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University of California Berkeley 



Overland 

Monthly 



PRICE TEN CENTS 






SAN FRANCISCO 
JULY I9OI 



AN ILLUSTRATED 




THE WEST 



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10 Gents per Copy 



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ESTABLISHED 1868. 



Overland Monthly 



AN ILLUSTRATED MAGAZINE OF THE WEST. 



Vol. XXXVIII. Second Series. 



JULY DECEMBER 



1900. 




FREDERICK MARRIOTT, Publisher, 5J Kearny Street, S. F. 



INDEX. 



About Santa Barbara County Illustrated. By C. M. Gidney 157 

Alkalai Plains Poem. By Amy Dudley 312 

American View of the Strike, An A Protest. By Henry E. Highton . . . . 346 

And Yet Poem. By Juliette Estelle Mathis..364 

As a Little Child Story. By Helen E. Richardson. .. .26? 

At Home in the High Sierras 111. By H. Rushton Fairclough 433 

Banyan Tree at Avalon, The Poem. By Benjamin F. Field 305 

Beno Slim Story. By George D. Abbott 306 

Biologist's Quest, The Story. By John M. Oskison 52 

Broken Strings Poem. By E. R. Wynne 57 

Building of Ships at the Navy Yard Illustrated. By Geo. C. Campbell, Jr. 465 

Canadian Boatman, The Pearllita C. Stadelmen 114 

Chinese Question, The Illustrated. By Ho Yow 249 

Christmas Roses Illustrated. By Martin Curtis 411 

Colonial Experiment, A Illustrated. By J. F. Rose-Soley. . . . 173 

Constitution and the Territories, The. . . .By N. P. Chipman 289 

Corn People, The Illustrated. By Cromwell Galpin. . . .218 

Cupid's Diary Poem. By E. Scott O'Connor 194 

Current Books Grace Luce Irwin. .62-105-233-314-371-405 

Dave's Letter Story. By Charles Udell 207 

Days of Gold, The Story. By Jessie T. Aitken 285 

Double Stroke, A Story. By Wilmetta Curtis 332 

Dreamer's Lay, A Poem. By Chester Firkins 432 

El Dia de Todos Santos Illustrated. By L. M. Terry 199 

En Rapport Poem. By Margaret Schenk 44 

Final Tribute, The 111. By James F. J. Archibald 365 

Finders Keepers Story. By Robert B. Grant 430 

Florence Roberts as Nell Gwynne , Frontispiece 

For Gold Poem. Illustrated. By Walter Shea. 112 

Free Trader, The Illustrated. Story. By A. J. Brown . . 182 

From San Francisco to Monterey Illustrated 173 

Greenhorn's Luck, A Story. By Alice J. Stephens 215 

Gulf Between Poem. By W. W. Battles -..417 

"Heathen" 111. Story. Agnes Louise Provost. ... 32 

Hidden Chord, The Story. By Cecil Marrack .457 

Hike, The Poem. By Robert V. Carr 148 

Ho Yow Frontispiece 

In the Days of the Padres 111. Story. By Harry R. P. Forbes. . 58 

Incapable, The Poem. Elwyn Hoffman 331 

In Fog Time Poem. By Eloise Davis 444 

N 



Index. 

Iron-Shod Woman, The 111. Story. By Mrs. L. M. Terry 107 

Johnson's Regeneration A Soldier Sketch. Robert V. Carr.,147 

Joseph Le Conte Sonnet. By Wallace Irwin 149 

Kern City and the Kern River Oil District 65 

Labor Organizations .By Charles A. Murdock 119 

La Fiesta Dance 111. Poem. By J. Torrey Connor.. 50 

Lanty Foster's Mistake 111. Story. By Bret Harte 399 

Late Dusk in the Golden Gate Poem. By Theodore Gontz 18 

Laugh of Fate, The 111. Story. By Leavenworth McNab.445 

Law of the Medes and Persians, The.. Story. By C. Bryan Taylor 45 

Liolah Story. By Clyde Scott Chase 138 

Little Wolf Story.- By John G. Neihardt 461 

Man From St. Just, The Story. By Ernest Atkins 195 

Manila's Day of Civil Government 111. By Oliver Leslie Lawrence. .. .426 

Man with the Cap, The 111. Story. By Sol. N. Sheridan 278 

Meadow Lark, The Poem. By Ernest McGaffey 209 

Matter of Opinion, A 231-313-403 

Maneuvres of the California Guard 111. By James F. *J. Archibald 125 

National Guard and Its Value 111. Col. Thomas Wilhelm, U. S. A... 496 

Natives of Alaska, The .111. By Jane Woodworth Bruner. . . .338 

Nell Gwynne 111. By Clara Bewick Colby 321 

No Man's Ranch 111. By William McLeod Raine 210 

Nostalgia Poem. By Robert V. Carr 410 

On the Firing Line Story. By George S. Evans 309 

Our Legion of Honor 111. By James F. J. Archibald 19 

' Pablo Gutierrez and the "Americanos". . 111. Story. By Mary Harding 259 

Pago-Pago Harbor Frontispiece 

Piedmont Springs 111. By Carlotta L. Sessions 

Portrait of Bret Harte Frontispiece 

Portrait of Miss P Frontispiece 

Rebellion in Photography 111. By Dr. Arnold Genthe 93 

Recollections of Lincoln and Seward. . . .James Matlack Scovel 265 

Recompense Poem. By T. R. E. Mclnnes 357 

Rooms to Let 111. Story. By Mary C. Ringwalt. . . 143 

_San Antonio, Texas, City of Parks 111. By Vintoa S. James 239 

San Francisco Diplomatic Corps II. By W. J. Weymouth 272 

San Rafael and San Anselmo 111. By Carlotta Reynal 373 

Shoalhaven River Tragedy, The 111. Story. By Carlotta Reynal 449 

Side-Lights on Lincoln James Matlack Scovel 204 

Singing of the Frogs, The Story. By John G. Neihardt 226 

Social Life at Mare Island 111. By Ella M. Hammond 483 

Some Famous Jewish Women By Rev. A. Kingsley-Glover 25 

Sonnet, A By Louis W. Bennett . 337 

Spirit of Crow Butte, The Story. By John G. Neihardt 355 

Teine Story. By J. F. Rose-Soley 358 

Telephonic Error, A 111. Story. By Winifred Webb 418 

To My Violin Poem. By Eloise Davis 230 

Transit of Bohemia, The 111. Story. By Ednah Robinson.... 3 

Triumph of Seha, The Story. By John G. Neihardt 282 

Two Privates and a Corporal Story. By Cecil M. Marrack 310 

Unknown, The Poem. By Herman Scheffauer 448 

When the Overland Comes In 111. Story. By Roger J. Sterrett.... 27 

When the Snows Drift Story. By John G. Neihardt 103 

Zuleta, The Story. By C. B. Acheson 41 

99589 



Vol. XXXVIII. No. J. 

tM?4Mfc4^i*^4^i^^ 



Established 1868 



* 




5|/2 Kearny Street, San Francisco. 




JULY, J90J. 



CONTENTS 



* 
* 

* 

<*> 
* 
* 
* 



* 



The Transit of Bohemia Story By Ednah Robinson. Illustrated 3 

Late Dusk in the Golden Gate Poem. . . .By Theodore Gontz 18 

Our Legion of Honor By James F. J. Archibald. Illustrated. 19 

Some Famous Jewish Women By Rev. A. Kingsley-Glover 25 

When the Overland Comes In Story.... By Roger J. Sterrett. Illustrated .... 27 

"Heathen" Story By Agnes Louise Provost. Illustrated. 32 

The Zuleta Story By C. B. Acheson 41 

En Rapport Poem By Margaret Schenk 44 

The Law of the Medes and Persians Story. .By C. Bryan Taylor 45 

La Fiesta Dance Poem By J. Torrey Connor. Illustrated 50 

The Biologist's Quest Story By John M. Oskison 52 

Broken Stri ngs Poem By E. R. Wynne 57 

In the days of the Padres Story By Harry R. P. Forbes. Illustrated. . . .58 

Books: To Read or Not to Read 62 

Kern City and the Kern River Oil District 65 



* 

* 

* 



* 



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Frederick Marriott, Publisher. Entered at San Francisco postoffice as second-class matter 



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Overland Monthly. 



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HOME OFFICE: 222 Sansome St., San Francisco, Cal. 
Wm. Corbin, Secretary and General Manager. 




Frank Kilgore. 



Drawn by Max Newberry. 



OvS 




Monthly 



VOL. XXXVIII 



July, 1901 



No. i 



THE TRANSIT OF BOHEMIA 



BY EDNAH ROBINSON. 



GIRL emerged from the crowd on 
Market street one afternoon in late 
December, and stepped briskly into 



fi 

an unfrequented thoroughfare. Her 
eyes scanned the tall, dark buildings on 
either side, but not finding what she 
searched for her pace slackened, and she 
walked slowly up the block, her glance 
alert for the huge sign announcing the 
offices of the San Francisco Daily Cour- 
ier. At the corner she paused and looked 
back, the raw wind whipping color into 
her cheeks and playing strange antics 
with her hat. A quick thought drove her 
hand into her pocket. The note book 
confirmed her; this was the square, and 
she re-crossed to the odd side of the 
street, retracing her steps till she paused 
before a grim-looking front, with 5-3-1 
unobtrusively painted in over a high, 
<lark door, behind which gloomy stairs 
mounted into uncertain shadows. 

