
gate, and being in absent mood acci- 
dentally mounted Rock instead of his 
own horse, and so rode briskly away. 

The two darkies stood together, out 
of sight, watching Mr. Wapham's de- 
parture ; Tad with eager interest ; Un- 
cle Luke in a dazed way, his slow brain 
hardly grasping what was going on until 
it was over. He yielded to Tad's eager 
cautions to keep still and keep out of 
sight, without a thought of what they 

As soon as the last faint sound of 
Rock's hoofs had died upon the ear, 
Tad slapped his knee and began to 
laugh ; his laughter increased though 
his prudence kept it from being too bois- 
terous. He gave it vent instead by 
bending himself double ; by lying down 
on the ground and rolling ; by rising 
and bunting his kinky black head against 
the fence, and by every other antic that 
his rollicking nature suggested to him. 

"G'long wid yo', boy," said Uncle 
Luke severely, when he found a chance 
to make himself heard, " what yo' foun' 
to larf at ? In cose it 's a heap o' fun to 
send Rock away an' make an ole nigger 
like me walk home ! " 

Tad's convulsions increased again. 
Uncle Luke's temper rose. " Yo' good 
fur notin' little black niggah," said he, 
savagely, shaking his gray head and 
spreading his distorted hands by way of 
gesture, "is yo' larfin' to tink what 
Marse Wapham gwine ter cotch at de 
plantation, an' all de shucking up dat 's 
gwine ter come ob it ?" 

Tad was still unmoved to reply, or to 
cease his merriment, and Uncle Luke 
stooped stiffly, picked up a good, stout 
stick, and approached the boy as if he 
meant to apply it. 

This move had a sobering effect, 
though Tad easily ducked away from 
the stick and was too frisky and spry to 
be in much risk of a blow from it in old 
Uncle Luke's hands. 


Silent Partners. 


" Marse Wapham say he! he ! Marse 
Wapham say he go ternight 'ca"use he 
min' ter git dar ternight ! " Tad stag- 
gered and fell to the ground again with 
laughter. Uncle Luke's stick came up, 
threateningly, and the boy added, try- 
ing to look very grave, " Marse Wap- 
ham gwine ter change he mind, des' dis 

" What he gwine to do dat fo' ?" de- 
manded Uncle Luke. 

" Des ter save de seed, I reckon ; dat 
kinder seed am skerse on de planta- 
tion. " 

Uncle Luke's stick came down to 
within a fraction of an inch of the boy's 
head, and the boy hastily dodged and 
scrambled to his feet again. 

"Marse Wapham ainter change he 
mind," said Uncle Luke severely. 

" Den mebbe he ride Rock to Snake 
Creek an' ter Long Creek, an' den git 
off an' wade, an' tote de hoss ober ! 
Reckon he feelin' des about perlite 
'nough fur dat ternight ! " It would have 
been worth while to have seen the gleam 
in Tad's eyes as he said this. 

Uncle Luke looked at the ground, 
while ideas slowly arranged themselves 
in his mind. 

"Sho" 'nough, Marse Wapham gwine 
ter tek notice he ain't on ole Pete when 
he comes ter de creek ! Dat he am. 
He cain't nebber git ter de Ellerton 
Place wid dat hoss ! " Uncle Luke slowly 
shook his head as he spoke, and looked 
gravely at Tad, as if weighing the con- 
sequences of this rashness. 

As for Tad, he again doubled himself 
up with laughter. " Lawdy ! He no bus- 
iness a-cuttin' roun' nights wid de 
bosses. Break he neck sho', an' hab 
eb'ry niggah on de place in de spirit of 
mournin' ! Look lak it would n't tek 
much to roll dat head off'n him, no- 
how." After delivering himself in this 
way the boy had another relapse of mer- 

" Yo' gwine ter larf dat way when 
Marse Wapham finds out 'bout dem 

bosses ? " drawled Uncle Luke, trying 
to put on an air of asking for informa- 

Tad turned a handspring and, putting 
on airs in his turn, came up with an in- 
nocent tone of surprise. 

" What yo' mean 'bout dem bosses ? " 

" Reckon now dat boy want somebody 
to tell him as how Marse Wapham done 
rode off on de wrong hoss !" said Uncle 
Luke, as if speaking to a third person. 

"Marse Wapham done rode off de 
wrong hoss ?" repeated Tad, keeping up 
the pretense of surprise. "Dat '11 neb- 
ber do. Mebbe he mighter be blamin' it 
on ter some po' little niggah ! Reckon 
I bettah tek old Pete, an' go an' cotch 
him, an' fin' out wedder he meant ter do 
it or done it a-puppus ! " 

Upon that Tad coolly mounted old 
Pete, and rode off in the direction his 
master had taken, recklessly trusting to 
Uncle Luke to give an account of the 
affair according to the outlines just mer- 
rily suggested, if need should be. The 
speed of his departure did not indicate 
great haste to overtake Mr. Wapham. 

Perhaps Tad took no great risk in 
this adventure into which he had so 
hastily plunged ; the peculiarity of Rock 
was probably known only to the ne- 
groes, or if otherwise, their knowledge 
of it was a secret, so that no motive 
could appear for purposely making the 
change. Mr. Josiah Wapham might be 
very angry, but he could not suspect 
anything more than a trifling thought- 
lessness in the boy. Tad, too, had a 
gift at explaining away unfortunate 
facts and circumstances, which he had 
learned to consider very useful. But 
be the risk what it might, there was an- 
other side to the affair ; it was the spirit 
of true heroism, under cover of his usual 
recklessness and love of mischief, that 
had induced the boy to attempt the de- 
feat, for once, of his master's imperious 
will. He deliberately interposed him- 
self to avert the awful consequences of 
such discoveries as his master would be 


Silent Partners. 


likely to make by a visit on that partic- 
ular night to the Ellerton Plantation. 
His wits were already working at high 
pressure to devise a way of safety for 


MR. JOSIAH WAPHAM rode on at a 
smart pace, taking the shorter of the 
two roads at the fork. He had not rid- 
den horseback for some years, but at 
night and on such roads that was the 
only method of travel to be thought of. 

His mind was at first altogether taken 
up with revolving schemes of wrath and 
vengeance too awful to detail. As he 
jogged along his heated thoughts' grad- 
ually cooled, and he became conscious 
of his unusual situation. He had no 
light but the stars ; he felt the damp 
air of the night about him ; the dreary, 
lonely road crept into his mood. Every- 
thing around and ahead of him looked 
black and shapeless ; but soon his imagi- 
nation quite too readily provided shapes 
for what appeared. Several times he 
thought he saw a dark form waylaying 
him ; perhaps he did, for several dark' 
figures had started out on that road be- 
fore him. More than once his ear caught 
a sound like horses' hoofs, but the road 
was soft, so that such sounds would be 
faint at best, and when he listened he 
heard nothing but the creaking of a tree 
in the wind, or the dropping of twigs, or 
some other sound of nature. He thought 
about stories of phantom horsemen, and 
felt uneasy. 

In a short time the dark expanse of 
the Black Tangle, with the haze that 
hung over it, became faintly visible, and 
the odor of it began to steal in upon 
him with his breath. He grew rather 
nervous, not really frightened, for 
there was not much of the coward about 
him, to do him justice, but a little 
stirred up by his own imagination. In 
his heated resolve to set out, he had 
given little concern to the journey itself; 
it was upon what was to come after that 

his angry thoughts were fixed. Now he 
would not have been sorry for a chance 
to wait till morning, but he was too 
deeply in love with his own willfulness to 
change his mind. 

The horse had settled down to a walk, 
and at that pace his footfalls were muf- 
fled by the soft soil of the road. Mr. 
Josiah Wapham at this stage of his 
journey seemed better satisfied with this 
noiseless travel, and the horse suffered 
no urging. 

On the left of the road, beyond a 
couple of large oak trees, stood a long 
deserted negro cabin. There had once 
been a rude fence around it, but only 
part of the fence was still standing, and 
even that was nearly ready to topple 
over ; one end of the cabin itself had 
fallen away, and the two little square 
windows looking upon j|he road were 
open entrances to the wind and weather. 
Mr. Wapham, as he passed this cabin, 
detected slight sounds coming from it, 
which did not interpret themselves ; 
his eyes, too, seemed to catch some 
movement within the windows. No 
light was visible. If he had seen a light 
there, or if it had been by day, Mr. 
Wapham would have felt called upon to 
go and learn the meaning of these 
things ; perhaps he telt the call strongly 
enough as it was, but if so he preferred 
to disobey it under the circumstances ; 
in his present state of mind he liked the 
mystery better than the search for an 

A few rods ahead the sky was faintly 
reflected in the broad, sluggish waters 
of Snake Creek. 

As for Tad, he was chiefly concerned 
not to get too near his master. When 
he reached the place where the road 
forked he reined up the horse and hesi- 
tated a few minutes, and then he, too, 
took the shorter fork and went on 
cautiously. As soon as the way was 
clear for it, he turned off the road, to 
the left. After getting some distance 
from it he guided his horse so as to 


Silent Partners. 


keep trees, or bushes, or rising ground 
between himself and any spot Mr. Wap- 
ham's eyes might possibly command. 
Then he urged old Pete to his best 

When Snake Creek came in sight he 
turned towards the road again, advan- 
cing slowly and with great caution. In 
a few minutes he dismounted at the de- 
serted negro cabin, and led his horse 
into it. From the windows he could 
see a short stretch of the road, and on 
ahead, before his eyes, lay the broad 
creek, silent and deserted. He knew to 
a certainty that his master could not 
have passed that point. There was a 
chance that " Marse Si" had gone by 
the other road, and in case he did not 
appear within a reasonable time Tad 
had his plans ready made. So here he 
stood, holdingthe horse's bridle rein and 
waiting for what might happen. 

Of course; Mr. Wapham did appear. 
Tad was a little surprised at the slow 
pace of Rock as his master passed by. 
Old Pete was restive, and it required 
some patting and soothing to keep him 
quiet at the critical moment ; but soon 
Tad's head was out at the window watch- 
ing eagerly for the crossing of Snake 
Creek. Then it was that his eyes rolled, 
and his lips twitched, and his white 
teeth kept obtruding themselves upon 
the dim light of the night. 

The creek was bordered on both sides 
by tall, waving weeds and grass, and by 
frequent clumps of trees and under- 
growth. On the other side the road 
plunged at once among low branching 
trees that deepened the gloom upon the 
water over which they hung. 

The approach to the creek did not at 
all soothe Mr. Wapham's nervous state ; 
the horse went quietly enough to the 
water's edge, but there he stopped short, 
with his forefeet thrown a little for- 
ward. Mr. Wapham began to peer 
around him, and across the water ; he 
had never known Old Pete to act like 
that ! Had the animal seen something 

unusual ? There was no movement any-, 
where except the rustling of foliage and 
grass in the slight breeze that was blow- 
ing. The rider sat motionless upon his 
horse for a time that to Tad in his con- 
cealment seemed almost endless. 

" Go on, Pete ! " The voice was quite 
subdued ; the tone lacked the stiffening 
of a command. The horse did not move. - 

" Go on, Pete ! " This time it was a^ 

The result was the same as before. 
Mr. Wapham's temper was rising again, 
and that temper brooked no opposition. 
He had no whip, but he was equal to 
the occasion. 

" Go on, Pete ! " It was again a com- 
mand, and not only that, but Mr. \Yap- 
ham's boot heels struck into the ani- 
mal's flanks at that moment with fiery 

The next moment Mr. Wapham's tem 
per was cooler, and the horse started, 
but it was upon the back track and 
riderless, while from the middle of the 
creek a puffing and blowing and snort- 
ing greeted Tad's ears that was too 
much for his sense of humor ; he laughed 
outright, though the outburst was 
tempered with due caution. 

" Golly ! Marse Si rolled off dat easy, 
lak he war a. punkin wid two stems ter 
it! He! he! no business on a hoss ; ; 
it teks a little niggah to ride de bosses ! 
Leastwise he orter got hisself tied on ! 
Reckon he git cooled off dis time, sho' ! '' 

Mr. Wapham crawled out of the creek 
and went pattering by on the road, puf- 
fing, blowing, and shouting, " Whoa, 
Pete ! Whoa, Pete ! '' To which request, 
or command, Rock, if he heard it, paid 
no attention. Why should he ? 


AT the Ellerton Place the dance went 
merrily. As soon as the arrangements 
were completed the fiddle began to 
scrape, and it was allowed little rest. 
Care and labor-weariness dropped from 


Silent Partners. 


the dancers under the inspiration of the 

The ball was not a dress affair, but 
the apparel was sufficiently .picturesque 
and motley. The occasion was graced 
by a few bright bits of ribbon, and by 
several grotesque personal decorations. 
Dancers of the male sex were largely in 
the majority. 

It was not far from ten o'clock when 
an outer door of the house opened upon 
the scene and Tad walked hurriedly in. 
The eyes of the dancers followed the 
boy with surprise and curiosity as he 
worked his way among them towards 
the fiddler's stand. In a few moments 
the fiddle stopped suddenly, and the lit- 
tle group that had gathered around Tad 
was swelled by the noisy dancers, as 
they flocked to learn the cause of the 
interruption. Speedily there was a 
change in the assembled company, 
voices dropped to a low tone or an ex- 
cited whisper. There were hurried con- 
sultations, and preparations were at 
once begun to leave the house. Soon 
a little group of four or five separated 
itself from the others ; in this group 
was Merton's Clorindy. These led the 
departure with anxious haste ; once out 
of doors they turned towards the Black 
Tangle, which soon swallowed them up 
in its gloomy depths. For such as they, 
after all, there was the only safe hospi- 
tality the world had to offer. Others 
of the dancers stole off one by one to 
wards Mr. Wapham's home place. 

Almost in the time it takes to relate 
these things the ballroom was deserted, 
the decorations and seats were removed, 
and the old house given over again to 
its wonted state of darkness and gloom. 
Then Tad mounted old Pete again and 
rode away. 

His work successfully accomplished, 
there remained to the boy, as he rode 
homeward, the grave task of concocting 
such a story of the night's doings as 
should cover up all his tracks. He, if 
anybody, knew how to make crooked 

things strike the eye of the observer as 
perfectly straight, and to transform 
even wanton mischief into devotion to 
his master's service. 

As he rode on he rehearsed the story 
to himself, changing, correcting, im- 
proving as his ready wits inspired him. 
" Now, how come Marse Si ride ole 
Rock away ? Why, Uncle Luke he 
come to me an' say, Marse Si done 
gone off wid Rock, an' left ole Pete 
a-standin' at de very identical post whar 
I hitch 'urn, an' he say Marse Si must 
tink he ridin' ole Pete, an' Uncle Luke 
he say, 'What gwine ter happen if 
Marse Si tech a stick ter Rock. Git he 
neck broke, sho'. ' Den Uncle Luke say, 
' Whar yo' reckon Marse Wapham done 
gone wid dat hoss ? ' An' I say, ' I 
reckon, from what I hear Missus say at 
de do' about de roads, dat he bound for 
de Ellerton Place. ' Den Uncle Luke 
start to walk home, an' I git onter ole 
Pete, all a tremble like fo' fear o' what 
might/ be a happenin' to Marse Si; 
an' I rides him fit to break he neck to 
catch Marse Wapham befo' anyting 
happen to um. De fust ting I knows 
dar I is at de fork ob de road an' no- 
body dar ter tell which road ter tek. I 
bleege ter choose one 'r odder, an' I 
reckon Marse Si ainter gwineter mind 
de road bein' a little longer, he gwineter 
tek de bes' road at night, an' on I goes 
on dat road lak I racin' wid de debbil 
clar ter de Ellerton Place, an' I ainter 
fin' Marse Wapham nowhar. Den I 
goes in de dark, I does, an' finds Big 
Sam's cabin, an' I knocks until dat 
sleepy niggah opens de do'. 'Marse 
Wapham ainter been here ternight, ' he 
say. Den I ride, like mad, back by de 
odder fork, an' still no Marse Wapham 
and no Rock. I des 'bout crazy by dat 
time. Seemed like I knowed ole Rock 
done played some ornery trick on Marse 

Here he chuckled a little as he thought 
over this complete and plausible state- 
ment of "facts." (The last one at least 


Silent Partners. 


was a fact!) 'But there were some 
things on ahead that he was not yet 
master of. 

He soon reined his horse into a walk, 
and began listening and straining his 
eyes into the darkness before him. He 
was approaching again the place where 
the road forked, and was anxious about 
the risk of coming by evil chance upon 
the lost master he was so distractedly 
seeking. Probability favored the idea 
that that gentleman was a foot passen- 
ger along the road somewhere. 

At length, under the deeper darkness 
of a spreading oak by the roadside, he 
drew up and listened several minutes 
for a sound of footsteps ; hearing noth- 
ing he ventured on cautiously. He kept 
his horse moving at about the rate a 
man would walk a tired man! so 
that such a person, coming on behind, 
would not be likely to overtake him, and 
he for his part would not be likely to 
overtake such a person who might be 
on ahead. 

He came soon to a cross-road, and 
turned off to the right. Here, after 
walking the horse a safe distance, he 
started into a brisk trot again. At the 
end of about half an hour's ride the 
shrubbery and buildings of the Merton 
Place rose dimly before his eyes. At 
the gate that opened to the drive-way of 
the stable a new fact awaited him. Rock 
was there, quietly nibbling the grass, 
and waiting to be admitted to his stall. 
The hour was near midnight. Tad had 
no idea of attracting attention to him- 
self ; he tied old Pete, caught Rock, 
and hitched him at the gate, then stole 
in towards the stable and disappeared 
around it. In a short time he returned ; 
Uncle Luke was with him, and the two 
were in an earnest confab carried on in 
a very low tone. 

It seems Uncle Luke had come home 
and stolen quietly to his bed unseen ; 
he was not easy about Tad's perform- 
ances, and what consequences might 
come to himself, and his simple plan was 

to keep his own counsels as long as he 

They hurriedly put Rock into his 
stall. So fay the affair had gone well,- 
very well ; but the situation still hac 
some painful uncertainties about it. 
The smallest mistake might yet be seri- 
ous. Tad drew Uncle Luke behind the 
stable and rehearsed to him the story he 
had prepared to tell on his return home. 
He studied it and turned it over am 
over carefully, as he repeated it to se 
whether it was sure to be right in all its 
parts and leave no loop-hole for discov- 

" 'Pears like eberytingam all right," 
said Tad, sober and very anxious now. 
" Marse Merton ainter fin' out dat Rocl 
ben away ; " and then, as it flashed across 
him all at once he added, "no more Marse 
Si ainter fin' out dat he had Rock ! 
seed dem two part fur dis 'casion des 
when Marse Si change he mind 'bout gc 
in' to de Ellerton Plantation," his spirit 
of humor was getting the better of hii 
again, "fust Rock mek a bow, den 
Marse Wapham he mek a bow, an' den 
Marse Wapham call dat hoss Pete, an' 
he call dat hoss names dat de Missus don' 
nebber call 'um, but he ainter call 
Rock ! " 

" Yo' gwineter tell him dat he 
Rock," drawled Uncle Luke, " an' all 
dat 'bout ridin' Pete to cotch him like 
yo' racin' wid de debbil ! " 

Tad's face fell. " Marse Waphar 
mighter fin' he way home by dis time,' 
he said anxiously, after a pause. '' Reck- 
on I gwineter shuckle dem facts up 
little mo' befo' I deals 'em out ! " 

The two negroes separated again, Un- 
cle Luke to return to his bed, far easier 
in mind with Rock safe in his stall, am 
his part in the night's adventure in 
fair way of concealment. 

Tad mounted again and rode towards 
home ; his mood was very thoughtful. 
After one or two turns in the road, his 
way lay along one side of an extensive 
cornfield, where the young corn was but 


Silent Partners. 


little above the ground. Just across the 
cornfield lay Mr. Josiah Wapham's sta- 
ble. A storm was rapidly spreading 
over the heavens, and this, together 
with Tad's great anxiety to get home 
undiscovered, no doubt, here suggested 
a new plan, which he proceeded at once 
to put into operation. He dismounted 
again, left the bridle reins loose upon 
the horse's neck, and started him to- 
wards home alone round by the road. 
Then the boy himself climbed the fence 
into the cornfield, and struck across on 
foot towards the stable. He gave little 
farther thought to the horse, but upon 
arriving undiscovered he crept stealth- 
ily to his bed in the stable loft. 

His case proved to be like that of the 
young lady in the novels, who, after 
some affecting scene "goes to bed but 
not to sleep." He was, of course, anx- 
ious and uneasy, although chances were 
now much in his favor. During his 
master's absence there was small dan- 
ger that Tad had been missed from the 
stable by any one at " the house " ; but 
whether his master had reached home 
first, and had been prowling round the 
stable before going to bed, in which 
case he was likely to have missed Tad, 
and to know too much, or whether 
that gentleman was still seeking his 
home in his unwonted character as a 
weary pedestrian, was matter for con- 

Again and again the boy rose from 
his bed, and went to the little front win- 
dow to look for any signs of either of 
the two remaining wanderers, old Pete 
and his master. Meantime "a quiet but 
heavy storm came on. On one of his trips 
to the window Tad detected, through 
the pouring rain, the head of old Pete 
thrust over the stable gate, and could 
hear above the storm his impatient call 
for admission. The call was in vain- 
Later there were new sounds without, 

and from the window Mr. Wapham's 
peculiar form was distinguishable, and 
his sharp voice was to be heard as he 
led old Pete to the stable. 

At this point Tad succeeded in going 
to sleep; in fact, Mr. Wapham had hard 
work to arouse the boy from the sound, 
careless slumber of youth. When he 
had accomplished that task, he ordered 
old Pete well rubbed do wn and cared 
for, remarking as he stood there, drip- 
ping forlornly with the rain, that "he 
never knowed befo' what a traveler that 
horse was !" A moment more and he 
had quietly gone to dispose of himself 
for the night. ' 

Tad stood in amazement until he 
heard the door of " the house " close be- 
hind his master. 

Then he broke out. "Hi! Hi! I 
reckon Marse Si gwine ter shuckle dem 
fac's hisself, an' 'pears lak dis little nig- 
gah ain't need ter mek no deal 't all. Des 
keep he mouf shut ! Golly ! Nebber 
tought o' dat, Marse Si's 'shamed ter 
tell, an' I 's safe !" And then, after a 
moment's reflection, " An' I 's afraid 
ter tell and he's safe. Reckon dis little 
niggah got de most to tell, but Marse 
Wapham got de mos' influence! Marse 
Wapham an' I des gwine inter partner- 
ship on dis job !" 

Nevertheless, stories got abroad, in 
some mysterious way, that Mr. Wapham 
had taken an unwilling plunge from his 
horse's back into Snake Creek on that 
eventful night. That gentleman was 
greatly vexed at the report, and had no 
patience with it ; he was alone during 
the ride, and who could vouch for the 
ridiculous story ? It is always hard to 
imagine how secrets get out, mere 
lonely accidents, in particular! 

When the most rigid inquiries were 
afterwards set on foot about aid to run- 
aways at the Ellerton 'Place, nothing 
whatever could be developed. 

C. A. Stearns. 


Famous Pictures Owned on the West Coast. 





"THE Man with a Hoe" is not 
only by a famous painter, but was itself 
a famous painting long before it came 
to the Pacific Coast. No painting of 
modern times, perhaps, has provoked 
more discussion and more of bitter con- 
troversy. It was painted at Barbizon, 
where Millet lived from 1849 to his 
death in 1875, and where he fought out 
his long struggle with poverty and pre- 
judice. Seven other paintings are cred- 
ited to him in the year 1862, all of them 
important works. Up to that year there 
had been little of encouragement in the 
life of the great proto-martyr of the 
modern school of realism. He had 
painted peasants as he saw them, and 
would not falsify what he knew to be 
the truth by letting any touch of Arca- 
dian prettiness creep into his work, in 
spite of the whole weight of the reigning 
authority. It is hard now to realize what 
a revolution this was in French art; how 
Millet was a proscribed man, abhorred 
as a " socialist " and a revolutionist, and 
working continually so in debt that the 
sheriff was in possession of his house. 

When "The Man with a Hoe" was 
offered for the salon of 1863, the storm 
raged more fiercely than ever. This 
was a sign of promise ; for it showed 
that friends were beginning to rise up 
in defense of Millet after the long, long 
time when there had been no strife, be- 
cause there had b.een nobody to fight 
for him. 

The decisive battle of two schools 
was fought over this picture. After 1863 
there were yet ten years of constant 
labor and bitter poverty before the war 
was over, and then came the brief year 
or two of appreciation and reward that 

made his last days bright. Yet it is 
almost pitiful to read in Sensier's life of 
Millet, how success only came when 
breaking health had robbed it of its help- 
fulness. In 1867 four hundred dollars 
had been a high price for him to receive 
for a picture. In 1873 $9,500 was paid 
him for his " Woman with a Lamp," 
and in 1874 the government gave him 
a commission to paint the decorative 
paintings in the chapel of Sainte Gene- 
vieve for fifty thousand francs These 
decorations were never finished; for Mil- 
let died in January, 1875. 
- It is unnecessary to relate the rise of 
Millet's fame since then, or to tell of the 
fabulous prices that his works have com- 
manded. The " Angelus ", was brought 
to America, and is counted among the 
greatest of modern paintings. The 
West Coast is fortunate in the posses- 
sion of "The Man with a Hoe." This 
painting was brought from Paris by 
Mrs. William H. Crocker, in 1891, and 
is the gem of the many fine paintings 
owned in the Crocker connection. It was 
exhibited in the Loan Exhibition in the 
spring of 1891, and roused the discus- 
sion it always creates. This discussion, 
or the literary" side of it, was summed 
up by Mr. W. D. A rmes in a paper printed 
in the OVERLAND for June, 1891. 

Artists are no less impressed with the 
picture than those that value it for its 
moral idea. They find it marvelous in 
its technique, its composition, its color- 
ing, the whole envelopment of the cen- 
tral figure. And so there is now no dis- 
cord in the verdict of greatness. Every 
one that studies it, although he may find 
it a painful picture, is more and more im- 
pressed that Millet has painted the truth. 

VOL. xxi ii. 


Among the Diggers of Thirty Years Ago. 



IN all California there is no fresher, 
prettier, or more fertile nook, than a 
little valley which lies hidden away 
among the high mountains of the Coast 
Range in Mendocino County. It is a 
thousand feet above the cold fogs of the 
coast, and a barrier of bristling peaks 
fifty miles wide protects it from the 
cold, bleak winds of the sea. There the 
sunshine is the brightest, there the clo- 
ver smells the sweetest, and the water 
is the coolest ; there the hottest rays of 
the noonday sun but feed the springs 
from Sanhedrim's snowy cap, and pro- 
voke the sweet zephyr that steals softly 
down the valley. 

In 1856, the Potter Brothers, with 
their families, took possession of this 
lovely spot. 

It was a conquest without resistance, 
followed by dependency without servi- 
tude. Captain John Be-lo-kia, and his 
tribe welcomed the whites as a superior 
race, and legitimate owners of the soil. 
At this time a natural road over the top 
of " Hell's Delight," and a few Indian 
trails, was all that connected Potter Val- 
ley with the outside world. With a 
strong, steady team it was possible to 
haul a few hundred pounds over this 
brushy, precipitous road, requiring a 
day to make the trip from Calpella to 
Potter Valley, a distance of ten miles. 
The necessaries of life were brought in 
by "pack train," over the trail that lay 
deep down in the cool, shady canon, 
through which flow the head waters of 
Russian river ; or growing tired of the 
perpetual shade and noisy waters, this 
smooth little trail abruptly climbed the 
hill, and dashed off recklessly, over 
rocks and through the chemisal. 

Spanish horses were used principally 
for packing, and they were so accus- 
tomed to the mountains, and so sure- 

footed, that few accidents occurred, 
seldom anything so serious that it could 
not be righted with a buckskin string. 
But once, when " Old Polly " was pack- 
ing a keg of syrup and a sack of flour, 
she made a mis-step, and went down the J 
side of the mountain, exciting much 
merriment, despite our anxiety for the 
safety of " Polly." Polly, syrup, and flour, 
Polly, syrup, and flour, over and 
over, down the mountain, a transforma- 
tion scene that will long be remembered. 
We read of casting bread upon the wa- 
ters, and that after many days it will 
return ; here was not only our bread, but 
the syrup that was to sweeten it, cast 
upon the mountain, and all that returned 
was Polly, looking very demure and 
crushed in spirit. 

My first caller after entering the val- 
ley was " Capitan John," chief of the 
tribe, a broad-shouldered, finely mus- 
cled Indian, near the meridian of life. 
He was clad in his very best, and I 
confess now that I was not much im- 
pressed with his greatness from a dress 
standpoint. A large gray blanket did 
duty for a full suit, and was kept neatly 
in place without hook, pin, or string. 

He soon became the possessor of a 
pair of "pantaloonis " and a "viejo 
camisa," and these two garments were 
in his estimation quite sufficient for 
any dress occasions, but were carefully 
laid aside on rainy days for the blanket 
costume. Shoes he has never worn : if 
you ask the reason, he will put his im- 
mense foot on exhibition, saying, " La 
mismo oso" (like a bear's). "Me no 
quiero zapato." 

In after years he discarded the blan- 
ket, and did not scruple to make use 
of any cast-off garments that were pro- 
curable, hats meeting with less favor 
than any other article of dress. A 


Among tke Diggers of Thirty Years Ago. 


sombrero several sizes too small for his 
immense head and shaggy locks did 
make John look a trifle more civilized, 
but failed to improve his general ap- 

John is a born comedian and humor- 
ist ; his friends get the benefit of all the 
humorous incidents of the valley; he 
makes a very enjoyable pantomime out 
of his encounter with a grizzly bear, 
which almost cost him his life, judging 
from the deep-seated scars that adorn 
his body. He is never low-spirited, 

barely escaping a scalp wound from 
the hind foot of the unruly beast. 

In the early settlement of the valley 
the Captain attached himself to a pio- 
neer family, in a very quiet but per- 
sistent manner. He adopted the fam- 
ily name, and for years has been known 
as "Indian John Mewhinney." Day after 
day, and month after month found him 
at his post (the gate post), a good dinner 
fully compensating him for a walk of 
four miles and hours of waiting. But 
John was sure of much more, if the 

i by A. O. Carpenter. 


never morose, as most of his people are, 
and never too tired or worried with bus- 
iness affairs to joke and make merry at 
his own expense or that of his friends. 
One little incident will serve to show 
that dignity is not a predominating 
quality. A passing vaquero on a wild, 
ungovernable horse gave John an idea. 
Down on all fours he suddenly became 
a Spanish bronco of the very worst 
type, now here, now there, rearing, 
plunging, snorting, bucking to right 
and left, putting to flight some squaws 
who came near being run over, one 

slightest duty was performed, for the 
good lady of the house never permitted 
him to go away empty-handed, and he 
allowed no account to run "one day 
after date. " His usual method of ac- 
cepting a favor was to ask for some- 
thing additional. Upon one occasion 
he was presented with a full outfit of 
personal adornment for a Fourth of 
July celebration. After patting his neck- 
tie and looking himself over admiringly, 
he surprised us with a flourish of his 
linen duster and a profound bow, re- 
marking, " Me all the same somebody." 


Among the Diggers of Thirty Years Ago. 


At times when the granary was well 
filled, or the shocks of corn unusually 
large, John would appropriate some for 
his own use, and out of respect to our 
feelings would absent himself for sev- 
eral days ; but if left alone to guard the 
premises he was strictly honest. 

It mattered little to him whether he 
bowed his back in the harvest field, or 
over the wash-tub, his chief anxiety was 
to be paid and get home before sun- 
down. In those days no Indian would 
willingly stay from home until sundown. 
I never could learn whether it was from 
fear of the wild animals, which were 


then plentiful, or from superstition, or 
a sense of duty to assist in the "cry,"' 
which began at sundown and ended 
when they could screech no longer, out- 
doing in volume and tone a pack o 

Once a wave of unhappiness swept 
into the Captain's casa, causing Anita, 
the mother of his family, many heart- 
aches and one tragic passion ; but 
John, perhaps not unlike many of his 
white brethren under similar circum- 
stances, lost neither his temper nor his; 
jocularity, for he was master of the situ- 

One cold, disagreeable morning, Ani- 
ta took her basket and muchacho, and 
sallied forth to gather acorns, to increase 
their supply of pinole for winter use. 
Several miles were traveled before the 
basket was filled, and the poor little 
baby grew very tired of being laced 
tightly down in his basket, and dang- 
ling on his mother's back, almost 
blinded by the wind and bright sunshine. 

When she reached the rancheria she 
was much fatigued, but quickened her 
steps as she saw the smoke rising from 
her casa, and thought of the one who 
had kindled the fire for her comfort, her 
own jolly John. 

Upon entering the casa, she found 
John sitting cosily by the fire with a] 
bride at his side. The beads that he had 
given to the choice of his youth, the<j 
simple giving of which made them hus- 
band and wife, had during her absence 
been given to another, and Anita was a 
divorced woman. John's only charge 
against her was, " Too mucho viejo ! " 
and poor old Anita's wrinkled face plead 
guilty to the charge. 

She looked at the two, then unstrap- 
ping John's baby and taking it from the 
basket, she laid its naked body on the 
ground, and setting her heel upon its 
neck, kept it there until life was gone. 
Then with a look of undying hatred she 
departed, and took up her residence with 
the family of her son-in-law, Santa Ana. 


Among the Diggers of Thirty Years Ago. 


l-'rom Painting by Grace Hudson. 


In after years she was much devoted 
to her little grandson, Samvvy, and 
seemed a very affectionate grandmother; 
but she never forgave Captain John. 

He was not ignorant of the sufferings 
of Anita, for he jocularly told me that 
" She mucho oulo, mucho meuah " (cried 
and talked much), and actually imitated 
the manner in which she killed the 
child, its writhing and gurgling beneath 
the mother's heel. 

It is a well-known fact that the In- 
dians often destroy their children, yet 
in my acquaintance with them, which 
extends over a space of thirty years, I 

never but once saw an Indian child 
punished or corrected for any misde- 
meanor, and that was rather a pleasant 
punishment after all. Old Mary, busy 
at the wash tub, grew tired of the 
whining and snarling of her little boy, 
" Beel " (Bill), who was displeased be- 
cause she would not or could not grant 
some childish request. She bore his 
noise patiently for some time, and then, 
without uttering a syllable, suddenly 
dashed a pan full of cold water in his 
face, and resumed her work. The day 
was warm, and the douche proved very 


Among the Diggsrs of Thirty Years Ago, 



Soon after Captain John's first call, 
numbers of the tribe came to our cabin ; 
conspicuous among them were Legs, 
Colorado, and Chapo. A good dinner 
then, and many subsequent meals, have 
made lifelong friends of them. 

I soon learned that a Digger Indian's 
capacity was too great for my store of 
jam. They were most fastidious, and 
again, quite the reverse. No bread was 
eaten without careful inspection, and 
only the crumb of it then ; nice brown 
crusts were thrown away, regardless of 
the scarcity of bread at home ; and a leaf 
of tea floating in the cup was a suffi- 
cient cause for leaving the teauntasted. 
Although very fond of meat, they could 
not be induced to taste bear, mutton, 
pork, or chicken, neither would they use 
butter or milk. Yet when given bread 
to take home, they rolled it in any filthy 
garment, would eat of the carcass of a 
cow that had been dead a week ; or if 
something more appetizing was desired, 
it was easily prepared by throwing a 
handful of live coals into a basket con- 
taining a quart or two of nice plump 
caterpillars. A few moments of con- 
stant blowing to keep the coals alive, 
and shaking of the basket to bring each 

caterpillar in contact with the coals,- 
and they were thoroughly singed, an< 
ready to be made into a stew. I 
two old, infirm Indians anxiously watch- 
ing a stew of this kind, while a majelh 
kept up the fire, and stirred, and poked, 
that none might be underdone. As th( 
pan was much too small for the amount 
being cooked, it required constant at- 

Another delicacy is prepared in mucl 
the same way out of fish-worms. The 
only difference is, they require no singe- 
ing. Captain John, pointing to his little 
basket of fish-worms, says, "Este h 
mismo sugara." After the ground is 
thoroughly soaked with winter rains, a 
basket full can easily be gathered. A 
smooth, sharp stick, somewhat larger 
and longer than a cane, is forced down 
ten or twelve inches into the soft, wet 
earth, and pressed against it on all sides. 
The worms, disliking the pressure, make 
their way to the surface, and are at once 

Wild clover is eaten in great quanti- 
ties without any preparation or condi- 

Their "pinole" (Indian bread) is made 
of the seed of tar-weed, or of acorns 


Among the Diggers of Thirty Years Ago. 


hulled, dried in the sun, and then 
pounded in stone mortars until fine as 
flour. Buckeyes are also prepared in 
great quantities. The average Indian 
is not fond of them, but in case every- 
thing else gives out they can be eaten. 
After the buckeye is pounded into 
flour, it is put into a pan-shaped place 
that has been scooped out in the sand, 
near a stream of water. Water is 
poured over it for hours, until the pois- 
onous quality has disappeared ; then it 
is cooked by putting hot rocks into it 

thumbs and great toes, and fastened to 
trees twenty feet away. Every few feet 
along the strings were "water-dogs" 
suspended by the neck, thus giving the 
evil spirit something tangible to leave 
on. When the medicine man made his 
appearance, the brush on which Chapo 
lay was fired, and the blaze was soon 
lapping around his helpless body. Big 
Oso performed a medicine dance around 
his patient with much agility, being but 
slightly encumbered with bodily adorn- 
ments. He called loudly to the evil 


until the whole becomes a very indigest- 
ible paste. 

During the winter of 1860, before any 
crops had been raised in the valley, 
there was little in the rancheria to eat 
except acorns and buckeyes, and great 
numbers of Indians died for want of 
more wholesome food. 

At this time Chapo was so sick that 
his life was despaired of. As a last 
remedy he was rolled up in a wet 
blanket and laid on the top of a small 
brush heap. Strings were tied to his 

spirit to depart, and allow Chapo to 
come back to health and his friends. 
He recovered, whether owing to the 
departure of the devil, or to the novel 
steam bath, which helped nature to 
throw off the disease. 

Chapo was at all times and under all 
circumstances the greatest beggar I 
ever met. If one could believe him, the 
Indians were always in a starving con- 
dition. Two fat little naked boys were 
his constant companions. In a very 
plaintive tone he would say " No hay 


Among the Diggers of Thirty Years Ago, 



pread, no hay meat, no hay eatim In- 
juns. " It was marvelous how the trio 
kept so plump with nothing to eat. 

The Indians of the different villages 
often exchange visits, staying for weeks, 
or as long as the provisions last, cheer- 
fully dividing the last crumb. Once 
while Chapo was making a visit to a dis- 
tant village, Russian River rose to an un- 
usual height, sweeping entirely over the 
low land on which " Bill Town " stood, 
driving out every inhabitant late in the 
afternoon of a cold winter's day. It 
was five miles to the nearest shelter, 
and poor old Chapo, with no clothing 
whatever, traveled this distance through 

a blinding storm. His only protection 
from the cold was a potato sack held to] 
the waist in the form of an apron. The 
exposure prostrated him, and a few 
months later he was off to the happy 
hunting grounds. 

Prompted by friendship, and a desire 
to witness a "Digger Indian " funeral, 
we hastened to the village at an early< 
hour the next morning. The funeral 
pile consisted of logs and dry wood,;] 
neatly piled about two feet high, with 
ample length and width. On this rest- 
ed the blanketed form of our old friend. 

The moment the sun appeared above 
the Eastern horizon, the torch was ap- 
plied. At first the smoke rose lazily 
from the four corners of the pile, but in 
an incredibly short space of time it 
was one vast flame. We stood with 
eyes riveted to the spot, momentarily 
expecting and dreading a view of the 
charred remains. Such an unpleasant- 
ness was prevented by throwing on 
blankets and clothing. Bows and arrows, 
great quantities of beads and Indian 
money, and handsome baskets that rep- 
resented months of labor, were thrown 
into the flames to accompany him on 
his journey. The Spirit Doctor with ; 
incantations performed his dances round 



Among the Diggers of Thirty Years Ago. 


and round the fire so closely that it was 
necessary to pour water on his head 
every few minutes, in order that he 
might proceed with the funeral service. 

The wife of Chapo and Anita his sis- 
ter sat with their backs so close to the 
fire that the flesh was badly burned. 
They screamed incessantly, tearing 
their hair and flesh, pleading and call- 
ing to the "Good Hombre." 

The native words were not intelligi- 
ble to us, but their grief to a sympa- 
thetic heart needed no interpretation. 
A score of others with downcast eyes 
assisted in the "cry. " The scene was 
most affecting and blood-curdling. 

When next I saw the chief mourners 
their hands were burned in a horrible 
manner. This was their mode of doing 
penance for any displeasure they had 
ca.used the departed. They were at- 
tired in deep mourning, which con- 
sisted of the ashes of the dead, mixed 
with pitch into a thick paste ; this was 
put upon short cut bangs, in the form 

of little beads, each bead holding firmly 
a little lock of 8 or 10 hairs. They va- 
ried in size from that of a pin head to 
that of a grain of wheat. A band of 
these gray beads, an inch and one half 
wide, reaching from ear to ear across 
the forehead, constitutes their mourn- 
ing. It must interfere considerably 
with hair dressing, as it remains about 
the usual period for wearing mourning. 

Hoping to learn something of their 
religious belief, I have asked many 
questions, but the only information 
elicited was that there is a " Good 
Hombre " above, and a " Bad Hombre " 
down in the earth ; that good Indians 
go up, and bad ones go down ; and then 
they invariably confessed their igno- 
rance of the whole matter in the simple 
sentence, " No hay sabe me. " 

Thirty years have wrought a wonder- 
ful change. Where once the grizzly was 
wont to come and feed on clover, now 
stands the comfortable farmhouse and 
orchard. The home of the deer and 
jack-rabbit is converted into vineyards, 
and where once stood the native village 
of eight hundred or a thousand souls, 
not one casa remains. Legs, the terp- 
sichorean artist, the high jumper and 
pride of the fandango, has long since 
gone to abide with his fathers ; while 
Colorado, his rival, trudges on, with an 
appetite for bad whisky that causes him 
still to devote much time to his steps. 

Captain John's visits are now at long 
intervals ; his back is much bowed with 
age, his step has lost its elasticity, and 
his almost sightless eyes make it diffi- 
cult for him to leave home unattended. 
Home, did I say? This poor, ignorant, 
improvident child of nature does not 
know the meaning of the word. The 
wolf has always been at his door. 
If he had ever possessed as much as 
fifty dollars at any one time in his life, 
it would have been more wealth than he 
could have managed. And now that 
youth and strength are gone, he and his 

VOL. xxi 12. 


Among the Diggers of Thirty Years Ago. 




majella are mere bangers-on, taken care 
of in a very indifferent manner by rela- 

Anita lives with her daughter in an 
adjoining hut. She and her successor 
are both stone blind, and apparently on 
very good terms. She has not laid up 
against the woman the infidelity of the 
still unforgiven man. 

If a Digger Indian is capable of grat- 
itude (which I doubt), probably John is 
grateful for past favors, although no in- 
timation of the fact has ever escaped 
him. But he is so much superior to his 
fellows in many ways that he is a gen- 
eral favorite regardless of his faults, and 
I will give him credit for feelings that 
may be only slumbering. For many 
years I have tried to teach him to say 
"thank you," but his accomplishments 

in that line are a total failure ; the near, 
est approach to it is, " this dinner good.'' 
The light heart and jocularity that were 
On occasion so unfeeling have neverthe- 
less prevented much discord in his 
rancheria ; and his total abstinence from 
intoxicants is a creditable quality which 
his people respect, if they do not follow 
his example. 

" Speak of angels " is an old saying,, 
and holds good in this remote corner, 
for there stands John, peering over the 
gate,gently coughing. " Come in, you 
old beggar, are we not friends ? Will 
your Digger instincts never permit you 
to speak,instead of coughing to make me 
aware of your presence ? And after our 
long acquaintance will you never enter 
my gate without an invitation ? Wt 
are friends; come in ; the lesson you 


Among the Diggers of Thirty Years Ago. 



have taught me in cheerfulness is worth ed. In answer to inquiries concerning 
more than all the bread you will ever his health, his voice has the merry ring 
eat." of old, as he laughingly says in his some- 

He totters in, leaning heavily on his what improved English, " Pretty soon 
staff, and sinks upon the porch exhaust-, die me." 

Helen M. Carpenter. 


Nocturne and Fantasia. 



THE wharf was dark, gloomy, and 
silent. There were black heaps and 
masses that by day might be coal, and 
tarry timbers, and lumber, and hay ; 
but now all had taken on a sombre 
mystery. The inky water swirled 
among the piles with a sucking sound, 
as if it had just seen a horrid sight down 
there in the ooze and slime. On each 
side a spectral maze of masts and rig- 
ging loomed against a cloudy sky. The 
stillness was not slumberous and peace- 
ful, but seemed full of dire possibilities. 
The solemn city bells struck the hour 
of twelve. As the last faint boom died 
away, there seemed to mingle with the 
sob of the water a tremulous sigh. 

A sable figure appeared coming out 
along the wharf, the cowering, shuf- 
fling figure of a man. He reached the 
end of the pier, and stood looking at 
the sullen surface below, where one star 
gleamed balefully in the blackness. 

"This is the end of it," he muttered, 
half aloud. " Damn the infernal luck ! 
I won't stand it any longer." He 
spoke mechanically, as if the words 
had been often repeated ; and drew 
back with a sudden motion, as if pre- 
paring to take a dreaded plunge. He 
glanced around at the dreary scene, 
and then stepped quickly to the edge, 
throwing up his hands as he did so. 

At that moment a pair of arms were 
firmly thrown around him. Engrossed 
as he was with the frightful business of 
the instant, he started violently with 
astonishment and fright. Thoughts of 
robbers flashed through his mind, 
although he had nothing to lose. He 
began to struggle fiercely. But a min- 
ute before, he had been about to de- 
stroy himself: now, he instinctively 
began to fight for his life with an un- 
known assailant, whose intentions he 
did not at once comprehend. 

All at once he ceased to struggle, and 
stood silently, with downcast gaze, as if 
ashamed. The embarrassing knowledge 
had come to him that the arms which 
held him so firmly were those of a 
woman. There was a strange silence. 

"Who are you?" he murmured at 

" Don't do it, sir. Don't do anything 
so rash," exclaimed a breathless and 
frightened voice, and the arms still re- 
tained their hold. " Promise that you 
won't," the voice continued, pleadingly. 

"Well, I promise," said the man, with 
petulant despondency. 

The arms were withdrawn, and as he 
slowly turned, he saw a woman sitting 
on a timber with her hand pressed on 
her heart. He could not see her fea- 
tures in the darkness. Presently he 
heard her sobbing, softly and pitifully. 

" I 've scared you," he said with com- 
punction. "I'm sorry. I did n't know 
anyone was here. I did n't hurt you, 
did I ? " he asked anxiously. The woman 
shook her head, and sobbed on. 

The man was perplexed. The sight 
of a woman in tears conveyed to him 
the impression of deep trouble. He 
felt a desire to help one who had been 
so prompt to do him what she of course 
considered a service, and who now 
seemed to be in distress. So for the 
moment he forgot about dying. 

" I 'm awful sorry," he said again, 

There was no answer, but his com- 
panion wept with less restraint at his 
kind and respectful words. He stood 
there puzzled and embarrassed, and 
gradually the sobs ceased. Some sin- 
gular and unpleasant ideas began to 
occur to him. He looked at the woman 

"How did you happen to be out here ?" 


Nocturne and Fantasia. 


he asked, in a queer tone. His com- 
panion held her handkerchief to her 
eyes and said nothing. There seemed 
to him to be a sort of piteous refine- 
ment in her attitude. 

"This is no place for a woman at 
night," he said. 

Still the other was silent. There was 
a long pause. 

" Oh !" he broke out, in a changed 
tone, " p'r'aps you was waiting for some- 

The unconscious accent of disrespect 
stung her, and she rose hastily. 

" No, no! " she cried, with agonized 
vehemence. " I came here as you did 

" Good God !" cried the man, deeply 
shocked. " Let 's get out of here. 
Come, you sha'n't stay here another 
minute." He seized her arm and led 
her away, gently and firmly. 

She did not resist nor speak, but 
walked beside him submissively, with 
her hands clasped before her. So they 
walked silently together away from the 
black, indistinct shapes and the sobbing 
water. Once the woman glanced quick- 
ly at him. She had noticed that he 

At the first street-lamp they paused, 
and looked at each other earnestly and 
with a certain solemnity. At the verge 
of death they had so strangely met, 
preservers of each other. She saw a 
small man of about forty years, haggard 
and pallid. He wore a black mustache 
and imperial that in some way deepened 
the pathos of his face. One leg seemed 
shriveled. He showed no signs of dis- 
sipation, but had evidently suffered 
severe injuries. For his part, he saw a 
woman of thirty, who would have been 
comely had she not been so wofully 
emaciated and pale. Her fragile hands 
were almost transparent. She was at- 
tired in a neat black dress. 

They gazed at each other for a time 
with peculiar interest. At last the man 
said : 

" My name is Phil Dobbs. I got hurt 
in the mines, an' come down here to git 
doctored. I 've spent all my money, 
an' I 'm dreadful weak yet, an' I got the 
blues, bein' as I had n't no money nor 
friends. That 's why I happened to go 
down there," he added, apologetically. 

Then the woman said : 

" I am, like you, without money or 
friends. I worked in a shoe-factory till 
I got sick. Then I got in debt for my 
room, and the woman who keeps the 
lodging-house talked so mean to me to- 
night that I left at once. Then the 
streets were so cold and cruel that I got 

Dobbs looked at her, and saw nothing 
but honesty and suffering in her pale 

" What 's your name ?" he asked, re- 

" Susan Zippercamp," she replied, 
after a moment's hesitation. 

Dobbs held out his hand, and said : 

" Bein' as we 're both without friends 
and money, let 's be friends -to each 
other, an' p'r'aps we can make some 
money together. What do you say ?" 

Susan Zippercamp looked at him earn- 
estly, and seemed to see in him a well- 
meaning, but unfortunate and lonely 
man. She replied simply : 

"Let us walk a little farther." 

They walked on, until at last they 
found themselves in a bright street, 
lined with handsome residences. One 
of the largest of these was brilliantly 
lighted, and seemed to be crowded with 
company. They saw many men in uni- 
form ; a military reception was evident- 
ly taking place. A number of carriages 
stood in the street. A low wall of stone 
bordered the sidewalk, surmounted by 
an ornate iron fence. From the wall a 
beautiful green lawn sloped up some- 
what steeply to the illuminated house. 
Marble steps led down this lawn from 
the entrance to the street, with two pale 
statues on a terrace half-way. They 
heard the inspiring music, and through 


Nocturne and Fantasia. 


the open windows saw luminous electric 
bulbs in clusters. 

Susan suddenly paused, and sat down 
on the marble steps. 

"Here is a nice place to rest," she 
said, and her smile looked very wan in 
the cold, moonlight radiance projected 
down the street from an electric light. 

"I must find you a place to sleep, 
someway," said Dobbs, anxiously. 

" O no ; this is very pleasant," she 

As they sat there, two persons came 
down the steps and paused on the ter- 
race above. One was a young man, in 
the handsome uniform of a field officer 
of the National Guard ; the other, a 
young lady in elegant evening costume, 
wearing a white wrap. They were con- 
versing in a light and joyous strain. 

" Ah, Major Pondlily," said the young 
lady, "I have such a serious charge 
against you ! You really should be tried 
by a court-martial. I could not have 
believed it of the gallant Major Pond- 
lily. I was so hurt, so grieved ! " 

" Now, ah, really, Miss Begonia, you 
shock me indeed ! What is this terrible 
charge? I am uneasy, alarmed. Tell 
me, at once." 

"Do you remember the last night at 
the encampment ?" asked the young 
lady, in a significant tone. 

" Certainly I do. It was not so bril- 
liant and pleasant as it might have been. 
I did not see you there, I remember." 

" O, how deceitful men can be ! Es- 
pecially military men. Major, I was 
there on the last evening." 

" You were there ! You astonish me. 
I am agitated, disturbed. Explain, I 

" Yes, sir. We went that evening to 
the headquarters of the - - Brigade, 
and we saw you there, and bowed to 
you; and Major, you turned away, and 
would not notice us. There was such 
a crowd there, too ! Just imagine our 
feelings !" 

"What ! I turned away.? Impos- 

sible ? In the evening, did you say ? 
Wasn't it in the afternoon ? Now Miss 
Begonia, relieve me by saying 't was 
the afternoon. It could n't have been 
I. I was away in the afternoon." 

" No, indeed, sir ; 't was in the even- 
ing. You cannot evade the charge in 
that way, Major Pondlily. We were 
all so grieved, so confused" 

" O now, Miss Begonia, there must be 
some mistake. It is simply ridiculous, 
incredible. You say that you bowed to 
me, and I turned away ? Impossible !" 

" I bowed \.Q you, sir, and you turned 

" O, come now. Colonel Hannibal 
was there that last night, and he and I 
are always being mistaken for each 
other. Ah, Miss Begonia, it was Col- 
onel Hannibal you bowed to. Confess, 

"No, indeed, sir. We saw Colonel 
Hannibal, too; but it was to you we \ 
bowed, and you took no notice." 

" This is terrible, Miss Begonia. I am 
shocked, appalled. Now Itt us recon- 
sider the matter. You say that you en- 
tered the headquarters of the Bri- 
gade, and saw me there, and bowed - 

" O no, we did not enter. We were 
in a carriage, and did not get out." 

" O-o-o ! Now I am reassured, Miss 
Begonia. You were in a carriage and 
did not stop. That explains it. That 
is why I did not see you. Ah, that 
lifts a great weight from my mind." 

The brave soldier raised his plumed 
chapeau emblematically. 

"But you cannot imagine, Major 
Pondlily, how disconcerting it was. We 
were so perplexed, so embarrassed." 

" I shall never cease to regret it, Miss 
Begonia. What an awkward, stupid 
dolt I must have seemed. Really, I 
feel like hiring someone to to kick me, 
in fact." 

" O, not so bad as that, Major. Of 
course we tkougktthoA. perhaps you did n't 
see us." 

"Well, of all the blunders I ever did 


Nocturne and Fantasia. 


make, that is the worst. Really, I feel 
like like sweeping the streets with 
myself, in fact. I am thoroughly em- 
barrassed, overwhelmed 7 " 

Phil Dobbs turned to Susan, and 
whispered with a weak laugh : 

" I 'd forgot that there was any fun 
left in the world." 

An elderly gentleman and lady now 
joined the young people on the terrace, 
and they all came down the steps to 
the street. The old gentleman and two 
ladies entered one of the carriages, 
talking meanwhile merrily to the young 
officer. At last, with cheerful " Good- 
nights," the vehicle drove away. The 
Major remained for a minute or two, 
gazing after it with a look of pleased 
interest on his face. When he turned 
to ascend the steps again, he met Phil 
Dobbs face to face. 

"Good evening, sir," said Dobbs, in 
a low tone. " I want to ask a small 
favor. I 'm a cripple, as you see, and 
I 'm out of luck, an' hain't got a cent of 
money; an' my hem that lady you 
see sitting on the steps is sick, and 
had n't ought to stay out in this night 
air. Now, lend me a dollar for a month, 
an' I '11 pay you back with interest. I 
mean what I say. Can you accommo- 
date me ?" 

The Major's state of mind just then 
was one of pleasant exhilaration. The 
influence of the fair young girl with 
whom he had been conversing, was still 
upon him ; generosity seemed the eas- 
iest thing in the world. He took a dol- 
lar from his pocket and gave it to 
Dobbs, saying : 

" Certainly. Glad to be of assistance, 
I 'm sure." 

Then he ascended the marble steps 
again. Dobbs went back to Susan. 

, " Come," he said, "you must n't stay 
out in this night air. Take this money. 
You must git a room at a lodging-house, 
an' to-morrer I '11 see you again." 

She looked up at him with pained 

"What! Did you ask him for mon- 
ey ? " she said, indignantly. 

" Yes ; he loaned me a dollar." 

She looked at him sharply. 

" He loaned it to you ! " she repeated, 
severely. "Do you think he ever ex- 
pects to see his money again ? " 

" I don't know," said Dobbs, rather 
sullenly ; " but he '11 get it back all the 
same." He had a dim perception that 
his companion was a woman of shrewd- 
ness and principle. 

"I don't like that way," she said. 
" You asked for it ; you can keep it all 
yourself. I don't want it." 

" Well, you need n't be so hard on 
me," he said, with a hurt expression. 
" I would n't have asked for it if it 
had n't been for you. You ain't well, 
and you had n't ought to stay; out all 
night. I 'm a-going to pay this money 
back. I don't beg for myself or any- 
one else. If you 'd only 'a' let me alone 
down there to-night, I would n't 'a' had 
any need to borrow." 

"Don't talk so," she said; "you 
frighten me. I believe what you say. 
I thank you. But I 'd rather not use 
the money to-night. Let us walk on ; 
we can keep warm that way. Keep the 
money, and perhaps you can make more 
with it to-morrow." 

He still tried to persuade her, but -she 
was firm. So they walked on until Su- 
san was tired again ; she sat down under 
a small, depressed tree that had seem- 
ingly struggled up through a round hole 
in the sidewalk. Presently Dobbs saw 
that she had fallen asleep. Hejtook off 
his coat, and gently wrapped it about 
her. Then he leaned against the tree 
with folded arms. In a few minutes a 
policeman approached. He halted, and 
looked at them. 

" What are you doin' here ?" he asked. 

"Sh-sh-sh" replied Dobbs, with a 
warning gesture. " She 's asleep." 
Then he took the bright dollar from 
his pocket and showed it to tt the police- 


Nocturne and Fantasia. 


"That's our capital," he said, "and 
we 're waitin' for morning. " 

The policeman walked on. 

About a month after, a young man in 
a fashionable business suit and derby 
hat was hurrying along Montgomery 
Street, when he met a cheerful, well- 
dressed stranger, who, to his surprise, 
called him by name. 

" Major Pondlily," said the stranger, 
" my name is Dobbs. I borrowed a dol- 
lar of you one night, abjout a month ago, 
as you may remember. I '11 pay it back 
now, and here 's a quarter for interest, 
and I 'm much obliged, besides." 

The Major's face expressed perplex- 
ity at first, but, finally, he seemed to re- 
member the circumstance, and then his 

expression changed to one of astonish- 

" The devil ! " he said. " I never ex 
O well, it's of little consequence. 
Thank you. Never mind the quarter. 
That 's all right. Thanks." 

" 'T was a good deal of consequence 
to me," asserted Dobbs, laughing, 
was toler'ble hard up, about that time, 
but that dollar set us up in business. 
My wife and I started a little coffee 
stand with it. We begun with a kero- 
sene lamp and a tea-kettle, but we got 
good stand, and now we're clearin' ter 
dollars a day. Here 's our circular. Call 
around and see us. Best coffee ji 
thecity buckwheat cakes home-made 
doughnuts. In a hurry ? Well, so long." 
Charles E. Brimblecom. 


Life in an Insane Asylnm. 



CONSIDERED poetically, an insane asy- 
lum is like a ruined temple, where the 
moonlight plays on broken arches and 
crumbling walls, and goblin faces peer 
put at the windows, and strange crea- 
tions flit in fantastic flight through 
gloomy recesses. In fact, it is a sepul- 
chre of living dead, a monument to 
ruined hopes and saddened lives. 

If one ever is thankful for unimpaired 
mental health, it is after he has passed 
through the corridors of an insane asy- 
lum. The thought is especially im- 
pressed upon him that the mind is a 
wonderfully delicate and complicated 
mechanism. Eor some time he uncon- 
sciously looks with suspicion at the 
strange characters that pass him on the 
street, and wonders if their brain ma- 
chinery is out of order. Every individual 
is said to be more or less insane. The 
crank is a harmless kind of lunatic, 
whose peculiarities fill us with no ap- 
prehension ; but between the " peculiar " 
person and the raving victim of insanity 
there is so gradual a transition that 
only a specialist can trace it. It may 
be supposed that all the insane of our 
country are confined in the asylums, but 
such is not the case. More insane peo- 
ple walk the streets of our great cities, 
and are restrained in their homes, than 

are to be found in these public institu- 
tions. In their cases the disease does 
not manifest itself dangerously. 

When we recall the indignities to 
which the insane were exposed in the 
madhouses of a few decades ago, the 
awe and apprehension with which they 
were regarded, and their peculiar treat- 
ment at the hands of superstitious peo- 
ple, surely we may rejoice that the 
heart of society has so enlarged as to 
comprehend this unfortunate class with- 
in its sympathies, to provide them with 
comfortable accommodations, nourish- 
ing food, and reliable medical treat- 

A modern insane asylum is a small 
city, enclosed by four walls. It has a 
grocery store, machine shop, drug store, 
bakery, kitchen, gas works, laundry, 
mending room, infirmaries, and, perhaps 
supports a weekly paper, while sur- 
rounding the institution are the stables, 
orchards, and vegetable gardens. 

The Napa State Insane Asylum, one 
of the finest of these public institutions 
in the United States, is a type of an 
asylum furnished with all the essentials 
for a correct treatment of the insane. 
The institution is under the manage- 
ment of Dr. A. M. Gardner. The sys- 
tem of management is the best that has 


Life in an Insane Asylum. 


thus far been perfected. The late Dr. 
E. T. Wilkins, while superintendent of 
the asylum, made an especial study of 
the principles on which the prominent 
public institutions for the insane in the 
United States and those in England, 
Germany, and France were conducted. 
He visited the asylums of these coun- 
tries, stopping long enough to make 
himself thoroughly conversant with all 
the details of their management. Upon 
his return, Doctor Wilkins was enabled 
to make such improvements in the ad- 
ministration of the asylum as his inves- 
tigation convinced him to be needed. 
The system as now used, with slight 
alterations, by Doctor Gardner, is cer- 
tainly one of the finest in the world. 

The asylum building was erected in 
1873-80, at a cost of $1,300,000. It was 
then intended to accommodate six hun- 
dred patients, and contained twenty-six 
wards. Since that time, five wards 
more have been added, and the whole 
now gives room for fourteen hundred 
patients. The wards of the asylum are 
about 100 feet long and 25 feet broad. 
Each ward has twenty-five single rooms, 
a dormitory, dining-room, pantries, bath- 
room, wash-room, and clothes-room. 
The rooms of the patients are neatly 
but plainly furnished. Each one is well 
ventilated and lighted by a window, a 
feature not to be found in any other 
large asylum at the time of its erection. 
Two infirmaries, built lately, stand at 
the eastern and western ends of the 
building. Each is conveniently fitted 
for the accommodation of thirty pa- 

An admirable characteristic of the 
building is the provision that has been 
made against the spreading of fire. The 
wards are principally of brick and stone, 
and so arranged that they may be shut 
off from each other by large, fire-proof 
doors. Systematic preparation is made 
for fighting fire by the weekly drill of 
an efficient fire company of assistant at- 
tendants. "So faultless and expedi- 

tious is this system, that, from the in- 
stant an alarm is sounded, two full 
streams can be turned upon a fire, in 
any portion of the building, in two and 
and a half minutes." In case of fire, 
the general alarm is given by the rapid 
and continuous ringing of the bell in 
the clock tower. Attendants in charge 
of wards are reminded that their first 
duty is to their patients and their safe 
removal. Special and immediate atten- 
tion is to be given to the early removal 
of sick and infirm to places of safety. 
Attendants must invariably remain with 
their patients and attend to the immedi- 
ate removal of these to the yards through 
the nearest available tower. All room 
doors are to be unlocked, and before he 
leaves the ward the attendant must be 
positively certain that all his patients 
are out of it. 

After an insane person has been ar- 
rested and tried before the Insanity 
Commissioners, he is taken by the 
sheriff, or his deputy, to the asylum. 
Sometimes friends accompany him, and 
the partings are often very sad. He is 
first assigned to the receiving ward. If 
he be quite violent his clothing is -re- 
moved, and a suit furnished by the 
State is given him. If not, he is al- 
lowed to wear his own clothes or to pre- 
serve them for special occasions. He 
remains in the receiving ward for a 
short time, and is then assigned to a 
suitable ward. The daily routine of the 
patient's life is as follows : 

At six o'clock he arises and prepares 
for breakfast, served at six-thirty ; it con- 
sists of oatmeal or cornmeal mush, bread 
and butter, molasses and coffee. The 
food is given to the convalescents in 
heavy crockery ware, and to the vi- 
olent patients in tin. ware. After 
breakfast, each one cares for his 
room, and perhaps helps to sweep the 
corridors or attend the sick. Then the 
time is occupied as he pleases until 
nine A. M., when the patients are in 
favorable weather permitted to enjoy 


Life in an Insane Asylum. 


the freedom of the yards. The refrac- 
tory ones are confined in bare yards, 
surrounded by a ten-foot wall, while the 
convalescents wander about the pleas- 
ant grounds in front of the asylum, un- 
der the care of the attendants. At the 
same time the physicians visit the 
wards and prescribe for those who are 
not able to go out. 

The patients return to the building 
at eleven o'clock and prepare for din- 
ner, which is served at eleven-thirty. 

tients go to the yards for their after- 
noon recreation. A walk among them 
at this time is decidedly interesting. 
Dickens has not pictured more gro- 
tesque or fanciful characters than are 
assembled here, under the trees and 
along the paths. The grounds are well 
filled with patients, either walking, 
slowly, briskly or sedately, or sitting 
on the benches and under the trees, or 
sprawling, in various positions, on the 
lawns. Here are ministers, doctors, law- 

L~.f"t *-- 


The noon meal consists of either stew 
or soup, with boiled meat, potatoes, and 
either cabbage or carrots, bread and 
butter, molasses and tea. Roast meat 
is provided once a week. After dinner 
the patients lounge in the wards. Some 
of the men indulge in a pipe. Few seem 
inclined to engage in any form of amuse- 
ment, while many do not read on ac- 
count of the scarcity of reading matter. 
Such periodicals and newspapers as 
they have are from private donations. 
These few hours of interim grow quite 

When the bell strikes two, the pa- 

yers and judges, skilled engineers, me 
chanics and farmers. 

Old men are here, infirm and white- 
bearded, young men and middle-aged. 
There is something strangely sad about 
the scene, which affects ladies, and 
others of a sympathetic nature, to tears. 
When we consider how many darkened 
homes and broken hearts these people 
represent, how many tears and never- 
healing wounds, how many lives of pos- 
sible usefulness lost to the State and 
society, we may, indeed, turn with sad- 
ness from the sight. 

Starting from the western end of the 


Life in an Insane Asylum. 


male yard I pass a well-dressed, corpu- 
lent young man, walking like a sentinel 
though the hot sun, from one end of the 
path to the other. His face is red and 
perspiring, but he perseveres with a 
martyr's devotion, and walks on with 
his eyes fixed before him. 

My attention is next directed to a 
bearded man, who sits on the grass be- 
side his out-spread handkerchief, and is 
closely occupied in the consideration of 
a wooden toy gun, about four inches 
long, which he views from all sides and 
ponders as if he were an Agassiz, exam- 
ining a new fossil, or a Newton, work- 
ing out a great mathematical problem. 

Here is a man who looks like a charac- 
ter from Thackeray's Vanity Fair. He 
is a large man, past fifty years old, 
dressed in a long black overcoat. A 
pair of steel-rimmed spectacles recline 
on the farther end of his nose, and a 
sea-captain's hat, tipped back on his 
head, gives a juvenile look to his wrin- 
kled face. He saunters past and takes 
his seat under a tree. 

Just beyond this man I see a long, 
attenuated patient, constructed on the 
plan of Ichabod Crane. His suit is 
short and tight, and he ambles by in a 
disjointed fashion, wearing on his head 
a small straw hat, cocked up in the old 
Continental style, and ornamented with 
a rooster feather in front, and a big bow 
of newspaper behind. 

A little farther on I hear a sound pro- 
ceeding from my right ; turning, I see 
a thin-faced, red-bearded little man, 
crouched under a tree and softly repeat- 
ing, " He 's a Japanese. He 's a Japa 
nese," but so rapidly that his utterance 
would rival a most glib auctioneer's. 
I listen for some moments, but still he 
continues the elevating theme, rolling 
it off in regular cadence, now soft, now 
loud, breaking out af intervals with 
" You 're all a crowd of " the last of 
the sentence is indistinguishable. 

Moving on a short distance, I am ac- 
costed by an affable German, who has 

something confidential to tell me. lie 
begins a discourse, punctuated by earn- 
est gestures, as he peers sharply into 
my face. In the midst of his talk I dis- 
tinguish such remarks as these : " Pray- 
ing 's no good, but then it 's better than 
swearing," and " You must be wise, like 
snakes," from which expression I con-i 
elude that he has been a Bible student. 
He seems demented on the subject ofi 
social purity, and in the course of his 
remarks presents me with a written 
slip of paper, containing three by five' 
inches of solid advice. I see that it ends 
with a bit of original poetry. 

" When there is no tins nor pans 
There 's no demand for tinkers, 
Where there is no sick man found 
There 's no demand for doctors 


Ignorance and neglect 
Brings one to the sick bed 


Doctors are never sick 
Except when everybody 
is well." 

Beyond this patient an attendant 
stands, to prevent anyone from passing 
without his permission. I am allowed 
to pass and enter the female side of the 

Here the sight is more striking still. 
A yard of crazy women, with the stamp 
of their insanity upon them in dress and 
feature. They sit under the trees, and 
while some engage in knitting, others 
talk, and a few walk slowly in the paths ; 
some recline in ungraceful attitudes on 
the grass ; a few solitary women droop 
in the sunny recesses of the basement 
windows. The attitudes of many of the 
patients, in connection with their home- 
ly dresses and the peculiarities noticed 
upon a closer sight, combine to make a 
strange picture, that is indelibly stamped 
upon the memory. 

The attire of some of the women is 
the peculiarity that first attracts the 
visitor's attention. A few of them are 
slovenly, and seem to have lost all pride 
in their personal appearance ; others 


Life in an Insane Asylum. 


look quite tidy in the rough garments. 
Borne silent characters cut an uncom- 
bon figure in the short gray dresses, 
slippers, gray stockings, and cavernous 
hoods, which they pull over their heads 
until only two eyes and the tip of a nose 
are visible. As they sometimes sit in 
threes in the shade of a tree, they would 
pake excellent figures for the opening 
fecene of Macbeth. 

Gray-haired old grandmothers are 
here, and little idiot girls, sullen women 
and others of pleasant aspect, whose 
Ifaces light up as they converse with 
k r ou. There are mothers whose children 
;jare forgotten, and others in whom the 
nnaternal instinct is deathless ; many 
jtimes the visitor, in passing, is greeted 
jby remarks concerning absent children, 
lor his resemblance to them. Often pa- 
Itients beg the visitor to release them 
jfrom the asylum. In connection with 
imany cases it is a sad feature that the 
Ipatient believes that he is confined 
through the malice or cupidity of heart- 
jless relatives, who desire his property 
or are eager to be rid of him. 

I have not described all the singular 
(people confinecl in the asylum, but there 
jare a few eccentric patients prominent 
on account of the strange trend of their 
iinsanity, of whom I must make men- 
tion. There is the "Tin Hat Man," 
who wears a tall hat decorated with lit- 
itle tin patterns of birds and mechanic's 
Jtools ; the " Button Man," whose coat 
i is covered with all kinds of buttons ; the 
i" Queen of England and the World," 
I who believes that she is Queen Vic- 
itoria, and carries a British flag. These 
are noted characters, without whom a 
description of the patients would not be 

At four o'clock the asylum bell 
strikes. The patients return to the wards, 
and are at- leisure until supper. The 
: spare time of some is occupied in the 
manufacture of lace and embroidery, in 
painting, or cutting ingenious articles 
from broomsticks or other soft wood. 

There are a few patients who are out 
of doors most of the time. Those pa- 
tients who are willing are permitted to 
work about the grounds or on the farm 
under the direction of a foreman. A 
few of those who work as farm hands 
live in neat white-washed cottages. 
These are located a half-mile to the rear 
of the asylum, in a pretty spot much 
frequented by visitors. 

The place received its name from that 
of a tiny cottage near by, where a con- 
valescent patient, called the Hermit, 
lived. The Hermit told me that when 
he first came to the Hermitage the 
ground about his cottage was bare and 
rocky. Now, by his unfaltering perser- 
verance, it meets the visitor with the 
odor of honeysuckle and choice flowers, 
and is green with moss and ferns. In 
one corner of the yard is a rustic pulpit, 
and a bell that he used to ring on Sab- 
bath to call the patients to religious ser- 
vice. The Hermit built his cottage from 
scraps of boards that he picked up by 
the roadside and from pieces that were 
given him by friends. 

I have presented a fantastic side of 
the patient's character. It is but just 
to say that in the asylum are confined 
men of brilliant intellect, who give no 
evidence in their external appearance 
of the disordered state of the mind, 
who converse intelligently on the whole 
range of subjects a well read man should 
be acquainted with, and yet there is al- 
ways some one point at which their in- 
sanity is revealed. The Asylum Appeal, 
a four-paged weekly, published in 1882 
by the patients of the asylum, contained 
poems and literary articles that were 
meritorious and gave not the slightest 
intimation of their source. 

If one is not satisfied by walking 
through the yards, a good opportunity 
of seeing all the patients is afforded in 
a tour of the wards. 

The floors of the wards are of pol- 
ished wood. The windows and all the 
wood-work are kept scrupulously clean. 


Life in an Insane Asylum. 


At one end a sunny part of the ward is 
reserved as a sitting-room for the at- 
tendants, and in t he female depart- 
ment these are very cosily furnished 
with flowers, pictures, and easy chairs. 

A chill comes over one's spirits while 
passing along the corridors, as if he were 
in the solemn interior of a vault. You do 
not know what causes this strange sensa- 
tion. The wards are well kept, the beds 
are neat and clean, and the patients look 
like other people. But no, not quite 
like other people ; there is a subtle some- 
thing in their manner, a sullen discon- 
tent, a melancholy aspect, unnatural 
laughter, moody silence, and a furtive 
gleam in the eye, that reveal the fires of 
insanity within. I passed with depres- 
sed spirits through the various wards, 
the " pay ward," the receiving, the 
convalescent, and the violent. 

The last to be visited was a ward on 
the lower floor where some idiotic, sick, 
and feeble patients were confined. What 
a sight ! Mind and body both enfeebled. 
A mere animal nature surviving. Four 


or five attendants stood behind the 
chairs of the patients, who were at din- 
ner. They were not served with sepa- 
rate articles of food, but all was made 
into a cake-like hash, otherwise the pa- 
tients would choke themselves in greedy 
efforts to satisfy their hunger. Knives 
and forks are not given to this class of 
patients, who, consequently, are com- 
pelled to eat with their fingers. 

It sometimes happens that a patient 
is taken with a strange determination to 
abstain from food ; a tube is then forced 
into the throat, and gruel or other liquid 
food administered by means of the 
stomach pump. A few days of this 
treatment generally decides the patient 
to take his food, but cases are known 
where patients persisted until death en- 
sued. One instance is recorded of a 
patient who lived nineteen days after 
the ulcerated condition of her stomach 
rendered it necessary to discontinue the 
use of the stomach pump. 

To return to the regular routine of 
the ordinary patient's day : For supper, 
only a light meal is served of tea and 
bread and butter. The patients go to 
bed at an early hour, haff past six in 
winter, and seven in summer. If the 
patient be convalescent, he goes to 
his room at this hour, undresses, folds 
up his clothes, and places them out- 
side the door. It is probable that a re- 
fractory patient is also confined in the 
room with him ; this one the attendant 
undresses with the help of the conva- 
lescent, puts him into a strait jacket, 
and securely fastens him to the bed by 
straps. If he is inclined to kick, two 
straps are passed around his feet and 
fastened to the foot of the bed. The 
spread is brought low on either side of 
the bed and then securely pinned at the 
foot by the edges, which meet in a per- 
pendicular line. 

The strait-jacket is a simple canvas 
garment, laced in the back and provided 
with long, closed, pointed sleeves. 
When it is in use the arms of the pa- 


Life in an Insane Asylum. 


:ient are placed in the sleeves, which 
ire folded in front and held down by a 
short strap. The ends of the sleeves 
ire then bronght around the sides to 
:he back, and there securely fastened. 
Two other methods of restraint, the ank- 
ets and the mittens, are illustrated. Pa- 
tients confined in a dark room alone have 
been known to release themselves from 
the strait-jacket in an unaccountable 

A notable instance of this occurrence 
was lately given in the escape of a pa- 
tient from the Napa Asylum. A man 

named B became violently insane. 

He was brought to the asylum, where 
particular care was taken to prevent his 
escape. A guard visited his room every 
fifteen minutes during the night. Dur- 
ing the intervals of the guard's visits 
he freed himself, obtained possession of 
a metal cuspidor, filed through two iron 
bars, pulled them apart, lowered him- 
self to the ground by his bedclothes, 
and escaped. He was soon recaptured, 

After the patients have gone to bed 
and the doors are locked, the duties of 
the attendant are over. A night watch- 
man now comes on duty, beginning at 
9 P. M. and ending at 5 A. M. The 
watchman is assigned five or six wards, 
which he visits frequently in the night. 

At 5:30 A. M. the attendants arise, 
unlock the patients' doors, pass in their 
clothes, and dress those who cannot or 
will not dress themselves. 

The brief history of an ordinary day 
in a patient's life has now been told. 
Its monotony is seldom varied, except 
by an occasional visit from friends, or a 
participation in the Friday evening 

The clothing in which the patients 
are dressed is stout and comfortable, 
but not expensive, or cut according to 
the latest style. The male garments 
consist of red or blue flannel under- 
clothing, gray socks, and tweed suits of 
the same color, which cost six or seven 


dollars ; low-crowned black felt hats, and 
heavy shoes complete the attire. The 
clothing of the female patients is large- 
ly cut from calico, gingham, and in win- 
ter Scotch plaid. Their heads are pro- 
tected by sun-bonnets or winter hoods 
of waterproof, lined with flannel. 

The position of an asylum attendant 
does not seem to be an enviable one ; 
nevertheless, it is a singular fact that 
many of the attendants who have left 
the asylum are anxious to return again. 
The work required is not hard, but it is 
confining. The day is passed in com- 
pany with the insane, but this soon 
ceases to be a serious objection. Two 
attendants, at least, are in charge of 
every ward, the senior and the assist- 
ant. Some wards have as many as five. 
If the patients be quiet, the attendant 
has at certain seasons of the day oppor- 
tunity to read and write, or idle ; but in 
the more violent wards his leisure is at 
any moment liable to be broken by 
scuffles among the patients. 

The attendant cannot be a coward. 
He must be determined, and respected 
by the patients. When a quarrel occurs 
the attendant kindly but firmly inter- 
feres to separate the combatants, or 
place them under restraint. Any abuse 


Life in an Insane Asylum. 


that he receives must be accepted with- 
out retaliation. Very lively affrays some- 
times take place in the different wards, 
and require all an attendant's strength 
and shrewdness to come out first in the 

Two recent instances that occurred in 
the Napa Asylum will illustrate this. 
While the patients, were at dinner in 
one of the male wards, a quarrel began 
at the farther end of the table. The at- 
tendant stepped up to separate the dis- 
putants, when he was promptly struck 
between the eyes with a tin cup, his 
nose broken, eyes blackened, and a large 
gash cut in his forehead. In another 
case, a woman attendant went to the 
room of a patient, who seized her by the 
hair with a lunatic's strength, and pro- 
ceeded to beat her about the face. The 
attendant's position would have been 
critical had not a convalescent patient, 
attracted by her cries, rushed to her 
help. As it was, she did not regain con- 
sciousness until two or three hours later. 

The attendants do not take their 
meals with the patients, but are served 
at later hours in a general dining-room. 
I have already mentioned the duties of 
the attendants in connection with the 
rising and retiring of the patients, and 
their walk in the yards. 

They are allowed a half day in the 
week to go to town, and also every other 
night after their duties have been per- 
formed. They are privileged to walk in 
the grounds after the patients have gone 
to bed, until ten o'clock ; if not in the 
building promptly on the hour they are 
reported and censured. The respon- 
sibility connected with the care of four- 
teen hundred fickle patients makes it 
necessary to enforce strictly the rules 
of the institution. 

Every Friday evening a "crazy dance" 
is held in the chapel of the asylum, in 
which attendants, people from Napa, 
and convalescent patients participate. 
It is a strange sight, that hall thronged 
with patients, dressed in such fantastic 

costumes as only a disordered fancy 
could arrange. 

Religious service is conducted in the 
chapel each Sunday afternoon, by Napa 
clergymen of different denominations, 
and attended by the better class of pa- 
tients, whom it would be difficult to dis- 
tinguish from a decorous congregation 
of a city mission church. 

The attendants support an excellent 
orchestra and band. At favorable sea- 
sons the men practise base ball. Those 
attendants who fancy the stage give an 
annual dramatic entertainment in the 

These are the usual events in an at- 
tendant's life ; but it sometimes happens 
that their prosy succession is enlivened 
in an unexpected manner, by the excite- 
ment attendant upon the pursuit and 
capture of patients. The incident pres- 
ently to be related, which occurred three 
years ago, is unique in the history of 
the Napa Asylum, and can hardly be 
paralleled in the annals of the insane 
of this State. It illustrates the strange 
hallucinations of insanity, and the dan- 
gerous character the disease sometimes 
takes. When a patient escapes, the 
grounds and surrounding fields are thor- 
oughly searched. If the patient is cap- 
tured within an hour or two, the search- 
ers are recalled by the asylum bell ; if 
not, a posse of attendants is organized, 
which scours the country, visiting rail- 1 
road stations, and all probable points of 

About eight years ago a patient es- 
caped, and diligent but fruitless search 
was made for him. Three or four months 
after his flight, in an almost inaccessible! 
part of the mountains north of the asy-j 
lum, a corpse was found beneath a tree, 
in a cramped condition. The face was! 
somewhat decomposed and eaten by wild 
animals. The weather at this time \vas| 
very hot. It was supposed that the man 
had reached the shade of the tree in anj 
exhausted condition, and died from thej 
effects of exposure. The body was 


Life in an Insane Asylum. 


hauled down the mountain on a sled and 
an inquest was held, where on account 
of the marked correspondence in height, 
build, clothing, etc., to the patient who 
escaped, it was decided that the body 
was his. Accordingly it was interred 
in the asylum graveyard, and the effects 
of the patient, including three hundred 
dollars, sent to his relatives. 

Five years after this burial, at twelve 
o'clock P. M., the inmates of the asylum 
were aroused from sleep by the loud ex- 
plosion of a bomb ; an hour later an- 
other ; and at an hour's interval, still 
another was heard. 

The physicians and attendants became 
alarmed. The bombs were exploded on 
the grounds. For three or four succes- 
sive nights these explosions were heard ; 
always three, and at intervals of an hour 

One night when the excitment was at 

its height, Miss M , the daughter of 

the asylum engineeT, heard the click of 
their front gate latch. She thought- 
lessly arose and put her head out of the 
window, when a terrific explosion occur- 
red, which shook the house. Through 
the smoke she saw a man hastening from 
the yard. An armed posse was soon in 
pursuit, and the man was seen crossing 
a field. 

When hailed, he replied, " If you pay 
what you owe me I won't bother you any 
more." He soon disappeared and the 
pursuit was abandoned. 

The superintendent was now thor- 
oughly alive to the danger, and made 
strenuous efforts to capture the offend- 
er. A double line of attendants was ar- 
ranged at night in strategic positions on 
the asylum grounds, and furnished with 
a password. Rifles, shotguns, and pis- 
tols were in demand. 

A little later than the hour at which 
the explosions usually occurred, just as 
the morning light began to break, a man 
with a gun was seen within the asylum 
inclosure. He was called upon to halt 
and give the countersign, but refused 

and ran. A chase then began, and thir- 
teen shots were fired over his head. He- 
yond the asylum inclosure an attendant 
with leveled gun confronted him, and 
commanded him to halt. He looked be- 
hind and saw the barrel of another gun, 
and satisfied his case was hopeless, laid 
down his arms. 

The man was conducted to the asy- 
lum, examined, and found to be the pa- 
tient who had escaped five years before. 
In conversation he told the following 
story : He had traveled in Northern 
California and Oregon ; but Miss M 

and Mr. A (an attendant), he said, 

had followed him continually, driving 
him from profitable positions and caus- 
ing his misfortune ; they were always at 
his back, and when one slept the othei 
watched, until finally he grew desperate 
and resolved to return and kill them 

He had made an unsuccessful attempt 

to kill Miss M . On the evening of a 

political speech in Napa he walked the 
streets with a shot gun heavily charged, 
and awaited another opportunity to kill 
her ; he thought she would attend the 
meeting. The young lady was in fact 
present at the meeting, but unconscious- 
ly avoided the insane fiend by driving in 
a hurry directly to the building where 
the speaking was in progress, instead of 
stopping first at the postoffice, as was 
her custom. 

The patient had a game bag on his 
back, containing bombs. These were 
formed of three broken pieces of a giant 
powder stick, tied with string, provided 
with a fuse, and all tightly wrapped with 
baling rope. Their explosive power was 
tested and found to be tremendous. 

In addition to the attendants, there 
are two matrons for the female depart- 
ment, and two officials for the male de- 
partment, called supervisors, who exer- 
cise a general supervision over their 
sections of the wards. 

There are four physicians connected 
with the institution, all courteous gen- 


Life in an Insane Asylum. 


tlemen, the resident physician or su- 
perintendent, Doctor Gardner (who is 
intrusted with entire charge of the insti- 
tution); the first assistant, Doctor F. L. 
Dozier ; second, Doctor Boles ; and third, 
Doctor Dresbach Smith. The first and 
second assistants visit the wards once a 
day, one taking the male, the other the 
female ward. The third physician vis- 
its all the wards in the evening. 

Little can be done in the present state 
of medical science to cure this myste- 
rious disease. Certainly, much yet re- 
mains to be learned about it. Four cases 
out of every five may be traced to these 
causes, heredity, use of liquors, and ex- 
cesses of various kinds. Those who be- 
come insane through sickness or mental 
strain are very few. 

The common notion that there is lit- 
tle hope for a lunatic who becomes vio- 
lently insane is not founded on fact. 
The violent patient more frequently 
recovers than one who is silent, moody, 
and morose or of a religious turn of mind. 

About three-fourths of the patients 
are released once, many are set at lib- 
erty twice ; but there are few who ob- 
tain their freedom thrice. The patient's 

last acquittal is issued by the kindly 
hand of death. 

The grim-visaged visitor seldom finds 
a mourning group of friends about the 
patient's bedside or a funeral procession 
ready to follow him to the grave. In fact, 
the funeral of a " crazy " is not marked 
by much grief or great expense. When 
a patient dies the body is composed and 
attired either in a muslin gown or the 
best suit of clothes he had. The corpse 
is taken to the deadhouse and remains 
there for a short time. The coffin is a 
rough pine box ; an uncovered spring 
wagon answers for a hearse. Three per- 
sons at least are present at the funeral, 
the supervisor, the driver, and the grave- 
digger. Any sympathetic person so dis- 
posed may climb into the wagon and 
take his seat upon the coffin, while the 
procession trots off' to the graveyard. 
Here the service is quite brief, in fact 
begun and ended by the stoic gravedig- 
ger. The memory of the patient quickly 
fades when his body has been buried, 
and the boards set up to indicate that 
Number So-and-so has passed away ; and 
his vacant place within the wards is 
soon possessed by another sufferer. 
C/ias. W. Coyle. 


A Santa Barbara Day in Winter. 



O DAY of days, I sing thy passing grace ere time has marred 
Thy liquid sunshine in its perfect glow, or barred 
One tender, radiant vista of its searching length, 
Or stolen from one throb of joy its wild, sweet strength. 

The black-wreathed tempest past, the long, wild struggle past and o'er 
Of angered elements in cloud-locked, ceaseless war, 
Great winds arose, and aired and dried the whole drenched world, 
On which the heedless fates had floods of waters hurled. 

"Come out," I cried, "O come!" opening my arms, my windows wide. 

"We are new-born, we and all the sweet world beside. 

No roof of hands shall hide my happy head today ; 

But God shall shield it under His, that waits alway." 

Out through the shining, flowery streets with joy we swiftly passed, 

Out till the clear, wide, winding road was reached at last. 

Softly the rounded hills piled 'gainst the drooping sky, 

Long lay the marshy sweeps where rush and willow lie. 


A Santa Barbara Day in Winter. 


Like one great olive branch the whole earth smiled and shone, and shook 
In the wide wind heaven-sent, that kindly swooping, took 
All beaten, storm-crushed things, and brushed, and smoothed, and swept, 
Whilst out from shaded nook and crease all scared things crept. 

Salt airs play gently over slender rush and rustling leaves ; 
Warm mountain breath tangled 'mid eucalypti grieves; 
And the trim, taper blackbird leaping to the stile, 
Stands dressed in blues and blacks, swift shoaling sheen the while. 
Mark well how slender wings like jeweled draperies backward fall ; 
Hark to the liquid jocund sweetness of his call ! 

Still on through canons' mottled shade we thread our way, 
Great walls of green shadowing the radiant day. 
Whilst tiny, lissom lizards dart and flash in rainbow light 
From out the moss-grown, creviced rock, then back to night. 
Clear water runs, and here the faint flushed virginal bloom 
Of pale, wild lilacs lights the odor-haunted gloom. 

Photo by Taber. 

Into the broad, bright, traveled way slowly we drift at last. 
On either sloping side, ribbons of springing grass, 
That gently bring us to a sadly darkening door, 
Where waving eucalypti stand around, before, 
Guarding the silent city of the dead full well. 
Mounting the cliff-top 'neath the gleam and gloom, then fell 
A pall of silence o'er us, chill and dull, when lo, 
The noble height was gained, we drew keen breath, for O, 
Wide, wide, a heaving sea of sapphire rolled ablaze, 
A baptism of new life and power and sweet amaze. 


A Santa Barbara Day in Winter. 


Wide, wide, the purpling sapphire sea before us spread. 

Dreaming, fair islands lay rocked in their cradling bed. 

A great ship, strong, white-winged, swept toward us like a hope ! 

The baptism of the sea made all things new ; and scope 

For fullest being smote each nerve. Tall mountains rose 

Behind, around, their brows full bound to light that glows 

But once in life. Swinging in air as crystal clear, 

The earth one great, revolving jewel did appear, 

Set in the wondrous blue. And listening, breathless, one could catch 

The pulse-beats throbbing to the harmony. And snatch, 

An so they willed, a blissful moment's swift release. 

And soaring, disembodied, share in sacred peace 

The airy movement of one great, transfigured orb. 

O sea ! O day ! what glory may we motes of time absorb ! 


A Santa Barbara Day in Winter. 


So through the flickering sunset glow, along the cliff-bound shore, 
We wind our homeward way back to the town once more. 
On Mission arches gray the changeful light glows warm. 
No stark and noisy chimneys lift a blackening storm ; 
No roar of traffic comes to greet the tortured ear, 
As waving pine and palm and scent of flowers draw near. 

Photo by T.isheira. 

They say this idle town knows not its hour, its need 

Of the nineteenth century's push and hot unrest and greed. 

O idle town, still let the yellow gain slip by, 

Still may thy golden rest, thy peace about us lie, 

That peace so hard to win, that peace how few that find. 

Sweet riches of sweet health, dower of the tranquil mind ! 

Let kindly plenty reign, well earned and gently got, 

No curse of swift-formed wealth to breed its social rot. 

O rose-blown city, sleeping by the azure sea! 
O quiet, quaint old town, that grows so dear to me ! 
To thee I sing, as song is given, my heartfelt lay, 
This simple story of a Santa Barbara day. 

Harriet W. Waring. 


Jardin de />or//<i. 



l-y A. I >. S 

A MEXICAN lill.ti.l.Nv I \ 

TOURISTS that take advantage of the 
admirable traveling facilities which make 
the City of Mexico of such easy ac- 
cess (and happily, the number of such 
tourists is increasing every year) should 
not fail to include among their expedi- 
tions in the environs of the Mexican cap- 
ital a trip to Cuernavaca. To strengthen 
this advice by specific reasons, it may be 
remarked that the trip affords an oppor- 
tunity to test the enjoyments and the 
discomforts of a ride in a diligencia, one 
of the characteristic methods of travel 
in Mexico, now rapidly being replaced 
by railways. Even this diligencia route 
is likely to succumb to railway and tram- 
way extension before many years, and 
the tourist will have to go a long way 
from the capital, or forego the romance 
of the diligencia ride. 

Then, again, there is scarcely a more 
picturesque road to be selected from 
among those which are open to the 
hasty tourists who find themselves in 
the City of Mexico with, say, a week at 
their disposal, than that which runs out 
from the San Antonio, a bad quarter of 
the city ; over the road by which Cor- 
tez first entered Tenochtitlan ; through 
Tialpam ; across the mountain ranges 
which shut in the valley of Mexico on 
the south, and on to Cuernavaca, the cap- 
ital of the State of Morelos. The scen- 
ery along the route embraces all the 
varieties which characterize that won- 
derful land and make it the sightseer's 
paradise. Snow-clad mountains, extinct 
volcanoes, sheer precipices, dense for- 
ests of the hardier timber, tropical foli- 
age, cultivated valleys, broad meadows. 

1893. J 

Jardin de Borda. 


ava beds, quaint little towns, rude ham- 
ets, and scattered jacals, all to be seen 
,n the course of a ride of ten hours over 
:orty-seven miles of road. 

And Cuernavaca when reached, is dis- 
:overed to be a most picturesque place, 
with an interesting history back of it. 
[t was a pueblo of the Tlahuico Indians 
jefore the advent of the Europeans, and 
x>re the name Quauhnahuac, meaning 
'a stopping place for the eagle," and 
this name became humorously corrupted 
n the mouths of the Spaniards into 
Cuernavaca, meaning " the horn of a 
:ow." It was captured by the Spaniards 
n 1521, before Tenochtitlan was finally 

With the title " Marques del Valle de 
Oaxaca," and with a large tract of sur- 
rounding country, it was conferred upon 

ortez by the Emperor Charles V., in 
1529, in recognition of his services in 
Mexico. In 1530 the Conquistador took 
up his abode there, built him a stately 
residence, (since the Revolution rebuilt 
and now used as the government build- 
ings of the State of Morelos,) and intro- 
duced from the West Indies the culti- 
vation of sugar cane, which has since 
grown to be such a wealth-producing 
staple in that portion of Mexico. 
Thence he projected his expeditions of 
discovery along the Pacific Coast, and 
in 1540 set out upon his final journey to 
his native land. 

In the present century Cuernavaca 
became the favorite resort of the Em- 
peror Maximilian and the charming 
Carlota, who heartily commended the 
wisdom of Cort6z in selecting it as his 
.residence. The villa in which the Em- 
peror and Empress resided from Janu- 
ary to October, 1866, is now used for a 
school. Probably its former Imperial 
occupants wished for it no better use. 

Surely this should justify a trip, which 
need take no more than four days of the 
tourist's time, but which will afford a 
lifetime of delightful recollections. 

And the tourist will be sure to visit 

VOL. xxi 14. 

the Jardin de Borda in Cuernavaca, for 
in interest it ranks next to the govern- 
ment buildings, the monument of the 
great Conquistador ; and in beauty it 
far exceeds all else in this picturesque 
town of narrow, crooked streets, red tile 
roofs, and tropical vegetation. Yet 
does it give but a vague hint of its splen- 
dor, more than a century ago, after Don 
Jose de la Borda had expended a million 
of dollars upon it, and before the armies 
of revolutionists had overrun it, in 1811 
and 1821, while struggling for the inde- 
pendence of Mexico, leaving it to the 
tender mercies of gradual decay. The 
tourist will be sure to hear, furthermore, 
something about the man to whom the 
now departing beauties of this garden 
were due. 

Joseph de Laborde was a poor French 
boy who came to New Spain, as Mexico 
was then called, in 1716, at the age of 
sixteen. He soon became so thorough- 
ly Mexicanized that he was quite recon- 
ciled to the change which his name un- 
derwent, and was content to be known 
as Jose" de la Borda. He illustrated 
what a poor foreigner might become in 
the New Spain of that day, and furnish- 
ed a type of character that was then 
quite common. 