She drew a perplexed breath, then 
plunged into the gloom, and began feeling 
her way up the steep stairway. At the 
first landing she peered around through 
the darkness for a door or informing 
sign, but bare walls greeted her. The 
strange quiet was beginning to assail 
her with her first feeling of fear, when 
a hurried step above reassured her. She 
waited to question the comer, but before 
she could speed a detaining word the 
man had rushed past without seeing her; 
so she went on climbing, up and up, over 
dingy steps and dark, uncertain landings, 
until brought to an abrupt pause before 
a green baize door. It swung open for 
a boy's quick exit, and she found herself 
inside a little square, outlined by four 
such doors, and guarded by a youth who 
eyed her suspiciously. The sudden flare 



of gas-jets dilated her eyes, and gave a 
frightened look to her face. 

"What d'ye want?" asked the boy. 

"The editor," she answered. 

He grinned. "Which one? There's the 
business manager, and the city editor, 
and the sporting editor, society editor, 
weekly editor, Sunday editor, night edi- 
tor." He was running on indefinitely. 
Not Cerberus as sentry of the shades held 
a more complacent position. 

"I am sure I don't know which one he 
is," she said, reflectively, but the boy mis- 
took her hesitation. Just then an elec- 
tric bell tingled, and he vanished. She 
leaned against a long deal table, watch- 
ing with interest the people who passed 
her so incuriously. Men with absorbed 
faces pushed through one of the myster- 
ious doors, and out through another. The 
air seemed to teem with energy. The 
boy soon returned. 

"You still here?" 

"Did you see him?" 

"Did you think I went for that? I had 
to answer a call. Which am I?" his 
chest inflated. "I'm the call-boy. Did 
you think I was an editor?" He shoved 
her through a door, and pointed to a 
small room at the end of the corridor. 
"They're all busy. You'd better wait." 
His patronage was heavy. 

There was one before her waiting, a 
woman who looked fagged and weary. 
The girl's interest was caught by the 
pictures which covered the walls, original 
drawings, cartoons, and caricatures. She 
drew a breath of delight. She was get- 
ting a peep into that coveted place back 
of the footlights, where the Names were 
to be met! That cartoon she remem- 
bered having seen in the Courier years 



Overland Monthly. 



ago, and this one, how good! Presently 
she exhausted them all, and looked 
around for a paper to read; but there was 
none, and she had to resign herself to a 
study of her companion. Every time a 
step sounded in the hall she would start 
eagerly, until she discovered that the 
other woman was smiling. She felt 
called upon to explain that she was wait- 
ing for one of the editors, who was busy. 
The other woman smiled wearily. "So 
am I, going on two hours. They're always 
busy. If you know no one, you've a 
pretty poor show." 

The girl's head lifted with conscious 
importance. "I do know him, that is, 
one of them." The thought of the call- 
boy made her falter. "But I don't know 
which he is Mr. Thorne." 

"He's the city editor; you're in luck," 
said the other generously, and relapsed 
into silence. 

Five more minutes passed, and the 
woman's curiosity broke through her 
reverie. "You sent in your name?" 

The girl's face brightened. "I forgot. 
I intended to, but that boy hurried me off. 
He confused me, I guess." She gave 
an easy, rippling laugh, and drew from 
her pocket the card engraved for that es- 
pecial purpose. The blaze of light once 
again disconcerted her, but she handed 
the slip of pasteboard to the boy with re- 
turning assurance. "Take that to Mr. 
Thorne," she said, imperiously. "He will 
remember me." 

"Why didn't you say that before?" and 
the baize door swallowed him again. The 
girl returned to her post. It was a long 
time before an answer came. A heavy 
tread paused at the door, and she turned 
swiftly. "Mr. Thorne? O, I beg your 
pardon." 

"It is all the same. I represent Mr. 
Thorne." He observed her closely. "He 
is too busy to see everyone who asks for 
him. Can I know your errand?" 

She shook her head. Her business was 
with Mr. Thorne. "I said that I represent 
him," the man answered patiently. "I 
can do just as much for you if you will 
tell me your errand." His courtesy was 
disconcerting, for it made her insistence 
seem rude, but she clung stubbornly to 
her demand for the city editor. "Does he 



know I am here?" 

The man was puzzled. "He told me to 
attend to you." 

"Perhaps he does not know who Miss 
Hawley is? Tell him it's Mamie Hawley> 
and he will understand. He knows my 
father, knows us all. He stopped with us 
once in Santa Rosa, years ago" her 
voice trailed off. 

"Suppose you write that on your card," 
he suggested kindly. "Mention Santa 
Rosa. There are so many demands on 
Thome's time, and you see, Hawley's not 
an uncommon name." 

She drew another card from her purse, 
and wrote a few stiff, glove-fingered 
words. He went off with it, and was 
back almost immediately. Mr. Thorne 
would see her, and she followed her guide 
eagerly, forgetting to nod a good-bye to 
her companion in waiting. The baize 
doors were thrown open for her, and she 
was ushered through long corridors and 
winding passages into a large room, 
where several men sat at work. "There's 
Thorne." Mamie followed a sweep of the 
hand to a desk at one corner of the room. 
"Must I see him before all these peo- 
ple?" 

The man laughed. "They're all too 
busy to listen!" He humorously eyed 
the big bundle under her arm, and went 
off whistling. 

Mamie Hawley approached the desk, 
stretching out a cordial hand. 
"Mr. Thorne!" 

The city editor responded with the ex- 
pected cordiality, but his memory was 
playing him a trick. He angled for a 
clue. 

"So this is little Mamie Hawley grown 
up. Let's see. How long is it since I 
saw you?" 

"Seven years ago," Mamie answered, 
promptly. "You came to Santa Rosa to 
report the Doane murder case, and that 
was in '83. It was the year of the Metho 
dist Convention in Denver, and papa met 
you on the train from San Francisco, 
and brought you home with him." 

"Of course, I remember. And how 
is Dr. Hawley? I often think of those 
pleasant evening we had when we played 
what was it we played? Chess? Yes, 
of course. And Mrs. Hawley? And the 



The Transit of Bohemi 




boys?" Thorne was on flrm ground af 
last. "Give my regards to them all. 
If ever I go to Santa Rosa again, I will 
surely look you all up." 

Mamie suddenly saw a vision of green 
baize doors. Her cheeks, already flushed 
from the bite of the sharp wind, flamed 
hotter. "It was not that I came here tr 
say." She paused, then rushed ahead. 
"I thought maybe you could would help 
me. I I write. And I want to work 
for some paper. If you have room on the 
Courier " 

"Have you ever published anything?" 
Thorne put on his editorial manner imme- 
diately. "What work have you done?" 

"I have never had anything rejected 
yet, and quite a lot has been published," 
Mamie answered proudly. She opened 
her bundle wku quick fingers, and thrust 
towards him a scrap book filled with 
cuttings from the Santa Rosa Mercury 
and the Sonoma Press. Thorne controll- 
ed his lip admirably, and turned a seri- 
ous face to her a minute later. 

"My dear little girl, don't you think 
it would be better to keep on writing 
for these? You have no idea of the dif- 
ferent requirements. Stay at home, and 
write signed articles for the Mercury, in- 
stead of battling alone in the big city 
with years of unsigned labor before you. 
There, that's my honest advice, and I am 
old enough to be your father, my dear. ' 

But Mamie was not daunted. It was the 
Courier she wanted, nothing less. In her 
eagerness she did not notice that she was 
keeping back other claimants for 
Thome's attention, or that she was being 
closely observed. Thorne turned over the 
pages of her scrap-book. "Were you paid 
for these?" he asked. Mamie flushed 
again, and hesitated uncomfortably. 
"Mostly in subscriptions," she said, feel- 
ing rather silly, and for the first time 
noticed her observers. One man sat 
by the desk, his dark eyes lazily taking 
in the girl's embarassment. Mamie 
flashed back a hostile stare, and her chin 
rose higher. 

"That's the reason I decided to come 
down to San Francisco. There's no open- 
ing in Santa Rosa." 

"Believe me, there's no opening in San 
Francisco for this." Thome's emphasis 



was brutally obvious, and Mamie haught- 
ily interrupted him. " I am sorry to have 
encroached so much on your time. I will 
take these." She was sweeping them 
up, outraged pride in her gesture, when 
Thorne put out a detaining hand. "Leave 
them here," he began lamely, "and you 
might come back in a week." 

She swept out with a curt nod, her eyes 
bright, her ears tingling, past the pert 
call boy, through the baize doors, and 
down the steep steps into the street. She 
was humiliated and angry. To be spoken 
to like a child, an inexperienced hand, 
an amateur, and before all those men, 
too! How they doubtless enjoyed it! 
And that was gratitude ! They had show- 
ered immeasurable hospitality on 
Thorne, had introduced him to Santa 
Rosa's best families, had given a picnic 
for his benefit, and invited him to lecture 
from her father's pulpit their crowning 
honor to bestow. And this was the way 
he returned it. The possibility that 
Thorne had been more gracious than 
grateful was beyond her imagination. 
She entered the little boarding house 
she had discovered in a quiet street 
with the resolve firmly made: she would 
not go back. Thorne could keep her 
scrap-book. Perhaps it might sting his 
ingratitude. How angry she was! For 
the next twenty-four hours her pride 
upheld her resolution, but the following 
day she weakened. To lose her certain 
triumph because of a girlish pride? 
Thorne could not but discover the merit 
in her articles. There was that particu- 
lar essay on "The Salvation Army Bon- 
net," which every one had praised. She 
had read the Courier steadily and could 
not honestly admit to a style therein as 
finished, as classic as hers. To forego 
the triumphant home-coming she had 
planned? For no one was to dream of 
her real hope or labor until the goal 
was reached, and she could proudly point 
to won laurels. Pride is soon melted in 
the crucible of ambition, and the next 
Saturday found her again climbing the 
dark stairs to the green baize doors. This 
time she faced the call-boy with confi- 
dence. "For Mr. Thorne. By appoint- 
ment!" 

It was just as sue had expected. "We 



Overland Monthly. 





Ascot. 



Drawn by Max Newberry. 



have decided,'' 
Thorne said official- 
ly, "to take you on 
trial for a few weeks. 
Of course at first the 
remunera tion is 
small, but the doors 
to big salaries and 
advancement stand 
always open to abil- 
ity. You will have 
to keep your eyes 
open, and your ears, 
too. And, let me say 
it without offending 
you, my dear, that 
your style is, well, a 
bit stilted. Read the 
Courier well and dis- 
cover what we want. 
There model your 
style on that." He 
pushed a paper to- 
wards her, pointing 
to a full-page article 
profusely illustrated, 
and signed "Frank 
Kilgore." Mamie had 
already read it, and 
she smiled with su- 
periority. 

"I have read a lot 
of his articles, but 
it's cheap prose," she 
objected. "It's flor- 
id, and not a good 
style." 

Thorne looked at 
her in an amaze- 
ment which the 
girl's vanity inter- 
preted differently. 
Then his laughter 
broke. 

"My dear, that's a 
really good newspap- 
er style, and just 
what we want. If 
we could only get a 
few more such, the 
Courier would be in 
luck. That is she." 
Mamie glanced has- 
tily at a well-groom- 
ed, alert woman ap- 
proaching. "Frank 



The Transit of Bohemia. 



Kilgore," Thorne explained. "You 
thought she was a man? Mrs. Kilgore, 
Miss Hawley. Miss Hawley's a new 
hand, Mrs. Kilgore. I wish you would 
show her the ropes a little, just at 
first. Thanks. Is this your article on 
the fight? Good-morning, Miss Hawley. 
Sorry, but someone's mislaid your scrap- 
book. A word, Mrs. Kilgore. We've 
got to try her. I'd like her to get on, if 
it's possible. Help her a bit. I'll esteem 
it a favor. Thanks, good-day." 

Mamie followed her new guide, curious- 
ly observing her trig, neat form, tightly 
tailored in black cloth, relieved only by 
white collar and cravat, and two white 
rosettes set in the jaunty, black hat. 
It was a hostile stare she threw at her 
companion's back, for she resented the 
position awarded tne woman, as gained 
by such flimsy prose. Out in the street, 
Mrs. Kilgore faced her. "Heavens, girl, 
what eyes you have." She stared broad- 
ly. 

The angry blood surged to the girl's 
brow. Her eyes had been ridiculed since 
babyhood and were her greatest sorrow. 
Cat's eyes, green eyes, they had been in- 
discriminately labeled, preventing any 
possible girlish vanity, and almost smoth- 
ering, eventually, the ardent desire for 
good looks; but any allusion to her afflic- 
tion goaded her to wrath. 

"I know they are horrid, but I don't 
recognize your right to tell me so." Her 
eyes gleamed green fire. 

"Magnificent! Who says they're hor- 
rid? You are a queen. I never saw such 
eyes. I see now why Thorne took you. 
He couldn't help himself. You'll do. You 
needn't labor like me, or the others. You 
can write just as poorly as you probably 
do. And when they start to turn your 
wjrk down, just turn your green incan- 
descents as you did on me, and they'll 
cringe. How the boys will rave? Ever 
heard of Billy Compton? Gracious, where 
have you been living? Special writer 
for the Courier. He had a sonnet once in 
the "Yellow Book," beginning, 'Eyes of 
emerald and hair of brcnze.' He will 
adore you. You must come up to dinner 
with me to-night. Of course, informal, 
for it's Bohemia, you know. Russian 
Hill, house number two. There are only 
two, mine and the other, and the other's 



bachelor quarters, artists mostly. Billy 
Compton hangs out there. Do you know, 
I think I can educate you. There, don't 
waste ammunition. Save that illumina- 
tion for the men to-night. But you need 
culture, sadly. Who said you could wear 
blue? It's a crime." Her bright, cold 
eyes ran over Mamie's figure. "You 
should adopt the aesthetic. I can't. I'm 
too plump. Le Compte, that's Billy, will 
teach you the gospel of greens and yel- 
lows. 'It's your only fault,' le petit 
Compte always moans, 'that you look 
just like anybody else on the street.' 
In the house I can be as bizarre as I 
please, with lampshades to suit, and 
bribed not to tell tales on a complexion 
that has to change with the gown. You 
don't have to report till to-morrow, so you 
can rest all the afternoon. At seven we 
dine. One of the boys will see you home. 
Don't worry about stuff. I'll give you a 
boost. Have you followed the Clayton 
factory exposure? You could write a 
breezy article on that. Is this your 
street? Au revoir, till to-night." 

Mamie felt a little dizzy. Mrs. Kilgore 
had kept her mind on the jump. She did 
not know whether to be pleased or an- 
gry. One fact stood out. Her eyes were 
good. She had had longings long ago 
to be pretty, pretty as Alice Downing, the 
town beauty, with blue eyes and baby 
fairness; but the years had intensified 
the green in her eyes, and the bitter 
certainty in her heart that beauty was 
never to be hers. Her mind was thrown 
back on itself for consolation, and in soli- 
tude she had acquired the knack of study, 
the habit of books, gaining a pride in a 
new leadership, until she grew accus- 
tomed, eventually, to her literary pre- 
tensions, not realizing the twist that 
had been given to her destiny by a pair 
of green eyes. 

She marched up the outer stairs of her 
boarding house, and up the inner stair- 
case leading to her little hall bed-room, 
where she solemnly took off her blue 
jacket and shirt waist with her back to 
the glass. There was a green India-silk 
drape on her mantel which she drew off 
deliberately, and wound around her bare 
white shoulders. Through her slim trunk 
she rummaged till her fingers struck 
against a tortoise shell comb, curiously 



Overland Monthly. 



carved, which was thrust through the 
mass of rippling hair. Slowly, with al- 
most fearful wistfulness, she approached 
the mirror and lifted her eyes. She saw 
herself as for the first time. Heretofore, 
such solemn pilgrimages had been taken 
in the eager hope that some miracle had 
happened, that the green eyes were 
browner, or had changed to blue; to-day 
it was with no such hope, but with the 
light of a revelation that some people 
liked green eyes; that to such, even she, 
Mamie Hawley, might be beautiful. All 
her ambitions, her literary aspirations, 
slipped off, and left her wondering at her 
beauty. A woman may have the wisdom 
of Minerva, with all the power thereof, 
and yet would sell her birthright for a 
chance of beauty. It was the happiest 
moment of Mamie Hawley's life. 

A few hours later she stood on Mrs. 
Kilgore's steps, looking vainly for the 
bell. There was a strange handle on the 
door which she had pulled, but no ans- 
wer had come. She was trying to decide 
whether she should knock or go to the 
back entrance, or leave altogether, when 
a long arm reached over her shoulder 
and grasped the handle she had been 
struggling with. A clamor resounded 
through the house that was immediately 
responded to. The ever ready color 
rushed to Mamie's cheeks as she recog- 
nized the first knocker ever seen out of 
laook-covers, and she turned a deeper 
rose when she discovered the stranger 
was one of the men who had overheard 
Thome's catechism and sermon in the 
Courier office the week before. He re-, 
turned her stiff bow politely, and together 
they were ushered into a long, low room 
lit with colored glass lamps and lanterns 
of Oriental hues. To Mamie's eyes it 
was splendid, and her hostess completed 
the impression by rising from a heap of 
cushions on the floor, in a gown of flam- 
ing copper soft stuff that curled and 
twined itself around her form and over 
the floor. 

"So glad you came, Queenie. Do you 
object to nicknames? Every one gets one 
here. It's murder and sudden death to 
formality. Want to go upstairs to take 
off your cloak? Don't have to. Anyone 
could guess that your hair curled natur- 
ally. It's the arrogance of curls that 



fathers your imperiousness. Good, isn't 
it, Mascot? Mascot's short for Mr. As- 
cot. O yes, and the rest Miss Hawley." 

Mamie had chosen from her restricted 
wardrobe, not without misgivings, a yel- 
low nun's veiling, slightly soiled, and of 
a then unfashionable cut. A belt and 
buckle of fire-gilt, set with imitation 
emeralds, had been given her by one of 
her old Sunday School pupils, and had al- 
ways shrieked at her as tawdry and in 
poor taste, but on the yellow gown it 
quieted down into what Mamie's awak- 
ened perceptions assured her was of aes- 
thetic value. As she stood under the vari- 
colored lanterns she congratulated her- 
self on her toilet, for there was unveiled 
admiration in Mrs. Kilgore's eyes, and in 
that dimly-lit room she felt sure the spots 
would not be seen. 

Ascot, returning from the hall, was 
startled by an apparition. The girl was 
just raising two warm, bare arms to her 
head, when the light caught in her un- 
covered hair, and brought out its won- 
derful beauty. The godmother's wand 
had suddenly transformed Mamie Haw- 
ley, in a soiled yellow gown, into a vision 
of royalty, with eyes of green fire, bronze 
iridescent hair, and draped in a robe of 
cloth-of-gold, with barbaric jewels gleam- 
ing at the waist. Ascot turned back into 
the hall for a forgotten trifle. As he re- 
entered the room, he heard Mrs. Kilgore's 
voice, hard ana clear. "Le Compte, come 
here and venerate. Mascot's, as usual, 
unappreciative. Turns his back on 'eyes 
of emerald, hair of bronze.' Isn't that 
your line? Wretch! You must have 
known her. When did you ever go to 
Santa Rosa?" 