Those were the palmiest days of the 
Spanish Viceroys, when the wealthy in 
Mexico were very wealthy, and the poor 
were poor, indeed. The country was 
sending annually to Europe ten millions 
of its mineral wealth alone. Such a 
thing as " Mexico for the Mexicans '' 
had never been heard of, and was only 
remotely dreamed of, and Borda soon 
discovered that it was the foreigner who 
got wealthy in New Spain. What were 
the Viceroys who were paid $40,000 
(and subsequently $70,000) per annum, 
and yet could spend a million upon an 
aqueduct or build a costly church at their 
own charges, what were they but for- 
eigners ? And Borda determined that 
he would be rich, and philanthropic, 
for the two went together in those days 


Jardin de Borda. 


His first fortunate venture was in the 
mine of the Canada del Real at Tlalpu- 
jahua, where both gold and silver are 
yet to be found, and whence he acquired 
an immense fortune. And following 
the example of the wealthy foreigners 
all around him, he gave a part of- his 
wealth to the church. Half a million 
he spent in the erection and adornment 
of a beautiful parish church (still stand- 
ing) in Tasco, an ancient mining town 
about fifty miles southwest of Cuerna- 
vaca. This was about the middle of the 
eighteenth century. 

But the millionaires of Mexico in the 
eighteenth century seemed not content 
with wealth that was obtained by the 
simple process of digging the precious 
metals directly from the earth, as Borda 
was able to do at Tlalpujahua. Mining 
speculation was rife, and Borda was in- 
volved in it. Suddenly he experienced 
a reverse of fortune and was reduced to 
sore straits. In a very practical way he 
realized the wisdom of making the 
church his savings bank, for the Arch- 
bishop of Mexico permitted him to dis- 
pose of a golden chandelier, ornamented 
with diamonds and other precious 
stones, which he had given to the church 
at Tasco, and from this he realized near- 
ly a hundred thousand dollars. 

The mining enterprises of Zacatecas 
were about to be abandoned, but Borda 
set out to revive them with the capital 
thus obtained. At first he succeeded : 
then in working the famous Quebradilla 
mines he lost all that he had made and 
nearly all his capital. He persevered, 
however ; struck the vetagrande or great 
vein of La Esperanza mine, regained 
his former wealth, and at his death in 
1778 was estimated to be worth over 
forty millions. 

No man of his time knew Mexico 
throughout its length and breadth bet- 
ter than Don Jos6 de la Borda. He 
knew where its mineral wealth lay hid. 
He knew also where that wealth, once 
obtained, could be best enjoyed. A cen- 

tury later Carlota, in a letter to Gutier- 
rez de Estrada, referred to Cuernavaca 
as "the most beautiful jewel of the 
country." By his actions, Borda ex- 
pressed the same opinion. The whole 
country was before him, but he chose a 
certain slope of the Cordilleras on the 
western edge of Cuernavaca as his home. 
There he proposed to establish his 
family and his name, trusting that both 
would endure for ages. 

The house he built, a marvel of mag- 
nificence in its day, was destroyed dur- 
ing the wars for independence. It was 
not only money, but a sybaritic taste 
also that he expended upon the grounds. 
His million of dollars went along way in 
those days of cheap labor, and we may 
see even now, in what remains of its 
past splendors in the Jardin de Borda, 
how unrestrained he was in carrying out 
his plans. There are successions of 
terraces and a flight of marble steps 
connecting one portion of the gardei 
with the other ; there are tanks of wat 
fowl and running streams; there are 
luxurious groves of forest trees, forming 
dense and delicious shade over basins 
of cool water, where fountains once 
played incessantly ; and at one end of 
the grounds a summer-house extended 
nearly the whole width of the garden 
upon arches, its walls painted in fresco 
to resemble a garden of flowers filled 
with birds of rare plumage, which gave 
the appearance of the extension of the 
garden in that direction indefinitely. 
Over the western wall rose a belvidere, 
from which a view unsurpassed any- 
where in the world might be enjoyed. 

Borda hoped that this might ever be 
the home of a family which should bear 
his name, and to favor this plan he in- 
duced his daughter to take the veil and 
enter a religious house. The property 
could then be given unembarrassed to 
his only son, Jose". But the son inher- 
ited none of his father's worldly ambi- 
tion, and defeated all his plans by er 
bracing the monastic life. One of tl 

1893.] Merit. 179 

churches in Cuernavaca (Guadalupe) greater part of the millions that he 

was built at his expense, and a religious had acquired with so much difficulty, 

order for a while occupied the house and And his name is perpetuated by the 

grounds upon which his father had lav- Jardin de Borda, beautiful even in its 

ished his wealth. decay. Perhaps the wily old Archbishop 

The "family" that Don Jose de la had some premonition of the course 

Borda had sought to found, existed events would take, when he consented 

but a few years after his death in the to have Don Jose take back a part of 

person of a religious celibate, and then his offering to the church in Tasco and 

the church in Mexico obtained the repair his shattered fortunes. 

Arthur Hozvard Noll. 


GIVE success its measured glory, 
Laurel crown and martial story : 
Wealth of wisdom, weight of power, 
Genius like a wondrous flower, 
All shall have their meed of praises, 
Famous song and deathless phrases. 

But a sweeter incense render 
Born of pity, human, tender 
Fated unsuccess, whose striving 
Gained no crown of man's contriving ,* 
Heard no plaudits, wrought no wonder,, 
Rent no mystic veil asunder. 

Like the box of alabaster 

That the woman brought the Master, 

Bring the finest intuition, 

Know dead hopes and vain ambition ; 

While the world of victors prattles, 

Enter thou another's battles. 

Feel the strife and know his weakness, 
Bear defeat in noble meekness ; 
Then a sympathy he sought not 
Give to him, O ye who fought not ! 
Like the precious ointment give it, 
And a blessing shall outlive it. 

Elizabeth S. Bates. 

180 In Vespero. [Feb. 


COME to the Evening Land, weary one, loved one, 
Come, for the day with its turmoil is done ; 

Far through the pepper trees' low-drooping branches 
Glows the deep red of the fast-sinking sun. 

Quickly he drops from the cleft in the mountains, 
Chased by night's crimson and gold, he has fled. 

Lift thy dear face to the air's benediction, 

Soft falls the twilight like peace round thy head. 

Faster and thicker 't is falling around us ; 

Now in the east shines a star, only one. 
Still is the world, save one nightingale singing, 

Mourning in requiem low for the sun. 

Far o'er our heads stretch the infinite heavens 

Cloudless and deep. Ah, they lighten ! Behold 

Star after star, peering forth through the darkness ; 
Cluster on cluster its beauty unfold ! 

Here Ariadne's crown, star-jeweled, glistens, 

There Ursa Major climbs over the hill, 
On to Olympus goes Pegasus flying, 

Meteors shoot through the heavens at will. 

Jupiter proudly rides high towards the zenith, 

Venus' soft light sparkles low in the west, 
Scorpio, chased by the untiring Archer, 

Flees with Antares' red light in his breast. 

There gleams white Vega, there blazes Arcturus, 

There flies the Swan down the Milky Way's maze; 

Now the whole firmament throbs with the glory 
Of stars, singing silently anthems of praise. 

But see ! In the eastward the mountain tops brightening, 

Fainter is growing the Pleiades' gleam. 
Look at the Galaxy! Slowly 'tis fading, 

Passing, as passes a beautiful dream. 

Steadily spreads the faint light in the eastward ; 

Still growing brighter, and ever more bright ; 
Forth bursts the moon, in her silvery glory, 

Earth's gentle guardian, queen of the night. 

Isabel . Owens. 






THE people of the village of Lechena 
rose from their beds to devote them- 
selves to their hard day's work, when 
they were alarmed by hearing the dis- 
tant beat of approaching drums. " Can 
it be Turks ?" asked the village magis- 
trate of his brother. 

" How do I know ?" replied the brother, 
listening to the noise. 

" Is there a fire on Philokali ?" 

"No, there is not." 

"Then they are not Turks," said the 
magistrate more calmly, arranging his 
gold-embroidered gaiters. 

However, the beating of the drum 
grew in course of a little time louder and 
more distinct. 

'" I am afraid it is the Turks, and a 
good many of them, too," remarked the 
brother after a little hesitation ; and ad- 
dressing his family, still lying on the 
ground slumbering, he called out : 
"Women, children, maids, rise! we 

1 This pathetic little story will be better appreciated 
if we remember the terrible sufferings of the Greeks under 
Turkish dominion before the uprising of 1821. The 
history of this revolution affords some of the most thrill- 
ing chapters of heroism, suffering, and patriotism in his- 
tory. The best account is to be found in the " History 
of the Greek Uprising," by S. Trikoupy. 

must flee ! the Turks are coming upon 
us!" His voice trembled with fear as 
he spoke. 

That same moment voices were heard 
in the streets of the village shouting, 
u Turks ! Turks ! " followed by an in- 
describable noise of knocks against 
doors, yelping and barking of dogs, 
screaming and weeping of children, 
voices of men ?md entreaties of women. 

The women threw all their valuable 
house utensils into the wells, and half 
clad thronged after their husbands, car- 
rying in their arms their little children, 
the younger women carrying away with 
them their best attire and their holiday 
fineries. In a short while all the people 
of the village crowded together at the 
house and in the courtyard of the vil- 
lage magistrate, and tried to find out 
from him what all this was about. 

" I don't believe that the Turks are 
upon us, but let us go and see what un- 
expected things may happen," was his 

" Let us go ! " was the unanimous de- 
cision of the crowd, the men seizing their 
knotty sticks and some their long-bar- 
reled muskets. 




Thus they left the village, directing 
their steps to the east, the women and 
children constituting the rear guard. 

When they had reached " the spot of 
the bridges," they saw with terror and 
consternation, in the indistinct dawn, 
Turkish cavalry moving on in a broad 
line along the ridge of St. George, to 
the left as far as Androvida, to the right 
along the whole shore as far as the old 
monastery of St. Athanasius. 

As is well known, all the Turks inhab- 
iting the valley districts had, at the 
beginning of the revolution, left their 
homes to seek security in the fortress 
of Patrae. From here they sallied from 
time to time, and pillaged the Greek vil- 
lages, whose inhabitants, being unarmed 
and inexperienced in warfare, fled as 
often as they approached. 

High up on the western slope of the 
Olenos there was a monastery, the name 
of which I do not remember. When- 
ever the monks became aware of the in- 
tention of the Turks to undertake one 
of their pillaging expeditions into the 
plains, they warned the villagers by 
kindling a large fire on the peak of a 
mountain visible in all directions. Not 
infrequently you might hear in the mid- 
dle of the night, the alarm, " Fire on 
Philokali ! " and although it had become 
quite familiar, it always startled the 
sleepers from their rest ; and beside 
themselves with terror, they left their 
houses to take to flight, either in the 
direction of the forests of Droselys, or 
the stronghold of Klomootsy. 

When the villagers this time saw the 
Turks they wished to escape by the pub- 
lic highway, but their plan having been 
discovered, they were fearfully pursued 
and scattered every which way over the 
craggy and uncultivated fields. Now 
their endeavor was to reach the wood of 
Droselys, distant something like a mile, 
where the underbrush and dense shrub- 
bery offered insurmountable obstacles 
to the Turkish cavalry. 

Women with their babies in their 

arms, little bare-footed children, hand- 
some girls carelessly dressed, with hair 
disheveled, ran in all directions, over 
brambles and amidst bushes, leaving 
shreds of their garments here and there, 
and wounding their feet till they bled, 
all this in order to escape from the 
lariats of the Turks, who were wild with 
desire for prey. The old men and the 
white-haired women, who were too weak 
to fly far, fell upon their knees before 
the savage Turk, bestowing upon him 
reverent titles of " Bezeeri " and of " Sul- 
tan," and imploring to be spared from 
murder. Some of these crawled down 
into the crags, or into dense thickets, 
hoping thus to escape from death or 
imprisonment ; but the bloodhounds, 
which the Turks always brought with 
them for these frightful chases, did not 
fail to scent the poor hidden creatures, 
and to make known their presence by 
their howls. 

A woman clad in mourning, holding 
a two-year-old child in her arms, WE 
seen to make desperate efforts to escape 
from the bloodthirsty pursuit of three 
mounted Turks. This woman, who, fror 
her husband's name, was called Yannh 
in her village, seemed hardly eighteei 
years old, and was certainly very beai 
tiful. Being the daughter of the wealtl 
iest magistrate of the village, she hac 
attracted the attention of all the younj 
men. But she loved desperately, am 
in spite of the opposition of her parents 
and relatives, Yanno, a handsome, hoi 
orable, but poor young fellow, whom she 
married when scarcely sixteen ye r c 
old. This marriage, the result of sue 
sincere devotion, was not destined to 
a happy one for Asyma, for only a weel 
later Yanno, while trying to subdue ar 
untamed horse, was thrown and re 
mained with a broken neck on the spot 
At first beside herself with, grief, Asy- 
ma seemed gradually to grow calmei 
while in reality her heart was consume 
with sorrow. She stayed alone in her 
desolate home, not wishing to see an] 



of her relatives, because, as she thought, 
these by their meddling had made the 
marriage " of evil omen.'' 

After some months Asyma gave birth 
to a charming, fair-haired child, who, at 
her request, was called by the godfather 
after his unfortunate father, to whom, 
indeed, he bore great resemblance. 
Thus she lived alone with her baby, 
the precious token of conjugal ove, 
delighted whenever she heard his voice, 
or his sweet laugh. " O my Yanno ! " 
she was wont to exclaim, while she em- 
braced the child fervently, trying to de- 
ceive the deep grief which she felt for 
the loss of her beloved husband. 

Yannia, her hair flying in the wind, 
holding her cherished child in firm em- 
brace, was flying from the savage Turks, 
hurrying hither and thither, fear and 
hatred in her eyes, like a deer frightened 
from its lair. The three Turks sur- 
rounding her were throwing lariats to 
capture her, but she, by clever dodging, 
kept them off. Now she crawled on the 
ground ; then she bent low ; again, she 
rose up ; now she leaped ; all of a sud- 
den she would stop, while the Turks, 
swearing and cursing, foamed at the 
mouth with fury and lust. By her ma- 
neuvers she was enabled to make some 
headway, and to approach, with her pur- 
suers close at her heels, the western 
border of the woods. Here she gath- 
ered the last remnants of her strength, 
to reach the woods more quickly. When 
success had almost crowned her efforts, 
Asyma, while stooping to evade the la- 
riat of the nearest pursuer, became en- 
tangled in the network of tendrils 
formed by a creeping plant, and fell to 
the ground. The Turks, shouting with 
joy, threw themselves upon their prey ; 
but as one of them bent over her, and 
endeavored to seize with vile hand the 
beautiful woman, a bullet fired from the 
interior of the forest stretched him 
dead by the side of her. While the 
other two were standing aghast at the 
death of their companion, Asyma, gath- 

ering new strength, arose, and crossing 
herself ran off, and reached a thicket 
some distance from the edge of the 
woods. Meanwhile, the bloodthirsty 
pursuers had dismounted and ran after 
her, and her fate would undoubtedly 
have been sealed, had not one of those 
inspirations that sometimes come in 
greatest danger, brought her help. Asy- 
ma carried with her some costly head- 
gear, which now, to save her darling 
child, she threw back to the Turks, who 
at once stopped their pursuit, and began 
a quarrel for the possession of the prize. 
This gave Asyma time to disappear, and 
find shelter within a cluster of trees, 
closely grown together, where some 
thirty other persons men and women 
had found refuge. 

" O, save me ! save me ! " she cried, 
as she entered, raising her child aloft. 

" Keep still, miserable woman ! " said 
the oldest of those within, in a stern 

The silence of the grave immediately 
prevailed in this heap of humanity, and 
only their heart-beats could have been 
discerned by an attentive ear. The 
calm of the forest was only interrupted 
from time to time by the outcries and 
blasphemies of the Turks, the barking 
of the dogs, the sighs of some one in 
agony, and by the reports of firearms. 
The wind gently whispered in the foli- 
age of the trees, and the snake sought 
her remotest nest. 

All of a sudden there was heard in 
the sad and silent crowd the cry of 
a weeping babe. Asyma's little son, 
having awakened from a momentary 
slumber, was the unfortunate source. 

" Silence the child, wretched woman, 
or we are lost ! " commanded the old 


Poor Asyma began to rock the child 
in her arms, and made every effort to 
silence it, but all in vain. Turkish 
voices were now heard near by, as they 
encouraged their dogs to penetrate into 
the various hiding places. Now you 




might hear distinctly their very re- 
marks, and the consequent terror of our 
fugitives may be imagined, but cannot 
be described. 

" Either silence the child, or I shall 
kill it," whispered again the angry 
leader. " So many souls shall not be 
lost on his account. Hark! The 
Turks are close by." 

But as the little child continued to 
cry, the old man reached out his hand 
to seize it. 

" O, don't take him from me, I love 
him so ! Pray, leave him to me. He 
will keep still." These were the words 
of the ill-fated mother, spoken while 
she clasped her hands in prayer. 

But it was all in vain. The child kept 
on crying, and the Turks came ever 
nearer, dtod their voices became ever 
more distinct. One of the people in 
the hiding-place stooped low, and could 
look through an opening in the roots of 
the trees of the palisade, and see the 
terrifying scene outside. Hardly thirty 
paces away, at another hiding-place, the 
dogs had scented and dragged forth two 
women an old, decrepit little mother 
and her beautiful daughter, who ap- 
peared sixteen years old. While one 
of the savage heathen made ready to 
bring down his sword upon the old 
woman, her daughter with supernatural 
strength and courage wrenched the 
dagger from another one of the Turks, 
and buried it in the twinkling of an eye 
in the strong breast of the murderer. 
Hereupon the other Turks threw them- 
selves with madness upon the young 
girl, and the watcher, since he could 
not offer help, withdrew -from the place 
of observation to save himself from the 
horror of seeing Christian blood shed. 

Already the steps of Turkish soldiers 
were approaching the thicket, and still 
the child continued its sobs. 

" Brethren," whispered the old man, 
addressing himself to his companions, 
"we are thirty of us. We came here to 
save our lives from the Turkish blade, 

but we shall not succeed, if this child is 
permitted to cry. Either we must kill 
him, or we shall be killed. You have 1 
your choice ; what will you do ? " 

All those who heard him expressed 
horror in their faces. The wretched 
mother, with tear-worn eyes, watched 
the faces of those around her to learn 
the fate of her darling. Her suspense 
was that of the prisoner who expects to- 
hear the death-sentence from the lips of 
his judge. The men and women of the 
crowd looked at each other, and then, 
with one terrible whisper, " Kill it ! " 
was the awful verdict. " Here with th< 
babe, Asyma," said the old man, sternly, 
while he extended one hand, and prc 
duced a short dagger with the other. 

Asyma watched his movements as ii 
dazed, and as he was about to seize th( 
child she withdrew convulsively, anc 
buried the baby in her bosom, at the 
same time uttering the most horrible 
scream of distress. 

"Give me the child, Asyma," com-, 
manded the old man. 

" O don't take him from me ! I have 
no other. What will become of me with- 
out him ? Let me flee ! " 

" You shall not flee," retorted the ok 
man. "The Turks are close by. Youi 
.leaving would betray us. You must sta) 
and the child must die," he added an- 
grily, at the same time seizing the chile 
by one of its little legs. 

"O my darling chick ! What do the] 
want, Yanno, what do they want ? O, 
still ! You are fatherless ; you were bon 
ill-fated. Keep still ! " 

Thus she spoke, and, as if in a fit of 
insanity, she pressed the child close t( 
her breast to smother its crying. 

All of a sudden the child moved spas 
medically. Asyma seemed petrifiee 
Her eyes stared vacantly ; her hair stooe 
on end ; a deep smothered sigh came 
from her lips. Thechild was silent. Asj 
ma fell in a fainting fit to the grounc 
holding her darling in tight embrace 
All those in the hiding-place let theii 




heads fall low on their breasts in mourn- 
Little by little the voices outside and 

the yelping of the dogs were heard at 
greater distance, and finally died away. 
Deep silence prevailed in the forest ; on- 
ly the birds that had fled at the approach 
of the fugitives came back to sing once 
more their songs while they were mer- 
rily fluttering from branch to branch. 

The Turks moved on in the direction 
of Patrae, taking with them as captives 
the beautiful girls, and leaving their un- 
fortunate victims dead without tears of 
loving mourners, unburied in the woods. 
The sun rose resplendent and warm ; 
the birds unconcerned raised their sweet 

Today the wanderer may see at the 
spot of the thicket a wooden cross that 
marks a little grave, and a tall cypress 
that sheds sadness all about. Rose- 
bushes and frankincense trees planted 
around the little grave fill the air with 
their fragrance, and offer their flowers 
for the uplifting of the little soul. Not 
far from here there is seen a little cone- 
shaped thatched hut, on one side of 
which there is a niche consecrated to 
Mary, mother of God, with her child 
Jesus in her arms. Here dwells a poor, 
sorrowful woman, removed from the tur- 
moil of the world, leading a life embit- 
tered with the indifference of men. The 
little grave covers Yanno, the little sav- 

ior who had to sacrifice his short life for 
the lives of others. The woman that 
occupies the hut is Yannia, the unfor- 
tunate wife and still more unfortunate 
mother, she who had sacrificed her only 
hope for the safety of her fellow-beings. 
Embittered by the indifference of those 
whose lives she had saved, without hope, 
without a loving soul in her village, Asy- 
ma preferred to live near her beloved 
child. Time seemed to be powerless to 
lessen her love for her child and for her 
husband. In consequence of the devas- / 
tation during the uprising and the sub- 
sequent changes in things, not a trace 
of the cemetery of Lechena is left. Asy- 
ma, however, who with her little mule 
of a Sunday brings sometimes some 
snails, at other times some willow-ware, 
to town in order to -earn a penny, hav- 
ing entrusted her things to some little 
boy, invariably directs her steps to the 
spot where the grave of her husband 
used to be, and there she loses herself 
in thoughts of love and sacred prayer. 
To a young huntsman who chanced 
past her hut, she once exclaimed, "O, my 
beloved child ! Had he lived, he would 
now be a man and a comfort to me, but 
it does not matter. All you people must 
envy his fate who died for his people," 
and there was some expression of pride 
in her words. " One of these days I, too, 
shall die in these woods," she added with 
a bitter smile, " and who knows whether 
there will be anybody to bury me." 

A I bin Putzker. 





THIS is the way to win the dagger-thrust, 

Garbed as a simple rustic of the fields, 

They '11 never dream they kill the king in me, 

While all their hopes go down my way to death ; 

Or so it will be, if the Delphian god 

Has spoken truly, and what man may doubt 

The oracle's decree that only they 

Who lose their king shall conquer ? Be it so : 

I never yet have feared to look on death, 

Nor shall I now : but yet I well have wished 

To die in battle, boldly facing odds, 

Not thus like prowling thief, whose coward heart 

But puts on boldness with the darkening night. 

My father, when a boy I first was taught 
To wield the sword and throw the javelin, 
Would say that more than any strength of arm 
For striking terror deep among the foe, 
And better than the bull's-hide set with brass 
For warding off the arrow and the spear, 
Was in the breast a high and daring heart 
That longed for battle as a hawk for prey, 
And thought of danger only as the meed 
Of noble spirits that were worthy of it. 

I know not if the gods so will or no ; 
Perchance the nob|^r spirits whom they deem 
Most fit to be companioned with themselves 
On high Olympus, they give entrance there, 
But only thro' the door of dangers met 
And mastered with the spirit of a god. 


Codrus. 187 

It must be so ; th' eternal ones themselves 

Must once have been as mortals. Then how else 

Than by the braving of unnumbered ills 

Have they become immortal ? When the soul 

Subdues the cringing terror in the flesh 

And laughs at what can make the sudden pulse 

Send fevered tumult thro' the startled veins ; 

When nothing but the thought of being touched 

By some infirmity, however slight, 

Yet lessening the soul's nobility, 

Can bring pale fear to darken o'er the heart ; 

What more of godlike can there be than this ? 

By any other way I cannot think 

That they have climbed Olympus, and for me 

This path that leads from Athens, howsoe'er 

I travel It as other than a king, 

May bring me to the selfsame end at last. 

But if it do not let no thought of that 

Assail me; noble deeds are noble deeds, 

And nobler as they have the less reward. 

What ! two to one ? right glad am I. 
Strike hard, for I am more than common man. 
Well done ! and now one last avenging stroke, 
No, live to tell your king that by your hand 
Is Codrus dead, and gone to seek the gods, 
While Athens laughs his gathered power to scorn. 

Lewis Worthington Smith. 


The Guarany. 




NIGHT was at hand. The sun was 
setting behind the great forests, which 
he illumined with his last rays. The 
soft, dim light of sunset, gliding over 
the green carpet, rolled like waves of 
gold and purple along the foliage. The 
wild thorn-trees opened their white and 
delicate flowers, and the ouricory 1 ex- 
panded its newest palms to receive in 
its cup the dew of night. The belated 
animals sought their lairs ; while the 
jurity, calling to its mate, uttered the 
soft and mournful cooings with which 
it takes leave of day. A concert of 
deep notes hailed the setting sun and 
mingled with the noise of the waterfall, 
which seemed to break the harshness 
of its descent and yield to the sweet 
influence of evening. 

It was the Ave Maria. How grave 
and solemn in the midst of our forests 
is the mysterious hour of twilight, 
when nature kneels at the feet of the 
Creator to murmur the evening prayer ! 
Those great shadows from the trees, 
stretching along the ground; those 
infinite graduations of light in the 
mountain ravines ; those chance rays 
that escaping through the network of 
leaves play for a moment upon the 
sand ; all these breathe a boundless 
poetry that fills the soul. The unitac? 
in the depth of the forest utters its deep 
and sonorous notes, which, echoing 
through the long archways of verdure, 
sound in the distance like the slow and 
measured tones of the angelus. The 
breeze, moving the tops of the trees, 

J A species of palm. 
2 A night bird. 

brings a feeble murmur, which seems 
the final echo of the voices of day or the 
last sigh of the dying evening. All 
those on the esplanade felt more or less- 
the powerful impression of that solemn 
hour, and yielded involuntarily to a 
vague sentiment, not indeed of sadness, 
but of awe. Suddenly the melancholy 
tones of a clarion were borne through 
the air, interrupting the evening con- 
cert. It was one of the adventurers 
playing the Ave Maria. All uncovered. 
Dom Antonio, advancing to the edge 
of the esplanade toward the west, took 
off his hat and knelt down. Around 
him grouped his wife, the two girls, 
Alvaro, and Dom Diogo ; the adventur- 
ers, forming a great arc of a circle, knelt 
some steps distant. The sun with his 
last reflection lighted up the beard and 
white hair of the aged nobleman, and 
heightened the beauty of that bust of 
an ancient cavalier. 

It was a scene at once simple and 
majestic that was presented by that 
half Christian, half savage prayer. In 
all those countenances, illumined by the 
sunset rays, was reverence. Loredano 
alone maintained his disdainful smile, 
and followed with the same malignant 
look the least movement on the part of 
Alvaro, who was kneeling near Cecilia, 
absorbed in contemplating her as if she 
were the divinity to whom he was ad- 
dressing his prayer. 

During the moment when the king of 
light, suspended on the horizon, was 
casting his last glance on the earth, all 
surrendered themselves to a deep medi- 
tation and said a mute prayer, which 
scarcely moved their lips. Finally the 
sun went down. Ayres Gomes extended 
his musket over the precipice and a shot 


The Guarany. 


saluted its setting. It was night. All 
rose ; the adventurers took their leave, 
and one by one retired. 

Cecilia offered her forehead to her 
father and mother for a kiss, and made 
a graceful courtesy to her brother and 
Alvaro. Isabel touched with her lips 
her uncle's hand, and bent before Dona 
Lauriana to receive a blessing given 
with the dignity and haughtiness of an 
abbot. Then the family, going toward 
the door, prepared to enjoy one of those 
short evening conversations that used 
to precede the simple but nutritious 

Alvaro, in consideration of its being 
the first day of his arrival, had been sum- 
moned by the nobleman to join in this 
family collation, which he regarded as 
an extraordinary favor. The great value 
that he attached to so simple an invita- 
tion was explained by the domestic reg- 
ulations that Dona Lauriana had estab- 
lished in her house. The adventurers 
and their chiefs lived on one side of the 
house, entirely separated from the fam- 
ily ; during the day they were in the 
woods, occupied in hunting, or in various 
operations of rope-making and joinery. 
It was only at the hour of prayer that 
they assembled for a moment on the es- 
planade, where, when the weather was 
good, the ladies also came to make their 
evening devotions. As to the family, it 
always kept retired within the house 
during the week ; Sunday was conse- 
crated to repose, diversion, and gayety ; 
then sometimes occurred an extraordi- 
nary event, such as a walk, a hunt, or a 
canoe trip on the river. 

The reason then is apparent why Al- 
varo had such a desire, as the Italian 
said, to reach the Paqueque'r on Satur- 
day and before six o'clock ; the young 
man was dreaming of the happiness of 
those brief moments of contemplation, 
and of the liberty of Sunday, which 
would perhaps offer him an opportunity 
to venture a word. 

The family group being formed, the 

conversation was carried on between 
Dom Antonio, Alvaro, and Dona Lauri- 
ana ; Diogo had remained a little aside ; 
the girls modestly listened, and hardly 
ever ventured to say a word, unless they 
were directly spoken to, which rarely 
occurred. Alvaro, desirous of hearing 
Cecilia's sweet and silvery voice, for 
which he had longed all through his ab- 
sence, sought a pretext to draw her into 
the conversation. 

" I forgot to tell you, Dom Antonio," 
said he, taking advantage of a pause, 
"an incident of our trip." 

" What was it ? let us hear," replied the 

"Some four leagues from here, we 
found Pery." 

"Good!" said Cecilia; "we haven't 
heard anything of him for two days." 

"Nothing simpler," replied the noble- 
man ; " he is running up and down the 
forest here." 

"Yes," returned Alvaro, "but the 
way in which we found him will not 
appear so simple to you." 

" Well, what was he doing ? " 

" Playing with an ounce as you with 
your fawn, Dona Cecilia." 

" Goodness ! " exclaimed the girl with 
a shriek. 

"What is the matter, my child?" 
asked Dona Lauriana. 

" Why, he must be dead by this time, 

" No great loss," responded the lady. 

" But I shall be the cause of his 

"How so, my daughter," said Dom 

" You see, father," answered Cecilia, 
wiping away the tears that came to her 
eyes, " I was talking Thursday with 
Isabel, who is very much afraid of 
ounces, and in jest I told her that I 
should like to see one alive " 

" And Pery went to get one to grat- 
ify your desire," replied the nobleman 
laughing. "There is nothing strange 
about it ; he has done the like before." 


The Guarany. 


"But, father, can such a thing be 
done ? The ounce must have killed 

" Have no fears, Dona Cecilia ; he 
will know how to defend himself." 

" But why did you not help him, 
Senhor Alvaro, to defend himself?" 
said the girl sorrowfully. 

" If you had only seen how angry he 
was because we were going to shoot 
the animal ! " And the young man re- 
lated part of the scene. 

"No doubt," said Dom Antonio, "in 
his blind devotion to Cecilia he sought 
to gratify her wish at the risk of his 
life. To me one of the most admirable 
things that I have seen in this country 
is the character of this Indian. From 
the first day that he entered here, after 
rescuing my daughter, his life has been 
a single act of self-denial and heroism. 
Believe me, Alvaro, he is a Portuguese 
cavalier in the body of a savage." 

The conversation continued, but Ceci- 
lia had become sad and took no further 
part in it. Dona Lauriana retired to give 
her orders ; the aged nobleman and the 
young man conversed till eight o'clock, 
when the sound of a bell in the court- 
yard announced the hour of supper. 

While the others were ascending the 
doorsteps and entering the house, Al- 
varo found an opportunity of exchan- 
ging a few words with Cecilia. 

" Are you not going to ask me for 
what you ordered, Dona Cecilia ? said he 
in a low tone." 

" O, yes ! Have you brought all the 
things that I asked you to ? " 

"All and more " said the young 
man, stammering. 

" And what more ? " asked Cecilia. 

" And one thing more that you did 
not ask." 

" I do not want it ! " replied the girl 
with some annoyance. 

"Not even if it belongs to you al- 
ready ? " answered he timidly. 

"I do not understand. It is some- 
thing that belongs to me already, do 
you say 

" Yes ; for it is a keepsake for you." 

" In that case keep it, Senhor Alva- 
ro," said she smiling, " and keep it care- 

And escaping, she went to her father,, 
who was approaching the balcony, and 
in his presence received from Alvaro* 
a small box, which the young man had 
directed to be brought, and which con- 
tained her orders, jewelry, silks, edg- 
ings, ribbons, galloons, hollands, and 
handsome pair of pistols skillfully inlaid. 

Seeing these weapons, the girl utter- 
ed a suppressed sigh and. murmured t( 
herself : "My poor Pery ! Perhaps they 
will no longer avail you, even to defem 

The supper was long and leisurely, as 
was the custom in those times, whei 
eating was a serious occupation and th( 
table an altar that was respected. 

As soon as her father rose, Cecilia re- 
tired to her room, and kneeling before 
the crucifix said her prayers. Then, 
rising, she raised a corner of the win- 
dow curtain, and looked at the cabin that 
stood on the summit of the rock, desert- 
ed and solitary. She felt her heart op- 
pressed with the idea that by a jest 
she had been the cause of the death of 
that devoted friend who had saved her 
life, and every day risked his own mere- 
ly to make her smile. 

Everything in that apartment spoke 
of him : her birds, her two little friends, 
sleeping, one in its nest and the other 
on the carpet, the feathers that orna- 
mented her chamber, the skins of ani- 
mals beneath her feet ;,; the sweet per- 
fume of benzoin that she breathed, all 
had come from the Indian who, like a 
poet or an artist seemed to create around 
her a little temple of the masterpieces: 
of Brazilian nature. 

She remained thus looking out of the 
window for some time ; all the while she 
had no thought of Alvaro, the elegant 
young cavalier, so gentle, so timid, who 
blushed in her presence as she in his. 
Suddenly she started. She had seen 


The Guarany. 


by the starlight a figure pass which she 
recognized by the whiteness of its cot- 
ton tunic and by its slender and flexible 
form. When it entered into the cabin 
she no longer had the least doubt. It 
was Pery. 

She felt relieved of a great weight, 
and could then give herself up to the 
pleasure of examining one by one, with 
the greatest care, the pretty things she 
had received, which afforded her a keen 
enjoyment. In this way she spent cer- 
tainly half an hour ; then she went to 
bed, and as she no longer had any in- 
quietude or sadness, she fell asleep smil- 
ing at the image of Alvaro, and thinking 
of the grief she had caused him by re- 
fusing his gift. 


ALL was still ; the only sound, heard 
when the wind lulled, was a noise of sub- 
dued voices from the side of the build- 
ing occupied by the adventurers. 

At that hour there were in that place 
three men very different in character, 
in position, and in origin, who neverthe- 
less were controlled by the same idea. 
Separated by manners and by distancCj 
their minds broke that moral and phys- 
ical barrier, and united in a single 
thought, converging to the same point 
like the radii of a circle. 

Let us follow each of the lines traced 
by those existences, which sooner or 
later must intersect. 

In one of the porches that ran in the 
rear of the house thirty-six adventurers 
were seated around a long table, on 
which in wooden porringers some pieces 
of game were smoking, already disposed 
of in a manner that did honor to the ap- 
petite of the guests. The Catalan did 
not run so freely in the earthen and 
metal jugs as was to be desired, but by 
way of compensation large jars of ca- 
shew-nut and pineapple wine were seen in 
the corners of the porch, from which the 

adventurers could drink their fill. The 
meal had lasted half an hour : at first 
only the grating of the teeth, the smack- 
ing of the jugs, and the ringing of the 
knives in sthe porringers were heard. 
Then one of the adventurers made a 
remark which immediately ran around 
the table, and the conversation became 
a confused and discordant chorus. 

It was in the midst of this hubbub 
that one of the guests, raising his voice r 
uttered these words : 

"And you, Loredano, have n't you any- 
thing to say ? You sit there mute, and 
we can't get a word out of you ! " 

" Certainly," chimed in another, "Ben- 
to Simoes is right ; if it is not hunger 
that makes you silent, something is the 
matter with you, Sir Italian." 

" I wager, Martin Vaz," said a third, 
" that it is grief for some girl that he 
courted in Sao Sebestiao." 

"Away with your griefs, Ruy Soeiro ; 
do you think Loredano is a man to be 
troubled by things of that sort ? " 

" And why not, Vasco Affonso ? We 
all wear the same shoe, though it pinches 
some more than others." 

" Do not judge others by yourself, Sir 
Lover ; there are men who employ their 
thought on things of more value than 
love and gallantries." 

The Italian remained silent, and let 
the others talk without taking any notice 
of them. It was plain that he was fol- 
lowing out an idea that was at work in 
his mind. 

" But, in faith," continued Bento Si- 
moes, "tell us what you saw on your jour- 
ney, Loredano ; I wager something hap- 
pened to you." 

" Listen to what I tell you," inter- 
rupted Ruy Soeiro ; " My Lord Italian 
is in love." 

"And with whom, if you please?" 
asked several. 

" O, there 's no difficulty in seeing : 
with that jug of wine there before him ; 
do you not see what looks he gives it ? " 

The adventurers burst into a loud 
laugh, applauding the joke. 


The Guarany. 


Ayres Gomes appeared at the door of 
the porch. "Come, boys ! " said he, in 
a tone that he tried to make severe, 
"stop your noise \" 

" It is an arrival, esquire, and you 
ought to take that into account," said 
Ruy Soeiro. 

Ayres sat down, and began to do the 
honors to a remnant of vension in front 
of him. " You there," cried he, with 
his mouth full, to two adventurers who 
had risen, "go and stand watch, now 
that you are refreshed, and the rest will 
be ready for their turn." 

The two adventurers went out to re- 
lieve those on duty, for it was the cus- 
tom to stand sentry at night ; a neces- 
sary measure at that time. 

" You are very strict today, Senhor 
Ayres Gomes," said Martin Vaz. 

" He who gives the orders knows 
what he is doing ; it is for us to obey," 
replied the esquire. 

" Ah ! why did n't you say that at 
once ? " 

" Well, you will understand now. A 
vigilant watch, for perhaps we shall 
shortly have something to do." 

" Let it come," said Bento Simoes, 
" for I am tired of shooting the guinea 
pigs and wild hogs." 

" And in honor of whom do you think 
we shall shortly burn some pounds of 
powder ? " asked Vasco Affonso. 

" Can there be any question ? Who 
but the Indians can afford us this amuse- 
ment ? " 

Loredano raised his head. " What 
sort of a story are you telling there? 
Do you suppose the Indians will attack 
us?" asked he. 

"O, here is My Lord Italian waking 
up; it was necessary for him to smell 
powder," exclaimed Martin Vaz. 

The presence of Ayres Gomes check- 
ing the free hilarity of the adventurers, 
caused them one after another to for- 
sake the table, and leave the esquire 
alone with the jugs and porringers. 
Loredano, rising, made a sign to Ruy 

Soeiro and Bento Simoes, and the three 
went together to the center of the yard. 
The Italian murmured in their ears a 
single word, " Tomorrow ! " Then as 
if nothing had passed between them, the 
two adventurers went each his own way, 
and left Loredano to continue his walk 
to the brink of the precipice. 

On the opposite side the Italian saw 
dimly reflected on the trees the light 
from Cecilia's room, the windows of 
which he could not distinguish, because 
of the angle formed by the esplanade. 
There he waited. 

Alvaro, upon leaving Cecilia, had 
come away sad and hurt at her refusal, 
although her last word, and above all 
the smile that accompanied it, consolec 
him. He could not reconcile himself t< 
the loss of the great pleasure on whicl 
he had counted, of seeing among th( 
maiden's ornaments some favor fror 
himself, some memento to tell him that 
she thought of him. He had cherishec 
this idea so much, had lived so long uj 
on it, that to tear it from his mind wouk 
be torture. 

While on his way to his room, he 
formed a project and made a resolution. 
He put in a small silken purse a little 
box of jewels, and wrapping himself it 
his mantle proceeded along the side of 
the house, and approached the little gar- 
den in front of Cecilia's room. He also 
saw the light reflected opposite, and 
waited till the night should advance and 
the whole house should be wrapped in 

In the meantime Pery, the Indian, had 
arrived with his burden, so precious that 
he would not exchange it for a treasure. 
He left his prisoner in the enclosure on 
the river bank, secured to a tree. He 
then ascended to the esplanade, and it 
was at this time that the girl saw him 
enter his cabin. What, however, she 
could not perceive was the manner in .i 
which he left it almost immediately. 
Two days had passed since he had seen 
his mistress, received an order from her, 


The Guarany. 


or anticipated a desire. The first thought 
of the Indian then was to see Cecilia, or 
at least her shadow. Entering his cab- 
in he saw, like the others, the glimmer 
of light that escaped through the win- 
dow curtains. 

He suspended himself to one of the 
palm trees that served as supports to 
the hut, and by one of those agile move- 
ments that were so natural to him, at a 
single bound reached the branch of a 
gigantic oleo, which, rising on the slope 
opposite, threw out some limbs on the 
side toward the house. For a moment 
the Indian hung over the abyss, swing- 
ing on the frail branch that supported 
him ; then he regained his equilibrium, 
and continued his aerial journey with 
the security and firmness with which 
an old sailor walks the maintop and 
climbs the shrouds. He reached the 
other side of the tree, and, concealed in 
the foliage, gained a branch opposite 
Cecilia's windows, and about two yards 
from them. It was at this moment that 
Loredano arrived on one side, and Al- 
varo on the other, and stationed them- 
selves alike at a little distance. 

At first Pery had eyes only to see 
what was passing in the room ; Cecilia 
was still examining the articles she had 
received from Rio de Janeiro. In this 
silent gaze the Indian forgot everything ; 
what mattered to him the precipice that 
opened at his feet to swallow him at the 
least movement, and over which he was 
suspended by a frail branch, which bent 
and might break at any moment ? He 
was happy : he had seen his mistress ; 
she was joyous, pleased, satisfied ; he 
could now seek sleep and repose. 

A sad reflection, however, assailed 
him ; seeing the pretty things the maid- 
en had received, he thought that he 
might save her life, but that he had no 
such beautiful things as those to offer 
her. The poor savage raised his eyes 
to heaven with a look of despair, as if 
to see whether, placed a hundred and 
fifty feet above the earth, on the top of 
VOL. xxi. 15. 

the tree, he could not stretch out his 
hand and gather the stars, and lay them 
at Cecilia's feet. 

This, then, was the point at which 
those three "lines, starting from such 
different sources, intersected. As they 
were situated, the three men formed a 
literal triangle, whose center was the 
dimly lighted window. They were all 
risking, or were going to risk their lives, 
merely to touch the lattice, and yet not 
one of them weighed the danger that 
he was to incur ; not one of them valued 
his life in comparison with so great a 

Passions in a wilderness, and above 
all in the bosom of a grand and majestic 
nature like this, are true epics of the 


THE window curtains closed ; Cecilia 
had gone to bed. 

Near the innocent girl, asleep in the 
freedom of her pure and virgin soul, 
were watching three deep passions, were 
palpitating three very unlike hearts. 

In Loredano, the adventurer of low 
extraction, this passion was an ardent 
desire, a thirst for enjoyment, a fever 
that burned his blood : moreover, the 
brutal instinct of his vigorous nature 
was heightened by the moral impossibil- 
ity that his condition created ; by the 
barrier that rose between him, a poor 
colonist, and the daughter of Dom An- 
tonio de Mariz, a rich nobleman of rank 
and fame. To break down this barrier 
and equalize their positions, some ex- 
traordinary occurrence would be neces- 
sary ; some event that should change 
completely the laws of society, at that 
time more rigid than today : there was 
demanded one of those situations in 
presence of which individuals, whatever 
their rank, noble or pariah, are leveled, 
and descend or ascend to the condition 
of men. The adventurer knew this 


The Guarany. 


perhaps his Italian penetration had al- 
ready sounded the depth of that idea. 
At all events he hoped, and hoping 
watched his treasure with a zeal and 
constancy equal to every trial. The 
twenty days he had passed in Rio de 
Janeiro had been a real torment. 

In Alvaro, a courteous and refined 
cavalier, the passion was a pure and 
noble affection, full of the pleasing tim- 
idity that perfumes the first flowers of 
the heart, and of the knightly enthu- 
siasm that lent so much poetry to the 
loves of that time of faith and loyalty. 
To feel himself near Cecilia, to see her 
and exchange a word, stammered with 
difficulty, both blushing without know- 
ing why, and avoiding each other while 
desiring to meet, this was the whole 
history of that innocent affection which 
surrendered itself carelessly to the fu- 
ture, balancing on the wings of hope. 
Tonight Alvaro was about to take a step 
which in his habitual timidity he com- 
pared almost to a formal request of mar- 
riage ; he had resolved to make the 
maiden accept in spite of herself the 
gift she had refused, by laying it on her 
window ; he hoped that when she found 
it on the following day Cecilia would 
pardon his boldness and keep his pres- 

In Pery the passion was a worship, a 
kind of fanatical idolatry, into which 
entered no thought of self ; he loved Ce- 
cilia, not to feel a pleasure or experience 
a satisfaction, but to dedicate himself 
wholly to her, to fulfill her slightest de- 
sire, to anticipate her very thoughts. 
Unlike the others, he was not there 
either from a restless jealousy or a ridic- 
ulous hope ; he braved death solely to 
see whether Cecilia was contented, 
happy, and joyous ; whether she did not 
desire something that he could read on 
her countenance, and go in search of that 
same night, that very instant. 

Thus love was so completely trans- 
formed into those organizations that it 
assumed three very different forms ; one 

was a madness, the other a passion, the 
last a religion. Loredano desired ; Al- 
varo loved ; Pery adored. The adven- 
turer would give his life to enjoy ; the 
cavalier would brave death to deserve 
a look ; the savage would kill himself, 
if need were, merely to make Cecilia 

Meanwhile neither of those three 
men could touch the girl's window 
without running an imminent risk, in 
consequence of the position of Cecilia's 
room. Although this side of the house 
was only two yards from the precipice, 
Dom Antonio, for the purpose of forti- 
fying it, had had an inclined plane 
constructed from the windows to the 
edge of ' the esplanade, which it was 
impossible to ascend, its smooth and 
polished face offering no point of con- 
tact to the firmest and surest foot. 
Under the window opened the steep 
rock, forming a deep palisade, covered 
by a green canopy of climbing plants 
and shrubs, which seemed a dwelling- 
place for all those reptiles that breed in 
darkness and moisture. Any one prej 
cipitated from the top of the esplanade 
into the broad and deep fissure, if by 
a miracle he was not dashed in pieces 
on the points of the rock, would be 
devoured by the venomous snakes and 
insects that filled the cavities and the 

Some moments had passed since the 
window-curtain was closed ; only a dim 
and fading light reflected on the dark- 
green foliage of the oleo the outline of 
the window. The Italian, who had his 
eyes fixed upon this reflection as- upon 
a mirror where he saw all the images 
of his mad passion, suddenly started. 
In its light a moving shadow was de- 
picted ; a man was approaching the 

Pale, with glowing eyes and clinched 
teeth, hanging over the precipice, he 
followed the slightest movements of 
the shadow. He saw an arm stretched 
toward the window, and the hand leave 


The Guarany. 


Jon the sill some object so small that its 
orm 'was not discerned. By the wide 
leeve of the doublet, or rather by 
nstinct, the Italian divined that this 
rm belonged to Alvaro, and compre- 
icnded what the hand had laid in the 

And he was not mistaken. Alvaro, 
steadying himself by one of the posts 
of the garden-fence, placed one foot on 
he inclined plane, pressed his body 
against the wall, and leaning forward 
succeeded in accomplishing his pur- 
pose. Then he returned, divided be- 
tween fear at what he had done and 
lope that Cecilia would pardon him. 

No sooner did Loredano see the 
shadow disappear and hear the echoes 
of the young man's footsteps, than he 
smiled, and his eyes shone in the dark- 
ness like those of a wildcat. He drew 
is dagger and buried it in the wall, as 
ar around the corner as his arm would 
each. Then supporting himself by this 
rail prop, he was able to climb the in- 
lined plane and approach the window ; 
t the least indecision and the slightest 
novement it was enough that his foot 
hould fail him, or that the poniard 
hould move in the cement, to precipi- 
ate him headlong upon the rocks. 
In the meantime, Pery, seated quietly 
n the branch of the oleo, and hidden 
the foliage, witnessed without a 
movement the whole scene. As soon 
is Cecilia closed her window-curtains, 
he Indian had seen the two men stand- 
ng on either hand and apparently wait- 
ng. He waited also, curious to know 
vhat was to occur ; but resolved, if it 
vere necessary, to hurl himself at one 
)ound upon the one that should offer 
he least violence, and to fall with him 
rom the top of the esplanade. He had 
ecognized Alvaro and Loredano ; for a 
ong time he had known the cavalier's 
ove for Cecilia, but of the Italian he had 
ever had the least suspicion. 
What could these two men want ? 
hat came they to do there at that si- 

lent hour of the night ? Alvaro's action 
explained part of the enigma ; Loreda- 
no's was about to make plain the rest. 
For the Italian, who had approached the 
window, succeeded with an effort in 
pushing the object that Alvaro had left 
there off, over the precipice. This done, 
he returned in the same way, and re- 
tired enjoying the pleasure of that sim- 
ple revenge, the result of which, how- 
ever, he foresaw. 

Pery did not move. With his natural 
sagacity he had comprehended the love 
of the one and the jealousy of the oth- 
er, and reached a conclusion that for 
him, with his savage understanding and 
fanatical adoration, was very simple. If 
Cecilia thought this ought to be so, the 
rest mattered little to him ; but if what 
he had seen caused her a shade of sad- 
ness and dimmed for a moment the lus- 
tre of her blue eyes, then it was differ- 
ent. Quieted by this idea he sought his 
cabin, and slept dreaming that the moon 
sent him a ray of her white and satiny 
light to tell him that she was protecting 
her daughter on earth. 

And in reality the moon was rising 
above the trees, and illuminating the 
front of the house. Then anyone ap- 
proaching one of the windows at the 
end of the garden would have seen in 
the obscurity of the room a motionless 
figure. It was Isabel, watching pen- 
sively, wiping away from time to time a 
tear that trickled down her cheek. 

She was thinking of her unhappy love, 
of the solitude of her soul, so bereft of 
pleasing recollections and bright hopes. 
All that evening had been a martyrdom 
to her; she had seen Alvaro talking 
with Cecilia, and had divined almost his 
very words. Within a few moments 
she had seen the shadow of the young 
man crossing the esplanade, and knew 
that it was not on her account that he 

From time to time her lips moved, 
and some imperceptible words escaped, 
" If I could make up my mind ! " 


The G uar any. 


She took from her bosom a golden 
phial, under whose crystal lid was seen 
a lock of hair coiled in the narrow metal 
ring. What was there in this phial so 
powerful as to justify that exclamation, 
and the brilliant look that lighted up 
Isabel's black eye ? Could it be a secret, 
one of those terrible secrets that sud- 
denly change the face of things, and 
make the past rise up to crush the pres- 
ent ? Could it be some inestimable and 
fabulous treasure, whose seduction hu- 
man nature had not power to resist ? 
Could it be some weapon against which 
there was no possible defense except in 
a miracle of Providence ? It was the 
fine dust of the curari, the terrible poison 
of the savages. 

Isabel pressed her lips upon the crys- 
tal with a sort of frenzy. " My mother ! 
My mother ! " A sob burst from her 



ON the following morning, at break 
of day, Cecilia opened the little garden 
gate and approached the wall. " Pery ! " 
said she. 

The Indian appeared at the entrance 
of his cabin, and ran joyfully, but timid 
ly and submissively. 

Cecilia sat down on a mound of grass, 
and with much difficulty assumed an air 
of severity, which from time to time 
was almost betrayed by an obstinate 
smile that sought to escape from her 
lips. She fixed upon the Indian for a 
moment her large blue eyes in gentle re- 
proof, and then said in a tone more of 
complaint than of sternness: " I am very 
angry with Pery ! " 

His countenance became clouded. 
" You, mistress, angry with Pery ? 

" Because Pery is bad and ungrateful ; 
instead of remaining near his mistress, 
he goes off hunting, imperiling his life,' ' 
said the girl, exhibiting displeasure. 

" Cecy wished to see an ounce alive. " 

" Can I not joke, then ? Is it enough 
for me to desire a thing, to set you run- 
ning after it like a mad man ? " 

" When Cecy thinks a flower beauti- 
ful, shall not Pery go and get it ?" asked 
the Indian. 

" Certainly." 

" When Cecy hears the soffrer* sing, 
shall not Pery catch it ?" 

" What of that ? " 

" Since Cecy wished to see an ounce, 
Pery went to get one." 

Cecilia could not repress a smile at 
hearing this rude syllogism, to which 
the simple and concise language of th 
Indian gave a certain poetry and origi 
nality. But she was resolved to main 
tain her severity, and to scold Pery fo 
the anxiety he had caused her the even 
ing before. 

" That is no reason," said she. " Is 
savage beast the same thing as a bin 
and can you gather it like a flower? " 

" Everything is the same that cause 
you pleasure, mistress." 

" But then," exclaimed the girl, wit 
a sign of impatience, "if I should as 
you for that cloud ? " And she pointec 
to the white vapors that were passin 
over, still enveloped in the pale shade 
of night. 

" Pery would go and get it." 

" The cloud ? " asked she with aston 

" Yes, the cloud." 

Cecilia thought that the Indian wa 
out of his head. He continued : 

" Only, as the cloud is not of earth 
and man cannot reach it, Pery vvoulc 
die, and ask the Lord of the sky for the 
cloud to give to Cecy." These words 
were spoken with the simplicity that 
marks the language of the heart. 

The girl's feigned severity could nc 
longer resist, and suffered a divine smile 
to play upon her lips. " Thank you, m) 
good Pery ! You are a devoted friend. 

1 A pretty bird of a golden color, with wings of a bril 
liant black. It dei^es its name from its note. 

[893. J 

The Guarany. 


ij But 1 do not want you to risk your life 
IJo satisfy a whim of mine ; on the other 
hand, I wish you to preserve it, that you 
(nay defend me as you have already once 

I " Mistress is no longer angry with 

" No ; although she ought to be, be- 
ause Pery yesterday made his mistress 
[unhappy, thinking that he was going to 

I " And was Cecy sad ? " exclaimed the 

j " Cecy cried," replied the girl, with 
It charming frankness. 
I " Pardon me, mistress ! " 
I " I not only pardon you, but I am 
noing to make you a present also." 
I Cecilia ran to her room, and brought 
!he rich pair of pistols which she had 
fcrdered by Alvaro. 

" Look ! would n't Pery like to have 
i pair like these ? " 
I "Very much." 

" Well, here they are ! you will never 
bart with them, will you ? because they 
Bare a memento from Cecilia." 

" I will sooner part with life." 

" When you are in any danger, remem- 
ber that Cecilia gave them to you to 
lief end and save your life." 

" Because it is yours, is it not mis- 

" Yes, because it is mine, and I want - 
iou to preserve it for me." 

Pery's countenance became radiant 
,vith a boundless joy, an infinite happi- 
ness ; he put the pistols in his girdle of 
feathers, and held his head up, proud 
ks a king who had just received God's 

For him this maiden, this fair, blue- 
eyed angel, represented divinity on 
earth : to admire her, to make her smile, 
|o see her happy was his worship ; a 
poly and reverential worship in which 
fiis heart poured out treasures of feel- 
fng and poetry that overflowed from 
ihis virgin nature. 

Isabel entered into the garden ; the 

poor girl had been awake all night, and 
her face appeared to still wear traces 
of those hot tears that scald the bosom 
and burn the cheeks. The maiden and 
the Indian did not notice each other ; 
they entertained a mutual hatred ; it 
was an antipathy that had begun with 
their first meeting and had increased 

" Now, Pery, Isabel and I are going 
to take a bath." 

" May not Pery accompany you, mis- 
tress ? " 

" Yes ; but on condition that Pery is 
very still and quiet." 

The reason why Cecilia imposed this 
condition could be fully understood only 
by one who had witnessed one of the 
scenes that used to occur when the two 
girls took a bath, which happened al- 
most always on Sunday. 

Pery, with his bow, his inseparable 
companion, and a terrible weapon in his 
skillful hand, would take his seat at a 
distance on the river bank, on one of 
the highest points of rock, or on the 
branch of some tree, and would not let 
anyone approach within twenty paces of 
the place where the girls were bathing. 

When an adventurer crossed by 
chance the circle that the Indian traced 
around him with his eye, Pery, from his 
commanding position would discover 
him at once. Then if the careless hunter 
felt his hat suddenly ornamented with 
a red feather that flew hissing through 
the air ; if he saw an arrow snatch from 
him the fruit he had stretched out 
his hand to pluck ; if he stopped affright- 
ed before a long plumed shaft, which, 
discharged from above, stuck two paces 
in front of him, as if to arrest his pro- 
gress and serve as a limit, he was not 
astonished. He understood at once 
what this meant, and from the respect 
that they all entertained for Dom An- 
tonio and his family, retraced his steps, 
hurling an oath at Pery, who had pierced 
his hat, or compelled him to draw back 
his hand in fright. 


The Guarany. 


And he did well to return, for the In- 
dian with his ardent zeal would not have 
hesitated to put out his eyes, to prevent 
him upon reaching the river-bank from 
seeing the maiden bathing in the waters. 
Cecilia and her cousin were accustomed 
to bathe in a garment of light woolen 
stuff, that completely concealed their 
forms under its dark colors, while leav- 
ing their movements free for swimming. 
But Pery thought that notwithstanding 
this it would be a profanation that any- 
one should see his mistress in her bath- 
ing dress, even though it were only her 
slave, who could not injure her that was 
his only god. 

While the Indian, by the sureness of 
his rapid vision and the discharge of his 
arrrows, thus kept this circle impene 
trable, he did not cease to regard with 
scrupulous attention the current and the 
banks of the river. The fish that kissed 
the surface of the water and might in- 
jure the maiden ; an innocent green 
snake, coiled in the leaves of the water- 
lilies ; a chameleon basking in the sun, 
its prism of brilliant colors sparkling in 
the light ; a white and shaggy monkey 
making naughty grimaces, suspended 
by his tail to the branch of a tree, 
everything that might frighten the 
maiden he drove away if it was distant, 
and if it was near he transfixed the ani- 
mal to a tree or to the ground. If a 
branch borne by the current was pass- 
ing, if a little grass became detached 
from the pebbly margin of the river, if 
the fruit of a sapncaia 1 hanging over the 
Paquequer snapped and fell, the Indian, 
fleet as the arrow frow his bow, sprang 
and caught the nut in the midst of its 
fall, or leaped into the water and picked 
up the floating objects. Cecilia might 
be injured by the tree brought down by 
the current, by the falling fruit ; she 
might be frightened by the contact of 
the grass, thinking it a snake; and Pery 
would not have forgiven himself if the 
maiden had suffered the slightest dis- 

J A tall tree producing fruit similar to thecocoanut. 

comfort through lack of his care. In 
short, he extended around her a watch- 
fulness so constant and untiring, a pro- 
tection so intelligent and delicate, that 
she might be at ease, certain that if she 
suffered anything it would be because 
all power of man had been impotent to 
prevent it. This then is the reason why 
Cecilia ordered Pery to be still and quiet ; 
she knew, nevertheless, that this order 
was always vain, and that the Indian 
would do everything to prevent even a 
bee from kissing her red lips, mistaking 
them for a flower of \hz pequia? 

When the two girls crossed the espla- 
nade, Alvaro was walking near the steps. 
Cecilia saluted the young cavalier in 
passing with a smile, and descended 
lightly, followed by her cousin. 

Alvaro, who had sought to read in her 
eyes and on her countenance the pardon 
of his last night's rashness, and had 
found nothing to calm his fear, con- 
cluded to follow the maiden and speak 
with her. He turned to see if any one 
was there to observe what he was about 
to do, and found the Italian a few feet 
distant, looking at him with .one of his 
sarcastic smiles. 

" Good morning, cavalier." 

The two enemies exchanged 1 looks 
that crossed like blades of steel. 

At that moment Pery approached 
them slowly, loading one of the pistols 
that Cecilia had given him a few min- 
utes before. The Indian stopped, and.' 
with a slight, indefinable smile took the 
pistols by the barrel, and presented one 
of them to Alvaro and the other to Lor-1 

Both understood the act and the smile, 
both felt that they had committed an 
imprudence, and that the sagacity of the 
savage had read hatred in their eyes and 
perhaps the cause of that hatred. They 
turned away, pretending not to have; 
seen the movement. 

Pery shrugged his shoulders and put- 

2 A tall tree, bearing in September and October 
small, bright scarlet flower. , 


The Guarany. 


ting the pistols in his girdle passed 
|j proudly between them, and accompa- 
|| nied his mistress. 


WHILE descending the stone steps 
from the esplanade, Cecilia asked her 
I cousin : 

" Tell me one thing, Isabel ; why do 
you not speak to Senhor Alvaro ? " 

Isabel started. 

" I have noticed," continued the girl, 
"that you do not even respond to the 
bow that he makes to us." 

"That he makes to you, Cecilia/' re- 
plied the maiden gently. 

''Confess that you do not like him. 
Have you an antipathy against him ? " 

The girl was silent. 

" Will you not speak ? Well, then I 
shall think another thing." continued 
Cecilia jestingly. 

Isabel turned pale, and placing her 
hand on her heart to check its violent 
pulsations, made a supreme effort, and 
extorted a few words that seemed to 
burn her lips. " You know well enough 
that I detest him ! " 

Cecilia did not see the alteration in 
her cousin's countenance, for, having 
reached the bottom at that moment, she 
had forgotten the conversation and had 
begun to play with childish glee upon 
the grass. But even if she had seen the 
girl's confusion, she certainly would 
have attributed it to every reason but 
the right one. The affection she had 
for Alvaro appeared to her so innocent, 
so natural, that she had never imagined 
it would sometime pass beyond what it 
was ; that is, a pleasure that brought a 
smile and a confusion that caused a 
blush. This love, if it was love, could 
not know what was passing in Isabel's 
soul ; could not understand the sublime 
falsehood her lips had just uttered. 

For Isabel, that expression of hatred 
was almost a blasphemy. But better 

that than to reveal what was passing in 
her soul ; that mystery, that ignorance, 
that enshrouded her love and concealed 
it from all eyes, had for her an inexpress- 
ible delight. She could thus gaze hour 
after hour upon the young man without 
his perceiving it, without disturbing him 
perchance with the mute prayer of her 
supplicating look ; she could believe her- 
self mirrored in his soul without excit- 
ing a smile of contempt or ridicule. 

The sun was rising. The soft and 
pleasant light of morning was but just 
lighting up the earth, and surprising the 
lazy shadows that still slumbered under 
the trees. It was the hour when the 
cactus, flower of night, closes its cup 
full of the dew-drops from which it dis- 
tils its perfume, fearing lest the sun 
should scorch the transparent whiteness 
of its petals. 

Cecilia, like a playful child, ran about 
upon the still damp grass, plucking a 
blue graciola swinging to and fro upon 
its stalk, or a marshmallow just open- 
ing its pretty scarlet buds. Everything 
for her had an inexpressible charm ; the 
tears of night trembling like brilliants 
on the leaves of the palm trees ; the 
butterfly, its wings still torpid, waiting 
for the warmth of the sun to reanimate 
it ; the vimrinka 1 concealed among the 
branches, warning its companion that 
day was breaking, all this drew from 
her a cry of surprise and pleasure. 

While she was thus playing on the 
meadow, Pery, who was following her 
at a distance, stopped suddenly, struck 
with a thought that sent a cold shudder 
through his body ; he remembered the 

At one bound he disappeared in a 
large thicket near by ; a stifled roar was 
heard, a great crackling of leaves, and 
the Indian reappeared. Cecilia had 
turned around a little startled. 

"What was that, Pery ? " 

" Nothing, mistress." 

*A small black bird, said to be the first to hail with 
its song the approach of day. 


The Guarany. 


" Is this the way you promised to keep 
quiet ?" 

"Cecy will not be angry any more." 

"What do you mean ?" 

"Pery knows!" replied the Indian, 

The evening before he had provoked 
a dreadful struggle to tame and over- 
come a fierce animal, and lay it submis- 
sive and harmless at the maiden's feet, 
because he thought this would please 
her. Now, trembling with fear lest his 
mistress should suffer, he had destroyed 
in an instant that act of heroism, with- 
out uttering a word to reveal it. It was 
enough that he knew what he had done. 

The girls, who were far from knowing 
what a pitch Pery's madnesshad reached, 
and who did not think it possible that a 
man could do what he had done, under- 
stood neither the words nor the smile. 
Cecilia had reached a jasmine bower, 
standing at the water's edge, which 
served her as a bathing house. It was 
one of Pery's works ; he had arranged 
it with the care and attention he habit- 
ually bestowed in gratifying her wishes. 
Then, removing the jasmine branches 
that wholly concealed the entrance, Ce- 
cilia stepped into that little pavilion of 
verdure, and carefully examined the 
leaves to see whether there was not 
some aperture through which the eye of 
day might penetrate. The innocent girl 
was ashamed to have even a ray of light 
espy the treasures of beauty concealed 
beneath her cambric robes. And when 
her garments revealed her white shoul- 
ders and her pure, sweet neck, she almost 
died of embarrassment and fright, for a 
malicious little bird, concealed amid the 
foliage, chirped distinctly : " Bern te vi, 
(I saw you well) ! " 

Cecilia smiled at her fear, and adjust- 
ed her bathing dress, which covered her 
completely, leaving bare only her arms 
and her little foot. She sprang into the 
water like a little bird ; Isabel, who 
merely came to please her, remained 
seated on the river bank. 

How beautiful was Cecilia swimming 
on the limpid waters of the stream, her 
fair hair hanging loose, and her white 
arms curved gracefully to give a gentle 
motion to her body ; like one of those 
white herons or rose-colored spoon bills 
that glide slowly over the surface of the 
lake on calm evenings, mirrored in the 
crystal waters. Sometimes the pretty 
girl would lie at length upon the water, 
and smiling at the blue sky be borne by 
the current, or would pursue ihejassa- 
nans l and wild ducks that fled before 
her. At others, Pery, who was at a 
distance above her, plucking some par- 
asitic flower, would place it in a little 
boat of bark, and send it down the 
stream. The girl would swim after the 
boat, secure the flower, and offer it on 
the tips of her fingers to Isabel, who. 
tearing off its leaves would sadly mur- 
mur-the cabalistic words with which the 
heart seeks to deceive itself. But in- 
stead of consulting the present she in- 
quired of the future, because she knew 
that the present held no hope for her, 
and if the flower said the contrary it 
was false. 

Cecilia had been at her bath for half 
an hour when Pery, seated on a tree 
and keeping a sharp lookout around 
him, saw the bushes move on the oppo- 
site bank. The undulation extended 
like a ; ; spiral, and approached the place 
where the girl was bathing, until it 
stopped behind some large rocks on the 
river bank. 

At the first glance the Indian per- 
ceived that it must be produced by an'j 
animal of large size. 

He moved rapidly along the limbs of 
the trees, crossed the river upon this : 
aerial bridge, and concealed among the] 
foliage succeeded in placing himself 
directly over the place where the bushes 
were still vibrating. He then saw sit- : 
ting among the shrubs two savages, ill- 
covered by breeches of yellow feathers, 
who with bows drawn were waiting for' 

J Aquatic birds. 


The Guarany. 


Cecilia to pass before the aperture made 
by the rocks in order to discharge their 
arrows. And the girl, calm and unsus- 
pecting, had already extended her arm, 
and striking the ' water was passing with 
a smile upon her lips in front of the 
death that threatened her. 

If it had concerned his own life, Pery 
would have been self-possessed ; but 
Cecilia was in peril, and therefore he 
neither reflected nor calculated. He 
fell like a stone from the top of the 
tree ; the two arrows were just then dis- 
charged, and one struck him on the 
shoulder, while the other grazing his 
hair changed its direction. 

He immediately rose, and without 
even taking the trouble to draw out the 
arrow, with a single movement took 
from his girdle the pistols he had 
received from his mistress, and shot the 
savages through- the head. 

Two cries of fear were heard from 
the opposite bank, and almost at the 
same moment the trembling and angry 
voice of Cecilia, calling " Pery ! " 

He kissed the still smoking pistols 
and was about to answer, when a few 
feet from him the form of an Indian wo- 
man rose from among the bushes, and 
quickly disappeared in the forest. He 
cast a glance through the aperture, and 
thinking Cecilia already in a safe place 
sprang after the woman, who now had 
a considerable start of him. 

A broad red stripe escaping from his 
wound tinged his white cotton tunic. 
Pery suddenly became dizzy and grasped 
his heart despairingly as if to check the 
flow of blood. It was a moment of ter- 
rible struggle between the force of will 
and the power of nature. His body grew 
faint, his knees bent, and Pery, raising 
his arms as if to grasp the overarching 
trees, and straining his muscles to keep 
on his feet, struggled in vain with the 
weakness that was overpowering him. 

He contended for a moment against 
the mighty gravitation that was drawing 
him to the earth, but he was a man and 

must yield to the law of nature. Never- 
theless, while submitting, the indomit- 
able Indian continued to resist, and when 
overcome seemed to want to struggle 
still. He did not fall, no: when his 
strength wholly failed him he drew him- 
self back slowly, and only touched the 
earth with his knees. 

But then he remembered Cecilia, his 
mistress whom he must avenge, and for 
whom he must live, to save and watch 
over her. He made a supreme effort ; 
drawing himself up he succeeded in ris- 
ing again, took two dizzy steps, whirled 
round in the air, and struck against a 
tree, which he embraced convulsively. 

It was a cabuiba 1 of great height, ris- 
ing above the rest of the forest, from 
whose ashen trunk exuded an opal -col- 
ored oil that trickled down in tears. 
The sweet aroma of these drops made 
the Indian open his dying eyes, which 
were lighted up with a bright glow of 
happiness. He pressed his lips eagerly 
upon the tree, and sipped the oil, which 
acted like a powerful balsam in his 
breast. He began to revive. He rubbed 
the oil over the wound, stanched the 
blood, and breathed. 

He was saved. 


LET us return to the house. 

Loredano, after Pery's demonstration, 
had kept his eyes on Alvaro, who pro- 
ceeded along the edge of the esplanade 
to see Cecilia on her way to the river. 

Scarcely had the young man turned 
the corner formed by the rock, when 
the Italian descended the steps rapidly 
and entered into the forest. A few mo- 
ments later Ruy Soeiro appeared on the 
esplanade, descended, and entered in 
his turn into the forest. Bento Simoes 
imitated him after a little interval, and 

lAlso called the balsam irze(balsamum Peruvian urn], 
said to have miraculous efficacy for the cure of fresh 


The Guarany. 


guided by fresh notches on the trees took 
the same direction. 

About half an hour passed ; all the 
windows had been opened to admit the 
pure morning air and the wholesome 
breath from the fields ; a slight column 
of whitish smoke crowned the chimney, 
announcing that the household labors 
had begun. Suddenly a cry was heard 
in the house ; all the doors and windows 
were closed with a din and a quickness 
as though an enemy had made an at- 
tack. Through a half-opened window 
appeared the face of Dona Lauriana, 
pale, with her hair unarranged, an extra- 
ordinary circumstance. 

"Ayres Gomes! The esquire ! Call 
Ayres Gomes ! Let him come at once ! " 
shrieked the lady. The window closed 
again and was bolted. 

Gomes did not delay, but crossing the 
esplanade went to the house. " Did you 
call me ? " said he, approaching the win- 

"Yes ; are you armed?" asked Dona 
Lauriana from behind the door. 

" I have my sword ; but what news is 
there ? " 

The agitated countenance of Dona 
Lauriana appeared again at the window. 
"The ounce, Ayres Gomes! The 
ounce ! " 

The esquire gave a prodigious leap, 
thinking that the animal was springing 
at his throat, and drawing his sword 
placed himself on guard The lady, see- 
ing the movement of the esquire, sup- 
posed that the ounce was leaping into 
the window, and fell upon her knees 
murmuring a prayer to the saint that 
protects against wild beasts. 

Some minutes passed thus ; Dona 
Lauriana praying, and Ayres Gomes 
turning round in the yard like a top, 
fearing lest the ounce should attack 
him from behind, which besides being 
a disgrace for a man of arms of his 
temper, would be disagreeable to his 
health. Finally he succeeded in gaining 
the wall of the house again, and placed 

his back against it, which completely 
tranquillized him. 

In front of him there was no enemy 
to make him blink. Then striking with 
his sword-blade on the side of the win- 
dow, he said in a loud voice : " Be good 
enough to tell me what ounce that is of 
which you speak, Dona Lauriana ; either 
I am blind, or I do not see the shadow 
of such an animal here. " 

" Are you sure of this, Ayres Gomes ? " 
said the lady, rising again. 

" Am I sure of it ? Satisfy yourself 
with your own eyes." 

" True ! but there must be one some- 
where ! " 

" And why in the world will you have 
it that there is an ounce here, Dona 
Lauriana ?" said the esquire somewhat 
out of patience. 

" Then you don't know ! " exclaimed 
the lady. 

"What, madam ?" 

" Did not that demon of an Indian 
take it into his head to bring home a 
live ounce yesterday ? " 

"Who, the dog of acazique ? " 

"And who but that scurvy cur ! It 's 
one of his old tricks ! Was ever such 
a thing known, Ayres Gomes ? I want 
to see if Senhor Mariz will still persist 
in keeping this fine jewel." 

"And what has become of the ounce, 
Dona Lauriana? '' 

"It must be somewhere. Hunt for 
it, Ayres ; look everywhere, kill it, and 
bring it here to me." 

"No sooner said than done," replied 
the esquire, running as fast as his fox- 
skin boots permitted. 

With little delay about twenty armed 
adventurers descended from the espla- 
nade. Ayres Gomes marched at their 
head with an enormous pike, his sword in 
hand, and a knife in his teeth. 

After scouring almost the whole val- 
ley and beating the grove, they were 
returning, when the esquire stopped 
suddenly and cried : " There it is, boys ! 
Fire before it makes its leap ! " 


The Guarany, 


In fact, through the branches of the 
trees was seen the black and variegated 
skin of the tiger, and its cat-like eyes 
gleaming with a pale reflection. 

The adventurers raised their muskets 
to the face, but just as they were going 
to pull the trigger, they all burst into a 
loud laugh, and lowered their weapons. 

" What does this mean ? Are you 
afraid?" And the fearless esquire, 
without troubling himself about the 
others, plunged among the trees, and 
presented himself proudly before the 
tiger. There, however, his jaw fell with 

The ounce was swinging lifeless on a 
branch, to which it was suspended by 
its neck, with a noose. While it was 
alive a single man had sufficed to bring 
it from the Parahyba to the forest where 
it had been caught, and from the forest 
to that place where it had died. It was 
after death that it made all that uproar; 
that it put in arms twenty valiant men, 
and produced a revolution in Dona Lau- 
riana's house. 

After the first moment of astonish- 
ment, Ayres Gomes cut the cord, and 
dragging the animal along, presented it 
, to the lady. After they had assured 
her from without that the tiger was cer- 
tainly dead, the door partly opened, and 
Dona Lauriana, still quaking with fear, 
looked tremblingly upon the body of the 
wild beast. 

" Leave it right there. Dom Antonio 

shall see it with his own eyes ! " It was 

jrthe corpus delicti upon which she in- 

, tended to base the accusation she was 

going to bring against Pery. 

At various times the lady had sought 
to persuade her husband to banish the 
Indian, whom she could not endure, and 
whose presence was enough to throw 
her into hysterics. But all her efforts had 
been vain ; the nobleman, with his loy- 
alty and knightly spirit, appreciated 
Pery's character, and saw in him, though 
a savage, a man of noble sentiments 
and lofty soul. As a father he valued 

the Indian from the circumstance, which 
will be explained further on, that he had 
saved his daughter's life. 

This time, however, Dona Lauriana 
hoped to succeed, and considered it im- 
possible that her husband should not 
severely punish the crime of going into 
the forest to catch an ounce and bring- 
ing it home alive. What mattered it that 
Pery had saved the life of one person, if 
he put in jeopardy the existence of the 
whole family, and above all of herself? 
She ended this reflection exactly at the 
moment when Dom Antonio appeared 
at the door. 

" Will you tell me, madam, what this 
noise is, and what is the cause ? " 

"There you have it ! " exclaimed Dona 
Lauriana, pointing to the ounce with a 
proud gesture. 

" Pretty animal ! " said the nobleman, 
approaching and touching the tiger's 
claws with his foot. 

" O, you think it pretty ! You will 
think it still more so when you know 
who brought it ! " 

" He must have been a good hunter," 
said Dom Antonio, contemplating the 
beast with that huntsman's fondness 
that characterized the nobleman of that 
period. ' It does not bear the mark of 
a single wound ! " 

" It is the work of that copper-colored 
reprobate, Senhor Mariz ! " answered 
Dona Lauriana, preparing for the at- 

" Oh ! " said the nobleman laughing. 
" It is the animal Pery was pursuing 
yesterday, which Alvaro told us about." 

" Yes ; and which he brought alive as 
if it had been a guinea-pig ' 

" Brought alive ! But don't you see 
it is impossible ? " 

" How impossible, if Ayres Gomes 
has but just killed it ! " 

Ayres Gomes wanted to reply, but the 
lady enjoined silence by a gesture. 

The nobleman stooped and taking the 
animal by the ears raised it up. While 
examining the body to see if he could 


The Gnarany. 


discover the mark of a ball, he noticed 
that the feet and jaws were bound. 

" True ! " murmured he. " It must 
have been alive an hour ago ; it is still 

Dona Lauriana let her husband con- 
template the animal to his entire satis- 
faction, certain that the reflections this 
view would inspire could not but be fav- 
orable to her plan. 

When she thought the moment had 
arrived, she took a step or two, arranged 
her train, and leaning forward slightly, 
addressed Dom Antonio. 

" It is well you should see, Senhor 
Mariz, that I am never deceived. How 
many times have I told you that you 
were doing wrong in keeping that In- 
dian ? You would not believe me ; you 
had an inexplicable weakness for the pa- 
gan. Well, then " The lady assumed 
an oratorical tone, and accented the 
word with an energetic gesture, point- 
ing to the dead animal : " There you 
have your reward. Your whole family 
threatened ! You yourself, who might 
have gone out unwittingly ; your daugh- 
ter, who went to her bath ignorant of 
the danger, and might have been at this 
moment food for beasts." 

The nobleman shuddered at thought 
of the risk his daughter had run, and 
started to rush after her, but he heard a 
low murmuring of voices like the chirp- 
ing of little birds; it was the two girls 
ascending the steps. 

Dona Lauriana smiled at her triumph. 
"And if this were all !" continued she. 
" But it will not stop here ; tomorrow 
you will see him bringing us an alliga- 
tor, afterward a rattlesnake or zjiboya ; 
he will fill our house with snakes and 

scorpions. We shall all be devoured 
alive here because a detested Indian has 
taken it into his head to practice his sor- 
ceries ! " 

" But you exaggerate the affair great- 
ly, Dona Lauriana. Pery has certainly 
done a wild thing, but there is no rea- 
son why we should have such extrava- 
gant fears. He deserved a reprimand ; 
I will give him one, and that severe. He 
will not do so again." 

" If you knew him as I do, Senhor 
Mariz ! He is an Indian, and that is 
enough. You may scold him as much 
as you like ; he will do so all the same 
from mere spite." 

" I do not share your apprehensions." 

The lady knew that she was losing 
ground, and resolved to give the decisive 
blow. She softened the tone of her 
voice and began to whimper. " Do what 
you like ! You are a man and fear noth- 
ing! But I," she continued shuddering, 
" shall not be able to sleep any more, 
imagining that a. jararaca 1 is crawling 
into my bed, and by day I shall every 
moment think that a wildcat is ready to 
spring into my window, or that my 
clothes are full of caterpillars ! No 
strength can endure such martyrdom ! " 

Dom Antonio began to reflect seri- 
ously on what his wife was saying, and 
to imagine the numberless spasms, 
swoonings, and outbursts of anger that 
the panic caused by the Indian would 
produce ; nevertheless he still enter- 
tained the hope of being able to cairn 
and dissuade her. 

Dona Lauriana watched the effect of 
her last attack. She considered herself 

J A very venomous serpent. 

James W. Halves. 



Under the Southern Cross. 



AWAY out on the broad bosom of the 
blue Pacific, just below the Equator, is 
a little coral island, scarce six miles in 
circumference. So low it lies that one 
can hardly see it until close beside the 
encircling ring of surf which shuts it 
away from intrusion, for under that ring 
of white foam are cruel sharp-pointed 
rocks which destroy whatever may come 
within their power. 

Not a blade of grass, not a green leaf, 
is found on the white surface of the little 
isle. Nothing grows there but a species 
of beach grass, and this is dingy gray at 
its best, and dismal brown at its worst 
and oftenest. 

Many miles of dark blue water stretch 
between the island and its nearest neigh- 
bor, miles seldom traversed by vessels ; 
for Jarvis Island, the little dot of sand 
of which I write, is far aside from the 
line of travel across the ocean. Not 
once a month does a ship come near 
enough to be seen, and not once a year 
does one come near enough to sight the 
island, for so low lies the land that a 
vessel can be seen long before the island 
can be recognized as land from her decks. 

But remote and uninviting as seems 
the white spot on the waste of waters, it 
was for years the home of people who 
found within its contracted circle much 
of enjoyment, and who spent many hap- 
py hours roaming over the white sands 
of the island and the rough coral rocks 
of its reef, exposed at each tide. 

Of these inhabitants three were white, 
a woman, a man, and a child, a boy of 
three years. 

The man was the superintendent of 
the island, put in charge by an American 
guano company, to whom the island be- 
longed. The woman was his wife, and 
the boy was their only son. Beside 
these three there were seventy or eighty 

Hawaiians that worked in the guano 

The Captain went down some months 
before his wife and son, but found it 
very lonely, and as his wife was fond of 
trying experiments, he asked her if she 
wished to try living on a desert island. 
She thought the experience would be 
very enjoyable, so agreed to try for three 

Passage for mother and son was taken 
on an old English tub, the Madura, and 
the two left Honolulu on a fine day in 
June for their trip of twelve hundred 
miles, which should have lasted at long- 
est but ten or twelve days. It was the 
morning of the eighteenth day after 
leaving Honolulu, however, before the 
bark was in the latitude of Jarvis Is- 
land. The island lies so low that it is 
not visible until close at hand. The sand 
is white, and all the buildings on it are of 
the same color, so it is not so easily seen 
on the sparkling water's surface. 

On the eighteenth day Captain Stan- 
ton, master of the Madura, announced 
that they would reach the island before 
noon. His passengers were eager to 
catch a first glimpse of their new home, 
and could scarcely leave the deck long 
enough to eat. The sailors saw land, and 
tried to point it out to the passengers 
several hours before the Madam was 
sure that what she called land was any- 
thing more than a cloud, a sparkle on a 
wave, or a sea bird's wing, for it looked 
as much like either as it did like land. 

But land it was, and by noon the Ma- 
dura was close enough for those on board 
to see the shape of the white buildings, 
though the island was so small that the 
houses looked as if they were rising 
out of the water, instead of standing on 
solid ground, as solid, that is. as you 
can call a coral island. 


Under the Southern Cross. 


Hal was all excitement. He had been 
the busiest man on the bark all the voy- 
age, and had given his mother enough 
to do to keep him on board. He had 
tried every scheme he could think of to 
get overboard, and now that land was 
close at hand seemed to think that now 
or never was his time to distinguish him- 
self. He nearly succeeded in extinguish- 
ing himself, for in his haste to escape 
from his mother's grasp he plunged 
headforemost over the side of the vessel. 

Fortunately the wind had died down, 
until the Madura was moving very slow- 
ly through the water, so that the mate 
plunging immediately overboard caught 
the boy almost as soon as he struck the 
water, and both were hauled aboard lit- 
tle the worse but for the ducking, which, 
as it was unbearably hot, did not matter 

Hal was rather quenched by his ac- 
cident, and made no objections to hold- 
ing fast to his mother's hand for a while. 
The Madura was slowly drawing near 
to the land, and those on deck could 
see, through a glass, that preparations 
were being made on shore to launch the 
boat. Soon it was off, and across the 
water came dancing the tiny white shell. 
It soon reached the vessel, and the 
superintendent and his crew climbed 
lightly up to the deck. 

Hal fairly spluttered in his haste to 
welcome his father, and tell him of his 
involuntary, bath. He wanted to know 
all about everything at once, and it was 
several moments before anyone else 
could get a chance for a word. Finally 
he caught sight of one of the Hawaiian 
boatmen whom he had met in Honolulu, 
and darted away to interview him, leav- 
ing his elders to themselves for a time. 
The superintendent had been for three 
months without news from the outer 
world, so he had many questions tp ask 
about what had been, going on in -that 

As soon as the boat had been made 
fast alongside, the Madura's course had 

been changed, for there was no anchor- 
age at the island, so a vessel had to lie 
at moorings, and the Madura had been 
to Honolulu to get said moorings, which 
were at that moment filling up her 
deck, so it was necessary for her to keep 
a respectful distance from the inhos- 
pitable shore unless she wanted to stop 
for all time. 

Time sped faster than anyone sus- 
pected, and when at last the boat was 
ordered to take the superintendent and 
his family ashore the island was far 
away in the distance. 

The captain of the Madura offered to 
stand in again, but the superintendent 
dared not trust her at night among the 
treacherous currents, so he said he would 
not risk it, but that his men would have 
no trouble in setting him ashore, as 
they were fine boatmen. 

They would have had no trouble if it 
had been only setting the family ashore, 
but unfortunately they attempted to 
tow also behind them a small lighter 
which the Madura had brought down 
for the island. As it would be really 
easier to tow if lightly loaded than when 
entirely empty, the Madam's trunk and 
several packing cases were lowered into 
the lighter, and just at sunset they 
were off for the shore. 

Darkness falls so rapidly in the trop- 
ics after the sun sinks below the hori- 
zon, that Captain Stanton advised the 
superintendent at least to allow his wife 
and child to stay on board till morning ; 
but to this neither would consent, so 
they left the ship just as the last gleam 
of sunshine faded from the blue surface 
of the waters. From the deck it did not 
look so very far to the shore, and no one 
made allowance for the fact that while 
they talked the day faded, and the vessel 
was gliding on the swift current much 
faster than any one realized. 

At last all was ready, and the boat 
started for the island. Beside the trunks 
and boxes there was a length of heavy 
chain in the lighter which was not prop- 


Under the Southern Cross. 


erly stowed, and they found that the 
lighter was too much down by the head ; 
so the men were told to arrange it dif- 
ferently. This took some moments 
more, and when again the boat was 
headed for the shore it was almost dark. 
Still there was time to reach the land be- 
fore it should be too dark to see to make 
their way up the narrow channel through 
the reef, but alas they were only at the 
beginning of their troubles. All at 
once Kimo, the luna, or head man, who 
was steering, looked behind, and cried 
out, " See, see, the lighter is filling ! " 
And filling she was ; for she was set- 
tling before their eyes. 

Everything was done to keep her 
afloat, but she was filling so rapidly 
that there was nothing to be done but 
to save what was possible from her 
freight and let the rest go, hoping that 
-something might float ashore and be 
saved. One trunk and a small box were 
hurriedly taken into the small boat, but 
with her passengers beside the crew she 
could take no more, so Hal watched his 
particular trunk sink slowly into the 
water as the lighter sunk lower and 
lower, until with a gurgle and sucking 
sound it sunk down into the depths. 

There was nothing to be done but to 
make haste and get ashore, being thank- 
ful for what they had saved, and mourn- 
ing as little as possible for the articles 
lost. But where was the shore? It was 
now dark, and from the little boat they 
had not been able to catch a glimpse of 
the shore, but had been rowing for the 
point where they knew land must be. 
During the excitement of the lighter's 
sinking the boat had turned and swung 
around several times ; the light had 
faded entirely away, and the sky was all 
one dim blue, nothing showing which 
point of the horizon had swallowed the 

The Madura had tacked two or three 
times since the boat left her side, so 
they could not take a bearing from her 
position, and hope to find the shore. 

What could be done ? It was so dark 
that the boat could not be seen from the 
deck of the bark, and as she was sailing 
away from them with a freshening wind 
it was hopeless to attempt to reach her 
side again. 

A consultation between captain and 
men was held, but that only made con- 
fusion more confounded. One man 
thought land lay in this direction, an- 
other felt sure it was in that. One said 
this was the north, while his neighbor 
declared it was the east. 

It was a very disagreeable position. If 
they kept moving they might be going 
home, but they also might be rowing 
directly out into the broad ocean, and 
when morning came they might find 
themselves far, far out of sight of land. 

The captain groaned as he thought of 
his delicate wife and young child ex- 
posed to the heavy dews of the equatorial 
night. He vowed that never again should 
his boat leave the shore without a com- 
pass, even if it was only going to the 
edge of the reef. If they had the com- 
pass they could easily find their way to 
land, or at least could keep near enough 
to be in sight when morning broke ; but 
now they were helpless. 

At last the Captain decided that the 
best thing to be done was to keep as near 
their present position as possible until 
light. He knew about the speed of the 
current, and could make allowance for 
it, and thus might stand some show of 
seeing land when morning broke, or at 
least of being within sight of the Ma- 
dura, and then it would be an easy mat- 
ter to get home. 

The Madam had her keys in her pock- 
et, so the trunk was opened, a difficult 
job in that little dancing boat, and warm 
wrappings found for mother and child, 
and all settled down to make the best of 
their bad predicament. The bright stars 
of the beautiful Southern Cross shone 
silvery white in the dark blue of the sky, 
and the boat was headed for the island as 
nearly as the position could be judged 


Under the Southern Cross. 


from the stars. Hal settled down in his 
father's arms, and the little company of 
castaways chatted in subdued tones as 
the long night hours crept away. 

Kimo was a fine singer, and several of 
the others had fair voices, so they be- 
guiled the time for a while by their 
music. Songs comic, sentimental, ten- 
der, or warlike, rang out over the waste 
of water. Tales of olden times were re- 
cited, news from far distant Hawaii was 
asked for and eagerly listened to, but 
still the hours from sunset to morning 
were terribly long. It was past two 
o'clock before silence fell upon the little 
boat, but at length all were dozing, wait- 
ing for the first gleam of light which it 
was hoped would show them where the 
island lay. 

At last a faint gray haze took the 
place of the thick blackness which had 
encompassed them around for several 
hours. Morning was near. Soon the 
blessed sun would shine again, and the 
long dreary, dismal night would be past. 
Lighter and lighter grew the gray hori- 
zon, farther and farther away it seemed. 
The ocean had seemed all night to rise 
high above them at a short distance 
from their little boat, but now it resumed 
its proper place and position. 

Soon pink lines shot through the gray 
haze, the sun's messengers, sent to give 
warning of his coming. Day was come, 
and the luna rose to his feet to see if 
there was any sign of the island. He 
gazed for a moment, and then pointed 
to where a white spot shone in the first 
rays of the rising sun. 

"There's the Madura. We can get 
aboard of her, and she will take us to the 

The bark came rapidly nearer. Soon 
her decks were visible, and now her men 
were plainly seen. Soon one of them 
seemed to catch a glimpse of the little 
boat. He pointed it out to others, and 
in a moment all was bustle on board. 
The course of the vessel was changed 
to bring her nearer, and soon the weary 

company were again on the hospitable 
deck of the Madura. 

The story of the long night was soon 
told, and hot coffee and hard tack was 
given them to stay them until breakfast 
could be prepared. The island was hard- 
ly visible, so far away was it, but by the 
time breakfast was prepared and eaten 
the vessel would be close to land. 

The meal was soon ready and dis- 
patched in haste. When it was over all 
hands hastened to the deck and found 
that the bark was rapidly drawing near 
the island. It was intended to lay the 
moorings from the deck of the bark, and 
as the weather was fine and the sea 
smooth it was advisable to make as much 
haste about it as possible, so the vessel 
was brought in close to the island. This 
gave the strangers a chance for a closer 
view of the place which was to be home 
for at least a time. 

From the bark the land looked like a 
low, level stretch of white sand, with a 
square, two-story white house standing 
in the center. The island was so small 
and so low that one could see clear 
across it, and watch the surf break 
against the rocks on the farther side of 
the island. There were several build- 
ings beside the big white house. A 
long, barrack-like building was the na- 
tive house ; that is, it was the place 
where the men lived when not at work. 

The men had the boat ready soon 
after breakfast, and another start was 
made for shore, this time a successful 
one. A short pull brought the boat to 
land, or pretty close to the shore, but 
it was very close to the land under- 
neath, so very close that it refused to 
move farther, and still there were some 
twenty feet of water between the wished- 
for shore and the feet of the longing 

The Madam did not care for wading, 
especially in water that looked as if it 
might be waist deep, and was running 
like a mill stream. The tide had turned, 
and was running out so fast that the 


Under the Southern Cross. 


boat, which was of great draught for its 
seeming size, was being left each mo- 
ment more certainly stuck on the reef. 
Though the water was running swiftly 
out, there was no hope for the voyagers, 
for in the channel it would not be dry 
at all. It formed a river down which 
all the water from each side found its 
exit to the open sea. The exterior reef 
was high above water then, but the rock 
within the reef sloped in such a way 
that the water had to seek the sea by 
way of the straight channel which was 
the only entrance to the island. 

The Madam wondered what she. was 
to do, but lima Kimo did not stop to 
wonder. Hastily stripping off his coat 
and trowsers, he stood up, clothed only 
in his blue shirt, and stepping over the 
side held out his arms. 

Had the Madam but just come from ul- 
tra civilized lands, she would have been 
shocked by the idea of being landed in 
this primitive way by this half -stripped 
man ; but she had spent many months 
in Hawaii, where often men were met 
"naked, and not ashamed," where it is 
nothing unusual to meet parties of them 
employed in the taro fields, dressed only 
in the malo, or breech-cloth. 

Being thus familiar with the native 
customs, she quietly stepped forward, 
and Kimo raised her in his arms as 
easily as if she were a child, and waded 
to the shore. Hal followed on the back 
of Nui Keoni, the biggest native man he 
ever saw, while the Captain rolled up 
his linen trowsers and waded for him- 
self. Two of the natives offered to carry 
him, but as he weighed two hundred and 
twenty-five pounds, he did not have full 
faith in their ability to fulfill the con- 
trajct, so preferred to take no chances. 

As the superintendent had been ex- 
pected back the night before, and as 
the luna was with him, the men on 
shore had been uncertain what they 
should do, so had done nothing. In- 
stead of starting, as usual, for the guano 
field at six o'clock, the whole seventy 
VOL. xxi 16. 

were on the beach to meet the new 
comers. Some were men whom the 
Madam or Hal had known in Honolulu, 
and these immediately came forward to 
greet the two, who might have some 
word for them from that far-off home 
to which a Hawaiian always turns with, 
loving thoughts and longing heart. 

The Madam at once went to the 
house, to take charge of her kingdom, 
while the Captain and luna went to 
work, getting ready for laying the moor- 

The Madam found that her home was 
in a wide, two-storied, white house, of 
four rooms on each floor. The rooms 
on the upper floor were to be used as 
living rooms, while the lower part of 
the house was for a store house, in 
which to keep the stock of provisions, 
which could be .replenished only once 
in three months. For fear of accidents 
six months' stock was always kept on 
hand, and food enough to keep eighty 
men for six months requires a fair-sized 
room for storage. 

A wide veranda surrounded the house, 
giving needed shade from the torrid 
sun, which has a power here scarcely to 
be realized by denizens of more temper- 
ate regions. 