" 'Pon my honor, I was never guilty of 
that crime," said a boyish voice emerg- 
ing from a curtained corner. He caught 
sight of Mamie and stopped, Mrs. Kilgore 
enjoying his amazement, "Do sirens 
live in Santa Rosa.' I thought no good 
thing ever came out of Nazareth?" 

"Don't blaspheme, Le Compte. There, 
you can make love to Queenie at dinner." 
She turned to the girl. "There's a game 
we always play here. It's called : 'Find 
the Guests.' They are all here, but ef- 
fectually hidden. Here, Le Compte, Mas- 
cot, you rout them out!" She led the 
way down over the polished stairs into a 



The Transit of Bohemia. 



\, y x 

Of THE 

UNIVERSITY 



room similar to that they had left. 
Couches around the walls, with huge, 
soft cushions, swinging lamps so low that 
one had to bob to avoid collision, cush- 
ions on the floor, all conspired to hide the 
purpose of the room, which only the long 
table suggested. 

"There are only two other girls," said 
Mrs. Kilgore, pushing an arm-chair to- 
wards her. "So you can choose your 
neighbors. Le Compte, he's one, and 
maybe Ascot. Nonsense don't like 
arm-chairs? They're all alike, except 
that straight-backed thing over there, 
which stands for beauty, not utility. 
You really mean it? Well, it does suit 
your style, I confess. That comb sets 
you off, too. Looks like a tiara. I'd be 
a guy in that rig, but you're perfect. 
Here are the boys." 

A dozen or so men filed in with theatric 
solemnity behind two odcuy dressed 
women. "Le Compte, you are next to 
Miss Hawley. And Mascot, you too." But 
Ascot had already chosen a place on the 
opposite side. "Well, if you don't appre- 
ciate your favors, Farouche will. Miss 

Hawley, Mr. , I always forget. It's 

Farouche, anyway." And Mrs. Kilgore 
passed around the table, allotting places 
with a wave of her white hand here, 
and an occasional love-tap there. 

Mamie was bewildered by the easy 
familiarity of the atmosphere. In the 
same instant, Mrs. Kilgore chilled and 
fascinated her. She threw conflicting 
impressions as easily as she skimmed 
her topics. It was politics, philosophy, 
aesthetics, gossip, small talk, touched 
with keen wit and virile humor, and all 
with an ease that made one listener 
strain often for the rope, and helped her 
to a fuller appreciation of her value to 
the Courier. 

The man they called Farouche began, 
immediately upon finishing his roast, to 
overwhelm Mamie with fulsome, lavish 
praise, interspersed with anecdotes of 
actresses and singers. The names im- 
pressed Mamie, but most of the jokes es- 
caped her. When he offered her a choice 
of wine, she gave a shocked "No," but 
Farouche insisted. "It's an insult to your 
hostess," he whispered; "you can't refuse. 
You are surely not an abstainer?" The 
scorn in his tone spurred her to an indig- 



nant denial, whiclisTre Mnstalitly re- 
gretted, for he kept urging her until she 
consented to take a little white wine for 
mere peace sake. When he persistently 
kept filling up the little space she could 
make in her glass, the girl began to grow 
dizzy, and Farouche's eyes uncomfortably 
warm. She looked up to find Ascot's 
gaze on her slow, lazy, humorous. His 
amusement heightened her discomfiture, 
and her uneasy glance wandered around 
the table, until it fell on Le Compte's 
boyish, open face. He alone of all the 
crowd she felt she could be at ease with: 
he was simple, uncomplicated, and she 
was awarding these attributes to the one 
who took the most pride in his decadent 
complexity. She turned her back on 
Farouche. "Tell me about all these peo- 
ple," she demanded with girlish direct- 
ness. "And Mrs. Kilgore. Who was 
she? Where is her husband?" 

Le Compte put a mysterious finger to 
his lips. "History is silent, and in Bo- 
hemia we don't ask. I don't think he 
is dead or even divorced, myself, but 
knocking about somewhere, disreputably, 
most probably. I shouldn't wonder if 
she supports him. There's a lot of un- 
suspected good in Mrs. Kilgore, though 
no one out of Bohemia will see it. The 
girl opposite with the dark eyes and 
white face is Miriam Sondheimer; works 
on the Courier. Just works. I have 
never seen her smile. The other girl's 
a man, or would like to be. Teaches 
the piano for a living, and turns to Bo- 
hemia for her fun. Farouche? Well, 
he's just Farouche, alias Charles Faroul. 
Does? That's his secret. He has an 
office down town, and draws a salary for 
being secretary of some scheme, but so 
little he can't possibly live on it. You 
can see him on Kearny street every day, 
at the play every night. Hold on tra- 
dition doth say he once did dramatic 
criticism: perhaps he does still. Ascot 
is fortunate in having a wealthy name, 
but he neither appreciates nor improves 
his advantages. Simply to ask him if he 
belongs to the New York Ascots will 
make him flare. There is something lack- 
ing in that fellow. One of his fairy-god- 
mothers must have refused her gifts. 
I think it's ambition or push. He sees 
things away ahead of us all, but is too 



10 



Overland Monthly. 



inert to turn his ideas into cash. He has 
been hanging around the Courier office 
lately, but does not seem to care to settle 
down to a regular job. Generous, 
though. He put me on to a scoop the 
other day, but the question is why he 
didn't work it up himself. The next man 
is Lieutenant Reilly, of the Tenth, sta- 
tioned at the Presidio, who ekes out his 
pay by writing an occasional short story 
good ones, too. The next two are Cour- 
ier special writers. The Tuxedo is Ben- 
ton. Society people, his folks. He thinks 
it smart just now to be Bohemian. And 
that's Farlow, business manager of the 
Courier. We're nearly always a Courier 
crowd. And I? Billy Compton, called 
Le Compte by his friends, plus epithets; 
by his enemies, a fool, plus epithets; 
who thinks he can write, pretends he 
can paint, and feels inspired ocasionally 
to make verses. I write for the Courier, 
too, and other journals I've mystified. 
I'm so oddly unique that they have given 
up guessing whether I'm altogether im- 
possible or wonderfully clever, and I 
trade on their uncertainty. They daren't 
snub me, for fear a rival paper will pick 
me up and fina a good thing. It's a good 
fin-de-siecle policy, mystification; it pays 
to be queer. There's a moral for deca- 
dents: 'Conceal thyself; puzzle the pub- 
lic.' It's not Billy Compton's the fool, 
but the people who take him seriously. 
There, don't give me away. Your eyes 
would draw secrets from a sphynx. Now 
tell me something about yourself." 

His manner was so boyishly ingratiat- 
ing that Mamie found herself describing, 
with now and then a homesick quaver in 
her voice, her home in Santa Rosa, the 
Methodist church where she had been 
both pupil and teacher; her, father, the 
pastor, whose strictures had so curtailed 
her ambition that she had had to employ 
deceit to get to San Francisco, where her 
instinct told her advancement was to be 
had. The quiet evenings over the chess 
board, the church social, the occasional 
function or picnic which she was allowed 
to attend; that was her life, which the 
girl painted simply, as yet without ridi- 
cule. It was later that she grew ashamed 
of the serene country existence, and put 
on the touches of humorous sarcasm, 
which turned the portrait into extolled 



caricatures, when the free and easy life 
around her began, as she thought, to 
broaden her, and she learned to look back 
with horror at the vise she had escaped. 
"That's a good setting for a story in 
the realistic style," observed Le Compte, 
analytically. "The rigid old minister and 
the narrow, bigoted church-set would do 
first rate." 

His criticism fell like a dash of cold 
water between the girl's eyes. It was 
her first glimpse of her life as viewed by 
other people, and she saw herself being 
classified as a green country girl. Was 
she alone then different from all the peo- 
ple in this big city, men and women with 
red blood in their veins, their lives drawn 
in broad, vigorous lines? Already she had 
picked up some of the catch-words float- 
ing around the board. Self-consciousness 
seized her, and she lapsed into a strained 
silence, toying nervously with her bread 
and butter. *Vas she being made game 
of, asked there for that very purpose? 
Her neck stiffened, but her silence so well 
encased her that the shy, quivering girl 
could never have been suspected in the 
haughty young goddess with the green 
light of disdain gleaming in her eyes. 
Farouche's voice recalled her. 
"Do I want what? A cigarette?" 
She laughed for the first time heartily. 
"We all smoke nowadays, don't we?" 
She played witn the cigarette as if it were 
the jest incarnate, a smile of fun danc- 
ing on her lips. She was glancing down 
at her hostess to include her in the joke, 
when at that moment Mrs. Kilgore's 
jewelled fingers lit her cigarette, and 
she daintily blew a ring of smoke into 
the air. Mamie's dropped to the floor. 
The other two women were smoking 
quite naturally. Farouche reclaimed it. 
"Shall I give you another?" 

"Oh, no, that will do I mean, I don't 
care that is, I won't smoke to-night!" 
Farouche insisted, drawing out a pack- 
age from his pocket, when Ascot's voice 
broke in. To the girl, it sounded in- 
solent, mocking: "Do they smoke in 
Santa Rosa, Miss Hawley?" 