While the mother and son were set- 
tling their belongings in their roomy 
abode, the men had betaken themselves 
to the work of getting the moorings 
laid before rough weather should come. 
The moorings consisted of a couple of 
huge plank cubes, strongly bolted to- 
gether, and connected by a link and 
swivel. They were held in place by 
two anchors, one below the buoy, which 
held it from dragging inshore ; the other 
on the reef, from which a long chain led 
out to the connecting link between the 
two boxes. This kept the moorings 
from dragging out to sea. 

The second day after the Madura 
arrived, the schooner Joseph Woolley, 
which belonged to the guano company, 
also arrived on her regular trip around 


Under the Southern Cross. 


the islands belonging to the company. 
At that time the company owned three 
islands, Baker, Rowland, and Jarvis. 
The Woolley made the trip to each once 
in three months, bringing stores and 
men, and returning took away the men 
whose time was at an end. The men 
shipped for a year, and usually, when 
the year was up, they would go to Hon- 
olulu, spend what they had earned by 
their year of hard work, and generally 
they were ready to re-ship before the 
Woolley was ready for her return trip. 
The Hawaiians are a gentle, kindly 
race. These men would work from the 
first gleam of light until it was too dark 
to see to work longer. Often after they 
had been handling heavy bags of guano 
from four in the morning until eight at 
night, they were called up at midnight to 
haul the boats and lighters up into safe- 
ty, as the surf was rising and the boats 
were in danger where they lay. Of the 
seventy or eighty men not one ever made 
a bit of complaint about the hardship. 
They would run out singing, laughing, 
and jesting, pull and tug until the heavy 
boats were at the top of the bank, and 
then return to finish their interrupted 

Of course, they did not work such 
hours always. It was only when a ves- 
sel was there that they were worked so 
hard. Usually they worked ten hours a 
day, but the Madura had already been 
around the island over a year ; once she 
was driven off by stress of weather, and 
suffered damages which necessitated her 
return to Honolulu to refit. Then she 
returned, and in another storm dragged 
the moorings loose, and they were lost. 
After that she tried to take her cargo 
while laying off and on, but after a 
month's work she had not taken half her 
lower hold would carry. Suddenly the 
scurvy appeared among her men, and 
she was obliged to return to Honolulu 
for medical assistance and fresh stores. 
It was on her return from this trip that 
she had brought the Madam to the isl- 

and. She also was chartered to bring 
down and lay the new moorings. 

While the men were so busy in first 
laying the buoy and then giving the Ma- 
dura her cargo, the woman and child had 
ample time to become thoroughly famil- 
iar with their kingdom. 

Jarvis Island is nothing more nor less 
than a large sample of the mushroom 
shaped coral. It is like a saucer, in that 
the center of the island is much lower 
than the parts next the water's edge. 
This lower central portion forms a lake 
during the rainy season, so that work is 
entirely suspended for that time. The 
guano is found in this lower part of the 
island. It is not like the Peruvian guano, 
which is deposited by in numerable birds. 
The guano on these islands is simply 
decomposed coral. It is offensive neither 
to touch nor smell, but looks like sand, 
and has no more odor than clean sand 
has. It is found, some of it, close to the 
surface, and then is shoveled up like any 
other earth, which it resembles. There 
is a little of another kind found on Jar- 
vis Island, but on none of the others. 
This kind is like a sandstone. It is 
called rock guano, and has to be dug 
out as if it was rock. It needs no blast- 
ing, as it is very friable. 

The guano from the company's islands 
is not used for fertilizing purposes, but 
is reserved for chemical uses first ; then 
it may sometimes be used on land, but 
not generally. 

In due time the Madura was loaded 
and took her departure, having spent 
fifteen months in getting a cargo which 
would not pay her sailors' wages for that 
time. It may be interesting to the 
reader to know of her ultimate fate. Af- 
ter leaving Jarvis Island the Madura 
made a fair passage until soon after 
rounding Cape Horn. Then they were 
caught in a hurricane, which damaged 
the vessel so much that it was found 
necessary to put into Pernambuco for 
repairs. Here the Captain, his wife, and 
both the mates caught the yellow fever. 


Under the Southern Cross. 


Mrs. Stanton and Mr. Williams, the 
mate, died of the fever, but Captain 
Stanton recovered and went home to 
England, with rather a poor opinion of 
everything on this side of the world. 
The Madura was, I believe, condemned 
and broken up. It was an unprofitable 
voyage for her owners. 

After the vessel was gone the men 

were given a week of holidays, and they 

improved it to the best advantage. Of 

course a Hawaiian finds his greatest 

enjoyment in the water, so the men 

spent many hours of their play-time in 

swimming, diving, and frolicking in the 

sea. Several times at night they went 

out fishing with torches. It made a 

pretty picture, the long line of blazing 

torches carried by the naked bronze 

forms, which were now lighted up by the 

glare, now shadowed by the smoke of 

the torches. Each man carried either a 

torch or a spear. The one with a torch 

would walk slowly along, holding his 

torch high above his head, while the 

spearman walked by his side, stooping 

every few moments to dash his spear 

down into the water, from which he 

would raise it with an exultant shout, 

bearing upon its point a finny captive. 

These fish were of the most brilliant 

colors. The red mullet, the purple 

mullet, rock cods, brilliant with carmine 

spots, for they wear a brighter hue in 

I tropical waters than in the colder north, 

silvery-sided, slender-bodied whip fish; 

I and once in a while a glowing grass 

I green fish. When they caught one of 

I these they at once retired from the 

I sport. They consider it a bad sign, but 

I of just what I do not know. One of 

I the green fish would cast the whole 

I company into the dumps for at least 

I twelve hours, and that is a long time 

I for the mercurial Hawaiian to be thought- 

H ful over anything. 

When the week of play was over the 

U men returned to their work with as 

I much seeming pleasure as they had 

found in their sport. The wharf from 

which the guano was shipped lay on the 
northern end of the island, and the 
guano fields were nearly over to the 
southern side, so there was a railroad 
built from wharf to field; the cars were 
run by horse power, or, if the wind was 
right, by sails ; but it was not often that 
the wind was steady enough to be de- 
pended upon, so the two old horses, 
which had been on the island for twenty 
years, were used to haul the low flat 
cars loaded with sacks of guano from 
where it was dug to a level field near 
the wharf, where it was spread to dry. 
From there it was piled in long mounds, 
and left until a vessel should come to 
take it from the island. 

While the men were busy with their 
work Hal and his mother were enjoying 
themselves in various ways. The is- 
land, though so small, is the home of 
innumerable sea-birds There are thou- 
sands of small birds that sailors call 
"wide-awakes," the correct name I do 
not know. Hundreds of the frigate 
birds were also found here, and quite a 
large settlement of the stupid booby, a 
bird that does not know enough to get 
out of the way until you kick him over, 
and then half the time he will only lie 
and gasp, watching you with fishy, lack- 
luster eyes until you roll him down the 
bank into the water. 

The eggs of the frigate bird are fairly 
good for the table, not being overpow- 
eringly fishy in taste, but those of the 
wide-awakes are finer than hens' -eggs. 
The bird is not larger than a pigeon, 
but its eggs are but little smaller than 
a medium hen's egg, and they are finer 
food by far than the egg of any other 
bird in existence, so far as my experience 
goes. These eggs are, in the nesting 
season, so plentiful that Hal and his 
mother would take a bucket made of a 
coal oil can, and fill it in a few minutes. 
The birds were so tame that it was ne- 
cessary to hold the arm before the face, 
to protect the eyes while passing through 
the nesting place. Nesting I call it ; 


Under the Southern Cross. 


but the only sign of nest was a slight 
hollow scooped in the ground, in which 
were two, three, and sometimes four 

The frigate birds made a little more 
show of nest building ; still their nests 
were very poor samples. They lay an 
egg about the size of a turkey's. It is 
eatable, but not to be mentioned in the 
same breath as the others. 

When there were no eggs to be 
gathered, there were fish to be caught, 
and Hal and his mother proved to be 
prize fishers. One day Hal hooked a 
rock cod so big that he and his mother 
together could not land it, but had to 
hold on with all their strength until the 
steward could run down from the house 
and pull it in for them. When it was 
hooked the Madam thought the hook 
was caught in a rock of coral, and as 
hooks were very scarce she pulled this 
way and that, trying to free the hook, 
but in vain. At last she and Hal put 
a heavy, steady strain on the line, and 
slowly brought the rock, as they sup- 
posed, to the surface. Hal was next 
the water and he nearly tumbled in as he 
saw the goggle eyes of the fish rising 
up as the hook neared the surface. The 
fish did not fight a bit until it reached 
the surface, then it made up for its pre- 
vious inactivity. It dove down again, 
nearly chafing the line in two on the 
sharp edges of the coral, and then sulk- 
ed as it was slowly hauled to the top 
once .more, only to repeat the perform- 
ance again and again, until the line be- 
gan to show signs of wear. At last the 
mother sent Hal to call the Chinese 
steward, and with his help the fish was 
landed. It was a monster of its kind. 
It was four feet long, so big that it could 
not be cooked whole in the oven of the 
large range. This was the biggest fish 
caught on the island, but there were 
numbers of others which would astonish 
people who have not seen the size to 
which fish that are small in northern 
waters grow in the warm currents near 
the Equator. 

Hal and his mother took the contract 
to keep the islands supplied with fish, 
and as Hawaiians are willing to eat fish 
three times each day, and oftenerif you 
desire, it was no sinecure. They fished 
an hour or two nearly every day, usually 
standing on the rocks of the reef at low 
tide and fishing in the fissures, but some- 
times taking the little dingey, with the 
house boy, Kala, to row them, and going 
outside the reef to fish in deep water. 
Here they caught the mullet, one of the 
finest of fish ; also a little pink-scaled 
fish that had a peculiar taste, but of 
which one became very fond. 

Sometimes when there were no fish 
needed the Madam would take Kala and 
Hal and row idly along the reef, watch- 
ing through the water glass the beauti- 
ful forms of the coral flowers that grew 
in the gardens far down in the green 
waters. There is scarce a flower in the 
garden that has not its counterpart in 
these lovely water gardens. Just out- 
side the reef they grew in the greatest 
profusion and of the finest forms. Prob- 
ably they were sheltered from the force 
of the waves by the reef beside them. 
At any rate they were more lovely, seen 
through the medium of fifty or sixty feet 
of ocean water," than any flowers that 
grow in open air. 

In and out among the glowing rock 
flowers glided the many-colored, myriad- 
formed fish, and often it was hard to 
tell whether you were watching a fish 
or some strange formation of coral, un-i 
til suddenly the fish remembered an 
appointment he had made with some 
friend, and with a swish of his glittering 
tail and a dip of his glowing fins was up 
and off before you could turn the glass 
to keep watch of him and see where he 
was going in such a hurry. 

Hal used sometimes to get tired of 
watching the coral, but his mother never 
did. She would lie for hours with her 
face buried in the top of the long tunnel, 
watching the life under water. At first 
she wanted to secure some of thetreas- 


Under the Southern Cross. 


ures from the lovely garden, and once 
she got Kimo, who was a famous diver, 
to go down and pick off one particu- 
lar branch which she had long coveted. 
He did so, but when he reached the 
surface she could hardly believe that the 
dingy brown rock he brought up was the 
one she had watched him break from 
its anchorage. The specimen was im- 
proved by cleaning, but it never looked 
one half so lovely above water as it 
had below, and its absence made a vacant 
spot in her under-water garden, so she 
never asked for any more of them to be 
brought to the upper world. As with 
many other things, "distance lent en- 
chantment," and she decided it was bet- 
ter to enjoy the corals that she got on 
the reef and allow those in her garden to 
stay there. While they were there she 
thought them beautiful. Perhaps when 
she got them close at hand they would 
be but common kinds, after all. 

Beside the corals that were found on 
the reef it was a wonderfully fine place to 
gather superb shells. When the tide was 
out Hal and his mother, each dressed 
in a bathing suit, would wander over 
the exposed reef, finding here and there 
shells that were well worth the notice 
of a conchologist. There were to be 
found the harp cowry, not many, but 
still each day one or two, the leopard 
shell by the thousands, the rare straw- 
berry cowry, and millions and millions 
of other more common kinds. When 
they left the island they had at least a 
barrel of fine shells, which they dis- 
tributed among their friends. 

One day when Haland the Madam 
were out "shelling," they met with an 
adventure that put a stop for a time to 
that particular pastime. They had been 
gathering shells all the time at low wa- 
ter, and were slowly working home again, 
wading through the deepening water, 
and finding here and there another 
shell. Suddenly as the Madam stepped 
across a pool where the water was knee 
deep, she saw at the bottom of the pool 

a magnificent leopard cowry. Elated at 
making such a find, she determined at 
any hazard to secure it, and stepped 
into the pool. The water was rapidly ris- 
ing, and when she stooped to grasp the 
shell it covered her arm and breast. But 
that was nothing ; she was nearly home, 
and could soon get dry again. As she 
grasped the shell she was terrified to feel 
a sudden shock and to see a number of 
snake-like forms spring up out of the wa- 
ter, which was as black as ink in an in- 
stant, and to feel the snaky things fasten 
upon her arm, which was naked to the 

A shriek of terror broke from her lips, 
frightening Hal so that he tumbled head- 
long into a pool, and then added his 
screams of fright to his mother's calls. 
After the first shock she knew that the 
object which grasped her arm was noth- 
ing but a squid, or as more general- 
ly called, a devil-fish ; but as she was 
stooped with her face but a few inches 
above the water, with the tide rapidly 
rising, and could not move from her po- 
sition while the squid kept its numbing 
hold upon her arm, her position was not 
very pleasant. Fortunately the Captain 
was within hearing and ran to the rescue. 
He caught hold of the arms of the squid, 
and with one or two powerful jerks tore 
it loose, and brought it to the surface. 
It had used three of its arms to hold to 
the rocks and the others were fastened 
to the Madam's arm. 

As any attempt to pull off the squid 
was excruciatingly painful, it was killed 
and each arm cut off before it relaxed 
its suction hold upon the flesh. Every 
one of the thirty or forty spots to which 
it was fastened on the arm was black 
for a week, and very painful. The flesh 
was badly bruised, but it came right in 
time. The fright was not soon forgot- 
ten ; the Madam never cared much for 
shelling expeditions after that, unless 
the Captain could go along. 

Soon after this the rains began. Rain ! 
You have no idea what such rain is. It 


Under tlie Southern Cross. 


does not come in drops, it is almost 
solid, it comes in such sheets of water. 
In five minutes as much water will fall 
as ever falls in an hour anywhere else. 
And when it rains it makes a steady job 
of it. It will pour down in sheets for 
hour after hour, until one wonders if 
somehow things are not turned round, 
and if the ocean has not got overhead, 
instead of being out there behind that 
blinding sheet of rain. 

But it does stop, sometime ; and when 
it does, the sun tries his best to make 
you forget what has passed. One natur- 
ally expects that it will be very, very hot 
on the Equator, but Jarvis Island, only 
twenty miles south, is much more desir- 
able as a residence than many places 
farther north. The trade winds blow 
steadily every day, and it is always cool 
enough for comfort. During the time 
that the islands were worked, some fif- 
teen years, there were not a dozen days 
when they were obliged to stop work on 
account of the heat. Those days were 
when the wind died down at the change, 
and left nothing but one reeking, blazing, 
flaming, scorching fire, under which men 
and horses alike were helpless, and were 
called in to lie in the hot water under 
the wharf, and endure as best they could 
until the saving wind should blow again. 

No work was done during the rains, 
as the guano beds were all under water ; 
but the sun soon dried up the water af- 
ter the rains were over, and things went 
en as before. 

The first summer that Hal and the 
Madam spent on the island there were 
five vessels loaded there, so they did not 
suffer for company, particularly since 
the captain of one bark proved to be 
an old friend, who had no idea he was 
going to meet friends on the desolate 
little sand spot to which he had brought 
his vessel in course of business. He 
lived on shore while loading, and the 
visit was much enjoyed. 

During the winter no vessels are 
sent to the island, as it would be impos- 

sible to give a cargo of dry guano, and 
it does not pay to ship wet, so that the ; 
islanders passed several lonely months. 

Soon after the summer came, the 
Woolley brought word that a vessel 
would soon reach the island, as she was 
almost ready to sail when the schooner 

Of course Hal spent many hours 
each day in the observatory, and his 
mother often went up also, hoping to ' 
catch a glimpse of the longed-for sail. 
At last, late one afternoon, it was seen, 
but so far off that there was no hope 
of its getting to the island that night. 
Of course the captain could stand away 
from the island until morning, as it was 
known that the currents were very un- 
certain, and that it would not be safe 
for a stranger to come close at night. 
They watched the vessel until it was 
hidden by the darkness. The superin- 
tendent was a little anxious about her, 
as she seemed inclined to come closer 
than was prudent, but he finally con- 
cluded that her captain probably had 
been at the island before, and was com- 
ing down pretty close, and then would 
stand off until morning, and come direct- 
ly to the moorings, without waiting for 
a pilot. 

All hands retired early that night so 
as to be up at the first break of day, get- 
ting ready for the visitor. Hal was the 
first one up, and he ran out as usual on 
the veranda to look for a sail. He came 
running back calling, 

"Papa, papa, that ship is coming 
ashore on the point, I guess ! " 

Everybody ruslied to the door, and 
found that the vessel was not coming 
ashore, but was already there. She lay 
high and dry on the point of the reef, 
and several of her men were making 
their way toward the house. 

When they reached the veranda the 
Captain asked, "Well, boys, did you 
come to make a moraing call ? " 

" No, sir, come to stop," was the curt 
reply of one of the sailors. " We 've 


Under the Southern Cross. 


piled up the prettiest bark ever floated 
down there on your blasted reef, and 
how on earth it was done I don't know." 

All hands were hurried out to help in 
saving whatever was possible from the 
vessel before the tide should rise, for fear 
that it might carry her backward, when 
she would fill and sink at once. 

It seemed the captain had missed 
his reckoning, supposed he was still 
some distance from Jarvis Island, had 
not seen the land the night before, and 
the first thing he knew his vessel struck 
with a bump upon the rock. A second 
crash, and she was high and dry before 
her crew were awake, almost. Evidently 
the watch had been dozing, or the acci- 
dent would never have happened, as the 
wreck was not half a mile from the build- 
ings, and had the men been awake they 
could not have missed seeing the houses. 

But whether by carelessness or not, 
the vessel, the Ada Venner of Newbury- 
port, was a total wreck. She had sailed 
fair against the sharp coral edge of the 
reef, and it had cut a hole in the side big 
enough for her to fill in a few moments, 
whenever she should sink back where 
the water could get full swing at her. 
As she lay she might still remain for 
some time on the reef, until a rough 
surf should get up, for she had gone 
ashore at extreme high tide, and was ly- 
ing at low tide entirely out of water. 
But it is always impossible to predict 
when a rough sea will get up, so it was 
thought best to put the whole force 
from both vessel and island to work 
stripping her of everything valuable, 
for fear she might be washed off by the 
first tide. 

Fortunately the sea remained smooth 
for three days, and the busy force got 
nearly everything of any account off her 
before the rough weather came. The 
first and most important was the sup- 
ply of food, for the sailors could not live 
on the poi and salt beef which was the 
principal food of the laborers, and of 
course a supply that was ample for three 

white people would not last very long 
when fifteen men were added to the 

One morning, I believe the fifth after 
the ship struck on the island, when the 
men went out of the house that had been 
given up for their use, they rubbed their 
eyes and looked around in astonishment. 
There was not a stick belonging to the 
Venner in sight. 

An unusually high tide had lifted her 
enough so that she had slid back off the 
reef, and sunk in a hundred and fifty feet 
of water. The water is deep close up to 
the reef, as in many cases in the south- 
ern part of the Pacific, so that the ves- 
sel had sunk out of sight close by the 
land. As most of her rigging had been 
taken out the day before it did not mat- 
ter much. 

As the Woolley had but just lett the 
island, not to return for three months, 
there was nothing to be done but to 
keep the crew until she returned. At 
first this was rather enjoyed as a change 
from the monotonous life of the past 
few months, but idle sailors are hard to 
get along with. Fortunately there was 
but little liquor on the island, or there 
might have been more trouble ; but as it 
was there was enough. The sailors had 
been very friendly at first with the Ha- 
waiians, but before long little quarrels 
broke out, and soon there was an un- 
dercurrent of ill feeling gathering force 
each day. 

The captain of the Venner had no au- 
thority over the men. They coolly told 
him that they had nothing more to do 
with him. They were on American soil, 
and he had lost his vessel, so had no 
right to dictate to them in any way. 
Whether this was law or not I do not 
know, but if they would not obey there 
did not seem to be any way of making 
them. There were twelve of them, and 
they were all in rebellion. 

This state of affairs was rather un- 
pleasant, especially with a woman and 
child on the island. Finally the captain 


Under the Southern Cross. 


and the superintendent held a consulta- 
tion, to which they called the luna and 
one or two of the best men among the 
natives. It was decided to have the na- 
tives seize the sailors the first time they 
could get the chance and handcuff them. 
This was done that very night. The 
sailors were all sleeping in the house set 
aside for their use, and a company of the 
men led by luna Kimo stole softly in, 
and before the men knew what had hap- 
pened they were all secured. 

It was nearly a month before the 
schooner was expected back, and it was 
rather hard to keep the men handcuffed 
so long, but it was done. They threat- 
ened dire vengeance against both cap- 
tain and the superintendent, but when 
they were informed that they would be 
taken to Honolulu and imprisoned for 
trying to incite the natives to an insur- 
rection they changed their minds, and 
when the Woolley landed in Honolulu 
they shipped and got out of reach as 
soon as possible, for fear they might find 
themselves in more trouble than they 
cared to face. 

Life on the island moved quietly on 
after the crew of the Venner was gone. 
The same old story, day after day ; get- 
ting eggs, birds, fish, or shells, by day ; 
sitting on the veranda in the evening lis- 
tening to the songs and stories sung 
and told by the men, and sleeping sound- 
ly and dreamlessly through the night, 
watched over by the silver moon and 
the Southern Cross. 

Another year passed in this way, and 
then, owing to misrepresentation, the, 
company in New York decided to aban- 
don the island, as they were told by the 
manager that the guano was exhausted, 
and there was no more worth shipping. 
This with several thousand tons already 
d'ug on the island, higher in phos- 
phates than much that had been sold at 
a higher figure. It was a job put up by 
interested parties, who intended stealing 
the guano and selling it in Australia. 
One cargo was so taken and sold about 
a year after the island was abandoned, 
but the vessel was lost as she drew near 
the Australian coast with her second 

As orders had come to leave the isl- 
and, the superintendent had nothing to 
do but obey, so when the Woolley re- 
turned to Honolulu she took with her 
all those who had spent so many peace- 
ful months on the little coral island, 
which though scarcely as large as many 
a farm in the States, still afforded scope 
for many pleasant (and some few un- 
pleasant) occurrences, which are often 
talked over, even at this day, long after 
the tattered flag that was left flying, 
nailed to its staff, to show that the island 
was a bit of America, had been blown 
from its halliards. 

The Woolley sailed away on a pleas- 
ant morning, soon leaving the island far 
out of sight, and in a short time she 
landed her little band of returned exiles 
on Hawaiian soil. 

Mabel H. Closs&n. 


Impending Labor Problems. 



TILL recently all classes in America 
[professed to labor for the interest of all, 
land each was ready to concede much 
[for the benefit of others. Now the sev- 
eral groups, in working for their own 
[interests, often admit that they do not 
(regard those of others. Instead of ask- 
ing, What is best for man ? people ask, 
jWhat is best for the wage-worker ? What 
jis best for the manufacturer ? What is 
[best for the importer ? What s best 
[for the farmer ? What is best for the 
railroad interest ? Each party is not on- 
ly selfish but sure that all the others are, 
land there is not that confidence in the 
[whole that existed when mutual good 
[will was believed to count in business. 
Un listening to each other's arguments, 
pen look for motives rather than reasons. 
|A common opinion prevails that each is 
peeking some advantage, and there is a 
[suspicion that is undermining belief it- 
self. The lines between occupations are 
(sharply drawn, and the different classes 
[are mistrusted as enemies. 

The workingmen, who have recently 
risen to the dignity of considering their 
town interests, and measuring their 
strength against capitalists and corpor- 
ations, accordingly make many startling 
Demands, as might be expected of those 
jwho for the first time consider their own 
Interests. Having been deprived of 
Inany of their rights, they think, in wak- 
ng ii]3 to the fact, that they are deprived 
pf still others ; and having received some 
iponcessions, they hope to receive more 
than is possible. They are still in some 
chaos, and there is an indiscriminate 
ipomplaint about nearly everything in 
society, with an equally indiscriminate 
mope that it will be remedied by some 
tjnew social system. 

I Of late there are some signs, indeed, 
pf returning discrimination. Workmen 

are learning more definitely where the 
evil lies, and what is the practical 
remedy. They lately worked together 
as workingmen, as if their interests 
were one : now they recognize that some 
of their industrial enemies are working- 
men, and not workingmen in other 
branches merely, but in their own. They 
have become keenly sensitive to the 
fact of a competition among themselves. 
The present tendency of the working- 
men's movement is accordingly toward 
radical measures which affect chiefly 
themselves. Relief must come, it is 
thought, from a mitigation of competi- 
tion, which is now popularly deemed the 
chief evil of our system. 

The demands that most likely will 
be made with a view to relieving us from 
this competition, are, if we may judge 
from present indications, the follow- 
ing : First, a prohibitory tariff, which 
shall save to American workmen the 
privilege of producing what is sold in 
this country ; second, a restriction of 
immigration, (not only Asiatic but Eu- 
ropean,) which shall relieve them of 
competition with the whole world ; and 
third, a limitation in the production of 
human beings, and especially of ne- 
groes, which at present furnishes too 
great a supply of labor. 

These demands, though unfortunate 
in some respects, will be pursued with- 
out much moral consideration. For 
while the moralist will resist them in 
the interest of humanitarianism, an age 
so practical will not stop long at ethical 
considerations, when the interest of the 
people seems concerned, which not only 
overrides all other considerations, but 
itself gives validity to such considera 

The need of the workingmen, we have 
said, is to remove excessive competition. 


Impending Labor Problems. 


At present there are too many of the 
kind ; they are their own enemies. They 
used to think there were too many cap- 
italists. Now they feel that there are 
too many without capital, and that what 
they need is more employers ; so that 
there is a greater demand than before 
for bosses, and a greater opposition to 
the multiplication of themselves. They 
want more men to pay them for labor, 
and consume the products of such labor, 
but not so many to perform it. The 
limitation of their own class is believed 
to be necessary for their salvation. It 
was once thought that the maximum of 
products was the desideratum. Now it 
is believed to be the minimum of pro- 
ducers. How, therefore, to keep down 
the ratio between the producers and 
the products is the question, so that 
the producers shall always have enough 
to do, and the products shall not so 
increase as to destroy the demand for 

The first means of accomplishing this 
equilibrium is a prohibitory tariff, and 
in the near future we may expect the 
workingmen to be our chief tariff men. 
They will demand a tariff, not for rev- 
enue, nor for protection in the ordinary 
sense, but for the virtual exclusion of 
foreign products. The workingmen have 
not hitherto demanded this because their 
political traditions have generally op- 
posed a high tariff. For the Democratic 
party, to which most have belonged, 
has for other reasons been committed 
against a prohibitory tariff ; and it is 
hard for the bulk of a great party to so 
far change their politics as to champion 
the distinctive features of their oppo- 
nents. Party eeling has much influence, 
as well as personal interest. But when 
we have a well-defined workingmen's 
party or movement (which has neces- 
sarily sundered some of its old political 
relations), this position will, in the end, 
have to be taken as the only logical one. 

Workingmen must soon see that 
whatever is imported from other coun- 

tries is not made by them, and that 
American workmen are to that extent 
deprived of employment. They must 
also see that if the American working- 
men have the job of supplying this 
whole country with what it needs, they 
will always have enough to do. There 
will be only as many competitors as 
there are Americans. Our prices of labor 
will be unaffected by the prices in other 
countries. Foreign goods will simply 
be sold in foreign markets, and have no 
influence here. It is obvious, I say, that 
this position must soon be taken by 
American workingmen ; and, though it 
is not liberal, it will tend to secure the 
object that they are seeking. The argu- 
ment that may be formulated against it 
is a weak one to most Americans. Few 
are influenced by the claim that the ex- 
clusion of foreign goods will make home 
products dearer. American producers 
want their products to be dear. The 
little that they buy is a mere trifle com- 
pared with what they want their wages 
to be. Americans have always wanted 
high wages, and not low prices. They 
never strike against the price of cloth- 
ing or cutlery, but against cheapness in 
producing it. 

The second method of destroying ex- 
cessive competition is the correlative of 
this, namely, the exclusion of foreign 
workmen. The result is the same, 
whether we have too many products or 
too many producers. Both alike reduce 
wages and chances for employment. The 
high wages hitherto paid in this country 
have drawn many foreign workmen hith- 
er, and these will still come as long as 
they are so well paid. Accordingly, as 
long as a prohibitory or even a protective 
tariff keeps out foreign goods, and so 
makes a demand for laborers in Amer- 
ica, foreigners will rush hither to work, 
and an equilibrium will be produced by 
reducing wages to what they are abroad. 
The only means of preventing this is 
by keeping out the workingmen, as well 
as their goods. 


Impending Labor Problems. 


Few workingmen and no political 
parties have, thus far, dared to demand 
I such exclusion, because many of our 
(present workmen are foreigners, and a 
(large proportion of them want to get 
I their relatives and friends here. They 
re sensitive about discriminations 
against foreigners or immigrants. But 
[they are learning that the policy of ex- 
Iclusion is all that will answer their pur- 
Ipose, and the crusade against foreign 
(immigration must soon begin. The 
| work men have already secured the 
[exclusion of certain classes Chinese, 
[negroes, paupers, and criminals. They 
[have procured laws for the exclusion 
[of workmen brought hither under con- 
jtract. But these measures are all partial, 
[and easily evaded. They do not affect 
[the chief parties complained of. The 
lonly laws that can accomplish anything 
[practical are those that shall exclude 
[all classes. 

The coming crusade will, accordingly, 
[be against foreigners as such. " Amer- 
ica for Americans " will again be the cry 
[of our laborers. Something like the old 
JKnow-nothingism will berevived,.shorn, 
Iperhaps, of its most objectionable feat- 
lures. Americans will demand all the 
[advantages of this country for them- 
[selves and their children, as soon as they 
think that there is not enough here for 
all. The country was not -ripe for the 
iformer Know-nothing movement. Now 
Jour population and wealth are increasing 
past enough for our pride ; there is no 
Imore demand for men, but rather for 
lopportunities ; an increase of population 
|is felt to be a burden ; we want markets 
nor labor, rather than more labor. It is, 
accordingly, probable that the next step 
'will be, if not to get rid of some of our 
jjpeople, at least to prevent more from 

We have said that the movement has 
hitherto been against certain classes. It 
must now be against men as men. It 
:kvas formerly founded on prejudice, and 
discriminated against negroesj Chinese, 

and a few other small bodies. The evil, 
however, results from those who come in 
great numbers, and so from Europeans. 
The objection is an industrial one, which 
does not recognize races or prejudices. 
One more man is an evil, no matter who 
he is. A good workman is more objec- 
tionable even than a bad one, because he 
brings more competition. 

The people who are liable to become 
our competitors will be the ones to be 
excluded. The crusade will, therefore, 
be against Irish, Germans, Swedes, Ital- 
ians, and other Europeans. These are 
the people who keep down wages and 
keep up the supply of products. The 
more that come the less will be the earn- 
ings of Americans. Every Irish or Ger- 
man immigrant displaces an American. 
Our workingmen must share their bread 
with all who come from abroad. If for- 
eigners stayed away our workmen could 
maintain wages at almost any price, and 
strike with some effect. With all Europe 
to draw on, our capitalists are never at 
a loss for labor, but can defy strikes and 
strikers. The labor associations can do 
but little, because they are not the only 
supply of labor. If they compel strikes, 
and keep others by force from taking 
their places, they accomplish nothing 
permanently. The unemployed must be 
supported somehow. For a stable social 
condition there must be an equilibrium 
between the workmen and the demands 
for work. An industrial army cannot 
permanently be controlled by force, nor 
kept in abnormal relations to society. 
If those who work are too numerous, 
they must simply suffer from lack of 
work, or else lack of compensation. 

Our workingmen must, accordingly, 
face the problem, and face it soon, of 
the prohibition of immigration. And 
though its advocacy will raise powerful 
prejudices,and encounter much logic and 
humanitarian protest, it will be urged as 
necessary for the people. The arguments 
hitherto used against the negroes and 
Chinese will be employed against the 


Impending Labor Problems. 


Irish, Germans, English, and Italians. 
A race war will be precipitated involving 
not the black and yellow varieties, but 
the Germanic, Celtic, and Latin. This 
government will be declared not only a 
white man's government, but an Ameri- 
can's government ; the rights of the na- 
tive born will be discussed ; the argument 
used in the controversy between pro- 
tection and free trade will be extended 
to the importation of people as well. 

The most obvious measures to effect 
this exclusion will be to make the ad- 
vantages of immigration less inviting. 
Hitherto we have sought immigrants, 
and held out inducements for them to 
come. We have sent agencies abroad 
to drum them up. People who had lands 
to sell or cities to. build wanted pur- 
chasers or customers ; railroads wanted 
settlers along their lines; mine-own- 
ers and manufacturers wanted work- 
men ; capitalists wanted tenants ; fami- 
lies wanted servants ; there was in gen- 
eral a demand for men ; and the result 
was a policy to induce immigration. 

To check immigration we may have 
not only to withdraw the inducements 
hitherto offered, but even to place ob- 
stacles in the way. Harder conditions 
of naturalization and fewer privileges to 
the naturalized may be favored. It may 
eyen be thought necessary to limit the 
number that may enter our ports. The 
same policy, in short, that has been 
adopted against the Chinese may be 
adopted against the Europeans. The 
arguments are nearly the same for the 
exclusion of both, except that the evil 
resulting from European immigration 
is much the greater. The Asiatics 
who came to America were few, and 
had no perceptible influence on the 
country at large. It is the European 
influx that deranges the demand for 
labor and affects prices. The fact that 
they are of the same race with us does 
not mitigate the competition that keeps 
our laborers poor. Our equals may be 
competitors as well as our inferiors. 

The labor unions may require that 
foreign labor shall not be employed, 
just as they now require that non-union 
men shall not be employed. Political 
parties may demand that they shall not 
have offices under the Government. 
Crusades may be started against foreign 
ideas and customs. They may be at- 
tacked for allegiance to a foreign pow- 
er (the Pope), or for opposition to 
the public schools. They may be de- 
prived of saloon privileges. In addition 
to requiring longer residence for citizen- 
ship, and educational tests for voting,, 
our people may exclude them from cer- 
tain franchises, especially till they have 
attained full citizenship. Their lan- 
guage may be discriminated against, 
their parochial schools may be placed 
under supervision. In short, there is no 
end of the annoyances to which they 
may, justly or unjustly, be put by the 
native element ; and all in the name of 
the interests of our own citizens. When 
it is to the interest of Americans ta 
exclude foreigners they will do so, and 
will find many arguments for it based 
on seeming morality, as well as reason. 
The crusade will even be deemed holy, 
and declared to be in the name of our 
children and for the sake of our country 
and humanity. 

A last means of solving the labor 
problem is to limit the increase of our 
native population. The question of the 
surplus population has long been familiar 
to political economists. Men, like ani- 
mals, may breed too fast for their own 
interest. A country may become too 
full of inhabitants for its resources. 
The lower classes, who have little ex- 
pense, and allow their children early to 
shift for themselveSjincrease faster than 
others, and the crude rear faster than 
the refined. The negroes are more pro-, 
lific than the whites, the Irish than the 
English or French, and the Poles than 
the Germans. The result is that the 
lowest forms of men in civilization are 
propagating for the whole species, while 


Impending Labor Problems. 


the high are dying out. If men were in 
their natural state, like beasts, when the 
law of the survival of the fittest pre- 
vailed without limit, the better element 
would kill off or drive away the worse, 
and soon fill our country with an im- 
proved population. But under our re- 
fined civilization.we restrain the stronger 
and shrewder, to give the weak and igno- 
rant an equal chance. It requires little 
ability to propagate, and least of all in- 
tellectual ability. In this the savage is 
the equal of the enlightened, and our 
laws know no discrimination among 
men. As a result of this liberty, our 
population is believed to be getting too 
numerous. It is futile to shut the doors 
to foreign immigration if we increase too 
fast at home. We will get from our own 
midst the excess which we try to exclude 
from abroad ; and the evils of competi- 
tion are equally great, whether they 
spring from native or foreign sources. 

People have hitherto assumed a right 
to bring as many people into the world 
as they saw fit, and a restriction placed 
upon births would have appeared mon- 
strous. But all who are born must be 
fed, and in seeking their livelihood they 
interfere with one another. If too many 
are in a given territory, some must 
starve or be killed ; and the question 
arises how many people one has a right 
to saddle on the world. If a man 
wants to bring more children into the 
world than his proportion, what is the 
(community to do? As long as some 
do not eare to exercise the full capacity 
in this respect, and the world is not 
overcrowded, there is no reason for re- 
striction. But when more men want to 
have large families than the country 
can accommodate, there must obviously 
I be a concession, or else a conflict in the 
I struggle for existence. 

Many whites look with alarm at the 

I increase of negroes in this country. 

I They multiply faster than any other 

| race, and are claimed to be the only 

native element that is increasing. The 

rest are said not to be holding their 
own. There is equal alarm at the in- 
crease of the cruder European races. 
The country appears to be growing 
more populous by means of the lowest 
elements only, so that not only will we 
soon have too many people, but too low 
an order of people. America is in dan- 
ger of falling in the scale of civilization ; 
and there appears to be no help for this, 
except in legislative or other means of 
restricting births. 

No moral means for keeping down the 
population has yet been devised. The 
crimes of abortion or infanticide will 
hardly be advised even by the greatest 
sufferers from competition, although, for 
personal reasons, they will often be prac- 
tised in private. Penalties may, indeed, 
be placed on large families, as exile for 
example ; marriage may be made more 
difficult, and bastardy punished more 
severely. Foundling and orphan asy- 
lums may be discouraged, which now do 
much to increase population among the 
poor by furnishing a support for the 
children of poverty and sin. But these 
expedients, besides being only partial, 
have not yet been proven practical by 
experience. The workingmen may pos- 
sibly become the enemies of births, and 
attack marriage. They may require the 
same regulation of population as of in- 
dustry. Men have hitherto come and 
gone from the world without the notice 
of the government. The greatest in- 
terest of mankind man himself has 
been treated as an accident in our sys- 
tem. There has been no system of 
propagation, no guardianship over the 
appearance and disappearance of indi- 
viduals, or of the whole. Man as a pro- 
ducer is still a wild prairie that has not 
yet felt the implements of cultivation. 
We are all wild flowers, and the question 
is whether the reproductive forces of 
the race shall be domesticated and reg 
ulated, and whether population shall be 
made a study worthy of its importance. 
It is a question, in brief, whether men 




shall come and go at random, or have a 
providence to superintend their career ; 
whether as a whole men shall have any- 
thing to say about who shall people the 
earth, and how many they shall be. 

The workingmen, and those econo- 
mists who are considering their interests 
for them, will thus be engaged on radical 
problems. Every institution of civiliza- 
tion is being re-examined. The one great 
aim is to benefit the masses, and no meas- 
ure that promises to accomplish this will 

be deemed unworthy of consideration. 
The people must have relief ; and when 
the suffering reaches a certain point they 
will not stop within either moral or re- 
fined measures to mitigate it. The com- 
mon people have not the patience that 
they once had, to wait till their condition 
is unbearable. They are restive under 
even slight disadvantages, and the les- 
son that the times should teach to all 
men, and especially to the rich, is not to 
let the masses become too miserable. 
A it stin Bierbower. 


BY THE sudden death of L. L. Baker, the OVER- 
LAND MONTHLY has lost one of its best friends. 
Colonel Baker has been for nearly seven years a di- 
rector of the OVERLAND MONTHLY Company, one 
ready witli his counsel and aid, and always to be 
counted on as in quick sympathy with its aims, and 
with all those intellectual interests for which the 
magazine stands on the Pacific Coast. One of the 
most honorably active men in the community in all 
directions of good citizenship, he is not easily to be 
spared, nor will the place left by him soon be filled. 
Though one of the seniors among the business men 
of this city, he was still not an old man, nor one 
whose wdrk was nearly done. 

IT is with deep seriousness that the younger men of 
California must see the first generation of Californians 
passing away in such startling succession as this 
winter has brought about, passing away before 
their time for the most part ; for it seems now that 
the exposures and over strain of those exciting days 
forty years ago must have told more heavily on men's 
strength than was perceptible at the time. The 
founders of the State were vigorous young men, 
who felt as if they were immortal, and seemed to 
come out of all their risks and exertions with unim- 
paired vital power ; but now in their sixties they are 
passing away very rapidly. There will be a differ- 
ent California in many respects when they are off 
the stage, and it is impossible to feel sure that the 
younger generation will be as strong a people. 
Early California was no Utopia, and in many a mat- 
ter of public order and decency of standards we have 
a better place to live in now ; but if we have gained 
in the average of social conditions, we have lost in 

our proportion of men of striking ability. Comparing 
best with best, the present does not show as well 
as the past. It is certainly so in literature : with 
greater total of literary training and of moderate 
ability, it is not possible to count up a dozen writer 
here that would rank with the dozen best of twenty 
or twenty-five years ago. Lawyers say it is so in 
their profession ; it cannot be doubted that it is : 
with the clergy. Perhaps a falling away from the 
standard of the first settlers is inevitable in any col- 
ony that has required great vigor in the founding. 
It was the experience of colonial New England. 
The colony, it seems, must develop means of training 
men as good as the mother country, before it cai 
produce such men as came thence. 

THE growing alienation of Tammany Hall anc 
the New York State machine from the Democratic 
party is the most interesting thing at present in our 
national politics. Should the party in general stanc 
firm in its present distrust of that discreditable ele- 
ment, (if indeed an organization which has never ha 
any real political allegiance can be called an ele 
ment in any party,) there is promise of such a regen- 
eration of the Democracy as will certainly compel ir 
the Republican party a corresponding regeneratior 
or a complete dissolution. There are plenty of di- 
rections other than the New York machine froc 
which a defeat of this promise may come : perhaps 
most serious of all the danger of such complica- 
tion from labor or socialistic movements as may 
lead both parties into experiments whose results no 
one can foretell. We do not share the fears of peo- 
ple who look to see some one of the " labor " par- 
ties that form from time to time actually carry elections 

1893. J 


and give laws ; the danger from them is in the form of 
concessions into which they may frighten the present 
parties to hold voters. It is a serious danger, because 
thus far all such parties in our country have been 
almost specifically parties of ignorance, based on 
class spirit, and led by men whose good faith was open 
to question. Yet, however evident it is that many 
new difficulties and dangers are before us, there is also 
evident a spirit of renewed zeal and hope in young 
men concerning the public interests of the country that 
re-inspires flagging reforms, and gives to the closing 
decade of the century so far an aspect of political 
renaissance. Reform bills that were considered a 
few years ago the whim of Sunday School politicians 
go through legislatures, and new ones come hope- 
fully forward. Public sentiment in favor of honest 
dealing seems more vigilant than for years. It is 
probable that we have the reformed ballot system to 
thank for much of this ; and the long agitation in 
favor of civil service reform is also plainly bearing 
fruit more and more. 

IN CALIFORNIA the most interesting thing in the 
political situation is undoubtedly the decisive popu- 
lar verdict in favor of an educational qualification for 
the suffrage, given by a sort of " referendum " method 
that is in growing use in this State. This referen- 
dum is accomplished by a resolution on the part of 
the Legislature to ask instructions from the people 
at the next election, as to whether some important 
action is or is not favored ; the " proposition to be laid 
before the people" is then put on the ballots in such 
form that an answer, Yes or No, can be directly 
given ; and thus instructions are obtained that have 
no legal force, yet are recognized as very binding if 
the majority is decisive. When the real sentiments 
of the people are reached, before they have been 
worked up by politicians and press, surprises may be 
expected ; and in this case it was a surprise to many 
that the people of California should have given an 
overwhelming vote in favor of an educational quali- 
fication. For many years, whenever an enthusiast 
has proposed this, the answer has been that it was 
an idealist's dream ; that no politician would dare 
to advocate it. Perhaps a few have been shrewd 
enough to notice that each man addressed and this 
is probably true in every State in the Union was 
himself in favor of such a restriction ; he was only sure 
that other people would oppose it. The opposition 
was always somewhere else, but very dangerous and 
numerous there. It seems now as if this were one 
of the many cases in which a supposed public senti- 
ment, before which politicians have been cringing and 
dodging, has proved to be only a bugaboo when some 
one has the courage to walk right up to it. There 
is no reason to think that California sets a higher 
value on reading and writing than other sections, and 
should the late popular vote be carried out by an 
amendment, as it seems impossible it should not, 
it must be a most influential precedent for other 

States that wish the same reform, but do not dare to 
propose it. 

THERE are two or three other hopeful things about 
the Legislature now in session. The most important 
after the one just spoken of is that the reformed 
ballot act is likely to receive some amendments which 
will strengthen it materially. This act was forced 
through a hostile Legislature after a severe struggle, 
and one cannot but feel that the world does move 
after all, in seeing how secure it seems to be from any 
dangerous assault this year, and how fair the pros- 
pect for its amendment is now. Moreover, it is the 
judgment of those in a position to know, that the 
working of the system has already given us a some- 
what better Legislature than for a numberof sessions 
past. With this law made still more stringent, per- 
haps reinforced by a Corrupt Practices Act, and with 
the grade of the suffrage improved by an educational 
qualification, we may look to see a material uplifting 
of our public life, with a reflex effect on private 
standards, as the century comes to its close. The 
seven years that remain give us time to do a good 
deal of needed house-cleaning for the advent of the 
Twentieth Century; and it is hardly possible to 
doubt that in this very direction of cleansing public 
life, lessening the power of money to rule corruptly 
therein, lies the surest hope of dissipating any dan- 
gers that threaten meanwhile from social discontents. 

As WE go to press, the news reaches us of the death 
of Ex-president Hayes, a man whose rank among 
the presidents of the United States will stand higher 
in history than among his contemporaries. The 
misfortune of having held office, under a clouded 
title will not count for so much as it goes into the 
past, since no permanent harm has resulted from it, 
and it cannot happen again ; and the weak points 
of the administration will be balanced by the two or 
three great benefits it conferred. The surrender of 
President Hayes' own high standards of civil service 
reform to the spoils of politicians, created more ex- 
asperation among his best supporters, and gained 
less support among those to whom he yielded, than 
has followed similar surrenders by other presidents, 
because the way in which it was done indicated 
irresolution. But it will not be forgotten by his- 
tory that it was President Hayes who stopped the 
carpet-bag regime, and made the New South possi- 
ble ; and President Hayes who renewed in the high- 
est places of government those standards of personal 
honesty and respectability that had been so shame- 
fully marred. 

We have never had a president of higher purpose ; 
and his ideas of good government were clean, and 
his natural affiliations the best in or out of his party. 
It was due largely to the fact that he was in advance 
of his party, and did not know how to lead it for- 
ward to his standpoint, that his administration failed 
to be very popular or altogether successful. 


Book Reviews. 



Briefer Notice. 

The Old English Dramatists.^ Professor Norton, 
as editor of the complete edition of Lowell's works 
already noticed from time to time here, has added 
another volume, containing the six Lowell Institute 
lectures that have been, during the past half year, 
issued in Harper's Magazine. These lectures never 
received Mr. Lowell's revision for publication, 
they were delivered in 1887, but every admirer of 
Lowell will agree with Professor Norton that they 
should not be withheld from the collected works. 
Of the excellence of the edition in form and printing 
we have already spoken warmly. 

AutobiographiaJ 1 Arthur Stedman, son of E. C. 
Stedman, one of Walt Whitman's group of admirers, 
has edited a little book made up of prose autobio- 
graphical selections from his writings. Mr. Stedman 
. the younger is the person who obtained leave at 
last to make a volume of " Selected Poems " of 
Whitman's ; and by that volume and the present 
one (the plan of which Whitman approved,) has 
probably done more for the memory of the poet 
than all his indiscriminate eulogists put together. 
Both books are doubtless improved by the fact that 
the author died before the selections were made, 
and the choice has rested entirely with the editor. 

The Son of Man 8 should be interesting to the 
student of alienism. It is the work of an English- 
man of fair education, good position, and means, 
who, after a life of some excesses, found himself 
committed to a private insane asylum by his kin- 
dred, under charge of religious mania. He claimed 
to be the new Christ, and though in time discharged 
from the asylum, maintains his claim, and publishes 

1 The Old English Dramatists. By James Russell 
Lowell. Boston : Houghton, Mifflin & Co. : 1892. 

2 Autobiographia, or The Story of a Life. By Walt 
Whitman. New York : Charles L. Webster & Co.: 1892. 

3 The Son of Man, Chicago. Laird & Lee : 1892. 

this book in defense of it. His words have either 
been taken down by shorthand, or else he has a 
good literary instinct, for the simple directness of a 
well taught and unpretentious speaker in conversa- 
tion is maintained throughout, and however the 
ideas may ramble, there is no wildness of diction. 

Comenius, the Evangelist of Modern Pedagogy.* 
A slip of a pamphlet, in which review is given of the 
influence of Comenius, the Moravian bishop, of the 
seventeenth century, upon the "New Education." 
Without containing anything not to be found in other 
popular treatises, it presents the subject briefly and 

Books Received. 

The Son of Man. Vols. I. and II. Chicago : 
Laird & Lee : 1892. 

Narcissus and other Poems. By Walter Malone. 
Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott Co.: 1892. 

Green Fields and Running Brooks. By James 
Whitcomb Riley. Indianapolis : The Bowen-Mer- 
rill Co.: 1892. 

Buchanan's Conspiracy, The Nicaragua Canal and 
Reciprocity. By P. Cudmore. New York : P. J. 
Kenedy : 1892. 

Nondescript ; or, The Passionate Recluse. By 
Martha Eileen Holahan. Philadelphia : J. B. Lip- 
pincott Co.: 1892. 

Francis Drake A Tragedy of the Sea. By S 
Weir Mitchell. Boston : Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 

The Mother and Other Poems. By S. Weir Mit- 
chell. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co.: 1892. 

Witty, Wise, and Wicked Maxims. By Hen 
Pene Du Bois. New York : Brentano's : 1892. 

A Perplexed Philosopher. By Henry George. 
New York: Charles L. Webster & Co.: 1892. 

< Comenius the Evangelist of Modern Pedagogy. 
Will S. Monroe. Palo Alto. Reprinted from Decer 
ber Education. 1892. 









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California, Charles A. Gunnison. 

Los Farallones de los Frayles, Charles S,. Greene. With 13 illustrations. 

To Ina D. Coolbrith, Ella Higginson. 

An Interesting Historical Discovery, John S. Hittell. 

A Bare-Faced Deception, Charles E. Brimblecom. 

At Anchor, Isabel Hammell Raymond. 

In Mendocino, Lillian H. Shuey. 

Staging in the Mendocino Redwoods. II. Ninetta Barnes. 

With 1 6 illustrations. 

Quail and Quail Shooting, J , A. A. Robinson. With 3 illustrations. 
The Storm, Sam Davis. 
Two Gourmets of Bloomfield, Alice S. Wolf. 
Russia and America, Horace F. Cutter. 
The Wrong Trump, Emma A. Thurston. 
Recent Verse, Etc., and Book Reviews. 


Frontispiece. President Henry Durant. 

The University of California, Milicent W. Shinn. With 17 illustrations. 
Lawn Tennis in California, James F. J. Archibald. With 14 illustrations. 
Minerva's Mother, Annie Getchell Gale. 
Possibilities, M. C. Gillington. 

An Alaskan Summer, Mabel H. Closson. With 7 illustrations. 
An Electrical Study, Vere Withington. 
County Division in Southern California, E. P. Clarke. 
With Fancy, Sylvia Lawson Covey. 
Burke 's Wife, Beebe Crocker. 
Fiction Review, Etc.. and Book Reviews. 


Over the Santa Lucia, Mary L. White. With 15 illustrations. 


Fisheries of California, David Starr Jordan. 

True Greatness, E. E. Barnard. 

The University of California. II. Lick Astronomical Department, Milicent 

W. Shinn. With 17 illustrations. 
Siwash, E. Meliss. With^ illustrations. 
Old Angeline, the Princess of Seattle, Rose Simmons. 
How Mrs. Binnywig Checked the King, R. 
What Constitutes a Mortal Wound, /. N. Hall, M.D. 
The Mother of Felipe, Mary Austin. 
In the Last Day, M. C. Gillington. 
A Snow Storm in Humboldt, E. B. 
A Physician's Story, Theoda Wilkins. 
The Sea-Fern, Seddie E. Anderson. 
George William Curtis, Citizen, Warren Olney. 
Love's Legend, Lenore Congdon Schutze. 
Etc. and Book Reviews. 


The Restaurants of San Francisco, Charles S. Greene. With 12 illustrations. 
The Sacking of Grubbville, Adah Fairbanks Batelle. 
Indian Traditions of Their Origin, William, E. Read. 
Aged, Juliette Estelle Mathis. 

The University of California. III., Milicent W. Shinn. With 9 illustrations. 
A Peninsular Centennial. Vancouver's Visit in 1792 to the Bay and Penin- 
sula of San Francisco, with Map, W. H. McDougal. 

A Last Walk in Autumn, Neith Boyce. (SKK OVEK.) 

Mexican Art in Clay, E. P. Bancroft. With 6 illustrations. 
Point Lobos, Virna Woods. Illustrated. 
Congressional Reform, Caspar T. Hopkins. 


A Mexican Ferry, A. D. Stezvart. With 10 illustrations. 

Helen, Marshall Graham. 

Down o' the Thistle, Ella M. Sexton. 

The Illuminated Certificate, Marcia Davies. 

Recent Fiction, Etc. and Book Reviews. 


Christmas Eve, Ella Higginson. With illustration. 

Famous Paintings Owned on the West Coast, I. Beethoven Among His! 


Seaward, Martha T. Tyler. With illustration. 
A Kindergarten Christmas, Nora A. Smith. With n illustrations. 
Tennyson, John Vance Cheney. 
An Unromantic Affair, Quien. 

San Francisco Election Machinery, William A. Beatty. 
Christmases and Christmases, Phil Weaver, Jr. With 8 illustrations. 
A Peninsular Centennial, II. Vancouver's Visit to the Mission of Santa 

Clara. A Study, William H. McDougal. 
Four For a Cent, Malheiirense. 
Spinning Song, M. C. Gillington. 

Not Unto Us Alone, Julia Boynton Green. With illustration. 
Brander's Wife, A Christmas Story, F/ora Haines Longhead. With 2 illustrations. 
Original Research. 

The Silver Question, Henry S. Brooks. 
The Waiting Rain, Eleanor Mary Ladd. 
The Guarany. i-iv. From the Portuguese of Jose Martiniano de Alencar, 

James W. Hawes. 

A Story of the Northwest, L. A. M. Bosworth. 
In Lincoln's Home, William S. Hut^hinson. 9 

Etc. and Book Reviews. 

The January Number: The OVERHAND MONTHLY for January is probably the most ar- 
tistic number ever issued. Peixotto, Walter, and Helen J. and Bertha E. Smith, have furnished 
admirable drawings, while the process work in such pictures as those which accompany the 
article on " Christmases and Christmases " has never been excelled for delicacy and finish, even 
in the periodicals of Paris. The whole number has a seasonable holiday flavor. One of the 
most readable papers is "A Kindergarten Christmas," by Nora A. Smith, which is full of the 
spirit of the new education that finds so much of strength and goodness in the neglected children 
of the poor. Next to this we should place Mrs. Flora Haines Loughead's story, "Brander's 
Wife." It contains some etchings of newspaper life that bear a resemblance to the reality, 
which is high praise, when one recalls the caricatures of journalism that have appeared in re- 
cent magazine stories. A series that promises to be of much interest is "Famous Paintings 
Owned on the West Coast." The first is a reproduction of Graefle's " Beethoven Among His 
Friends," from the gallery of Baron von Schroeder. Space is lacking to mention all the other 
contents of this number, which include a bright skit on space writing, entitled " Four For a 
Cent," and a fine short poem on Tennyson, by John Vance Cheney. . . . 

Volume XX : The bound volume of the OVERI.AND, which includes the numbers from 
July to December, rounds out the twentieth volume of this magazine, which is so closely iden- 
tified with California literary life. In a brief paragraph, one cannot even touch on any of the 
attractive features which have been noted in these columns from month to month. It must 
suffice here to say that the OVERLAND has shown itself alive to the demand for illustrations, and 
that much of its work will compare favorably with the work of the best Eastern magazines. 

What sets this monthly apart from all other periodicals on this coast, is its high literary 
quality. The preservation of this standard reflects the greatest credit on the editors. How 
rich the magazine has been in articles that mirror far Western life is best appreciated when one 
looks over the bound volume. San Francisco Chronicle, Dec. 25, 1892. 



None Better. None Freshrr. 

In order to introduce our seeds, we make the following liberal offer: For $1.00 we will 
send the following 40 Pacsets of Flower Seeds, prepaid, by mail, to any address ; or any 20 
packets for 50c. Instructions how to plant on each packet. We guarantee these seeds to reach 
you safely and to be fresh and pure. Wo call this collection 


Ageratum Sweet Alyssum Amarantus Antirrhinum or Snap Dragon Double Aquilegia 
Aster 40 kinds mixed Balsam or Touch me not Bachelor's Button- 
Morning Glory Canterbury Bell Cox Comb Dianthus Pinks mixed- 
Fox Glove Larkspur Hollyhock mixed Sweet Rocket Sweet Candy- 
tuftCypress Vine Dish Cloth Gourd Lobelia Ice Plant Marvel of 
Peru or Four O'clock Sensitive Plant Love in a Mist or Devil in the 
Bush Evening Primrose Pansy choice mixed Pansy Rainbow, the 
largest and best pansy grown Petunia choicest mixed Phlox Drummon- 
dii choicest mixed Poppy Portulaca Sweet Mignonette Scabiosa 
Dwarf Nasturtium Tall Nasturtium French Marigold Verbena choice 
mixed Double Wallflower Double Zinnia or Youth and Old Age Sweet 
Peas 20 kinds mixed. y Read this list over and see if you can get 
such a bargain anywhere else. 

We will send 30 choice packets of VEGETABLE SEEDS 
for $1.00, or 15 packets for 50 cts. 

Including the choicest kinds of Asparagus, Beets, Cabbage 2 kind*, 
Carrots, Celery, Cucumbers 2 kinds, Lettuce 2 kinds, Muskmelons 2 kinds, 

sent for lOc. in stamps. Don't order your Seeds, Roses, Bulbs or Plants 
of any kind until yon have seen oar prices. We can save you money. 
Liberal Premiums to dab raiaens or how to get your seedit and 
plant* free. We are the [urgent rone growers In America. 

Address GOOD & REESE CO,, Box 17 , Champion City Greenhouses, Springfield, Ohio. 


e leaves of this grand variety are 
rdered with creamy white; flow- 
s very large and of exquisite fra- 
ance. liullm continue to grow 
id bloom year after year. It 
akcn a most magnificent plant. It 
blooms several weeks earlier than 
kthe other sorts, which greatly adds 
Holts value. For only 25c. we will 
send by mall, postpaid, all of the 
following : 1 bulb of the Lovely 
New Variegated Tuberose; 1 bulb 
of the Excelsior Pearl Tuberose; 
1 bulb New Seedling Gladioli: 2 
bulbs OxaliB free bloomers: 1 pkt. 

Fuller's Perfection Pansy seed : 1 pkt. Snow Queen Pansy pure 
satin white: 1 pkt. Fuller's New King Balsam; 1 pkt. Floral 
Park Giant Phlox; 1 pkt. Lovely Margaret Carnation; 1 pkt. 
Fuller's New Rose Aster, double flowers of great beauty. These 
rare bulbs and needs w>ll all flower this season and we send 
them for only 25c. Order at once. Catalogue sent free. 

J. ROSCOE FULLER & CO. Floral Park, N.Y. 


for rules, etc. C. M. PAINE, Editor " Whist," Milwaukee, Wis. 




and have a. few hours spare time, can get work to do at home 
to occupy their spare time profitably. Address: L. WHITE 

g_ . 



Y^ \ 



Air Tight, Moth and Oust Proof. 
Durable can be used for years. 

No paste or glue necessary. 
Garments removed and replaced in- bad odor when taken out. 



Size 22 x 30 inches, 50c. each. 
" 24x48 " 60c. " 
" 30 x 50 " 75c. " 



Expressed on receipt of price In 



DETROIT PAPER BAG CO. 21 Boydell Bld'g 

Eastern f A. M. CLARK. Detroit, Mich. 

Agent : 1 i3-> Liberty Street, N. Y. 


t tf 1 Buys a JG5.0.') Improved Oxford Singer 
V I * Sewing Machine ; perfect workinL tell- 
able, finely finished, adapted to light and heavy 
work.with a complete set of I he 1 atest Improved 
attachments free. Each machine guaranteed for & 
years. Bay direct from our factory, and save dealers 
and apsnts profit. Send for r"*g CATALOGUE. 

. To Introduce our Superior Flower Seeds we 

have decided to give away 200,000 packets of ^-sjssssa^-^- 

Pansy seed this season, as we believe it to be MAMMOTJi 

the best way to advertise our seeds. 

paper who sends us IQc. (silver or postal note) the actual cost of packing 
nnf fnTY>nv,a "ollection of Peerless Pans es, precisely tho same as we 

every conceivable color. MAMMOTH GEBMAN, extra large paasies, often measuring 3 inches in 
diameter, all colors mixed. 

Oun CATALOGUE containing thousands of illustrations, beautiful colored pla'es ana a 25c. 
certificate free to all sending for this collection and mentioning this paper. Address, 

MAY & CO . 


May & Co., of St. Paul are perfectly reliable. Ed. 
When you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly." 


Accordions, Auto Harps, 

Auto Harp Music, 
iBanjo Music, 


Violin Bows, Clarinets, Flutes, 

Violin Cases, Clarinet Music, Flute Music, 
Guitars, Cornets, Violin Repairing, 

Guitar Music, Cornet Music, Harmonicas, 
C. C. STORY, 2G and 28 Central St., Boston, Mass. 


the stomach, liver and bowels, and 
purify the blood; are safe and effec- 
tual ;the best medicine known for 
indigestion, biliousness, headache, 
constipation, dyspepsia, chronic 
liver troubles, dysentery, bad com- 
plexion, dizziness, offensive breath 
and all disorders of the stomach, 

liver and bowels. One tabule pives immediate re- 

:lief. Take one at meal time. Sold by Druggists. A 
trial bottle sent by mail on receipt of 15 cents 
RIPANS CHEMICAL CO.. 10 Spruce St., New York. 


: : BANK SAFES : : 

-- >> 4- - 

Diebold Safe and Lock Co. 




411 & 413 Market Street, 


A large assortment of Fire and Burglar-proof Safes 
constantly on hand ; also second-hand Safes taken in 
exchange, and Safes repaired. 


;; 3,225,227, TENTH STREET I 



**/ y CHURCH ANj>^ \y LAb j 


Dainty Desserts for Dainty People. 

A little Cook Book, just out, filled with Choice Recipes. 

Send 2ct. Stamp for one to 
Knox Sparkling Gelatine Works, Johnstown, N. Y. 


Dialogues, Speakers, for School, 
"Hub and Parlor. Catalogue free. 
S. DENISOM, Publisher, Chicago. 

Mail 2c. stamp for sealed Instructions 
how to enlarge your bust b inches, by 
US'IIR " Km ma " Hunt Developer. 
Guaranteed. 24 pafje illustrated cata- 
logue for 6 cents. Address EMMA TOILET BAZAR, 228 
Tremoiit Street, BOSTON, MASS. Mention this paper. 

of mankind suffer from constipation. 

A few will read our brochure and 

adopt its suggestions ; of these fifi O/ will be cured. Bro- 
chure sent free. Address VV /O 
UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CO., 75 4jd St., Chicago. 


Send address foi illustrated Pamphlet, " Brownies al 
the Silver Mines." H. E. Woods & Co., Denver, Colo. 


About 50% 



tructions free. Union 
Dental Co., Chicago 111. 

on the covers of Chambers and Slop Jars. Prevents 
noise and odors. Saves many times its cost from breakage. Send 
50 cents for sample. Inducements to Agents. Address 
THE ACME TOILET BAND CO., 211 Jackson St., Chicago, III. 

See Specimens of Our Engraving in this Publication. 


Breakfast foods 



1). C No pay asked for patent until 
obtained. Write for Inventor's (juide. 


Is asked for 
Men's Rub- 
ber Shoes, 
style they 
are free with 
each pair of Gents' Shoes or Boots, it asked 
for. Best quality sell at 50 to 75 cents If 
mail, add 10 cents extra. Misses' footholds. 
11 to 1U, free. With Children's Shoes, if asked 
for. Add 6c if mail. Smith's Cash Store, 416 
418 Front Street, San Francisco, Cal. 

When you write, please mention "The Overland Monthly." 





The Celebrated 


Mineral Water. 

This water is bottled JUST AS IT FLOWS FROM THE EARTH, 
THE SPRING, therefore consumers can be assured that what they receive 

Your aruggist or grocer has it or will procure it for you. 
Circulars sent on application to 

THE riANITOU MINERAL WATER CO., Manitou, Colorado. 

MAtf ITOU 4. I \<. i:U CHAMPAGNE is made from the Manitou Mineral 
Spring Water combined with Jamaica ginger and fruit syrups. Absolutely non-alcoholic 
and specially recommended for ladies and children. 

When you write, please mertion "The Overland Monthly." 



On the Light-Rmnning 

Domestic ? 




$1.OO per annum in advance. 

nia Street, San Francisco, will send " OVER- 
LAND MONTHLY" and "Trestle Board'" for 
$3-75 per year. 

Ripans Tabules : for sour stomach. 

jy[OSES .G. COBB, 

Attorney-at-Law, Academy of Sciences 
Building, 819 Market Street, Room 50, San 
Francisco, Cal. 

Jx" ING & SHAW, 

Attorneys and Counselors-at-Law, Office 
Pacific Mutual Life Building, San Francisco, 

Late of Darwin & Murphy. 


Attorney-at-Law, 402 Montgomery Street, 
San Francisco. 


Book and Pamphlet Bindery 

Work Promptly Done at Low Prices. 


Each member of the following list of attorneys has been recommended 
thoroughly reliable, and of good standing in his profession. 

San Francisco, California. 

F. A. BERLIN, Mills Building. PRINGI.E, HAVNE & BOYD. Mills Building. 

HENRY E. HIGHTON, Mills Building. F. R. KING, 508 Montgomery St. 

JOHN B. HARMON, 405 Montgomery St. HORACE W. PHILBROOK, 214 Pine St 

Fox & KELLOGG, 508 Montgomery St. A. H. RICKETTS, Crocker Building. 

F. ALLEYNE ORR, 420 Montgomery St. CHARLES J. SWIFT, 216 Bush St. 

CHARLES E. WILSON, 420 California St. 




This institution offers superior facilities 
for a thorough Medical and Surgical Edu- 

The Intermediate Course of Lectures 
begins on the First Monday of February in 
each year, and continues three months. 

The Regular Course begins on the First 
Monday in June and continues six months. 

Three regular sessions are required for 

For further information address the Dean, 


6 Eddy St., San Francisco. 



For Obstetrics, and Medical and Surgical Diseases 
of Women. 

Office, St. Ann's Building, San Francisco, 

Rooms 37 and 38. 
Hours, i to 4 and 7 to 8 p. M. 

P. O. Box 1699. 

Established In 1 


Manufacturers, Importers and Jobbers of 

Wooden and Willou* Ware, 

Wrapping Papers, 

Paper Bags, Twines, Brooms, Brushes, Etc. 

232, 23O and 226 Front Street, San Francisco. 



When you write, please mention "The Overland Monthly." 





Endorsed by 

Xaver Seharwentca 
Dr. Hans Von Bu.elow 
Conrad. Ansorge 
Nloritz Pvlostcowslci 

And other leading Artists. 

Call or send for Catalogue. Pianos sold on easy payment 
it desired. Satisfaction guaranteed. 

Fine Fishing Tackle 


Guns ^ Hunters' 

* Equipments. 


By the month, week or day. 


525 Kearny Street, San Francisco. 

Columbia" Leads. 

A full line, medium grade 

401 Market street, 

For Barbers, Bakers, Boot- 
blacks, Bath-houses, Billiard 
Tables, Brewers, Bookbind- 
ers, Canners, Candy-makers, 
Dyers, Flour Mills, Foundries. 
Laundries, Paper-Hangers, 
Printers, Painters, Shoe Factories, Stablemen, Tar- 
Roofers, Tanners, Tailors, Etc. BUCHANAN BROTH- 
ERS, Brush Manufacturers, 609 Sacramento Street. 



Sold for Cash or on Installments. Pianos Rented, 
Tuned, Moved or Repaired. 

Knabe. Pronounced by D'Albert, Von Billow. Griin- 
feld, and other renowned pianists, the best piano in ex- 

Haines. Celebrated for purityand volume of tone and 
extraordinary durability, and preferred by the world's 
famous prima donna, Adelina Patti. 

Bush & Gert. Strictly first-class in every particular, 
and at a very moderate price. It excels many pianos for 
which a much higher price is asked. 

Sterling Organ Handsome in design, elegantly fin- 
ished, unsurpassed in tone, durable. The price moder- 

Wilcox & White Slf-playing Symphony. A full 
orchestra in itself. Call and see it, and listen to it. 


S. F. 



Sole Agent for 

i Pianss 

Hallett & Davis Co.'s, Boston, 
Francis Bacon, New York, 
W. W. Kimball Co.'s, Chicago, 

Also W. W. Kimball Co.'s Parlor and Vestry Organs. 

No. 735 Market St., History Building, ground floor 






' Safety 
\ Bicycler 




225 Rooms. Single or En Suite. 

American Plan. Rates $2.00 to $2.50 per day. Parlors 
and rooms with bath extra. 

Coach and Carriage at depot on arrival of all trains. 


The Graham Paper Company 


St. Louis, Mo. 

Supply the paper on 
\vhiich the OVERLAND 
MONTHLY is printed. 



Agent for Pacific Coast, 




Saws of every description on hand or 
made to order. 


When you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly." 

The Evening Bulletin 

San Francisco, Cal. 


TS the leading evening journal in circulation and influence west of the 
Rocky Mountains. It is recognized authority in mercantile and 
financial circles. Its high character, tone, and general worth commend 
it to, and have obtained for it an entrance into the refined and cultured ' 
home circles, and have made it the most popular family newspaper inl 

It is distinguished for the brilliancy of its editorial matter, the ac-1 
curacy and completeness of its local and telegraphic news, its interesting 
correspondence from all parts of the world, reviews of current literature, 
art and theatrical criticisms, the extent of its foreign news, and its free- 
dom from highly colored sensationalism. 

It is Valuable to Advertisers for the Following Reasons-. 

It has a long sustained circulation among a prosperous class of 
readers, who have learned to appreciate its special value. 

Every page contains fresh telegraphic or local news, affording every 
advertisement in its columns a good position. 

The Weekly Bulletin 

Is the largest and best weekly newspaper published in the West, and is 
in every respect a first class Family Paper, appealing to the interest of 
every member of the household. 

The Semi -Weekly Bulletin 

Is the regular Weekly Bulletin and Friday's issue of each weel 


_ ^ 

DAILY BULLETIN is served b? carr>rs in San Francisco and the large towr 
of the interior at 15 cents per week. 

Daily, by mail or express, per year , $6.00 

Weekly,' alone, l.oO 

Weekly, with Daity of Friday, 2.00 

F.-rts of a ye*r in proportion. 


San Francisco Bulletin Co. 

No. 622 Montgomery Street, San Francisco, Cal. 

Eastern office, No. 90 Potter Building, New York i 
When von write, please mention The Overland Monthly." 





Postage added to Foreign Countries. 

The only daily paper published keeping accurate records of the Shipping bound to and from 
Pacific Coast ports, giving accurate reports of the grain and merchandise markets of San Fran- 
asco. Freights, (grain, lumber and coal), wheat, lumber, and marine insurance news are special 




Postage added to Foreign Countries. 

The most reliable insurance and commercial paper published on the Pacific Coast. Review- 
ng all branches of insurance, maritime and commercial affairs. 


34 California Street, San Francisco, Cat, U. S. A. 



Montgomery Block. 

San FVaneiseo. 


The above monthly periodical is a Statistical, Real Estate, Commercial and Bankers' Magazine, which 
as been established by subscription among the bankers, merchants, and members of the Chamber of Com- 
icrce on the coast. The leading bankers of San Francisco, as well as the leading members of the Chamber 
f Commerce, and railway presidents have subscribed. Intending subscribers will please apply at the office, 
Loom 50, Montgomery Block. 


. Formerly Member London Stock Exchange. 

otton hy itroirtH 

^California Orchard and Farm 

IOXTHLY, $1.00 A YEAR. Address, THE CALIFORNIA COMPANY, Publishers, 

Sample copy, 10 cents. 416 Sacramento Street, San Francisc. 

The " California Orchard and Farm' 1 and the OVERLAID MONTHLY for $5.50. 

When you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly." 



(Opp. Pacific Mutual Building) 


Goods we believe to be as good as can be produced. 


Elegant New House, 

Choice Rooms, Central Location. 

317, 319, 321 Suiter St , near Stockton. 

Incandescent Lights, Porcelain Baths, Sunny Rooms, Single 
or en Suite of 2, 3 or 4 Rooms, and Offices for Physicians or 
Dentists ; Crane Elevator, Prompt Service. 


(Late of the Oriel Hotel of this city) Proprietors. 

Strictly First-Class for Gentlemen and Families. 


Sure Cure for Catarrh, Bron- 
chitis, Asthma, Colds, etc. 


Breaks up a cold in one night. 
Sure preventive for infectious 

For sale by all druggists, or sent 
post paid for $1.50, by the 

Welch Inhale? and' Hjedicine Go, 



56 Dearborn Street, CHICAGO, ILL. 


Ladies' and Gentlemen's Dining Parlors, 
112 Powell St., between Ellis & 

Delicious, home-like, popular priced Meals. If you 
don't like common restaurant cooking, TRY THIS. 




has often been expressed 

t the low rates charged by 

BACON A, COMI-ANY forthe beautiful 

1'rinting executed at their oftice; but 

this is no longer a matter of surprise ti> 

those who visit the office, where the fasi 

ost machines anil best appliances are in 

the hands of skilled and active workmen. 

Promptness of delivery is a prominent 
characteristic in our business. OMors 
from the interior filled at city prices. 
Paper Killing Blank 

ami Hunk 

to order. 

Cor. Clay and Sansome 

San Francisco. 

We Print the Overland. 



Office, No. 3O7 Sacramento Street, 

Factory, Corner i6th and Utah Streets. 


rubbing, and does not injure the clothes. The Largest Family Washing in 
the city can be done in three to four hours. A girl of twelve years of age 
can do a washing with this soap. 


When you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly." 


" Beauty doth varnish age, as if new born." 

It is just as true when we say that Varnish 
doth beautify age as if new made. 

Our " People's Text-Book " tells you how. Write 
for it. 



Head Office : Newark, N. J. 

Other Offices : Boston, Cleveland, St. Louis and Chicago. 

Factories : Newark and Chicago. 

When you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly." 

" Reading maketh a ready man, 
Writing maketh an exact man." 

Over Two Thousand 


Now in Use in our Schools, 

Making the young ready and exact in spelling, punc- 
tuating and phrasing. 


and increase your exactitude many fold 

Manufactured by 



CHAS/E. NATLOE, Agent, 19 Montgomery St., San Francisco. 






For Hot Water Heating. 



405 Market Street, San Francisco, Cal. 

Whe' 1 you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly. 

Pears' Soap 

We get on with half our bodily functions more 
or less active, and call that health. How would it 
seem to be alive all over! 

Take the skin we think of the skin as a cover. 
We lose a bit of it now and then, and know how it 
feels to be bare. That makes us careful. 

But the skin has something to do. We feel 
bright or dull according to whether the skin is 
busy or not. Headaches, weariness, tedious hours, 
and dull minds, are due to a skin not clear and 

All a matter of soap and water. The skin dis- 
charges upon itself; we should keep it clean; we 
should scrub it well. But we ought to be careful 
of it 

Pears' Soap is as gentle as oil, but effectual; has 
no alkali in it. It is, besides, extremely pleasant 
to use. But it costs so little, you do not see how 
it possibly can be the finest soap in the world ! 

V.'heu you write, please mention " The Overlaud Monthly." 

rcuun WHICH 

Address, 121 Main Street, San Francisco 

Adapted to an conduioi 
variety of service. 

Cal., or 143 Liberty Street, New York. 







Old Instruments taken in exchange. Write for catalogue 
and full information. 


170 Tremont St., Boston, Mass. 

BKNJ. CURTAZ A SON, Pacific Coast Agents, 

20 O'Karrell St., San Francisco, Cal. 




from which the excess of 
oil has been removed, 

Is Absolutely Pure 
and it is Soluble. 

No Chemicals 

are used in its prepar- 
ation. It has more 
! than three times the 
[strength of Cocoa 
mixed with Starch, 
Arrowroot or Sugar, and is therefore far 
more economical, costing less than one cent a 
cup. It is delicious, nourishing, strengthen- 
ing, EASILY DIGESTED, and admirably adapted 
for invalids as well as for persons in health. 
Sold by Grocers everywhere. 






g z 



CAPITAL (Fully Paid) , $ 1 ,000,000 ASSETS, NEARLY $3,000,000 

D. J. STAPLES, President. 

J. B. LEVISON, Marine Secretary. 

WM. J. DUTTON, Vice-President. 
LOUIS WE1NMANN, Assistant Secretary. 

STEPHEN D. IVES, General Agent. 







The Overland Monthly 


Illustrated from Photos. 



//7Aw? . . 225 

THE FOOTSTEPS OF PELE. N. E. Fuller ...... 231 

Illustrated from Photos. 
A DEAD VOLCANO. Mabel H. Closson ........ 236 

Illustrated from Photos. 
I-AUTH. Frank Norn's ..................... 241 

Illustrated from Sketches by the ^'riter. 
trude. Waterhouse ........................ 261 

Illustrated from Photo by Fiske. 
IN THE MOUNT. Eleanor Mary Ladd ........ 262 

Illustrated horn Photo by Taber, of Painting 

by T. Moran. 

Woods ................................... 263 

Harkins ...... ........................... 264 


FANCIES. Martha T. Tyler 277- 


Berkeley Wallace 278 

Illustrated from Photos by Tabei and 

PROGENY. Elizabeth S. Bates 285 


THE LADY BANKSIA. William M. Tisdale 25 

Illustrated from Wash by Mary Williams 

STATES GOVERNMENT. Jolm C. Henderson . .305 

IF SHE SHOULD DIE. Herbert Bashford 31! 

THE GUARANY. XIII -XV. James W. Haves. .319 

ETC 330 


The Overland Monthly Publishing Company 

San Francisco: Pacific Mutual Life Building 

The Pacific Coast : San Francisco News Co. 
New York and Chicago : The American News Co. 

For numbers of the OVERLAND prior to 1892, apply to Healy's Old Book Store, 408 O'Farrell Street. 
[Entered at San Francisco Post-office as Second-class Matter.] 



The Only Natural Boiled 
Water on the Market. 


See that All Bottles have these 

When you write, please mention "The Overland Monthly." 



2100. ... HONOLULU * 75 00 $ 25 00 

4200 .TUTUILA 17500 8500 

6050".... AUCKLAND 20000 10000 

7200 ....SYDNEY 20000 100 00 

7740 MELBOURNE 21250 10625 

Sailings of Through Mail Steamers, 


March 3rd and 31st. 


March 15th and April 12th. 

Excursions to the Sandwich Islands. The splendid 3ooo-ton Steam- 
of this line, are so well known from the thousands who have made voy- 
ages in them to and from the Sandwich Islands, that a description is 
almost unnecessary. 

To those who have not yet had this pleasure, we would simply say that 

MAEL, STEAMERS there are no finer specimens of marine architecture afloat. They have the 
Between latest and best improvements. The staterooms are fitted up with every 

<s T<VTI n Honolulu convenience. The dining saloons, social halls, smoking rooms, etc., in 
' finish and furnishing, are not surpassed by any steamers afloat. To make 
Auckland and Sydney. a tr i p on one o f these steamers is, as the poet Charles Warren Stoddard 

expresses it, " like drifting toward Paradise on an even keel." 

The* climate of the Sandwich Islands is said to be the pleasantest in the world never hot and never cold from 
65 deg. to 90 deg. all the year round, with refreshing showers which keep the landscape perpetually green. 

Excursion Tickets to Honolulu and Return, good for three months, $125, 

A trip from San Francisco to Honolulu and the volcano can be made in three weeks, and no more interesting 
and enjoyable trip is to be found in the world. JP^-PROMPT ATTENTION PAID TO TELEGRAPHIC 

Hgp^For Tickets or farther Information, call on or addreM 

Send 10 cents stamps for new pamphlet of J.-D. SF'RECICEI-S St. BROS. CO. 
photogravures, " Paradise of the Pacific." 327 Market Street, General Agentc. 

CALIFORNIA Summer or Winter. 

The Attention of Tourists mi Health-Seeders is called to 



America's Famous SUMMER aoi WINTER Resort, 


BATES FOB BOARD : By the day, $3.00 and up- 
ward. Parlors, from $1.00 to $2.50 per day, extra. Chil- 
dren, in children's dining-room, $2.00 per day. 

PARTICULAR ATTENTION is called to the 
moderate charges for accommodations at this magnificent 
establishment. The extra cost of a trip to California 
is more than counterbalanced by the difference in rates 
at the various Southern Winter Resorts and the incom- 



By Express Trains of the Southern Pacific Co. 

Intending Visitors to California and the Hotel del 
Monte have the choice of the " Sunset," " Central," 
or "Shasta" Routes. These three routes, the three 
main arms of the great railway system of the South- 
ern Pacific Company, carry the traveler through the 
best sections of California, and any one of them will 
reveal wonders of climate, products and scenery that 
no other part of the world can duplicate. For illus- 
trated descriptive pamphlet of the hotel, and for in 
formation as to routes of travel, rates for through 
tickets, etc., call upon or address E. HAWLE\ 
Assistant General Traffic Manager, Southern Pacific 
Company, 343 Broadway, New York. 
For further information, address 

GEOR3E SCHONEWALD, Manager Hotel del Monte, 
Monterey, California. 


for Headaches, Nervousness, Exhausted Vitality, Sleepless- 
ness, Etc. BOERICKE&RUNYON.S. F. SQC. per bottle 

When you write, please mention "The Overland Monthly." 

The Pacific Mutual 

Life Insurance Co. of California. 


The Pacific Mutual Life Insurance Co. of California, 

Northeast corner Montgomery and Sacramento Sts., San Francisco. 

When you write, please mention " The Overland Monthly." 

Life Insurance Co. of California. 


Assets, $2,600,000.00. Paid Policy-holders and 
Representatives, $6,000,000.00. 

The only Life Insurance Company organized under the Laws of California. 

For Policy-holders, the best organization of all American Companies. 
Most desirable forms of Insurance. 

Prompt payment of Claims. 

Liberal Dividends to Policy-holders. 

PRINCIPAL OFFICE, Company's Building, San Francisco. 
KILQARIF & BEAVER, General Agents Life Department for California. 
F. W. VOOQT & BRO., Pacific Coast General Agents, Accident Department. 



Improves and Preserves the Complexion. 

Absolutely Free from Injurious Su.bsta.nce. 

For Sale by all Druggists 



Geo. H. Fuller Desk Co., 

638 fit 64O miSSION ST 

When you write, please meutiou "The Overland Monthly." 






Dining Room, 



W. & J. Sloane & Co. 

641-647 Market Street, 

San Francisco. 

-r^* New Yost Writing Machine ~^ 

the residuum of all that's good, the correction of all that's bad, in the former productions out of which the 
same great genius has evolved it. 





It is the only typewriter with direct printing, automatic inking system (discarding ribbon) ; wonderful 
centre guide alignment ; velocity touch ; scientific keyboard ; ease, durability and superb construction. 
Exhaustively tested and widely accepted as the New and Higher Standard. We send free an interesting 
descriptive catalogue on request. Address, 

L. H. CONDON & CO., General Agents, 
Successors to J. P. MIGHELL & CO., 

413 Montgomery St., S. F. 

We carry a complete line of typewriter supplies for all machines, consisting of ribbons, carbons, pap 
and cabinets. Send for our sample book of papers. Second hand typewriters of all kinds for sale and f< 
rent. Catalogues, price lists and samples of work furnished to all interested. 

When you write, please nieutiot; " The Overland Monthly." 



On the Light-Running 

Domestic ? 





Celebrated Paper Patterns 

For ladies', Misses', Boys', and Little 

Children's Garments. 






rrt ID cnrVi A 1 T\/ 


See Specimens of Our Engraving in this Publication. 


Is the Largest Institution of the kind on the Continent. The Medical and Surgical Staff comprise the best talent in 
the country. There have been more cases of human deformities successfully treated than by any similar Institution. 
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Vol. XXI. (Second Series). March, 1893. No. 123. 



Ix the year 1858 my father was called 
by business to the Hawaiian Islands, 
then called the Sandwich Islands. Hop- 
ing the long voyage and change of cli- 
mate would benefit my health, then quite 
poor, he brought me with him, and put 
me in the school to which most of the 
foreigners sent their children. 

The life on these islands is one of the 

VOL. XXL 17. 

(Copyright, 1893, b y OVERLAND MONTHLY PUBLISHING Co.] 

Bacon & Company, Printers 

pleasantest of my early memories. I 
was fifteen years old, completely recov- 
ered in health by the long sea voyage, 
and I made friends with the island boys 
and entered into all their sports. With 
my chum, Jack, I often went swimming 
at a place not far from the school, where 
the cocoanut trees fringe the shore. 
Together we would race our horses 

All rights reserved. 


/// the Wilds of Haivaii. 


along the shore or up the valley roads ; 
for horseback riding was one of our 
favorite amusements. Our Saturdays 
were often spent in climbing the mount- 
ains, far up into the most enchanting 
scenery, and searching for land shells, 
and we made collections of acatinellce 
that a naturalist might envy. These love- 
ly shells, still found living on the leaves 
and bark of trees, are of many colors 
and spiral in shape. 

I was playing ball one day on the 
grounds, when Jack came running and 
shouting : " Boys, Professor says we may 
go to the volcano! We'll close school, 
charter a schooner, and start. Isn't it 
glorious !" 

Nothing was thought of or talked of 
from that moment but the excursion to 
Mauna Loa, till our party of twenty, 
under charge of our young teacher, Mr. 
R , embarked on the schooner Kek- 

After I had been in the school a few 
months a grand eruption occurred near 
the summit of Mauna Loa, on the island 
of Hawaii. Even at the distance, over 
two hundred miles, where we were, a 
red light hung low in the sky, and ac- 
counts came of projecting fountains of 
fire and of an immense lava flow. Our 
minds were in a fever of excitement, 
and we all wished to see the wonder. 

auluoki. There were no steamers run- 
ning in those days, and with the calm 
and variable winds prevailing in the lee 
of the lofty mountains, it often took a 
week to make a voyage that can now be 
accomplished in a few hours. 

The voyage I then made does not be- 
long to the pleasant recollections of my 
past. After I came aboard and was ex- 
ploring the recesses of the cabin, Jack 


the Wilds of Haivaii. 


called from above : " Bring your mat- 
tress on deck, Ned. You will feel like 
a boiled owl if you stay below." Indeed, 
most of us camped on deck, and en- 
dured the discomfort of wind and wave 
and blistering sun rather than stay be- 
low in the badly smelling, ill-ventilated 
cabin. All but Jack were deplorably 
sick, as our little schooner rocked and 
tacked in the rough channels, and Jack 
added to my depression by offering me 
various articles of food. 

Once we lay all day in the lee of the 

a noose on his tail and played with him 
a while, then drawing him on deck dis- 
patched him with an ax. 

At last, after a week of tossing on the 
ocean, the miserable voyage was nearly 
over, and raising my head I could see 
the volcanic fire, like a beacon light, 
near the summit of Mauna Loa. This 
mountain, whose name means Great 
Mountain, rises by a gentle, uniform 
slope to the height of 13,700 feet, and 
its blue outlines, generally surmounted 
by snow, are a conspicuous and beautiful 


high mountains of Molokai. The sea 
was so smooth near the shore that we 
could look far down into its depths, 
where we saw innumerable fish glisten- 
ing, as they darted hither and thither. 
As they came to the surface they 
proved to be immense sharks, from eight 
to ten feet in length. The crew of the 
schooner let out a big hook, baited with 
bullock hide, and soon we had one of 
these man-eaters pulling furiously at 
the end of the line, and springing up- 
ward to free himself. The natives put 

object in the landscape, seen from what- 
ever part of Hawaii you may chance to 
be in. 

. " Rouse up boys, we are going ashore," 
chanted a voice. The most wretched 
revived at the prospect of land, and were 
soon embarked in the boats for the 

We rested a couple of days in the hos- 
pitable home of Mr. A , and our party 
feasted, as only healthy boys can, on the 
delicious Kona oranges, unsurpassed by 
any I have since tasted. Our Kanaka 


Jn the Wilds of Hawaii. 


guides were then ready, and our bedding 
and provisions portioned out into pack- 
ages, that each might carry his share, 
for we were to make the trip on foot. 
" I am as strong as any one ; I '11 carry 
this," said Jack, seizing the biggest bun- 
dle. All followed his example, and 
fresh and full of life we started at a 
lively pace ; but those bundles grew in 
weight as the day advanced. 

Our path began in a lovely, fertile 
country of orange and coffee groves, 
and then led through a district where 
grew great tree ferns and palmetto trees, 
often festooned with strange creepers 
and brilliant vines. As we ascended the 
mountain slope we came to a forest of 
koa trees. These beautiful trees grow 
at an elevation of from 2,000 to 6,000 
feet. Their foliage is dark compared 
to other Island trees, and the wood is 
beautiful in manufacture, taking an ex- 
quisite polish. It is nearly as dark as 
black walnut and is much harder. At 
the upper border of the forest, sandal- 
wood trees were occasionally to be 
seen, their foliage glossy and their 
cymes of flowers exceedingly fragrant. 
Here also we enjoyed picking and eat- 
ing as we passed the bright ruby-col- 
ored ohelo berry, and the gigantic rasp- 
berry called okala. 


Just beyond the forest we camped for 
the second time, building a camp-fire, 
boiling our rice, and making our coffee. 
That scorched rice was a delicious viand, 
and never was coffee more refreshing. 
Tired out, we slept a dreamless sleep 
rolled in our blankets, undisturbed by 
the reverberations from the volcano, or 
the light from lava fountains. 

Our trail now took us over the bare 
lava. We walked principally over the 
smooth lava pahoehoe fields, but occa- 
sionally crossed with great difficulty the 
rough fields of broken lava called aa. 
Nothing is more depressing than the 
monotony of barren lava fields. The 
gaze falls upon a limitless area of black, 
broken rocks, tossed into every position, 
as though a congealed ocean had been 
broken up by earthquakes. One can 
climb hour after hour without a change 
in the surroundings. Strong and brave 
as the boys were, they drooped under 
the warm sun and heavy loads. 

The point where the eruption took 
place was below the summit, at an alti- 
tude of about 11,000 feet, and toward 
that place we directed our course. We 
came in time to walk over a hot lava 
stream, which flowed beneath our feet, 
protected by the thick crust that soon 
forms when lava is exposed to the air. 
It was hot enough to burn 
the soles of our shoes, al- 
ready badly cut by the 
keen, sharp rubble of the 
clinkers we had passed. 
Often the lava had run un- 
derneath the ground, am 
then hardening, left long, 
tunnel-like caverns, intc 
which there was danger of 
falling. They were coverec 
except where an arc! 
above the cavern had fal- 
len, leaving exposed a deej 
pit. These galleries extern 
for miles in length, am 
vary from eight feet tc 
sixty feet in depth. 



/// tlie Wilds of Hawaii. 


We were working our way with great 
energy, our eyes fixed on the strange 
view before us, where at a distance a 
cascade of molten lava poured down 
the mountain side. Suddenly, as Jack 
and I pressed forward, we heard a cry 
from the rear, " Alick has fallen into a 
pit ! " and the quick command from Mr. 
R , " Hurry with ropes, boys ! " 

We ran quickly back and found that 
Alick had fallen into one of those deep 
pits connected with the underground 
galleries. Its edges were concealed with 
grass. Jack was let down by a rope, 
which he fastened to the insensible form 
of our schoolmate, whom we soon drew 
to the surface. When he revived we 
found that he was partially paralyzed, 
and though he complained of no pain 
he was badly hurt. Our native guides 
helped rig up a rude palanquin called 
maanele ; and Mr. R , with a number 
of the boys, started down the mountain 
side carrying our poor friend. It was 
decided that the rest should go on ; and 
with saddened hearts we resumed our 
toilsome way. 

In front of us now yawned cracks and 
fissures of untold depth, and from some 
of them would rush out a cloud of steam 
with a loud blast. At last we were near 
the great cascade, a half mile wide, the 
molten lava falling a distance of a hun- 
dred feet. Fine threads of lava, like 
spun glass, were blown over us. Our 
guides explained to us that this was the 
hair of Pele; she must have torn her 
hair out and thrown it to the winds. 
We were also covered with glistening 
fragments of lava, solidifying in the air 
and reflecting iridescent light. These 
lava stones grew dull in appearance with 
exposure to the air. Fountains of liquid 
fire were shot up with fierce explosions 
to the height of seven hundred or nine 
hundred feet from the great orifice above, 
falling again in a glowing spray into the 
pool below. 

Besides the principal orifice of erup- 
tion there were other cavernous holes, 
from which issued steam and molten 
lava. We wished to visit one of these, 
and look into the depth of the seething 
cauldron. " Keep on the windward side, 
boys, or you will be suffocated by the 
vapor," called out Ben, who had visited 
a volcano before. It was needed advice, 
for while we were looking into the boil- 
ing depths the wind shifted, and we were 
driven back by suffocating fumes of sul- 
phurous vapor. It was some time before 
I could recover my breath. 

Here, amid these mighty wonders, 
we camped, seeing the volcano in all its 
majesty in the stillness of the night, 
"watched over by troops of stars." 
There is a feeling of isolation that creeps 
over one on a mountain's height, as the 
darkness of night closes around, the 
shadows fall, and the clouds settle below 
our feet. This feeling was heightened 
by the scenes of awful grandeur and sub- 
limity that surrounded us. 

After camping for a time at this great 
elevation, we took our downward way, 
finding it very much easier to descend. 
When the lovely, tropical vegetation of 
Kona greeted our eyes, and we came in- 
to the land of the kukui, the banana, the 
orange, and coffee, our delight was min- 
gled with apprehensions for the fate of 
our injured comrade. 

Our forebodings were realized. Tht 
poor boy had been brought down only 
to die. Medical aid was of no avail, and 
he had quietly breathed his last. 

This sad event darkened a trip that 
was otherwise one of the most interest- 
ing episodes in an eventful life. But the 
mind became a blank, and all emotion 
ceased as the Kekauluoki once more 
swayed and heaved in the Hawaiiai 
channel, and Mauna Loa dipped belo\ 
the horizon in unison with the swaying 
masts, and reappeared before my dizz} 
eyes, which saw it then for the last time. 
Edward Wilson. 


Footsteps of Pele. 



IN January, 1887, the monotony of life 
on the great sugar plantations of Hawaii 
became decidedly varied, and the dwell- 
ers in the regions round about expe- 
rienced that which cannot be expressed 
by words, the terrors of continued 

Nature's forces was not wanting, and 
one of our number exclaimed, " There's 
something wicked going to happen, it's 
in the air !" Then came a cry from the 
men going home from work in the cane- 
fields Following their glances we looked 


earthquake shocks, known among wise 
men as "formative wrinkles" on the 
earth's surface. These same wise men 
say there is nothing in the expres- 
sion " earthquake weather," but we, 
whose home lay between two volcanoes, 
had learned to dread as a sure premoni- 
tory symptom the hot, close, lifeless 
atmosphere that often precedes an East- 
ern thunderstorm. 