She flashed a quick look at him, and 
was turning to again refuse Farouche, 
when Ascot spoke again. "Don't smoke, 
Miss Hawley. It's not your style." Her 
style! They were all mocking her; her 



THE 



The Transit 



a ^ 

it of Bohemiaf V)^ iV 



suspicions were raw 
with pain. She was 
being nerved to do 
whatever was not 
expected of her. Up 
to that moment she 
had had no intention 
of smoking, but none 
could have guessed 
it, as she bent co- 
quettishly towards 
Le Compte. "May I 
be capricious? And 
will you light it for 
me?" Ascot alone 
noticed that she took 
but one whiff. 

The attentions of 
the men after they 
left the table did a 
lot towards re-estab- 
lishing Mamie's self- 
confidence. It was a 
new and intoxicating 
tribute, this homage 
to her beauty, and 
quite submerged her 
fear that she was be- 
ing guyed for her 
raw, green countri- 
ness. It does not 
take long for a wo- 
man to learn that she 
has power over men, 
and Mamie flirted 
and grew haughty, 
was tender, then se- 
vere, with an ease 
she had not acquired 
in Santa Rosa. Ascot 
did not join her cir- 
cle that night, nor 
later, and she grew 
accustomed to find- 
ing his indifferent, 
slow stare following 
her out from some 
remote and solitary 
corner. She returned 
it with hostile inter- 
est, but those were 
the moments that 
her flippancy grew 
more theatric, her 
bonhomie more ex- 
aggerated. 




11 






Farouche. 



Drawn by Max Newberry. 



12 



Overland Monthly. 



When she rose to go that night, horri- 
fied at the hour, Farouche insisted on 
accompanying her home. Mamie fell to 
her first story. "I can't; I am sorry. You 
see, I have already promised " she 
looked vaguely around the room, past 
Farouche's warm eyes and Ascot's lazy 
stare, falling with relief on Billy Comp- 
ton's boyish, open face. "Have promised 
Mr. Compton." He came up eagerly. "Of 
course you have, but not Mr. Compton. 
Won't you call me Billy?" 

For the next few months Mamie Haw- 
ley was absorbed in climbing toward 
those dizzy heights where she couid write 
signed articles Bit by bit her old-fash- 
ioned impressions and prejudices were 
torn away effete superstitions, accord- 
ing to Le Compte's vocabulary. Not the 
easiest was the revolution of her ideas 
on her work. She saw the writings she 
had scorned, Frank Kilgore's, praised 
and upheld by men of all classes, knew it 
brought big pay, and felt in her heart that 
it was bad. There was no one to tell her 
it was to be judged by a different stand- 
ard, and so she had puzzled until Mrs. 
Kilgore herself took her in hand, taught 
her newspaperese, and the tricks thereof, 
pointed out the value of the short, crisp 
sentence, the timely epigram, the refrain. 
The periodic sentences which Mamie 
loved were torn to shreds, until the girl's 
taste began to change, finally reaching 
the stage of ingenious wonder that 
Thome had seen any merit in her puerile 
stuff. With long hours, hard, dogged 
work, late suppers and the continuous 
excitement so new to her, Mamie devel- 
oped great hollows in ner cheeks, lost 
almost altogether her trick of blushing, 
and was taught the use of rouge. Le 
Compte had immediately appointed him- 
self one of her guides, and even more 
than Mrs. Kilgore had directed and con- 
trolled her evolution. He opened up un- 
dreamed of vistas of intellectual research, 
made her dizzy with false quantities and 
fourth dimensions, occult lore and spirit- 
ualistic seances. The girl for months 
walked as one in a dream, until the haze 
eventually slipped off from the present, 
and back to the banta Rosa past, which 
now seemed a prison from which she had 
burst. She learned to listen to decadent 
prattle without surprise, and adopted 



without misgivings the mottoes of her 
circle, where as yet she had run 
against no sin, where brain was the high- 
est good, stupidity the only crime, where 
goodness itself was an interesting acci- 
dent, never a goal. The girl's innate pur- 
ity blinded her suspicions, as her pride 
and ignorance made her an eager neo- 
phyte in what she thought the higher cul- 
ture of a big city. 

Were it not for one or two hard knocks 
against her vanity, the blatant admiration 
of the men might have turned her head. 
One of the most persistent of her admir- 
ers was Wallace Benton, whose people, as 
Le Compte had explained, were in so- 
ciety; but to Mamie's inexperience the 
distinction was not one of kind, but of 
degree of wealth. After she grew accus- 
tomed to his attentions, to which she 
put a different prefix, Mamie often inno- 
cently shared with him her desire to meet 
his sister, who was declared to be the 
most beautiful woman in society. She 
never noticed or questioned his silence, 
or his evasive declarations that his sis- 
ter's beauty did not compare with Miss 
Hawley's, "who was the most beautiful 
woman in the world!" 

It happened once that Mamie was de- 
tailed to write up the charities of promi- 
nent society women, and to her delight 
discovered Miss Benton's name on the 
list. Later, her reception by the major- 
ity chilled her determination to mention 
her friendship with Wallace to his sis- 
ter. It would come better from her. Of 
course, he had spoken of her, but no one 
could have guessed it from Miss Benton, 
who was graciousness itself in a gray 
peignore, giving her information gener- 
ously to the young reporter, who was dis- 
missed so skillfully that the fact escaped 
her. The same night, at tne horse-show, 
which she and Mrs. Kilgore were writing 
up, they came face to face with the Ben- 
tons, brother and sister. Mamie stopped 
short, her great eyes smiling over the 
opportunity to Wallace, who lifted his 
hat stiffly and passed on. 

Mrs. Kilgore laughed, as the unskillful 
rouge went into total eclipse. "Did you 
think he would introduce you?" she 
quizzed. "My Queenie, you've a lot to 
learn. Do you know what they are prob- 
ably saying? 'Who's the girl, Wallace?' 



The Transit of Bohemia. 



13 



she mimicked the beauty's drawl admir- 
ably. 'Oh, just one of tnose reporters 
who are always interviewing us. We 
have to bow to them, you know.' But you 
need not snub him for that. He would 
not understand if you did. Why should 
he dream of treating you any differently? 
He's accepted my hospitality for these 
last two years, weekly. Would he ask 
me to his house? But no one could ac- 
cuse him of ingratitude. He gives dinners 
at his club, sends me flowers, candy, 
and we are quits. ' 

Mamie followed them with a hot, re- 
sentful stare, which changed into active 
curiosity as she saw Billy Compton beck- 
oned cordially by both brother and sister 
to their stall. Mrs. Kilgore followed her 
gaze. "You think that funny? Le petit 
Compte's a genius. Everybody's glad to 
know him. Besides, he's a man, and a Bo- 
hemian flavor aa^s to the charm. If you 
happen to be a woman, you've got to 
choose. You'd shine in society, Queenie 
but take my word, there's more fun 
in Bohemia." 

Mamie learned to look lightly upon 
such experiences; they dwindled into pet- 
tiness by some of the work she had to 
do. She often quitted places with quick 
indignant feet, and the determination to 
give it all up. Only Mrs. Kilgore's fre- 
quent presence and calming word held 
her disgust in check, and kept her from 
straining at the snaffle. One day she was 
given an inquest to report, a significant 
distinction, Mrs. Kilgore assured her, as 
she was to do it alone. She had started 
off confidently with Miss Walsh, one of 
the illustrators, and had begun taking 
notes, when she suddenly startled her 
collaborator by rushing from the room. 
Mamie dashed headlong back to the Cour- 
ier office, and up the steep stairs. With 
blazing eyes she confronted Thorne. 

"You should not have sent me there, 
Mr. Thorne, nor Miss Walsh. It's a man's 
job. You had better send one down right 
away." 

Thorne was aghast. "Do you mean 
that you left before they finished?" 

"They have only just begun. You have 
plenty of time. And just here, Mr. Thorne, 
you need not send me to write up such 
things again. I will not do it." 



Thorne waved his hand. "I'll hear you 
later." He rang a bell. "Call Miss Sond- 
heimer." Then: "You might as well get 
accustomed to it. It's all in the day's 
work." A pale Jewish girl came in and 
was instantly dispatched. Thorne turned 
back to his desk as though he had forgot- 
ten Mamie's presence. She soon remind- 
ed him. "You might as well understand 
it now, once for all, Mr. Thorne. I have 
had to do one or two things that came 
pretty hard, that no girl should be asked 
to do. You can give me longer hours, 
or harder work, but you must not send 
me to those places again." 

Thorne looked up coolly into the angry 
eyes. The picnic, the address from a 
small Methodist pulpit, a few day's hos- 
pitality, prodded neither his memory nor 
his gratitude. "In other words, you are 
asking for a soft snap. Don't you think 
that's a bit too confident? You would 
have to show more brilliant promise 
than you already have done to drive us 
to create for you the position you want. 
Perhaps you would like to be a special 
writer for the Courier?" 

His mockery lashed her pride. "I can 
see your alternative. You want me to 
go." Thorne had not meant that exact- 
ly, but he thought she needed the lesson. 
He let her go, as he had let such others 
before her, confident that her place would 
see her on the morrow. 

Mamie Hawley walked slowly down the 
stairs. Before she reached the foot she 
had reaped the full realization of what 
she had done. The Santa Rosa Mercury 
loomed up gloomily before her. On the 
street she met Ascot. They exchanged 
a few words, and were parting, when the 
girl put out her hand. "Good-bye, Mr. 
Ascot. I am going home. Yes, I've been 
turned off." She told him the story, to 
which Ascot listened attentively. "And 
you don't want to go?" 

Mamie gave an impetuous gesture. 
"Leave this?" The city's attractions had 
never pulled so hard. "How could I? Oh, 
you have never lived in Santa Rosa!" 
Her voice broke between a laugh and a 
sob. 

"It is probably not as bad as you 
think," Ascot volunteered. "Thorne says 
more than he means when he's hot. Wait 



14 



Overland Monthly. 



here till I come back. I'll interview him." 
And he ran up the stairs, taking two at 
a time. 

He returned almost immediately. "It's 
all fixed," he said. "You're to work 
for the Sunday edition, and you can dis- 
criminate a little, if you want. Of course, 
you will not get as good pay," he hesita- 
ted. "But it's better for you." 

Mamie's eyes were wide. "How did 
you ever manage it?" 

He fenced with her curiosity. "Didn't 
I say that you thought it worse than it 
really was? You don't know how to 
manage Thome. Pyrotechnics do no 
good." 

"How can * ever thank you?" The 
great green eyes were full of gratitude. 
Ascot turned to look at a passing cab. 

"I didn't have anything to do with it. 
It's on your own merit, notning else." The 
girl's unconcealed gratification repaid 
him for the lie. 

He fell into step by her side, and they 
walked up the street together. It was 
their first tete-a-tete, which Mamie tried 
to take advantage of. She plied him 
with questions about his work; his anom- 
alous position on the Courier had always 
piqued her curiosity. "No, I don't write," 
he acknowledged. "I wish I could." 

"But you can," she urged. "Le Compte 
says that you are cleverer than all the 
rest of them ; that you are always putting 
them on to something or other that you 
might use yourself." 

"But they can do it so much better," 
he answered, to bring out her eager re- 
tort. Mamie preached a lesson on ambi- 
tion, enjoying the novel experience of 
being humbly listened to. 

"I guess I am lazy," he admitted. 

"You are," was the swift response. "And 
you should have a motive. Your ambi- 
tion should be your representative. How 
else can we know you?" and she deliv- 
ered a little address on personality, brist- 
ling with thoughts and expressions 
picked up in the studios and at Mrs. Kil- 
gore's. 

She paused for breath, and Ascot took 
up the thread. "You are right. And 1 
am going to begin, pretty soon. But 1 
have not always been lazy. Look at my 
hands." He offered two calloused palms 



for inspection. "That's from hard labor 
in Colorado and Texas. That thumb has 
been broken twice; tried to break in a 
broncho, and he broke my thumb. That 
little finger was nearly cut off once, saw- 
ing wood for a cabin I built, and after- 
wards lived like a king in. That was in 
Arizona." He slipped into a description 
of the country, and the wild rugged life 
there, passing over his own. The girl 
saw him through a new interest. His 
laziness was latent strength, his lean- 
ness tough fibre. And she woke to a dis- 
covery of well-knit shoulders, dark, firm 
hands. 

On the stoop of her humble boarding 
house, Mamie graciously held out her 
hand. "I retract a little, Mr. Ascot. You 
have not been lazy, though you certainly 
are now. Are you going to Russian Hill 
to-night? So am I." 

At Mrs. Kilgore's that evening Mamie's 
change of work was variously commented 
on. Mrs. Kilgore deplored the girl's lack 
of ambition, but the other women openly 
envied her luck. Miriam Sondheimer 
alone kept quiet. There was just one less 
in her way anu hers was a hard struggle. 

"You'll grow contented," Mrs. Kilgore 
prophesied. "The end is inevitable. I've 
seen it hundreds of times. You will 
earn just barely enough to support you, 
and you'll let that satisfy you, and then 
you'll get married, and settle down like 
Marie Bashkirtseff s blanchisseuse, 'qui 
peut faire autant.' " 

"I stand up for la blanchisseuse," said 
Le Compte, moving nearer to Mamie. 
"Nature's not altogether to be condemn- 
ed." 

Mrs. Kilgore held up protesting hands, 
white, firm, vigorous. 

"When Le Compte falls to upholding 
nature, something's going to happen. He 
will take to writing of loves and doves, 
and lambs and rams, and sparkling 
brooks and shady nooks! Let's avert 
that disaster. Farouche, will you sing 
that bit of Swinburne you set to music? 
Mamie, there's a hair-pin falling!" She 
leaned over the girl, and was re-inserting 
the pin, when a sudden impulse seized 
her. One hand smoothed and patted 
Mamie's head, while the other pulled 
out detaining hair-pins. Before she could 




Mamie Hawley. 



Drawn by Max Newberry. 



16 



Overland Monthly. 



turn or cry out, the girl's wonderful hair 
was down. A thrill went through the 
room, as it rippled and sparkled under 
the colored lanterns, changing her into 
a gleaming bronze statue. 

Farouche leaned over and picked up 
a long lock, when Mamie's anger broke 
through her stupefaction. She started as 
if stung, and rushed from the room, 
which was left awkwardly quiet. When 
she came back he hat was pinned over 
her hair sleek and prim from angry wet- 
ting. She walked straight up to Le 
Compte. 

"Billy, I'm going home!" and her fare- 
wells were stiff. 

Mrs. Kilgore shrugged. "I didn't know 
she would take it like that. The girl's 
getting stupid. So's Le Compte. I wonder 
will she marry him? Would you have 
believed he had it in him to care as he 
does? But isn't she beautiful? She 
would make herself famous in society, 
and she will probably settle down with 
Billy and a hundred and fifty a month. 
Where's Mascot? Gone too? Well, now 
the stupid ones have left, we will have a 
quiet little game. Shall it be poker?" 

A month later Mamie was bidden to a 
state dinner at Mrs. Kilgore's. "To meet 
the new owner of the Courier," the note 
ran. She dressed for the occasion with 
unusual care and excitement, arriving at 
Russian Hill a little late, and joined the 
expectant circle. Presently their hostess 
arose and made a little speech. Now 
that they were all assembled, she 
would make an announcement that would 
surprise them as much as it had her; it 
would be public property to-morrow. The 
Courier had been bought by Eastern 
wealth, not by a syndicate, but by a man 
of wide and varied experiences, though 
never before interested in journalistic 
work. He had ueen making it a thorough 
study for some months past. "Ladies and 
Bohemians," she waved her white hand 
dramatically. "It gives me pleasure to 
present our new head, Mr. John Lathrop 
Ascot." Her words met a responsive 
thrill. "And now, Mr. Ascot, your arm. 
We will go down to dinner." 

To Mamie, the meal passed dizzily. 
Ascot was in the center of the tangle, 
and suspicions began to worry her. As- 



cot was with Thorne when she first went 
to the Courier office. She had often won- 
dered since why she had been taken at 
all; was it to Ascot she owed it? And 
when she lost her place, and was so eas- 
ily re-instated, Ascot had assured her 
that she was of value, that the Courier 
did not want to lose her. How simple he 
must have thought her, and how vain! 
Mrs. Kilgore's words came back and 
taunted her. "Now I see why Thorne 
took you. It's your eyes. You can write 
just as badly as you probably do, and 
they won't send you off." So it was that. 
And she had thought Ascot different from 
the rest; they were all alike. An uneasi- 
ness that had been with her for weeks 
past was taking on sudden growth. What 
sort of life was it she was growing accus- 
tomed to? Were not all their standards 
artificial and bewildering, and wrong? 
Were not the creeds that she had thought 
they believed all pretense, decadent cant? 
Billy alone was honest enough to confess 
it, and she enraptured him with a sudden 
tender glance, tie was different, too, 
from the rest, in that he really loved 
her. She could not love him, though she 
had honestly tried. Did she know why? 
She looked at him critically, and then 
turned back to her plate. 

Mrs. Kilgore's voice startled her. 
"Fingers were made before forks, Mamie. 
Take the goods the way the gods provide 
them. There's but one way to eat a duck. 
Isn't there, Mascot?" She leaned with 
familiar tenderness towards her neigh- 
bor. Mamie recognized a new note, and 
it jarred through and through her. "This 
way." 

Mamie's glance moved up from the 
white, heavily-jeweled fingers, grasping 
the greasy duck, to the bright hard face 
above with the cold, sparkling eyes, and 
she picked up her knife and fork antago- 
nistically. She would do nothing like 
Mrs. Kilgore. An aversion that had be- 
gun that first day in the Courier office, 
and that had been smothered all these 
months, broke out now in sullen flames. 
A sombre resentment burned against the 
woman whom she now arraigned as hav- 
ing misdirected her ambitions, perverted 
her ideals. How was she to have known 
better? And a sudden maternal pity for 



The Transit of Bohemia. 



17 



the ignorant girl of a year past shook 
her. What was it that had kept 
alive a few ideals, kept her from going 
the lengths that others had? She fiercely 
analyzed, and in the heat of her scorch- 
ing self-condemnation overlooked her 
early training, ignored in her blind hon- 
esty her own strength of character. Was 
it not really because she wanted to seem 
different from the rest to Ascot, who 
had seemed to stand aloof and judge the 
giddy mob with superb superiority? Was 
it not his smile alone which had so often 
egged her on to hard flippancy, silly 
words? Her ears tingled. And he was 
like the rest. He had lounged through 
Bohemia for the fun he could get out of 
it, not from force of circumstances or to 
gain inspiration from fellow workers. 
And it was Ascot who had kept her on the 
Courier because he thought her pretty! 
A whisper blew past her. 

"Frank Kilgore's making a dead set at 
Ascot. I wonder if it's not too late to 
trap him?" 

The girl shivered with disgust. Why 
had she not seen long before how coarse 
they all were? She wished it were time 
to go home, and welcomed the sudden up- 
rising from the table. She wandered out 
to one of the balconies, and leaned her 
hot cheek against a vine-covered post. 
The city with its twinkling lights, the 
dark waters of the bay, on which ships 
swung at anchor, lay below her, but her 
eyes were unseeing. She hud reached 
that point where thinking and seeing are 
alike impossible where she could only 
feel. 