This prelude to the grand display of 

off over the black surface of old lava 
flows to where the jagged coast line 
cuts the blue Pacific, and there, seeming 
to grow out of a streak of forked light- 
ning, rose a waterspout of immense size 
and height. 

In wonder and dread we watched, 
amid peals of thunder and lightning 
flashes, till, after an hour, the strange 
sea monster disappeared in a heavy cur- 
tain of black clouds. 


Footsteps of Pele. 


All night the thunder deafened us, 
but the day broke clear and calm, and 
"the mountain," as our smooth-browed 
Mauna Loa is called, stood reflecting 
the morning light, capped with glisten- 
ing snow from the summit to the wood- 
belt five miles below. Little did we 
imagine that this great, serene giant had 
only drawn on his snow mantle to hide 
the awful mischief the fire demon, lurk- 
ing in his stony old bosom, was prepar- 
ing. But on the evening of January 
1 3th we were suddenly startled by the 
cry, " An eruption on Mauna Loa !" 

With a dull fear of the unknown 
power surging beneath us, we stepped 
out on the veranda, and there, in the 
distance, against a sky of the deepest 
blue, brilliant with stars, shot up a huge 
pillar of smoke, lighted to a lurid red by 
the fiery mass below. It was a terrible 
sight, but we stood fascinated by its 
awful grandeur, and we knew each 
other's thoughts were, How, and when, 
and where, will that imprisoned force 
spend itself ? 

As suddenly as it had appeared the 
light vanished, and there followed days 
and nights of terror. We tried to occupy 
ourselves, but the constant trembling 
was unnerving, and when this alternated 
with shocks that seemed likely to jerk 
the house off its foundations, we gave 
ourselves up to watching the mountain, 
whose ominous silence was more fright- 
ful than any outburst, for we knew the 
pent-up forces would continue their 
convulsive shakings till they found a 
vent somewhere, and who could tell 
where ? 

The whole country is perforated with 
long tubular caves, often miles in length, 
formed by old lava flows, whose surface, 
cooling quickly on exposure to the air, 
remained stationary, while the more 
liquid mass beneath flowed on, leaving 
a long, hollow tube. We knew that one 
of these caves, or tubes, passed directly 
beneath our house, and this knowledge 
did not serve to diminish our fears, as 

the shocks grew more and more severe, 
coming at intervals of from two to five 
minutes. The heaviest were preceded 
by a dull rumbling sound, that seemed 
to follow down the mountain side until 
it reached the house, making us think 
of the victims of Pompeii. 

Near noon of the third day came two 
fearful shocks, the last followed instant- 
ly by smoke from Mauna Loa. at first 
whirling straight up, then settling in 
dense clouds ; while we could see smoke 
moving rapidly along the western slope 
of the mountain ridge, showing that a 
lava flow had broken out, and was start- 
ing on its path of destruction. 

We felt that for a time our danger 
was lessened, as this outlet would cause 
the earthquake to be less severe, and 
the lay of the land in that direction 
prevented the danger of an overflow. 
So we watched our beautiful koa forests 
rising up in the smoke of the first fiery 
sacrifice demanded by the wrathful fire 
goddess, Pele, and waited anxiously for 
news from our neighbors miles away, 
who, after surviving the horrors of '68, 
saw this new danger threatening them. 
Soon we learned that the flow, having 
run underground for about fifteen miles, 
had burst forth again, beyond and above 
the old '68 outbreak, and was making 
its way with great rapidity to the ocean. 

Lured on by the wonderful fascina- 
tion of Pele, we formed a party to visit 
the flow, riding twenty miles, and reach- 
ing the scene at night. Within three 
miles a part of the flow was visible, and 
formed a grand picture. The steam 
rising from the hot mass formed a heavy 
curtain of misty vapor, which completely 
hid the outline of the mountain at this 
distance. But where the lava poured 
over high precipices, a strangely weird 
and beautiful effect was produced ; for 
there great sheets of living fire hung 
one above the other in the pitchy dark- 
ness, while the white, misty vapors 
rose about them like the shroudings of 
evil spirits. 


Footsteps of Pele. 



Who can find words to describe the 
sight that met our view, as, having 
reached the flow itself, we dismounted, 
and standing on the barely cooled sur- 
face of the lavas on the edge of a side 
flow, gazed in silent awe on the majestic 
force moving before us ? There it rolled 
in burning billows, a gigantic river of 
fire, and the tremendous agitation of 
the atmosphere was such that, as we 
watched, a storm of hail fell hissing into 
the burning tide, flashes of lightning 
played over it, and strangely colored 
flames shot up, while peals of thunder 
and the sound of exploding gases made 
it seem like a second Inferno. 

Plainly visible, seven miles above us, 
was the mouth, or small crater, from 
which the lavas spouted up in constant 
play, forming flaming jets varying from 
fifty to one hundred feet in height. Then 
this river of molten lava rolled over the 
edge, and poured down over precipices 
one hundred and fifty feet high, taking 
sticks and great bowlders on its fiery 
bosom, and gathering fresh impetus in 
its descent, till atone time it ran at the 
rate of thirty miles an hour. The lava 
was of the aa, or jagged variety, rolling 
over in masses like great cumulus clouds 
of fire, cooling in black cones on the 
surface, but fiery red an inch below. 

Facing this monster, and watching its 
descent from their veranda, sat a family 
who had seen their home almost de- 
stroyed by the flow of '68, and now, once 
more ready for flight, waited in suspense 
till within two miles of them the flow 
turned, and passing them by unharmed 
made its way to the ocean. 

It reached the ocean on the nine- 
teenth and poured in for days, sending 
up vast clouds of steam, and making a 
dull roar that was carried along the sea- 
coast for miles, as in '68, causing a panic 
among the natives of the sea-coast vil- 
lage, who dreaded a return of the fear- 
ful tidal wave that then carried houses 
and human beings in its irresistible 
clutches, and changed the whole coast- 
line for miles. Poor grown-up children 
as they are, we learned later that they 
spent all those awful nights of dread, 
gathered in a terrified group about a sol- 
itary little church, which is built on the 
summit of an ancient lava flow ; and 
though its cross pointed heavenward, 
and they believed in the great invisible 
God, who can blame them if ail-silently 
here and there a peace offering was 
vowed to great Pele, so awfully visible 
in her wrath ? They knew by real expe- 
rience the truth of the facts so ably pre- 
sented bv Professor Shaler, of the sub- 


Footsteps of Pe/e. 


mergence of lands, etc.; for the public 
road of '68 now lies under the ocean, and 
nothing would induce them to remain 
in their homes while the danger lasted. 

We had hoped for rest with such a 
mighty outlet, and once more retired 
trustfully, putting out the lights that 
had been kept burning so many nights. 
January 23rd we sat as usual late in the 
evening, watching the grand illumina- 
tion, as of a great city on fire, that glo- 
rified the clouds rising over the flow, 
back of our darkly outlined mountains. 
We had watched this gorgeous specta- 
cle nightly since the flow started, and 
when it suddenly disappeared we thought 
it only shut out from us by overhanging 

Later, two heavy shocks caused us to 
think with dread of the long hours till 
daylight. But as there was only the 
usual trembling for some time, we fell 
asleep at last, to be waked by a deafen- 
ing explosion, as of a cannon fired off di- 
rectly beneath the house. We sprang up 
in agonized fear in that first unearthly 
moment, and tried to reach each other, 
that we might at least meet our awful 
fate together. Doors shut in our faces, 
the walls and ceiling seemed to bow to- 
gether, and the rattle and crash were 
frightful. No sooner were lamps lighted, 
and while we were thinking that human 
nature could endure no more, then there 
came a perfectly overwhelming shock, 
and half-fainting we caught at whatever 
covering lay nearest, and fled to the stone 
pavement below the veranda steps. 

Soon came terrified groups of the white 
neighbors of our little plantation village, 
fathers carrying the babies taken from 
their cribs, mothers leading the older 
children while they murmured inartic- 
ulate prayers, or sobbed hysterically. 
Then we heard a solemn far-off sound 
of chanting, as the Portuguese laborers 
living farther up the mountain came hur- 
rying down. Their screams, the mourn- 
ful chant, the sobs as they prostrated 
themselves, kissing their crucifixes and 

images of the saints, did not serve to 
quiet our overstrained nerves. 

In the gray dawn the steamer lying 
at anchor put out to sea, fearing a tidal 
wave. As she blew her whistles there 
came over us a woful sense of desolation, 
as we realized that the only means of 
escape was departing and leaving us to 
our fate. 

By morning we could see that the flow 
was running once more and we were 
safe. But what awful havoc that night 
had caused, we learned by the reports 
of those who rode about for days inves- 
tigating. Two great cemented reser- 
voirs were broken like ice on a river in 
spring, the ground had cracked, caves 
had fallen in, houses were broken and 
thrown from their foundations, one be- 
ing thrown seven feet, and landing un- 
injured. Land slides continued for days, 
and in places the cane in the fields 
moved back and forth, while a sound as 
of rushing water could be heard by pla- 
cing one's ear to the ground. 

The theory presented by Captain Dut- 
ton, of the United States Geological Sur- 
vey, that Kilauea and Mokuaweoweo, 
the summit crater of Mauna Loa, are two 
distinct craters, seems to have been ver- 
ified by this flow, during which Kilauea 
showed not the slightest disturbance. 
It also affords pretty conclusive proof 
that the underground flow of '68, which 
some supposed to have come from Ki- 
lauea, had its source, as Captain Dutton 
and others have judged, from Mokuawe- 
oweo, as did the last flow. 

An accurate count was kept of the de- 
cided shocks, during those days of ter- 
ror : they numbered five hundred. When 
the news reached us of the terrible ruin 
and loss of life in "sunny Italy," across 
the seas, from the earthquakes there, 
just one month later, we felt thankful 
that we were spared such horror, though 
equally disastrous results might have fol- 
lowed had our barren country been thick- 
ly populated and built up with old stone 


Footsteps of Pele. 


We have been criticised a little sharp- 
ly by those who were not at the scene 
of action, for references to Pele, which 
were thought to indicate a strong incli- 
nation toward a return to heathenism. 
Our cry was unto Him who " holds the 
hills in his hands," and the thought of 
each was not of old heathen myths, but 
of the terrible and all-engrossing pres- 
ent, and of how to make the hours less 

shakings that you feel are but the heavy 
footsteps of Pele, as she walketh back 
and forth through her subterranean pas- 
sages. She is angry, yea, and she is 
seeking a vent for the awful fires of her 
wrath. Now she has seated herself, (the 
cause of the heaviest shocks,) and per- 
haps she will burst again through the 
same opening, or she may return and 
find another, I cannot tell ! " 


fearful to those in like distress. If, when 
we looked about us and found we were 
not utterly destroyed, we experienced a 
keener sympathy with that feeling of a 
something human at work in the cavern- 
ous earth beneath us, that gave rise to 
the old myth of Pele, let not a far-away, 
safely-housed critic judge us too sharply. 
An old native of seventy years, when 
questioned as to the possible sequence 
of the sudden stoppage of the flow, re- 
plied in substance : " I cannot tell ; these 

Pitiful old heathen, how he might have 
been corrected ! No Pele with fires of 
wrath, only chemical action, poor man ; 
the trembling of her foot-steps but the 
displacement of earth atoms, and when 
and where the forces of nature will next 
appear we also " cannot tell." 

Do we any of us believe in Neptune, 
when we express the hope that the old 
ocean god will spare us any unusual com- 
motion on a sea voyage ? We are not 
pagans, but children of Hawaii, and as 


A Dead Volcano. 


such let us know the myths and the 
names of the gods (albeit heathen) her 
first children worshiped. Let us glory 
in her folk lore, as we do in that which 
tells of Thor and Odin, and all the an- 
cient gods of every land. 

Therefore let not those who visit us, 
"longing for a shock," and "envying 
us our experience," criticise us harshly 
when we say, " God grant that Pele may 
let us rest in peace for many years to 

N. E. Fuller. 


THE Hawaiian Kingdom, though small 
among kingdoms, still contains two of 
the "big things" often spoken and 
written about. In fact, each is the big 
thing of its kind. They are Kilauea, 
the largest active volcano, and Halea- 
kala, the largest extinct crater, on earth. 

The first has been often visited, and 
as often described, but Haleakala has 
not been written up so often. It will 
well repay one for the trouble of an as- 
cent to its lofty summit. Though not 
so high as Mauna Kea, it still is to be 
counted among lofty mountains, as it is 
over 10,000 feet high. What its height 
was before some mighty eruption tore 
away its summit, some two thousand 
years ago, can only be guessed at now. 

I had seen and wondered at Kilauea, 
but had never thought of making the 
ascent of Haleakala until I found myself, 
with several friends, spending some 
weeks at Wailuku. We had visited all 
other points of interest within riding dis- 
tance before someone proposed that we 
make the trip to the crater. 

If one desires to see Haleakala at his 
best, the ascent must be made the day 
before, and the night spent at the sum-" 
mit. This was the plan we adopted. 

We rode gaily out of Wailuku, and 
soon reached the foot of the mountain. 
The base of Haleakala is ninety miles 
around ; thus the slope is not so steep 
as to make difficult climbing. It can be 

made on horseback all the way. The 
trip is a lovely ride, through a variety 
of tropical growth that prevented it from 
becoming monotonous. 

Late in the day we reached the place 
that had been selected for our camp, in 
which we were to pass the night : sleep- 
ing if possible ; if not, in chatting and 
wishing for sunrise, that we might see 
the wonders of the place. Dusk was 
closing down. We could see nothing of 
the scene spread out before us, and so 
settled down to await the coming of the 
clay, hoping that we might have a clear 

The natives who had accompanied us, 
bearing blankets and food to make our 
camping place as comfortable as possi- 
ble, had been busy preparing a resting 
place in an immense cave, formed by a 
bubble of the lava, which had been 
raised up in some far remote eruption. 
The lava had been forced up by gas into 
a tall cone, then it had cooled, and one 
side being broken away, it formed a spa- 
cious room, in which we pilgrims to the 
shrine of the fire goddess found our 
resting place during the night hours. 

I walked about over the rough ground 
around the edge of the crater, but the 
moon was hidden behind gathering 
clouds, and I could see but little of the 
scenery. 1 was fearful that the heavy 
clouds which covered the sky at mid- 
night might mean a storm that would 



A Dead Volcano. 


prevent our seeing the sunrise in the 
morning ; but the wind drove the clouds 
away before daybreak, and when we 
gathered on the level spot, near the 
brink of the crater, the sky was clear 
from all disfiguring clouds. The only 
vapor visible was massed in the crater, 
which stretched far, far away before us. 

The crater is some twenty-five miles 
in circumference, and about two thous- 
and feet in depth. The whole broad basin 
was filled to the brim with a tossing, roll- 
ing, feathery mist, which rose and fell, 
trembling and swaying in the light 
morning breeze. Even the form of the 
crater was invisible, the vapor hiding the 
farther edge from our view. 

Soon the sun arose from the waves, 
and as the pink light touched the bil- 
lows of mist they were dyed with a rosy 
glow. Far away in the distance rose 
the faint blue forms of lofty Mauna Kea, 
while Mauna Loa seemed a light cloud 
in the sky, far away above fair Hawaii. 

The ocean stretching between, at first 
a dark sheet of dull gray spread out be- 
fore us, was lighted into a glow by the 
sun's rays as he rose higher in the sky_ 
Brighter and lighter grew the scene, 
but still the cloud of mist filled the pit 
before us, as if Pele was determined to 
hide from us even the ruins of her for- 
mer home. 

Far below, the villages seemed clus- 
tered close together at the foot of their 
lofty guardian. Wailuku and Kahului, 
miles apart, were from our standpoint 
almost merged into one, while the 
buildings on the plantations looked like 
toys for children's sport. 

Suddenly, as we looked far off ovei 
the ocean at a white speck, which was 
all that was visible of the coming 
steamer, the position of ocean and moun- 
tain seemed for a moment reversed 
Instead of standing upon a height, look- 
ing down upon the ocean, we were look- 
ing up at it from the bottom of a pit. I 



A Dead Volcano. 



experienced the same illusion but once 
before ; when standing on Mount Wash- 
ington, the other mountains, at which I 
had been looking down, suddenly arose 
and towered for an instant high above 
my head. But on that occasion the illu- 
sion lasted but an instant, while it re- 
quired several seconds and a strong 
effort to bring Haleakala and his sur- 
roundings into proper relations. I sup- 
pose there is some scientific explanation 
for this freak of the eyes, but I never 
saw it explained, and do not care partic- 
ularly to inquire into it. 

While we had been looking off over 
the sea the mist had been rising, and 
now it rolled over the brink and floated 
off in clouds, fading away as it moved 
until it was no longer visible. Glimpses 
of the sides and bottom of the crater 
were revealed, and again hidden, as the 
mist lifted and was carried away on the 
wings of the gentle breeze that rose 
with the sun. 

We sat watching the transformation 

until the wide, deep pit before us was 
cleared from its veil, and lay green and 
dark before us. Seen thus, free from 
fog, the pit showed what a terrible force 
had once rent and torn those rocky 
walls, and left them shattered and man- 
gled, bare and burned, until gentle 
Mother Nature clothed the scarred walls 
with a garb of green, planting trees and 
shrubs in the scars of the terrible 

As the whole crater was opened to 
our gaze we saw that it was an irregular 
oval in shape, some seven or eight miles 
in length and about six in width. The 
sidessloped at a wide angle, down which 
it would have been comparatively easy 
to clamber had one desired ; but there 
was nothing to be gained by the trip, so 
we remained near the top of the moun- 

The whole thing reminded one of a 
deep dish from which the cover had 
been removed. What removed that 
cover is a disputed question. Some sci- 


A Dead Volcano. 


entists say that the top of the mountain 
was blown off by a tremendous explo- 
sion, while others declare that the top 
is still there ; has, in fact, settled down 
into the in. -'nor, as at Kilauea. Which- 
ever way it is, there are two wide gaps 
in the walls of the crater, through 
which, in some bygone day, the stream 
of liquid lava flowed, to plunge down- 
ward until it was received, hissing and 
steaming, into the waves of the sea. 
The stream that poured out through 
the gap called Koolau was three miles 
wide. What a sight it must have been ! 
that river of fire, plunging down ten 
thousand feet in seven miles to the 
ocean. Probably no one saw it, though, 
as the last eruption is believed to have 
occurred two thousand years ago ; but 
it seems a pity that so grand a sight 
should not have been witnessed by 
some one who could have understood 
the grandeur of the scene. Kaupo, the 
other break in the crater wall, is not so 
wide, nor from its position would the 
flow have been so swift or so grand. 

In imagination we saw the mighty 
flow as it broke through the restraining 
rocks and plunged headlong down the 
steep mountain's side ; then, with a 
start, we returned to the present, and 
one of our native guides was holding 
out to us a calabash of cool water he 
had just dipped from a living spring, 
which bubbles up deep down in the side 
of the crater, where the fire and lava 
used to bubble and hiss. How it is that 
cool springs of water are so often found 
in deserted, dead volcanoes is a mys- 
tery; but there are two in the depths of 
Haleakala, beside several that bubble 
out on the side of the mountain, near the 
path up which we had found our way to 
the crater. The water in all these springs 
is cold and pure, showing no evidence 
of having passed through the fiery fur- 
nace, even after the fires had been 
drawn and the furnace swept and puri- 

There are a number of great cones 

secondary craters in the depths of the 
crater, which would be respectable hills 
anywhere else, but here they are merely 
small hillocks. Around the bases of 
these cones a great variety of ferns are 
clustered, and also a few specimens of 
the silver sword, though why " sword " 
is more than I can understand, as the 
leaves do not bear the least resemblance 
to a sword ; they look much more like a 
slim lance than like a sword. 

But hours had rolled away while we 
stood watching the changing lights and 
shadows in the depths of the mighty 
crater, and the little white wing we had 
seen in the distance had drawn nearer 
and nearer, and proved to be thesteamer, 
which was now anchored in Maalea Bay. 
The guides were bustling around, gath- 
ering together the blankets, and the 
fragments of food left from our break- 
fast, which had been served to us while 
we sat waiting for the mist to clear 
away. Now they brought the horses, 
saddled and ready for their riders, and 
we must tear ourselves away from the 
beautiful scene spread out before us. 

One more lingering gaze around at 
the distant peaks of the blue mountains 
on far Hawaii ; one farewell look down 
the crater where, ages ago, the fire god- 
dess held her revels ; a parting glance 
at the wide ocean spread around us on 
all sides, and we rode slowly away. 

Winding down the mountain side, 
passing through belts of giant ferns, 
lighted up by flaming flowers of the 
tropics, lower and lower,until we reached 
the level plain at the foot of the dead 
giant, Haleakala, across the narrow isth- 
mus that connects East Mauiwith West 
Maui, and we find ourselves riding, tired 
but jubilant, into the shaded yard of the 
pleasant home of our genial host ; am 
we have visited the largest extinct vol 
cano in the world, and have returnee 
from our visit, and the steamer is wait 
ing for us. 

Bustle and hurry : inter-island caj 
tains are good-natured, but the stearm 




has been here her allotted time, the 
freight is all on board, and we must say 

farewell to the pleasant friends with 
whom we made the ascent. 

Mabel H. Closson. 




THE barricade upon the Grand Pont 
was very silent. On either side of the 
bridge as in a street stretched the houses 
and shops of the money-changers, which 
gave the bridge the name of Pont-au- 
Change in a later day. They stood there 
empty and full of dormant echoes ; their 
windows shivered, their doors crushed 
in, leaving in their place yawning open- 
ings like eyes and mouths agape with 
wonder. Around the piles, which but- 
tressed up their rearward projections, 
the yellow Seine licked incessantly, with 
a quickly stilled gurgle at long intervals. 

The barricade was drawn across the 
bridge some eight feet back from the 
VOL. xxi 1 8. 

keystone ; directly in front* of it at the 
extremity of the bridge squatted like a 
great toad, the massive, stunted struct- 
ure of the Grand Chatelet. Its grate 
was down, its huge steel clamped gates 
were closed ; it barred all advance into 
the Rue St. Dennis beyond. There, held 
the enemy, to wit, the Prevot-des-Mar- 
chands, with the archers of the guard 
and eight hundred of the King's gens- 
d'armes. The two redoubts seemed to 
watch one another. Over the pavement, 
between the barricade and the Chatelet, 
all the fighting of the early morning had 
been done. It was now three o'clock in 
the afternoon. All the vicinity was very 
still ; the street was empty, for by mu- 
tual agreement each party had removed 




its dead of the night before, and no one 
had been killed in the sortie of the 

Lying upon the stones of the street 
midway between the barricade and the 
fortress was a red hat ; somewhat nearer 
to the Chatelet lay a heavy white horse, 
his saddle turned under him, and his 
bridle in a tangle. A bolt had broken 
his back and he was unable to rise, yet 
he kept lashing out with his hind legs 
with the monotonous regularity of a 
machine. His hoofs struck out sparks 
in the cobbles. He lay with his neck 
and head bent up against the side of a 
house, and when from time to time he 
snorted and threw himself about in vio- 
lent struggle to get upon his feet, his 
head pounded against the woodwork ; as 
often as he did this, fragments of glass 
in the broken windows just over him, 
loosened by the jar.detachedthemselves 
from the lead frames and rattled upon 
the bare floor within. 

The whole neighborhood was color- 
less. The sky, the street, the houses, the 
chatelet, the river, all were variations 
of a dull, lifeless brown. The red hat 
upon the bridge was the only spot of 
color that relieved the gray tones of the 
whole scene. The intermittent strug- 
gles of the white horse were the only 
sounds that broke the silence. 

About four o'clock there was a stir. 
The insurgent leaders in the barricade 
went to and fro, marshalling their fol- 
lowers, giving them final instructions. 
The mob had several scaling ladders tak- 
en from the Little Chatelet, and picked 
men were told off for the maneuvering 
of each. The rioters had no order, no sys- 
tem of discipline; they relied 'for suc- 
cess upon the suddenness of their at- 
tacks and their superior numbers. The 
excitement began to grow and spread 
like an infection. At first a low, hoarse 
murmur, it swelled by quick degrees to 
that peculiar and never-to-be-forgotten 
roar, the roar of an angry mob, than 
which nothing is more terrible and awe- 
inspiring in the whole gamut of human 

sounds. The crowd of men behind the 
barricade began to surge and fluctuate 
like seething water. When it would 
reach a certain pitch of determination 
it would boil over the wall and roll like a 
billow toward the towers of the Grand 

Meanwhile, fighting had broken out 
upon the Pont-des-Juifs, a little lower 
down the river ; the absence of houses 
upon this bridge permitted a full view 
of the struggle from the Grand Pont. 
They could see a confused brown mass 
of combatants swarming around a few 
central points, and the noise of shouts 
and weapons reached their ears. 

No command was given, but on a sud- 
den, moved by some mysterious impulse, 
the insurgent tide reached its flood, 
poured out of and over the barricade, 
and halted, roaring and confused, before 
a solid, ranked, and orderly body of gens- 
d'armes, which had been as it were 
vomited forth from the suddenly opened 
throat of the Chatelet. The two bodies, 
surging, bellowing, gesticulating, stood 
opposed. There was a moment of con- 
fusion and hesitation ; some were strug- 
gling forward, some pushing back ; each 
party could see the whites of their ene- 
mies' eyes. Then some one from among 
the rioters, but wi th a movement so quick 
that Lauth could not see who it was, 
sprang forward, and as though into ai 
body of water dove, head low and arms 
up, right into the throng of the soldiers. 

In the twinkling of an eye Lauth 
found himself enveloped in a solid jar 
of men, wedged in together with a suf 
focating pressure ; so closely packec 
that the drawing of a weapon or the 
striking of a blow was out of the ques 
tion. Each man was pushing with 
his might against the one immediately 
in front of him, as though by sheer force 
to thrust their enemies backward, anc 
the whole body compressed into the m 
row street moving forward like some 
single great ramming engine in its 
groove. Oh, the horror of falling now 
beneath those thousand trampling feet ! 




Lauth could not stop, could not breathe, 
could not see. Of what was going on in 
the first ranks he was ignorant ; yet, as 
long as he was moving forward he knew 
that it was well with his friends. Slowly 
the advance movement continued ; sud- 
denly it stopped ; the pressure became 
appalling ; red spots danced and quiv- 
ered before his eyes. Then he felt a 
backward impulse, and in spite of him- 
self and his fellows, they were forced 
back. A tremendous roar burst from 
the opposing side ; but suddenly the 
pressure was loosened, and like a re- 
laxed spring, the body of the insurgents 
again leaped forward, and again came to 

there several others hurried past him 
into the house. They carried arbalists, 
bows, and slings. One of them had a 
hand culverin. Grasping his own weap- 
on, an arbalist, he followed them, up 
the stairs, through the upper rooms, and 
finally out among the chimney pots up- 
on the leads. The others had remained 
in the house below, shooting from the 
upper windows. 

He bent his weapon, fitted a bolt to 
the leathern cord, and sliding down to 
the edge of the roof, peered over into 
the street below. Yet he hesitated to 
shoot. He was not a soldier, either by 
profession or inclination ; he had never 


a fearful deadlock. This last continued 
for some little time, and it was then at 
length that the real fighting began. 
Craning his neck upward, Lauth could 
see the flash and play of weapons above 
the heads of the crowd in the front 
ranks, like the going and coming of 
white-caps on the surface of an angry 
ocean. At every moment now the pres- 
sure from the front was tightened or re- 
laxed ; at every moment the insurgent 
mob, by short oscillations, swayed for- 
ward or back. 

One of these movements brought 
Lauth near to an open doorway ; he 
wrested himself away from the press, 
and stood in the free space of the door 
to regain breath. As he was standing 

taken life before, and he was unwilling 
to do so now. He laid his arbalist aside, 
and contented himself with watching 
the progress of the fight below. 

Yet soon he saw that it was faring 
ill with his companions. The gens- 
d'armes, forming a solid and compact 
front, were now forcing them backward 
with ever increasing rapidity. / Twice 
they had rallied in vain ; another rush, 
and the soldiers would have driven them 
in. He lost control of his more humane 
instincts, and discharged his arbalist at 
random into the crowd of his enemies 
below. The course of the bolt was not 
so rapid but that he could follow it with 
his eyes, and he saw it whiz through the 
air to bury itself deep in the neck of a 





stoutly built 
man who fought 
without a hel- 
met. The man 
threw up his 
arms and fell 

In an instant 
a mighty flame 
of blood -lust 
thrilled up 
through all 
Lauth's body 
and mind. At 
shed by his own 
savagery latent 

woke within 

the sight of blood 
hands all the animal 
in every human being 
him, no more merciful scruples now. 
He could kill. In the twinkling of an 
eye the pale, highly cultivated scholar, 
whose life had been passed in the study 
of science and abstruse questions of 
philosophy, sank back to the level of 
his savage Celtic ancestors. His eyes 
glittered, he moistened his lips with the 
tip of his tongue, and his whole frame 
quivered with the eagerness and crav- 
ing of a panther in sight of his prey. 
He could not stretch his arbalist quick- 
ly enough again, and his fingers shook 
as he laid the bolt in the groove. 

He took deliberate aim and pulled the 
trigger, but his hands so trembled with 
excitement that his bolt went wide of 
the mark. A second sped with like re- 
sult. His heart sank with disappoint- 
ment, and he drew back upon the leads 
and composed himself for a moment. 
He must get some more of them. Oh, 
for an unerring aim now ! With three 
more he thought he would be content- 
ed, or only two, even one, ay, he 
must get one more. Years ago he had 
stalked deer in the forests of Picardie, 
but stalking deer was nothing to com- 
pare with this. 

Once more lying flat upon the roof 
he crawled to the edge and looked over ; 
now then, just where the enemy were 
pressed the closest, in the center of the 

bridge, even a random shot could not 
fail to reach something there. The 
crosse of the arbalist recoiled against his 
shoulder. " Atteinte ! " he shouted, leap- 
ing to his feet with a thrill of joy, such 
as he had never known before, " atteinte, 
a vous, canaille de bourgeoisie ! " and he 
shook his fist at the throng below. He 
had struck down the porte-reeve of the 
St. Jacques gate. 

His next missile, glancing up harm- 
lessly from the oval timbre of a bicoque, 
drove him to an almost insane fury. He 
gnashed his teeth, spat upon them, 
hurled at them insults in the vilest lan- 
guage of the " Cour des Miracles" and 
then as his next bolt spun through the 
brain of a furrier's apprentice in a yel- 
low gaberdine, grew white and stood 
silent, quivering for very joy. 

He became like one intoxicated. The 
smell of blood and dust and sweat from 
the raging hell below rose to his nos- 
trils like an unholy incense, and made 
him mad-drunk. When his last bolt 
was gone he threw his arbalist at them, 
and then his sword, as if it had been a 
javelin. The thirst of a drunkard was 
upon him. Just one more, only one, 
and it would suffice. With hands and 
nails he tore at the tiles that cov- 
ered the roof, and at the stones of a 
chimney that stood behind him. He 
heaped up the entire mass of debris at 
the verge of the roof, then bracing his 
shoulder against it sent it toppling over. 
It careened outward, describing an ever- 
widening curve ; a few stones upon the 
top detached themselves from the main 
body, then with a sudden rush it reached 
the earth with a crash and a thick cloud < 
of dust. 

There was nothing more that could 
serve him as a projectile, and for want 
of such Lauth's madness it had amoun- 
ted to that began to abate. Panting, 
he closed his eyes and passed his hand 
over his face, then for the crisis pass-' 
ing left him exhausted withdrew to- 
the center of the roof and sat down. 




When he again looked over into the 
street, he saw it deserted. Both parties 
had withdrawn to their strongholds. It 
was dusk. The rioting for the day was 
over. The white horse yet lay upon the 
pavement, a formless gray mass in the 
obscurity, but still, at last. Upwards of 
forty bodies were scattered helter-skel- 
ter upon the bridge, a few of them mov- 
ing. The long, slit-like windows of the 
Chatelet began to shine, while a ruddy 
vibrating glow behind the barricade an- 
nounced the usual evening camp-fire of 
the mob. It had begun to grow still 
again, and with every minute the liquid 
rustling of the Seine seemed to grow 
louder and more distinct. 

Lauth now found himself in a situa- 
tion of no little difficulty and danger. 
The house that he had occupied through- 
out the afternoon was situated about 
midway between the Chatelet and the 
barricade, in such a manner that in order 
, to reach his friends he would have to 
cross the bridge within sight and bow- 
shot of his enemies. His first thought 
was to wait until dark before making 
: ;the attempt, but he recollected that the 
moon was at her full at this time of the 
month, and that her light would be far 
more brilliant than the half gloom of the 
present twilight. He did not know what 
had become of the archers who had en- 
tered with him. He only knew that he 
was alone in the house now, and that it 
was full of shadows and echoes. 

He descended to the grourid floor. A 
haze of silver over the Tour de Nesle 
warned him to be quick. He went to 
the back of the house and looked over 
upon the Seine beneath, and then up 
and down the line of the rear parts of 
the houses stretching toward the banks. 
No, there was no passage there, and no 
boat at the foot of the water-stairs that 
led down from several of them, for many 
had been taken to help build the barri- 
cade, those that had not been thus em- 
ployed being cut adrift to prevent the 
crossing of the men-at-arms. 

He returned through the house and 
peered out into the street through the 
half-open door in front. Unfortunately 
for him, he saw that the house stood 
upon the right hand side of the bridge, 
the entrance of the barricade upon the 
left, and that therefore he would have 
to traverse the full diagonal width of 
the bridge to gain it; right out into 
the open, with no shadow to hide him 
Although he knew that no one at the 
Chatelet would be prepared for his dash 
across, and was sure that a running 
mark such as his figure would present 
would be unusually hard of attaint, yet 
he felt horribly afraid of being hit. 
He kept saying to himself, half-aloud, 
"There is no other course; it must be 
done," as though by a verbal repetition 
of the fact he could bring himself to 
face it with greater courage. 
However, the moon had risen. 
From where he stood, he could see 
the shadow from a sharp gable thrown 
across the street. He said to himself, 
" When that shadow has passed over 
ten of the paving stones, then I will run 
across." But first he recollected his 
prayers. He went back into the house, 
knelt, and repeated two paters and an 
ave, and commended himself to Atha- 
nasius, his patron saint, vowing twelve 
red candles to his altar and ten sols 
parisis to the Hotel-Dieu in case of his 
deliverance. When he returned to the 
door the shadow had traversed seven 
out of the ten squares of paving stones. 
That would not do. When the shadow 
had covered ten more, then surely he 
would start. But when the tenth was 
reached, and looking out he saw the 
sentries of the Chatelet turning in the 
moonlight, his heart failed him. Then 
he grew angry with himself, again made 
resolve, and sat down to count squares. 
One, two, five, seven, eight, and he 
rose to his feet prepared for the dash, 
nine, ten, and drawing back into the 
house to gain greater impetus he darted 
out toward the gate of the barricade. 




Half way across the bridge he trod 
with one foot upon the scabbard of a 
sword lying there, and caught his other 
in the belt to which it was attached. A 
bolt from an arbalist hit him in the side 
as he rose to his feet. " It is not a bad 
hit, it's not a bad hit," he muttered 
between his teeth as he ran on, though 
he knew it was. An arrow sang past his 
face, another bolt struck out a long train 
of sparks at his feet ; he could hear other 
shots striking into the houses upon his 
right. Fearing to be hit again he dodged 
into a doorway of one of them and ran 
into the back room. "It was an ambus- 
cade " he said to himself " and they were 
waiting for me to come out." 

In spite of his efforts his knees bent 
under him and he sank upon the floor. 
" Sang Dieu ! " he cried desperately. 
" It 's not to the death, I am not hurt to 
the death. This is no mortal wound. 
Mortal!" he laughed aloud incredu- 
lously as though to deceive himself, 
" Why, if it were mortal there would be 
more pain, a mere flesh-wound. The 
hauberk broke most of the force. There 
is scarcely any blood. Mortal ! why I 
know I am able to rise." 

He did so, and felt a great grateful 
wave of genuine hope, and heaved a sigh 
of relief. "But I thought for a moment 
it was to the death," he said. "Why, I 
am all right," he continued, "of course 
I'm all right." 

He took a step forward, another, and 
then it seemed as if a red-hot knife was 
suddenly driven through his entrails. 
What was that so warm in his mouth ? 
Blood ! A great weakness came over 
him ; he felt as though a thousand un- 
seen hands were dragging him to the 
floor. But he ground his teeth and stood 
upright. "It will pass soon," he mut- 
tered. " I am not going to die this time. 
That little scratch is not to kill me." 
He would not let his mind rest upon the 
possibility of death.. He kept saying 
" I 'm all right ; I am not to die yet." 
Only when men were hit to the death 

did they fall, and he would not let him- 
self fall, for he was going to live. If he 
could stand, that would be proof of it. 
Another thought that gave him courage 
was that he was perfectly conscious. 
When men were to die they lost control 
of their faculties. He still possessed all 
of his. 

To test them and to take his mind 
from his wound, he looked about the 
room in which he found himself, now 
lighted by the moon. It had been pil- 
laged like the rooms of all the houses ; 
a broken gridiron, a bottle, and an odd 
shoe, lay on the bare floor. The wall was 
painted green, and here and there in 
lead frames, hung all askew, were gaudy 
little pictures of St. Julian, St. Chrysos- 
tom, and an allegorical figure represent- 
ing Traffic. The names of these were 
painted upon the hem of their garments. 
"Je mi appele St. Jnlianus," "Je mi ap- 
pele St. Chrysostom" etc., and each had 
a cloud-shaped inscription coming out 
of its mouth. 

It suddenly occurred to him to exam- 
ine and dress his wound. Even if it were 
not unusually serious he ought to do 
this. He unfastened his belt and turned 
back the clothing from the spot ; there 
was very little blood. Some three inch- 
es above the hip he saw a hole about 
as big as a sou piece, but blue about the 
edges. He tried to bandage it, but 
succeeded only partially. " Bah ! it did 
not need it ; it was but a scratch." He 
even thought he could feel the iron bolt 
scarcely half an inch beneath the skin. 
It should be probed out tomorrow, he 
thought. It was nothing ; he was not 
to die yet ; a few miserable ounces of 
metal could not kill him. He grew im- 
patient with himself for thinking about 
his wound. Sang Dieu ! Was there an] 
reason why he should so foolishly keep 
telling himself that he was not to die 
He would think no more about it, but 
would go to the front of the house am 
for a second time try to regain the bar- 
ricade. He turned. about, and fell flat 





upon his face with a great noise. He 
had been standing almost motionless in 
the center of the room, and his first 
movement had destroyed his balance. 

Then as he lay with his face upon the 
floor there came to him for the first 
time, like a great flash of light, the ab- 
solute certainty that he was to die ; 
there, in that room, perhaps in a min- 
ute, perhaps in an hour. For a moment 
only he realized this, and an instant 
afterwards was despairingly struggling 
against it as before. " The wound 
might be very dangerous certainly, but 
not necessarily mortal ; no, not that, 
surely." He swiftly recalled to mind 
all the cases he had heard of men recov- 
ering from worse wounds than this ; 
and just as he had hoodwinked himself 
into a delusive hope, he began to be 
conscious of a horrible thirst. This in 
a moment reawakened all the appre- 
hensions that he had so desperately 
tried to allay. He had always heard it 
said and always believed that this thirst 
was the inevitable forerunner of death 
upon the battle-field. 

For some time past he had felt, 
though he strove to think that he had 
not, an ever-growing sense of suffering 
all about the lower part of his side and 
back. All at once this increased; it 
was impossible to conceal it longer from 
himself. It became worse, and he could 
feel his blood throb and pulse all 
through his body. Every breath was an 
agony. The pain increased, he ground 
his teeth, and in spite of himself a 
groan escaped him ; and even yet he 
kept saying again and again betwixt his 
clenched jaws : " It will pass ; I am all 
right ; I am not to die yet." His suffer- 
ing grew more and more horrible. He 
beat his hands upon the floor, panted, 
and rolled his head. He shifted his 
body about, as though a different posi- 
tion might bring him relief. Fiercer 
and fiercer grew the torture ; he howled 
and bit his fingers. He began to won- 
der how it was possible that one could 

endure such suffering and yet live, and 
to think that as a relief from them 
death might not be undesirable. But 
the instant that this alternative pre- 
sented itself to his mind he strove to 
banish it. "No, no,' 1 he cried, through 
all the red whirl of torment, " I am not 
to die, I will not die. Life at any cost ! 
life, even though maimed and crippled ! 
life, even though it were passed in ray- 
less dungeons." 

Then, as suddenly as it had come on, 
the paroxysm left him. O, the blessed- 
ness of that moment when the pain 
was gone ! He drew long sighs of pure 
delight. He was better now, he was 
not going to die after all. The crisis 
had been passed. " I am all right now," 
he said. Life had never seemed sweeter 
than now. He must not, no, he must 
not die. He had a notion that by think- 
ing hard enough he could keep himself 
alive. Again and again he prayed for 
life, not in the formal orisons of the 
Church, but with fierce, passionate out- 
bursts, and with the words of a child 
beseeching a parent. 

By-and-by there began to steal over 
him a strange chilling and indefinable 
sensation, which, he knew not why, 
struck him with awe. What was this ? 
What was going to happen ? Why was 
he suddenly so afraid ? Was it the pain 
coming on again ? Was he about to 
faint ? Was it was it the approach of 
death ? 

Yes, death at last. It was all over 
now ; he could no longer deceive him- 
self. He knew now that he was going 
to die ; fool that he had been ever to 
have thought otherwise. Fora moment 
he looked calmly at his approaching 
end ; then suddenly became filled with 
confusion, terror, and despair, and the 
most violent agitation. A thousand 
rapidly succeeding impressions began 
to rush across his brain, impressions as 
transient and momentary as words and 
fragments of sentences caught here and 
there in a book whose leaves are rapidly 




turned. He could not think connectedly. 
He wondered how the end would feel : 
would his breath cease and would he die 
of suffocation ? Would the spasm of 
pain come on again ? They would find 
his body all cold in this room some day, 
perhaps gnawed with rats. "This is 
death," he said aloud. " I am going to 
meet death ; O, I don't want to die, I 
don't want to die." 

He remembered having heard and 
read how men died in battle. Some of 
them had made long and beautiful 
.speeches welcoming death, recommend- 
ing their souls to heaven, and addressing 
last words to their friends. He could 
do nothing of this. Conflicting ideas 
and emotions hustled together in his 
brain like frightened rats in a trap. He 
had heard, too, how soldiers with their 
last breath defied their enemies and 
cheered their friends ; he only felt a 
fierce hatred for them all. They and 
their miserable quarrel had been the 
cause of his death, and involved in their 
petty strife, they cared nothing for his 
life, which was ebbing away. This 
brought him back to his present situa- 
tion again. Once more he repeated, 
" This is death ; this is death. I am 
dying." He looked at the wound that 
had caused it ; touched it with his fin- 
gers. There was a hole in the hauberk 
where the bolt had entered. He re- 
membered where and under just what 
circumstances he had first put the hau- 
berk on ; in the public room of the 
Hostel des Ouatre filz d'Aymon in the 
Rue St. Honore, opposite the Quinze- 
Vingts, and nearly fifty scholars had 
been there, and arms, offensive and de- 
fensive, were being distributed by the 
committee. D'Orsay had handed him 
this hauberk, and he recollected just 
how he laughed, and the peculiar heavy 
and clinging texture of the steel shirt. 
He remembered the deaf and dumb girl 
who ran back and forth in the room 
with drinking-cups and stout mugs. 
They had tested the hauberk, too, with 
a poniard. 

It seemed a long time ago, many 
weeks, since he had attempted the fatal 
run across the bridge. What would his 
father and La Vingtrie say when they 
heard of his death ? 

A slight shiver shook his limbs. Was 
that death ? No, not yet. What would 
the symptoms be like ? He began to 
watch himself in order to detect their 
approach, feeling his own pulse with 
one hand to catch its first failing quiver. 
He was going to die without confession 
or absolution, he had not thought of 
that. How fierce had been the press in 
the fight of that afternoon ! Where 
would they bury him, he wondered ? 
Suppose he should fall into a comatose 
state, and they should bury him alive. 
He wondered whether the white horse 
on the bridge was dead yet. Yes, he 
remembered seeing him still and stiff. 
He was going to die, too ; he was no 
better, then, than the horse. With all 
his superior intelligence he could not 
avoid death. The horse was white, and 
like those of. all white horses his mane 




[ Mar. 

and tail were tinged with yellow. The 
barricade had been very still. He re- 
membered trivial things long past, a 
summer's day in the forest of Fontaine- 
bleau,a lecture in the Ecole de Medicine, 
the branding of a Jew at the Croix 
Trahoir when it had rained. He thought 
that, when death approached, all the 
events of one's life passed before the 
mind's eye ; it was not so with him now. 

All the projects he had formed for 
the future were to come to nought. He 
was about to drop out of the race of 
life. "This is death." The great re- 
volving cycle of life had flung him off 
its whirling circumference out into 
the void. He was to die like the mil- 
lions before him. He had to face it 
alone. And after? O, the horrible 
blackness and vagueness of that region 
after death. He was to see for himself 
the solution of that tremendous mystery 
that for ages had baffled far greater 
intelligences than his. "This is death." 
Every person who had lived upon the 
earth had passed through this same ex- 
perience, every one who lived at that 
time was to undergo it likewise. " This 
is death." What time was it ? He 
heard the river below him, gurgling. 
Let us see, today was Wednesday, 
no, Thursday, that was it. Thursday, 
the fifteenth of August. That was to 
be the date of his death. It would read 
that way upon his gravestones, "Killed 
upon the Grand Pont on the fifteenth 
of August." Or would he have any 
gravestones ? Perhaps they might throw 
his body into the river. When he 
had first entered the schools, Mar- 
cellot had said to him, What was it 
he had said to him ? He wore a long 
black gown ; everybody in the room 
wore long black gowns Stop, stop, 
his mind was wandering. With a sudden 
effort he steadied himself. 

A feeling as of cold, commencing at 
his feet, began to creep upward upon his 
body. "There, it's coming now," he 
said ; and again he repeated, " This is 

death ; I am dying now ; this is what 
death is like." He found it hard to get 
his breath ; suddenly it grew dark. " It 's 
almost here," he said expectantly and 
aloud. He felt his heart begin to beat 
violently. " When it stops I shall be 
dead," he thought. How long it was to 
come ! He felt so cold, It was very 
hard to think. His lower jaw dropped. 

He was dead. 

It was about half-past four o'clock. 


How terrible death must have seemed 
before it had been given a name ! How 
fear/ully it must have dawned upon the 
minds of our first fathers. Picture to 
yourself the awe and horror with which 
man must have looked upon the first 
corpse, and think how that mysterious 
negative state of body and mincl must 
have overwhelmed him with fear and 
wonder. Life had been suddenly cut 
short ; what was the matter with his 
friend that he could not speak, could not 
see, could not live ? And this was to con- 
tinue forever ! Where was his friend 
now ? What was this mysterious, dread- 
ful force that had brought him to this 
state ? 

Some such thoughts as these inces- 
santly filled the mind gf Jacquemart de 
Chavannes, Doctor of Medicine and lec- 
turer on chemistry at the Ecole de Bois- 
sy, as he watched at the bier of Lauth 
two nights after the riot upon the 
Grand Pont. His prolonged reflections 
upon death, in course of time naturally 
suggested the opposite state of being. 
" Yes, there was one thing more mys- 
terious than death. That was life. Life, 
O, what was it ? Did he, Chavannes, 
or anybody knotty what it was ? After 
all, the greatest wonder in life was life 
itself. " We know that it is," he said, 
half aloud, "not what." And it is ev- 
erywhere. From the mightiest-limbed 
oaken giant to the tiniest blade of grass ; 
from the stag of ten to the red ant, is 




this marvelous force that we call " life" 
this unknown motor that animates in- 
animate bodies, teeming and fulfilling 
that end to which it was destined since 
the beginning of time. Life, life, every- 
where life, and we who enjoy it in its 
highest development can never under- 
stand it. What is it ? What is its nat- 
ure ? In what way and through what 
means does it animate our bodies? It is 
a force, too, completely under our con- 
trol ; formulate in the mind the desire 
to stretch forth the arm, and straight- 
way it is done. 

And when we are dead, he contin- 
ued, what becomes of this life, this force ? 
Science will tell you that, like matter, 
forceis inexhaustible ; where then does it 
go after quitting its earthly tenement ? 
Is it one of the demonstrations of a 
soul ? Is it the soul itself ? " And God 
breathed into his nostrils the breath of 
life, and man became a living soul." Is 
it then a form of the Deity that enters 
into our composition, yet obedient to 
our will ? And does it, after death, return 
again to God, and, re-absorbed into the 
great Giver of all life, thus attain to a 
second and immortal existence, upon 
which the shadow of death never falls ? 

By-and-by, in the smaller watches 
of the night, he found himself looking 
at the question from another point of 
view. All forms of life were but the 
same ; the vivifying spark that had once 
fired the body of Lauth was, in nature, 
no way different from that which flashed 
in the eye of a spirited horse, which 
gleamed in all the lower forms of ani- 
mal life, which smouldered in the trees 
and vines, and slumbered, sluggish and 
all but extinguished, in the mollusk and 
the sponge. Man did but posess life in 
its highest development. Soul ? There 
was no soul. What mankind called soul 
was but life. There was no more hope 
for man than for the horse, the trees, or 
the fish. The life each enjoyed was the 
common life of all ; each but possessed 
it in greater fullness than his fellow 

next lower to him in the scale of crea- 

There was no soul but life. Immor- 
tality was a myth. 

Such was, and long had been, his 
creed ; but now, in the solitude of the 
night, as he sat there in the presence of 
the dead, old doubts, old perplexities, 
old uncertainties, sprang up to vex and 
to harass him. What went with life after 
death ? // must go somewhere, for life 
was a force, and force was inexhaust- 
ible. And yet he could not believe in 
immortality. His whole nature, train- 
ing, and mode of thought, revolted from 
such an idea. Yet in the case of sud- 
den death like that of Lauth, where had 
gone that life that but a few days ago 
had so gloriously and perfectly filled his 
body and mind ? Something more than 
a span below the breast was a little hole, 
blue around the edges, and scarce larger 
than a finger tip. There was no blood, 
no ghastly display of torn and mangled 
flesh; and yet this ounce of metal in 
this tiny puncture had blotted out his 
friend from existence amongst men ; 
had in an instant annihilated and ren- 
dered naught an intellect, the highest 
and last development of creation, which 
countless prehistoric ages had been 
building up ; and of a being who loved, 
hoped, remembered, and thought, had 
made a mass of perishable matter, a dead 
and lifeless weight, which a few hours 
would turn to putrefaction. What was 
it that had gone forth from that small 
circular opening and had left him thus ! 
Something must have gone forth. That 
" something " must be either the soul or 

But the theory of the soul he at once 
rejected. " It is, it must be life, and life 
alone," he said aloud. Yet life was an 
inexhaustible, immortal force, and he 
would not accept the doctrine of im- 
mortality. How was he to reconcile 
these two theories ? Again and again he 
put this question to himself. If life and 
not the soul animated the body, if there 




was no hereafter, and if, indeed, death 
ended all, where, after death, went that 
eternal force called life ? 

At length he found himself driven to 
a last conclusion. Rising to his feet he 
said aloud : " If, then, life is eternal, and 
if it cannot exist after death, then must 
it exist in death itself." 

Life, then, even after apparent death, 
must exist in the body. Impossible ! 
Yet hold, was this impossible ? The 
proof of such theory must be the resus- 
citation of a physical body after appar- 
ent death, and twice this had already 
been done. But God had accomplished 
this, not man. Yet was this conclusive 
proof that man could not do the same ? 

If man could 
end life why 
could he not 
begin it afresh? 
As some 
lightless and 
limitless ocean 
the great "Per- 
haps" slowly 
unrolled itself 
before him. 

ANSKI.M. i -, 

Might it not 

be so ? Might not the dead be recalled 
to life ? Might not the world be tend- 
ing toward some such stupendous dis- 
covery, that was to uproot and over- 
throw the whole fabric of society? 

Once let a body be resuscitated after 
death, and the two theories of the soul 
and life would not be difficult of recon- 
ciliation. Here then would be the logi- 
cal realization of those dreams of im- 
mortality to which men so obstinately 
clung, and an immortality to which, as 
adjustable to the laws of science and 
reason, Chavannes would cheerfully sub- 
scribe. Indeed, might not all those mys- 
teries and conflicting prophesies of the 
scriptures regarding life after death be 
pointing directly toward this conclu- 
sion ? The grandeur of the conception 
filled him with a certain terror, and be- 
fore it he remained almost appalled as 

the Magus before the being himself has 

By earliest morning he was immuta- 
bly convinced that Lauth was not dead. 

But if then, life existed in death, with 
what awful responsibility were the liv- 
ing weighted ! It remained for them to 
revive and rekindle the embers of exist- 
ence before it was too late. How many 
millions* of human beings at that mo- 
ment lay crumbling in the earth for the 
want of that very knowledge upon the 
part of the living ! But he saw clearly 
enough now what he must do. 

He turned and looked upon the corpse 
of Lauth. 

Yes, even if he failed, the trial must 
be made. The blast of duty never called 
louder than this. 

He had uttered these thoughts aloud, 
and as he spoke the last words, the white 
dawn came growing upward over the 
towers of Notre Dame and stealing 
athwart the lozenges of the deep-set 
window, expanded throughout the room 
like an almost perceptible presence. 

" It is an omen," he said. 


"BuT, in spite ot that," said Anselm, 
" I must condemn the whole thing as 
altogether repulsive and wicked. Still, 
though I do not believe in your success, 
I nevertheless confess to no little curi- 
osity to witness the attempt. Yes, I 
will help you, but remember, even if 
you should succeed in whatever hap- 
pens, I shall regard it from a purely sci- 
entific, not from a religious standpoint. 
To me it is an experiment in physiology, 
not in psychology. I believe the soul, 
and only the soul, is the motor ot exist- 

"No," answered Chavannes, "it is 
life. I do not claim," he went on, "any 
mysterious or wonderful qualities for 
the draught I propose to administer. It 
is merely a compound of natural stim- 
ulants, so combined as to produce the 




strongest possible effect. It is not an 
elixir in any sense of the word ; for, un- 
derstand me, I do not propose to create 
but to recall life. You know yourself 
that when your patient has fainted or 
momentarily lost consciousness certain 
drugs will revive and reinvigorate him. 
I consider death as only a certain more 
pronounced form of unconsciousness. 
We may fail in this experiment, An- 
selm, or if we succeed, our success may 
be only partial. Our means are limited. 
Medical science is in its earliest infancy. 
But that we shall recall some kind of life ' 
to this seemingly inert body I am firmly 
persuaded." But even if restored in all 
its fullness, who can say what manner of 
life it shall be ? Will the new remem- 
ber the old ? Does the moth remember 
the chrysalis ? Will the new creature 
retain its former personality ? Will it 
look, think, and act, like the old ? Or 
will he return to us out of this terrible 
ordeal a perfectly new being, having an 
entirely different nature, character, and 
personality ? Who shall say ? " 

Anselm shaded his eyas with his 
hand and was silent. After a moment 
Chavannes continued : 

" I know that I have grasped this 
great truth but imperfectly. We are 
here in this world, Anselm, as in a deep 
and rayless cavern, full of crossing pas- 
sages. I do not know who can tell 
why ? but some mysterious impulse 
drives us to seek the paths that lead 
upward. We can but grope. All is dark 
and obscure ; but we feel the ground 
rise or fall beneath our feet, and we 
know whether we are holding toward 
the right or wrong. The passages may 
be circuitous, difficult, and at times 
apparently trending directly away from 
that direction that we can but feebly 
guess to be the right ; but only let our 
path be tending upward, and leave the 
rest to that mysterious Being who first 
implanted in our hearts the desire to 
seek it. Anselm, I am on such a path 
now ; I feel the ground rising under my 

feet as I advance, I cannot see the end. 
The blackness moves before me as I go, 
and closes fast about my footsteps be- 
hind. Everything is dark and vague, 
and very terrible ; but go on, go on 
alway, for, thank God, the path is lead- 
ing upward." 

Anselm rose and thoughtfully paced 
the floor for a few moments ; then he 
came and stood before Chavannes : 
" Who shall say ? " he repeated in a low 
voice; "all science is perhaps." 

For several minutes neither of them 
spoke ; then Anselm said suddenly, as 
though breaking into a train of perplex- 
ing thought, 

"Ah well, at what time do you ex- 
pect your friends ? " 

" Very shortly. Talhouet holds a 
lecture at the Ecole de Chartres until 
ten ; Marcellot was to come with h*im. 
They will be here in a little while." 

A large crate stood in the middle of 
the floor by the dissecting table. From 
it, while Chavannes spoke, there came 
the sound of a slight movement, and a 
low, muffled, and very plaintive cry. 
Anselm crossed the floor and stood 
looking down thoughtfully between the 
willow bars and withes. 

" Poor, gentle little creatures," he 
said, " What right have we to sacrifice 
your lives ? The God that made us, 
made you as well. If it is as you say, 
Chavannes," he continued without turn- 
ing, " if all life is the same in its nature, 
men may do murder upon these innocent 
sufferers as well as upon each other." 

" But, do you not see," answered Cha- 
vannes, " where in some cases the death 
of a man by his fellow is not only justi- 
fiable, but even praiseworthy ? What is 
the death of a man or sheep, provided 
such a tremendous principle as that 
which we now have at stake is evolved 
and proven ? " 

" Then why not inject human blood 
into the veins, as they say they did to 
our eleventh Louis, instead of that 
drawn from these sheep ? " 




"Because it is not my object to re- 
fresh the body with new blood, but only 
to restore and assist the circulation of 
the old, held in check by death. The 
forced injection of any healthy blood 
whatever will drive his own to flow 
again. This once accomplished, and the 
vitality which I hold is still within the 
body will be sufficient to carry it on. 
Remember," he continued with empha- 
sis, " I do not pretend to induce life of 
any kind by my own exertions. I merely 
arouse and assist those forces that are 
now held bound and inert. Have you 
ever seen the rescue and revival of a half- 
drowned man ? Apparently he is dead. 
To all ends and purposes he is dead. 
He has ceased to breathe ; the heart no 
longer beats ; and yet if sufficient im- 
pulse be given to the wheels of life, 
they will finally carry on of their own 
accord those motions and functions of 
existence that at first were artificial. 
Such theory I propose to put into prac- 
tice in this case." 

" You may recall life of some kind, 
that is, you may induce the limbs to 
move by their own volition, the blood 
to flow, the lungs to inhale ; but the 
brain, the soul, that which loves, which 
remembers " 

" There is no soul ; has a dog a soul ? 
and yet is he not capable of a love that 
at times may well put man to shame ? 
Has a bird a soul ? yet see how they re- 
member the precise location of the last 
year's nest. But here are our friends." 

Hour after hour through the length- 
ening watches of that night the lights 
burned low in Chavannes's lecture-room. 
Around him and his three companions 
rose the tiers of empty benches, while 
on the dissecting table lay the body of 
Lauth, worked over and watched by 
them with the most intense interest. 
How long the operation might continue 
none of them could guess. It might last 
hours or days; they did not know. 

From a small metal bottle which he 

kept tightly corked, and which at times 
he warmed between his hands, Chav- 
annes administered to Lauth a pungent, 
thick, and colorless liquid. It was the 
draught of which he had spoken to 
Anselm. The two sheep, their feet tied 
together and a narrow strip of leather 
wound around their muzzles, were placed 
near at hand. 

A large air pump was set at the head 
of Lauth, and his nostrils connected 
with it by a tube of light steel. Then 
while Talhouet placed his palm firmly 
over the dead man's mouth, Chavannes 
grasped the handle of the air-pump, de- 
pressed it, and sent a volume of air into 
the lifeless lungs. Talhouet removed his 
hand, and all bending over the body 
watched and listened. No returning ex- 
halation came from between the lips, 
and the dead chest lay cold and inert. 
But. on the third trial the entrance of 
the outer air perceptibly swelled the 
breast, and Marcellot, placing his hand 
thereon and pressing it slowly down, 
made the blue lips at first pout and then 
part,^while through the tightly clenched 
teeth came a faint hissing of escaping 

"Open his teeth," said Chavannes. 
Marcellot did so, but the shrunken max- 
illary snapped them together like a 
spring. Chavannes passed him the 
handle of a broken scalpel, and with this 
he wedged the teeth apart. 

The operation was recommenced and 
continued as before ; as soon as Cha- 
vannes had pumped enough air into 
the body, Marcellot aided the lungs to 
discharge it by pressing down the chest, 
as one would expel the air from a filled 

When this had gone on for upwards 
of an hour, Chavannes raised his he'ad 
and said to Talhouet, " No w the sheep.' 

Talhouet drew them out from the 
crate, cut the thongs from their feet, 
allowed them to stand, and tethert 
them to the leg of the dissecting table. 

Marcellot, who had been busy with 




his instrument case, approached Lauth, 
and with a delicate lancet opened the 
carotid artery, close up under the ear. 
The end of a thin tube was inserted in 
the opening, and the other end passed 
to Talhouet. In another incision, made 
under the right arm-pit, a second tube 
was inserted. 

The critical point of the experiment 
had now arrived. The wool had been 
sheared away from the neck of one of 
the sheep, and as Anselm held fast the 
struggling, terrified creature, Marcellot 
laid open one of the larger veins in its 

" Quick," said Talhouet. 

Marcellot caught the end of one of 
the tubes, thrust it well into the opened 
vein, and bound the outer flesh tightly 
around the tube itself. 

The sheep bleated out piteously. 

" Poor little brute ! " said Anselm. 

The other sheep was treated in the 
same fashion. 

It was now well past midnight. They 
had nothing left to do but to wait, and 
each felt a creep almost of horror, as he 
thought for what. 

Marcellot cleansed his hands, and re- 
turning to the table touched one of the 
tubes. It was already warm : the blood 
was flowing freely. 

The hours dragged slowly past ; two 
and three o'clock sounded from the 
neighboring chimes of St. Germain. 
The four hardly spoke among them- 
selves, and no sound was heard but the 
faint movements of the air pump, or an 
occasional half-stifled cry from one of 
the lambs. The neck and face of Lauth 
immediately about Marcellot's incision 
had long been warm, and at length the 
heat began to spread to the neck and 

Anselm took up Lauth's hand and 
scrutinized it ; the nails were yet white, 
but on his holding the hand against the 
light, the delicate web of flesh between 
the roots of each finger could be seen 
faintly tinged with red. A strange and 

overwhelming excitement began to 
grow upon them all. Chavannes and 
Talhouet worked steadily at the pump, 
while Anselm and Marcellot, at the lat- 
ter's suggestion, chafed the cold limbs 
with feverish energy. The body was 
now quite warm. 

At half past three, one of the sheep 
staggered and fell. The circumstance 
smote them with an apprehension so 
painful that it plainly snowed to each 
how much his hopes and expectations 
had been bound up in the esult of the 
experiment. Should both the sheep 
die ere circulation could be established, 
all their labor would be in vain. 

" Work ! " exclaimed Chavennes ; but 
hardly had he spoken when he and his 
two companions were startled by a sharp 
cry from Marcellot. His hand had been 
over the left breast of the body ; he 
drew it quickly away. Each in his turn 
put his hand over the spot, and each 
distinctly felt the breast beneath it 
throb with a great, though as yet an ir- 
regular movement. 

Trembling and with eyes ablaze, they 
watched the change coming on. At a 
sign from Chavannes, Marcellot ceased 
to press down Lauth's chest after each 
artificial inhalation, and it was seen that 
the lungs, by their own elasticity, were 
now sufficient to relapse and exhale the 

But the sheep that had fallen was 
soon dead, and the second now began to 
totter. A cessation of even the forced 
circulation would at this crisis prove 
fatal. But, forgetful of all consequences 
in his excitement, Chavannes sprang up, 
gave up the charge of the air-pump to 
Anselm, and opening a vein in his fore- 
arm thrust in the end of the tube which 
he had torn from the dead sheep's neck. 

The hour that then ensued was one 
of the most intense excitement to them 
all. Again and again Chavannes's pow- 
erful drug was administered in ever in- 
creasing quantities. Brandy, wine, and 
other stimulants, were forced down 


La nth. 


Lauth's throat, and strychnine injected 
into the blood' now flowing freely. 

Little by little the change, at first in- 
definable and of the greatest delicacy, 
became distinctly apparent. Though 
there was no movement of the limbs the 
body did not look dead. At length Tal 
houet and Anselm withdrew the tube 
and the air-pump attached to it from the 
nostrils. Straightway the breast shook 
with a great gasp, respiration ceased en- 
tirely, and then feebly recommenced. 
So absorbed were his three companions 
that it was not until Chavannes tottered 
against Marcellot that they remarked 
his weakness and pallor. Ansejm sup- 
ported him to a chair, and as he did so 
the second sheep pitched dead to the 
floor, dragging the tube out from the 
neck of the body. 

All connections with the outer world 
were now severed ; nothing more could 
be done. The impetus had been given. 
It remained to be seen if Nature could 
carry it forward. The group collected 
about Chavannes's chair, and waited with 
eyes fixed on the table. Day had dawned 
for already two hours, although in their 
closely shuttered chamber they made no 
thought of it, when they saw the body 
slowly turn upon its side and then roll 
over, face- downwards, upon the table. 

Chavannes cried out in a loud voice, 
" Vivit!" 

Anselm sprang to his feet with a ter- 
rible cry : " Horrible, horrible ! " he 
shrieked, and rushed from the room. 


LAUTH was alive, and though for many 
weeks he rolled and yelled and gibbered 
upon his bed in the grip of a disease for 
which the combined science of the four 
doctors could find no name, yet Cha- 
vannes was satisfied. 

" I was right," he said to Anselm. 
" Are you convinced now that your so- 
called soul has no part in the animation 

of physical being ? Life, and life only, 
is the stay and promoter of existence." 

And Anselm bowed his head and ' 
seemed to grow older. The success of 
Chavannes's experiment had produced 
a terrible effect upon him. All his ideas 
and beliefs that he had inherited in com- 
mon with the world from thousands of 
past ages, and that were so firmly rooted 
in his conceptions as to have become a 
part and parcel of him, had been ruth- 
lessly and suddenly torn up and cast to 
the winds. Everything had been a mis- 
take, then, civilization, beliefs, society, 
religion, heaven, and Christ Himself, 
all were myths or founded upon falsity. 
Where could he turn for anything cer- . 
tain ? Where was there anything true ? 
What could he now believe ? He was 
mentally lost, as one in a whirlwind, 
landmarks all down, lights obliterated, 
all was chaos and confusion. Every- 
thing was to be commenced over again 
upon a new basis. Of Lauth, in his pres- 
ent condition, he had a horror that at 
times sent his mind spinning towards < 
the very verge of insanity. 

When the terrible spasms at length 
departed from Lauth's body, and when 
his strength came back, he was allowed 
to get up and walk about ; when given 
nourishment he ate and drank ; when 
led by Chavannes to his great chair in - 
the window, he sat for entire days 
motionless, just as he had been placed, 
and when spoken to he answered, but 
after long intervals, and inarticulately, 
disjointedly, often relapsing into silence 
in the midst of his speech if his gut- 
tural noises could be called speech. 

Thus he remained for* a long time, 
and it was not until after many weeks 
of the most careful treatment that his 
condition seemed to change for the 
better. At length, however, he appeared 
to grow more rational, and Chavannes 
imagined he could even detect charact- 
eristics of the old Lauth beginning to 
show themselves in his resuscitated 
body ; but often this was mere fancy. 




Thus far the only features apparent 
were that he ate, slept, and knew when 
he was spoken to. As yet his existence 
was purely negative. Chavannes and 
his companions watched eagerly for 
some positive manifestations of char- 
acter, and Chavannes himself especially 
labored to induce such. He talked long 

minutest watch was kept over Lauth 
and his every movement. At length 
one day the bonds seemed to be loosed. 
Lauth began to speak. He addressed 
them severally and coherently, although 
it was impossible to say whether or not 
he distinguished between them. His 
talk was upon topics that they knew 

to Lauth of pursuits and occupations 
that had interested him before his death, 
placed in his way old books and familiar 
objects, and read to him from his favor- 
ite studies. Whether Lauth heard and 
comprehended, he could not tell. 

Anselm and his two fellow doctors 
seldom left Chavannes's house, and the 

Vol.. xxi 19. 

had been near to him in his first life. 
The speech, the intonation, the gesture, 
all were those of the old Lauth. Cha- 
vannes was exultant. He began to look 
forward not only to a complete restora- 
tion of the former Lauth, but even to 
talk of giving the great discovery to the 
world. Entire days now often passed 




upon which, had they occurred before 
the time of the riot, they would have 
noticed nothing strange in Lauth's looks 
or demeanor. 

Then after this there came a peculiar 
relapse, a strange and unaccountable 
change. Lauth talked less, and an ex- 
pression of daily deepening perplexity 
overcast his face. He seemed as one 
lost in mind, and grasping for ^ome 
hidden clew. The look of anxiety in his 
eyes was sometimes all but agonized, 
and often he clasped his head with both 
hands, as though to steady some mental 

Until at last, upon one memorable 
day, when he had been sitting for up- 
wards of an hour, lost in the mazes of 
the deepest thought, he leaped suddenly 
to his full height, and while a glance of 
almost supreme intelligence flashed, 
meteor-like, across his face, called out 
in a fearful voice : 

" This is not I ; where am /? For 
God's sake, tell me where /am ! " 

After which he fell in a fit upon the 
floor, foaming and wallowing. 

And now commenced the opening 
stages of a process whose contempla- 
tion filled them with horror and loath- 
ing beyond all utterance. That cry, 
unearthly in tone as well as in signifi- 
cance, seemed to mark the highest point 
of Lauth's second life. Now he began 
to decline. The fits passed off, but he 
relapsed into a dull, brutish torpor, out 
of which it was impossible to rouse 
him, and which was totally different 
and far more revolting than his original 
lethargy. The former seemed more in- 
telligence held in abeyance, but the lat- 
ter was the absence of any intelligence 

The only break in the brutal numb- 
ness of mind and body into which he 
had sunk came in the shape of those 
positive manifestations for which Cha- 
vannes had so eagerly watched. But 
these were now no longer human. 

One evening as Chavannes brought 
him his accustomed meal, and set it up- 
on the night-table at his bedside, Lauth 
of a sudden snarled out, and snapped at 
his hand with thorough apish savagery ; 
and then, as though terrified, threw him- 
self back into the farthest bed-corner, 
grinding his teeth and trembling. 

From this time on the process of de- 
cay became rapidly more apparent.; 
what little luster yet lurked in the eye 
went out, leaving it dull and fishlike ; 
the expression of the face lost all sem- 
blance to humanity ; the hair grew out 
long and coarse, and fell matted over 
the eyes. The nails became claws, the 
teeth fangs, and one morning upon 
entering the room assigned to Lauth, 
Chavannes and Anselm found him quite 
stripped, groveling on all fours in one 
corner of the room, making a low, mo- 
notonous growling sound, his teeth rat- 
tling and snapping together. 

There it was, locked in that room to 
which they alone possessed the key, 
and about whose entrance they kept 
unceasing watch. At the least sound or 
movement from the inside they opened 
the door, and standing upon the thresh- 
old watched it as it as it ran back and 
forth on all fours, wagging its shaggy 
head from side to side, and venting un- 
natural mutterings. At a sudden move- 
ment on their part it would pause, sit 
back upon its heels, observe them long 
and unwinkingly, and then suddenly, 
and with the most surprising agility, 
scuttle back under the bed. 

But the worst was yet to come. Lit- 
tle by little the thing became less active. 
Where once it had shown a ravenous ap- 
petite for food it now allowed it to stand 
for days untouched. It no longer seemed 
to feel heat or cold. At length all mo- 
tion of its limbs ceased ; the sense of 
hearing died out*; in a few weeks it was 
utterly blind. Bodily sensations no 
longer affected it ; a thin bodkin run 
through the fleshy part of the thumb by 
Chavannes produced no apparent sen- 




sation. One by one the senses perished. 
It was already blind and deaf ; now its 
vocal organs seemed to wither, and the 
unbroken silence of the shaggy, yellow 
lips was even more revolting than its 
former inhuman noises. 

But still it lived. 

Either it could not die, or else was dy- 
ing slowly. In course of time all like- 
ness to the human form disappeared 

When this last, feeble spark of life 
died down and vanished they could not 
say, but at last one day the bulk upon 
the floor began to smell badly. 

"It is over now," said Chavannes. 

Decomposition had commenced ; the 
thing was dead. 

" And now what does it all mean ? " 
said Anselm to Chavannes, about a week 



from the body. By some unspeakable 
process the limbs, arms, and features, 
slowly resolved themselves into one 
another. A horrible, shapeless mass lay 
upon the floor. And yet, until decompo- 
sition had set in, some kind of life was 
contained in it. It lived, but lived not 
as do the animals or the trees, but as 
the protozoa, the jelly-fish, and those 
strange lowest forms of existence where- 
in the line between vegetable and ani- 
mal cannot be drawn. 

after the body if such it could be 
called was disposed of. " What does 
it all mean ? Hear me, Chavannes, this 
is what I think : I think now that both 
of us were in part wrong, in part right. 
You said and believed that life alone 
was the energy of existence, I, the soul ; 
I think now that it is both. Life can 
not exist without the soul, any more 
than the soul, at least upon this earth, 
can exist without life. Body, soul, and 
life, three in one; this is a trinity. 




" Chavannes, there is no such thing 
as man existing as a type by himself. 
No : that which we call man is half ani- 
mal, half God, a being on one hand ca- 
pable of rising to the sublimest heights 
of intellectual grandeur, equal almost to 
his Maker ; on the other hand, sinking 
at times to the last level of ignominy 
and moral degradation. Take life away 
from this being, and at once the soul 
mounts upward to the God that first 
gave it. Take from him his soul, that 
part of him that is God, and straight- 
way he sinks down to the level of the 
lowest animal, we have just seen it. 
Chavannes, follow me for a moment. 
Lauth died ; life and the soul departed to- 
gether from the body ; you found means 
to call back life ; the soul you could not 
recall ; mark what followed. For a time 
Lauth lived, but the soul being taken 
away, as though it had been a mainstay 
and a support, the whole body with the 
life it contained began successively to 
drop back to the lower forms of exist- 
ence. At first, if you remember, Lauth 
existed merely as a dull and imbruted 
man ; soon he fell to the stage of those 
unfortunates whose minds are impaired 
or wholly gone ; he became an idiot. At 
the time when he so savagely bit and 

snarled at you he had reached the level 
of the ape ; from that stage he fell to 
that of a lower animal, walking upon 
all-fours, savage, untamable ; thence he 
passed into those lowest known forms 
of life such as possessed by the sponge 
and the polyp, and thence to a second 
and final death. 

" What that mystery in him was which 
drove him to cry out that day, ' This is 
not //' is beyond our power to say. 

" No, Chavannes, the soul of man is 
the chiefest energy of his existence ; 
take that away, and he is no longer a 
man. The presence and absence of the 
soul was just the difference between the 
old Lauth and the new. It is just the 
difference between man and brute ; fol- 
low the scale of creation up from its low- 
est forms ; the gradation is easy until 
you eome to man. In the sponge and 
polyp we find the gradation between 
the vegetable and the animal ; and the 
animal life, too, rises by scarcely per- 
ceptible degrees until it reaches Man. 
There is no gradation here; there is no 
life half human, half animal. The most 
brutish man still is immeasurably high- 
er than the most human brute. What 
is the difference ? Chavannes, it is the 

Frank Norris. 


My Vie^v of San Francisco Bay. 



BEYOND my window, scarce a mile away, 

Deep in a dimple of the grassy hills, 

When sound of throbbing tide and sea-wind fills 
The air, there lies a little strip of bay. 
I turn my eyes to view it day by day ; 

Sometimes I watch the eastern light that spills 

A glory o'er the pulsing waves, and stills 
Almost my sighing, while from blue to gray 
The water shifts and changes. I can trace 

Sometimes the outline of the other shore. 
Again I see alone a narrow space 

Of silver water that the sky bends o'er, 
And watch it, as we seek the hiding-place 
Of joy and pain upon the one loved face. 

L. Gertrude Waterhonse. 


In the Mount. 


Photo by Taber (n 


I THINK I know why shone the prophet's face, 

When on the mount he talked with God ; 

I think I know now, somewhat of the grace 

Unutterable that wrapped his soul in flame. 

I think I know why went the world's Reedemer 

Up to the mount for prayer : 

Here in the temple of the hills, 

The altar flames of Truth do so illume her 

That man can see the travail of his soul, 

And silent, breathe the peace divine. 


Moonlight in El Dorado Hills. 

The strength of the Lord is on the hills, 

The brightness of His glory too ; 

The valley's level reach is flooded in His smile, 

The lingering sea's long line of blue 

Lies tremulous in the breathing "Peace" of Galilee. 

My friend, we 've walked today beyond the veil, 

A little while we stood within the Holy Place, 

Round which the lesser holies shine ; 

And deep within the mountain's brooding calm, 

Our spirits cried, "All hail!" 

To greet the pressing spirit throng 

That breathe those airs divine. 

Eleanor Mary Ladd. 



PEACEFUL the hills, illumined with the rays 

Whose woven fabric forms the raiment fair 

Of silent night ; and sweet the restful air 
That cools the brow of the departing days. 
How still ! how calm ! for scarce a shadow plays 

Beneath the pine trees ; but the latticed light 

Lies motionless ; the house-roofs glimmer white ; 
And far beyond the mountains, wrapped in haze, 

Lift a blue line that merges in the sky. 
But one lone peak is crowned with gleaming snow, 
Seen as a hovering cloud-cap, miles below. 

On noiseless wings the night goes sweeping by ; 

And longer yet the great pine-shadows lie, 
While on the horizon's rim the moon drops low. 

Virna Woods. 


A Scrap of Frontier History. 



IN the fall of 1861, while I was wait- 
ing at Guaymas, Mexico, for an oppor- 
tunity to return to California, Colonel 
Lally, a veteran of the Mexican war, 
landed there with a number of men, 
engineers, overseers, mechanics, and 
skilled miners, on their way to Arizona 
to work a silver mine, known as the 
Hentzelman mine.orthe Cerro Colorado, 
which had been abandoned the previous 
year on account of the hostility of the 
Indians surrounding it. 

The mine at that time was the prop- 
erty of Colonel Colt, of Colt's revolver 
fame. Colonel Lally brought with him 
a large number of tools, improved ma- 
chinery, and supplies of all kinds to last 
a year. He came by way of Guaymas 
as the safest, easiest, and cheapest route. 

After considerable delay, which is 
always to be expected in transacting 
any business with Mexicans, he suc- 
ceeded in hiring transportation for his 
supplies. The Colonel brought with 
him a Concord coach, a sort of vehicle 
often used as a stage on rough roads. 
He purchased four wild Mexican mules 
to haul it, and engaged a lank Missourian 
to drive them. The coach was to carry 
the Colonel and a few of his assistants, 
while the rest of the party were to ride 
on mules. After long persuasion I was 
induced to join the party as guide and 
interpreter. None of the others knew 
anything of the country through which 
we were to pass, or of the language of 
the people. 

I will not attempt to describe the sen- 
sation that we created- as we made our 
exit from Guaymas. The mules threw 
their riders, the team hitched to the 
coach ran away, and was only stopped 
after a run of three miles in the wrong 
direction. Barnum and his circus never 
attracted more attention nor furnished 
VOL. xxi 20. 

more amusement for the youngsters 
than we did. At last, after a hard 
struggle, we succeeded in making five 
miles, when we were very glad to go in- 
to camp for the night. The second day 
was a repetition of the first. After nine 
days of circus performance we reached 
Hermosilla, the principal city of So- 
nora, and distant from Guaymas about 
1 20 miles. Here we rested for about a 
week, and repaired damages. 

We were hospitably received by the 
people, and many mute flirtations took 
place between the dark-eyed senoritas 
and the fair strangers. Our teamster 
got gloriously drunk on mescal, and re- 
fused to drive "another doggoned mule 
for any consarned Yankee," so that the 
duty of driving the team fell to my lot, 
as none of the others had any experience 
in that direction. 

After a long and tedious journey we 
arrived at our destination. In order to 
understand how we were situated, it 
will be necessary to give a description 
of the mine, its surroundings, and the 
condition of affairs in the Territory at 
that time. The buildings for men and 
animals were in the form of a quad- 
rangle, about four hundred by two hund- 
red feet, and built of adobe : the super- 
intendent's and white men's dwellings, 
with a large storehouse, occupying one 
of the short sides, which was slightly 
elevated. The two long sides consisted 
of low, plain buildings for the miners 
and their families. The other short 
side was filled with stables, and outside 
of them was the mine, surrounded by a 

At that time there was no government 
of any kind in the Territory. The United 
States troops had been withdrawn the 
previous summer from Fort Buchanan, 
the nearest military post to the mine ; 


A Scrap of Frontier History. 


consequently there was no force to 
check the murderous Apaches (the vilest 
of their race) in their killing and scalp- 
ing. Little mounds of stones, with rude 
wooden crosses erected over them, were 
visible all along the roads and trails, to 
mark the last resting-place of unfortu- 
nate Mexicans, who had fallen victims 
to the thirst for gore of these inhuman 

Travel, unless in large parties, was 
done at night. All of the Americans at 
the mine went heavily armed, carrying 
two large revolvers in their belts, and a 
revolving rifle of a pattern that was then 
new, and manufactured by the owner of 
the mine, Colonel Colt. The outlook 
was most discouraging, particularly to 
some of the men from Eastern cities, 
who had but little experience in rough- 
ing it. Some of them wanted to leave 
us soon after their arrival at the mine, 
regardless of the fact that they had 
signed contracts for a year's service at 
high salaries. But as they could not get 
away with any degree of safety, they 
reluctantly decided to stay. 

We had scarcely reached the mine 
when large parties of Mexican miners, 
of the peon class, came to us, seeking 
employment. In a month we had about 
three hundred of them at work. They 
are looked upon, even in Mexico, as an 
ignorant, treacherous, low, degraded, 
thieving class, who require constant 
watching. They are expert miners in 
their way, but slow and lazy. They are 
good judges of ore, and can detect the 
least trace of the precious metals by 
the naked eye in any piece of rock pre- 
sented to them. They received from 
fifty cents to a dollar a day each, but 
took most of this out in trade, provis- 
ions, clothing, and other necessary arti- 
ticles. Each one was furnished with a 
sheet of stiff paper, called a balde, on 
which their accounts were kept, a line 
about an inch in length indicating that 
they had received a real's (12)^ cents) 
worth of goods, or money to that 

amount, a line drawn across eight of 
these making a dollar. This is the cus- 
tom of keeping accounts with the peon 
class all over Mexico. It is to be pre- 
sumed that it originated from neces- 
sity, as none of them can read or write. 

It was the duty of Mr. Peirce, our 
store-keeper, to keep these accounts, 
and as his knowledge of Spanish was 
very limited, many amusing scenes took 
place between him and them. After 
vainly trying to make himself under- 
stood, he would petulantly remark, " It 
is most singular that these men cannot 
understand their own language," at the 
same time taking up his Ollendorf and 
reading from it ; while they would gen- 
erally remark : " The Senor is surely 
mistaken. It must be some other lan- 
guage, not ours, that he is reading from 
his book"; but as they did not under- 
stand each other, no hard feelings were 
engendered by these exchanges of crit- 

The Mexicans, in speaking of the 
Americans amongst themselves, never 
mentioned them by their proper names, 
but always by a nickname suggestive of 
some peculiarity or eccentricity in the 
appearance or character of the individ- 
ual. For instance, one of our number, 
who had a pompous walk and manner, 
and whose head was rather large, both 
physically and mentally, they called El 
Cabezudo,ihe Big Head. Another, whose 
mouth was a little awry, they called 
Boca Tuerta, Crooked Mouth. One of 
our party, although a young man, they 
called El Viejo, the Old One, on account 
of his solemn, serious manner and ap- 
pearance, and so on through the list. 
Some of the names were rather uncom- 
plimentary ; I was known amongst them 
as Agua Caliente' Hot Water. 

Their dread of the Apaches kept thei 
in subjugation for some time after their 
arrival at the mine ; but they soon be- 
gan to show signs of insubordination b} 
neglecting their work, and devoting a 
large share of their time to gambling. 


A Scrap of Frontier History. 


But their dread of our fire-arms, which 
were a constant source of admiration 
to them, kept them from any open dem- 
onstration of revolt. As I spoke their 
language, I was thrown much with 
them, often as interpreter. I soon be- 
gan to realise that they were not to be 
depended upon, -but should be watched 
almost as vigilantly as our common en- 
emy, the Apaches. 

About four months after our arrival 
at the mine, one of the miners came to 
me, and in low whispers told me that 
there was a plot concocted amongst his 
fellow-workmen to kill all of the Amer- 
icans at the mine for the purpose of rob- 
bery, principally to get possession of 
their arms and money. I reported the 
matter to Colonel Lally at once. He 
sent for his chief assistant, Thomas 
Craig, his store-keeper, Mr. Peirce, and 
two or three others, and told them of 
the startling information that he had 
received. We talked the matter over for 
some time. I gave it as my opinion, from 
my knowledge of their character, that 
it would be better not to act openly at 
present ; to try to conceal from the con- 
spirators that we suspected them, but, 
in the meantime, to keep a close watch 
over all of their movements, and to be 
prepared at all . times to meet any at- 
tempt at revolt promptly. 

Some of the others advised that the 
ringleaders should be arrested at once. 
But Mr. Craig said that the man who 
gave the information was a lazy, worth- 
less, lying sort of a fellow, and not to be 
believed under any circumstances, and 
that the man could not tell the truth if 
he tried, and that for his part he had no 
faith in tale-bearers. He was so em- 
phatic in making these assertions, and 
repeated them several times with so 
much earnestness, that he finally suc- 
ceeded in getting Colonel Lally to take 
his view of the matter. 

Mr. Craig was a native of Maryland, 
but moved to Texas when quite a young 
man, and commanded a company of 

Texas rangers in our war with Mexico. 
After the war he went to California, 
and engaged in extensive mining opera- 
tions, and was at one time very wealthy. 
He was well educated, and very positive 
in character. He was then in the prime 
of life, about forty years of age. 

The views and opinions of such a man 
had great weight under the circum- 
stances. The Colonel, after consider- 
able deliberation, decided to place no 
reliance on the man's statement, but on 
the contrary to discharge him ; and 
on the urgent request of Mr. Craig, the 
tale that he brought us was made known 
to his fellow-workmen, and he was 
turned over to them to do as they 
pleased with him. They tied him to a 
post, and whipped him until he fell ex- 

My duty at the mine consisted in 
overseeing the men who were employed 
outside, principally in hauling and 
chopping wood, a considerable quantity 
of which was used to run the steam- 
engine used for hoisting and crushing 
the ore. I also had charge of the 
stables. In the discharging of these 
duties it was necessary for me to be 
mounted most of the time. I generally 
rode a jennet, an animal somewhat re- 
sembling a mule, but more like a horse 
in appearance and disposition, having 
shorter ears and rounder hoofs than a 
mule. This jennet of mine was jet 
black, except a circle of brown around 
her mouth. She was very symmetrical 
in shape, active and sure-footed, and 
although rather small, possessed re- 
markable speed, strength, and endur- 
ance, as the sequel will show, She was 
very gentle and intelligent, and I soon 
taught her to come at my call, and to 
follow me like a dog. 

I purchased her from a Mexican gen- 
tleman, named Don Jose Espada, who 
owned a hacienda and flour mill near Al- 
tar, Sonora. I named my jennet Florita 
(Little Flower) after his daughter. Don 
Jose" furnished the mine with the sup- 


A Scrap of Frontier History. 


plies that form the principal diet of the 
Mexican miners, beans, corn, lard in 
earthen jars, flour, and pinochia. The 
last named is a kind of sugar, made into 
cakes, and very much like maple sugar 
in taste and appearance, although made 
from the ordinary sugar-cane. 

About a month after the miner told 
us of the plot of his countrymen to mur- 
der us, I was returning to the mine from 
where the wood-choppers were at work, 
riding my favorite Florita. Coming in 
view of the mine from a slight elevation, 
I heard a number of shots fired in quick 
succession, and immediately after saw a 
number of my American friends run- 
ning towards me, firing rapidly ; some 
of them making wild gestures and signs 
to me that I did not understand. 

My first thought was that we were at- 
tacked by the Apaches, but as I could 
not see any of them from my position, 
I halted and gazed intently all around, 
and did not know which way to turn. I 
did not have long to wait. In a few min- 
utes a straggling and excited mass of 
our miners came in view, running at 
full speed towards me. As soon as they 
caught sight of me, those that were 
armed commenced firing on me, but, as 
their arms were old and of an inferior 
quality, and they as a class indifferent 
marksmen, their bullets passed harm- 
lessly over me. I soon realized the sit- 
uation, and got out of the range of their 
fire by the speed of Florita. 

When I rejoined my friends at the 
mine, I learned that during my absence 
one of the leaders of the conspiracy 
went to Mr. Peirce, at the store, and 
asked him for some necessary article. 
As soon as Mr. Peirce's back was turned, 
the peon plunged a knife into him. Mr. 
Peirce, although dangerously wounded, 
turned like a flash, drew his revolver, 
and commenced firing, but the would-be 
assassin eluded the shots, and succeeded 
in getting out of the store, where a num- 
ber of his co-conspirators were in read- 
iness to reinforce him. 

Mr. Pierce's firing gave the alarm, 
and in a remarkably short time every 
American at the mine, except Mr. 
Craig, was at the store armed with ri- 
fles and revolvers. The conspirators 
who could not get away threw them- 
selves down, to avoid being" shot ; the 
rest broke away as fast as they could 
towards the Mexican line, which was 
about twenty-five miles distant. On 
finding that Mr. Craig was missing, we 
searched for him, and found him lying 
stunned in the mine. He had evidently 
been struck with a miner's hammer on 
the head. He was still alive, but uncon- 
scious. We took him out of the mine 
and placed him in his room, where he 
lingered in a stupor for several hours, 
and then died. 

After getting together all the pris- 
oners we could capture, we found that 
they numbered over twenty, amongst 
them two women. We secured them as 
best we could, tying some of the most 
desperate together back to back. Our 
force was small, eight all told, including 
the Colonel, but they were all deter- 
mined men and good marksmen ; some 
of them had lived many years on the 
frontier, where they were constantly 
exposed to danger. 

Among the prisoners were a father 
and son named Cantaro. The father 
was well advanced in years, but the son 
was only about eighteen. When they 
were placed in confinement in the even- 
ing, the boy's hair was jet black, but 
next morning it was quite gray. The 
Cantaros had been at the mine only a 
few days, and, as was afterwards shown 
on investigation, knew nothing of the 
plot to murder us. 

Our position at the mine was most 
precarious and unenviable: Craig's 
body unburied, Peirce very dangerously 
wounded and requiring the constant 
care of one of our number, in moment- 
ary expectation of the miners returning 
re-enforced, to rescue their countrymen, 
in constant dread of the Apaches, the 


A Scrap of Frontier History. 


prisoners to be guarded, and no hope 
of relief unless we could send word 
fifty miles to Tucson, the nearest point 
where any Americans lived. 

After three days of painful suspense 
and anxiety, it was decided that one of 
us should run the gauntlet of the In- 
dians, and try to reach Tucson for as- 
sistance. None of us could be well 
spared, but it became imperative that 
something should be done for our relief. 
Our Mexican herder, being in the con- 
spiracy, as soon as he heard the firing 
drove the animals in his charge across 
the line into Sonora. The animals were 
afterwards returned by the Alcalde of 
Magdalena, who also did everything in 
his power to bring the criminals to just- 

The Colpnel's horse and my jennet 
were the only animals left, and as the 
horse was unreliable and very much 
afraid of Indians, it became necessary 
that my animal should be used in mak- 
ing the hazardous trip ; and as I could 
do more with her than anyone else, it 
was decided that I should ride her. She 
was certainly well adapted for such an 
undertaking. In addition to her other 
good qualities, her hearing, sight, and 
sense of smell, were so keen that she 
would give notice of the approach of 
Indians more unfailingly than the most 
vigilant watch-dog. Frontiersmen know 
how highly developed these faculties are 
in the mule. 

It was necessary that the trip should 
be made at night. I started at sundown, 
carrying a revolving rifle, and two revol- 
vers (pistols). I walked for the first 
five miles, in order to have my animal 
as fresh as- possible for any emergency 
that might arise. Another reason for 
my not starting in haste was, that I did 
not wish to pass a certain point on the 
road about fifteen miles from the mine 
sooner, as it was a favorite resort for 
Apaches. The night was clear, although 

When I reached the point mentioned, 

after crossing a small stream and mak- 
ing a turn to the left, I saw camp-fires 
on my right in the midst of a mesquite 
thicket, and not more than a hundred 
yards from the road. I knew at once 
that Apaches were encamped there. To 
the left of the road the ground was slop- 
ing and covered with loose stones, over 
which it would be difficult to pass, even 
in the day-time. Everything seemed 
quiet in the Indian camp, and as the 
road was good and nearly straight for 
some distance beyond it, I thought it 
possible that I might be able to pass it 
unnoticed ; at least, I determined to 
make the attempt, since so much de- 
pended on my reaching Tucson. I 
moved along very carefully, but just as 
I got opposite their camp, a number of 
their dogs began barking furiously. 

I knew then that my only hope of 
safety was in the speed and endurance 
of my animal. I immediately let her out 
at full speed. She required but little 
urging, and seemed to understand the 
situation as well as I. I soon left the 
camp behind, and for about half an hour 
did not hear any sounds that would in- 
dicate pursuit by the Indians ; but this 
did not deceive me, or lead me to believe 
that I was out of danger, as I well knew 
the character of the Apache, his cruel, 
blood-thirsty, relentless disposition, and 
the speed, endurance, and persistence, 
he displays in pursuing an enemy, either 
for plunder or merely to gratify his 
thirst for blood. In addition to this he 
is thoroughly familiar with the general 
topography of the country, knows every 
trail, by-path, and short-cut. 

I carried my rifle in my hands, ready 
for action, the reins resting on my left 
arm. When I had made a curve to the 
left, and was passing a clump of cactus, 
two shots were fired at me, and a num- 
ber of arrows whizzed past. I lowered 
my rifle, and fired two shots in the direc- 
tion from whence the shots and arrows 
came. My faithful animal, without one 
word from me, increased her speed. 


A Scrap of Frontier history. 


Several more shots were fired at me, 
but I gradually got away from them. 
After going about a mile, I permitted 
Florita to slacken her speed, but only 
for a short time, as I soon heard the 
clatter of hoofs behind, which convinced 
me that I was pursued by mounted In- 
dians, as well as by those on foot. I did 
not dread those on horseback much, as 
I knew that I could distance them in a 
long run. 

The pursuit continued. I kept leav- 
ing them behind me, until I came to a 
place where the road was rocky and un- 
even, and over which it was impossible 
to ride fast. My bloodthirsty pursuers 
seemed to understand that they had me 
at a disadvantage, and in anticipation of 
an easy victory gave a blood-curdling 
war whoop. The reader can imagine 
my feelings. My whole previous life 
seemed to pass before me in one vivid 
flash, and the thought of being butch- 
ered by fiendish savages, and my bones 
left to bleach in a wilderness far from 
home and friends, might well unnerve 
even the bravest ; but I determined to 
sell my life as dearly as I could. 

On they came, as I kept making the 
best headway I could over the rough 
road. Again they opened fire on me, 
this time at closer range. I could hear 
their bullets and arrows whiz by. I 
still had four shots in my rifle. As my 
enemies were on higher ground than I, 
I could, by turning my head slightly, 
see the outline of their figures between 
me and the horizon. I emptied my 
rifle at them as fast as I could, and then 
threw it away, partly to lighten the 
weight, but principally to be free from 
it. The Indians were now quite close, 
and w