A little later Ascot stepped out into 
the porch. He laughed lazily as he saw 
two figures outlined in close embrace 
against the sky. "I beg your pardon," 
and he was retreating when he caught a 
glimpse, of bronze hair. He stood for 
a moment irresolute, when he heard a 
struggle, and a low, stifled "Farouche, 
don't you dare." 

He was at her side in an instant. "You 
cur!" The lean, lithe arms awoke to 
sudden activity, and before Mamie real- 
ized she was free she saw Ascot's slight 
figure leaning over the flowered railing, 
with Farouche's big bulk balancing over 
a dizzy height. 



Mamie gasped, and Ascot turned to re- 
assure her. "I am not going to hurt 
the geraniums, Miss Hawley! There, you 
scoundrel, grab that post and slide down. 
Hold on tight, for a fall from here would 
be final. I will make your excuses to 
your hostess. Want your hat? Non- 
sense the air will cool your head!" 

He turned to the girl, who was silently 
crying. It was a new sensation, that of 
being protected, and infinitely touching. 
Ascot's blase manner had disappeared in 
his encounter with Farouche. 

He took her in masterful arms. "Dear, 
let me do what I should have liked to 
killed that cur for doing. This excite- 
ment has been telling on you, I could see," 
and he talked on until the tears had dis- 
appeared and a smile hovered in their 
place. 

"But why," said Mamie, breaking into 
his narrative, "why didn't you ever tell 
me that you were responsible tor my get- 
ting the place, or getting it bactc, instead 
of letting me guess it in that miserable 
way?" 

Ascot's answer betrayed a little knowl- 
edge of the world and of women. "I 
wanted to get your love, but not that way, 
dear. Not that I mistrusted you, but I 
was afraid of gratitude. I suppose it 
was vain, but I wanted to be loved for 
myself. There are disadvantages at- 
tached to being the son of a millionaire. 
Yes, that part's true. You will be a 
princess sure enough, Queenie, if manner 
and money can do it." 

He caught a scrap of self-arraignment. 
"I'm too good? You don't know what 
you are saying, Mamie. You are too good 
for a fellow like me. I have not watched 
you for nothing all this year. How many 
girls could have gone through this whirl- 
pool and come out unscathed? Just my 
Queen. You thought I was too good to 
mix in? A man who knows his Paris and 
Vienna as well as I do, does not find this 
cheap imitation alluring. That's all. It's 
not to my credit. I've reformed and set- 
tled down, but I am not fit to kiss 
the hem of your gown," and he kissed 
her full on the lips. "I have reasoned 
it all out and rigged up some sort of cloak 
of self-respect. See, dear. If a boy has 
energy and enthusiasm and money, he 



18 



Overland Monthly. 



can find an easy outlet for it in Paris, 
unless it's been otherwise directed, and a 
rich man's son is rarely taught the salva- 
tion of work. I had to do something. 
By and bye I grew tired of that sort of 
exhaustion and drifted out there to Tex- 
as, where I tried physical labor. I 
worked like a horse for four years, get- 
ting brawn. But my brain was not kept 
busy, and I decided it was mental work 
that I needed, so I came up here, and 
have been taking lessons from Thome, 
from Mrs. Kilgore yes, from you, dear. 
I have been studying the machinery of a 
big paper for fourteen months now, and 
not for nothing, I hope. The Courier is 
to be the journal of the West, and its 
motto will be work. That's our new 
Gospel." 

And she had called him lazy. Her hero! 
Mamie covered her eyes with her hands 
for fear he could read something there 
she was yet too shy to altogether surren- 
der. Just then Mrs. Kilgore came out 
on the porch with a repousS tray of 
Russian cigarettes. She airily lit Ascot's, 
then Mamie's, her flashing rings reflect- 



ing back the star-light. "Where's 
Farouche? I thought I saw him come 
out. I promised I'd play an accompani- 
ment." 

As she passed through the open win- 
dow, Ascot flung his cigarette far out 
into the night. His hands closed over 
Mamie's. The girl had shrunk closer to 
him. "What do you say to Santa Rosa 
for a while?" he asked irrelevantly. "Un- 
til I get the wheels moving here. Then 
we will go for a holiday somewhere to- 
gether, wherever you choose. See, 
Mamie ! " He took the cigarette from her 
docile fingers and dropped it over the rail, 
and together they watched its fading 
Hght as it fell down past the brightly-lit 
windows and until it was swallowed up 
in the darkness of the hill. His clasp 
tightened on the girl's warm fingers. 
"And so passes Bohemia!" Mamie 
glanced over her shoulder at Billy Comp- 
ton's boyish profile by the window, and 
then up to the lean brown face above 
hers, and there was a queer break in 
her voice, half laughter, half sob, as she 
echoed, "And so passes Bohemia!" 



Late Dusk on the Golden Gate 



BY THEODORE GONTZ. 

Death of light and sun 

And the fading day 
Turn the hills to dun 

And the tides to gray. 
He has gone his way; 

And in chilly state 
Dimmed to leaden gray 

Sits the Golden Gate. 




N English peer will raise his hat 
to the wearer of the coveted Vic- 
toria Cross, and throughout the 
entire British Empire it would be diffi- 
cult to find a man, 
woman or child 
who did not know 
what that medal 
signified. Even- the 
bit of purple or 
blue ribbon on the 
fatigue tunic means 
as much to the 
passer-by as the 
shoulder knot of a 
Major-General. Un- 
fortunately, the 
general American 
public is not suffi- 
ciently informed 
upon the subject of 
our own national 
heroes to recognize 
the ribbon or deco- 
ration when they 
see it. We are rub- 
bing elbows each 
day with men who 
have faced death 

in battle with for- Col. Marion P. Maus. 
eign foes and native 

savages, men who have played parts of 
thrilling interest in the life on the great 
plains of the frontier. We applaud the 
pretended hero of the drama and forget 




the hero of real life. There are a num- 
ber of Medal of Honor men on duty on 
the Pacific Coast to-day whose actions 
have won them recognition of a nation.' 
They wear a lit- 
tle bronze bauble 
on their coats, but 
that bit of bronze 



has been 
bought by 
action in 
The list of 



dearly 
heroic 
battle, 
heroes 



knows no rank or 
color. 

For several years 
after the Indian 
campaigns had 
closed, the oppor- 
tunity of winning a 
Medal of Honor 
was very slight, 
and until the Span- 
ish war broke out, 
there were only a 
few of them con- 
ferred after the 
Civil War list was 
completed. Even 
during the Spanish 
conflict there were 
very few issued. 

I sat in the Army and Navy Club in Wash- 
ington one day after the war, and dis- 
cussed the events of the Cuban campaign 
with a British officer. He had followed 



Thors. Photo. 



20 



Overland Monthly. 



the thrilling events of the Santiago cam- 
paign with the Fifth Army Corps, and had 
been afforded the opportunity of witness- 
ing many brave deeds. I asked him what 
he thought of the work of our men and 
his reply was a compliment such as Eng- 
lish gentlemen know so well. 

"I am afraid," he said, "that had this 
been our row, Victoria Crosses would 
have given out." 

Along the boulevards of Paris may be 
seen hundreds of men wearing the cov- 
eted bit of red of the Legion of 
Honor of 
France, but 
few of them 
wear it for 
vaior in bat- 
tle. Most of 
them ga- 
ined the dis- 
tinction for 
manufactur- 
ing some sup- 
erior brand 
of chocolate, 
a well-toned 
piano, or 
some thing 
else. This 
does not re- 
flect upon the 
order estab- 
lished by the 
First Con- 
sul, for his 
very aim was 
to honor all 
walks in life. 

Throughout 
the German 
Empire, one 
meets the 
plain Iron 

Cross of Prussia, created by Fred- 
erick William III., March 1813, and this 
includes civil as well as military men in 
its list of honor, but only in time of war. 
The ribbon of the cross shows whether 
the wearer has won it from a military or 
civil source. 

The military Order of St. George of 
Russia is the highest honor of the Czar's 
realm, but it is bestowed for such acts as 
taking a fortress, defending a position or 
capturing officers of high rank, all re- 




Major General W. R. Shatter. 



quiring bravery, but strictly in the line 
of duty. 

The Military Order of Merit of Spain 
is the coveted decoration of that coun- 
try, and is divided into various classes, 
according to rank and station. It is also 
conferred for reward of long service and 
conscientious attention to duty. 

The nearest approach to the American 
decoration is the Victoria Cross of Eng- 
land, a simple bronze cross pendant from 
a purple or blue ribbon for the army and 
navy respectively. Upon the cross are the 

simple words 
"For Valour," 
and these 
two words 
tell the en- 
tire story. 
The cross 
was institut- 
ed by Queen 
Victoria in 
1856, and is 
awarded only 
to those offi- 
cers or men, 
who in the 
presence of 
the enemy 
shall have 
per formed 
some signal 
act of valor 
or devotion 
to their coun- 
try. Should 
the wearer of 
one of the 
crosses again 
merit the 
decoration he 
receives a 
bar, to be 

worn on the ribbon, instead of receiving 
the second cross. Privates and sailors 
receive a pension of 10 a year and an 
additional 5 for each bar. 

The feature of the Victoria Cross that 
is most commendable to the use in con- 
nection with our Medal of Honor is the 
use of the initials of the order after the 
name, as: Private John Burnes, V. C. 
The use of the letters give the distinction 
to the name at all times, and should be 
adopted in the case of our decoration. 



Tuber. Photo. 



Our Legion of Honor. 



21 



The Legion of Honor of this country is 
almost as old as the nation itself, although 
it has gone through several changes. 

In 1782, General Washington founded 
the original American Order of Merit, but 
at that time the badge worn was a nar- 
row strip of white braid worn on the 
left arm. In 1862, Congress perpetuated 
the order by having dies sunk and medals 
struck off to be conferred when deserved. 
The Medal of 
Honor con- 
sists of a 
simple badge 
of bronze, 
hung from a 
bar and 
shield. The 
ribbon has 
been changed 
since the Civ- 
il War, and 
is now a de- 
sign of silk 
one i n ch 
wide and one 
inch long; 
the center 
stripe is of 
white one- 
sixteenth of 
an inch wide, 
flanked on ei- 
ther side by 
a stripe of 
blue seven 
thir t y - s e c - 
onds of an 
inch wide, 
bordered by 
two stripes 
of red, each 
one - quarter 
of an inch 
wide. 

In civilian 
dress the 
Medal of 

Honor man may wear a small bow knot 
of ribbon of the same design. 

The posts about San Francisco are well 
represented by our nation's heroes, and 
every day we rub elbows with men who 
have done deeds of sufficient valor to 
claim reward at the hands of a grateful 




Private Dennis Bell. 



and appreciative government. 

General Shatter won his Medal of 
Honor at the battle of Fair Oaks, on May 
31, 1862, while he was a First Lieuten- 
ant of the 7th Michigan Infantry. He 
was in command of a pioneer corps 
and acted with most distinguished gal- 
lantry throughout the action. Those are 
the words of the official report, but be- 
hind that there is a story of how this 

young Michi- 
gan Lieuten- 
ant fought 
throug h o u t 
the entire 
day although 
severe 1 y 
wounded. As 
a boy he 
showed the 
same cour- 
age, determi- 
nation, and 
won d e r f u 1 
grit which I 
saw him 
show in our 
war with 
Spain. I 
shall always 
admire the 
spirit of Gen- 
eral Sh after 
who heard, 
while on a 
sick bed that 
Gen. Miles 
had arrived 
and was com- 
ing to his 
headquarters. 
He kicked 
aside doc- 
tors and med- 
icines, called 
for his boots 
and horse, 
met the Com- 
manding General, and rode all day with 
him along the trenches. It took more 
good solid nerve to conquer that sick- 
ness and pain than it would to face a 
hundred guns, but on that day I thought 
as I saw him, a sick man, ride away, that 
the General had the same sort of stuff in 



22 Overland 

him that the Lieutenant did when he 
fought through the bloody fields of Fair 
Oaks, although severely wounded. 

Colonel Oliver D. Green is another of 
the officers living in San Francisco who 
won the coveted prize on the fields of the 
great Civil War. It was at the battle of 
Antietam, September 17, 1862, that the 
chance came for Colonel Green to secure 
for himself a place on the nation's roll 
of heroes. He was on the staff of the 
commander of the Sixth Army corps, and 
his daring work on that eventful day 
brought rec- 
ognition. 

About two 
and one-half 
million men 
fought for 
their coun- 
try on the 
Union side 
during the 
great strug- 
gle of '61-65, 
and of this 
great num- 
ber only two 
thousand of 
these decora- 
tions of hon- 
or were is- 
sued. Of 
this number, 
864 were is- 
sued to one 
regiment, and 
in connection 
with the is- 
sue of these 
medals is the 
story of a 
blunder o f 
some official 
in the War 
Departm e n t 
wher e b y Brig. General O. F. Long, 
about 560 men received txie medal who 
were not entitled to it. 

Just before the battle of Gettysburg, 
when Lee's forces were invading Pennsyl- 
vania, the 27th Maine Infantry was at Ar- 
lington Heighu, Virginia, preparatory to 
being sent home to be mustered out. Ow- 
ing to the uncertainty of the result of the 
battle about to be fought and considering 




Monthly. 

the fact that, should it go against the arms 
of the Northern army, the result would 
be serious, President Lincoln requested 
this regiment to remain in service a short 
time longer until the result of the battle 
be known. About three hundred officers 
and men volunteered for the additional 
service, although their time had expired. 
They remained at Arlington Heights un- 
til Gettysburg favored tne Union, and 
then they were sent home on July 4th. 
The remainder of the regiment, about 
560 officers and men, did not volunteer, 

and were 
sent home 
before the 
great battle 
was fought. 
The entire 
regiment was 
then muster- 
ed out on the 
17th of July, 
at Portland, 
Maine. 

To reward 
the men who 
voluntee red 
this extra 
field service 
and who 
stood ready 
to return to 
the field 
should their 
services be 
needed, the 
President de- 
cided to give 
each of them 
a Medal of 
Honor, as 
they had vol- 
unteered for 
duty other 
than that 
Webster. Photo, that which 
they were required to perform. Owing 
to some mistake every man in the regi- 
ment received a medal when he was mus- 
tered out, and in this manner 560 men 
who had no right to it received the 
highest honor of the nation. The un- 
fortunate part of the whole incident is 
that the records do not show the names 
of those who volunteered to remain and 



Our Legion of Honor. 



23 



those who went home at an hour when 
the country needed their services. 

Of late years the War Department and 
Congress have not been so free with 
these decorations as they were in the 
Civil War, but even at that time they 
were very difficult to obtain. Now, the 
act must be something of great merit 
and generally outside the regular call 
of duty or the direct saving of life in 
action. 

The various campaigns against the hos- 
tile Indians have developed a number 
of men worthy of the honor of pinning 
the Medal of Honor to their coats. Under 
the cold wording of the official reason for 
conferring the medal to these brave sol- 
diers is many a thrilling tale, many a 
story of the marvelous courage of these 
brave men fighting a savage foe where 
defeat meant torture and death. 

General John D. Babcock, the Adju- 
tant-General of tnis department, and 
whose office is in the army headquarters 
in the Phelan building, won his medal at 
Spring Creek, Nebraska, on May 16th, 
1869. Colonel Babcock was then merely 
a First Lieutenant of the Fifth Cavalry, 
and was out scouting when his force was 
attacked by a very much larger force of 
Indians. The Indians outnumbered Lieu- 
tenant Babcock's followers six to one, 
but he advanced just the same, and took 
a position on a bit of high ground where 
he dismounted his troop and fought 
until he was relieved by the appearance 
of the main body of cavalry. All through 
the fight, although he cautioned his men 
to keep to cover, Lieutenant Babcock 
remained mounted until finally his horse 
was killed under him. 

Colonel Marion P. Maus, who is now 
Inspector General of this department, was 
one of those brave men who faced the 
terrors of the deserts and mountains 
of New Mexico in the daring pursuit 
and final capture of Geronimo and Nat- 
chez, the hostile Apaches, whose cruel 
raids spread terror among the settlers of 
that portion of the Southwest in the early 
eighties. During an action against the 
followers of these noted chieftains on 
January 11, 1886, Colonel Maus so dis- 
tinguished himself as to receive the high- 
est recognition from Congress. He was 



then a First Lieutenant of the First In- 
fantry, the same regiment that was sta- 
tioned at the Presidio at the outbreak of 
hostilities with Spain. 

Brigadier General Oscar F. Long, who 
has charge of the great transport service 
between here and the Orient, also won 
his Medal of Honor in an Indian fight. 
General Long was then a Second Lieu- 
tenant of the 5th Infantry, and was acting 
as aide-de-camp to the Colonel command- 
ing the expedition. The command was in 
action at Wounded Knee Creek, South 
Dakota. A party of Indians was conceal- 
ed in a ravine, and General Long volun- 




Brig. General J. B. Babcock. Genthe. Photo. 

teered to lead an attacking party to dis- 
lodge them. It is the performance of 
a duty like this that gives great value 
to the medal, as it was won by an act 
entirely aside from the line of duty. 

I have given the records of several 
general officers and others of high rank 
who wear the Medal of Honor in this de- 
partment, but in each case they won the 
coveted honor many years ago. One 
of the latest additions to the list is 
Private Dennis Bell, "H" Troop, 10th 
U. S. Cavalry, one of the colored regi- 



24 



Overland Monthly. 



ments that fought so gallantly under 
General Young during the Santiago cam- 
paign. Congress shows no distinction in 
bestowing the highest decoration. There 
is no color, no position, no rank but that 
may receive it if the opportunity is 
offered and grasped. 

On June 30, Iod8, at Tayabacoa, Cuba, 
the opportunity came to Dennis Beii 
and three of his comrades, all of his own 
regiment and all colored troopers. The 
others were Fitzhugh Lee and George 
Warrington o^ "I" troop, and James 
Tompson of "G" Troop. 

A force was landed and was heavily 
engaged by a largely superior force of 
Spanish and was compelled to withdraw 
to the boats, leaving a number of killed 
and wounded on the shore. Private Bell 
and his three comrades instantly volun- 
teered to return to endeavor to rescue 
their woundeu comrades. They dashed 
up the fire-swept beach and succeeded in 



carrying off all the men who had fallen, 
and thereby saved them from death or 
at least from capture. Several previous 
attempts to rescue these wounded men 
had been frustrated before it was finally 
accomplished. 

Captain William R. Parnell, having re- 
tired, makes his home in San Francisco, 
and is also one of those who wear the 
medal. At White Bird Canyon, Idaho, 
June 17, 1877, while First Lieutenant of 
the First Cavalry, he saved the life of a 
trooper. The troop was retreating 
through a canyon pursued by a large 
force of Indians, and while crossing a 
marsh a trooper's horse was killed and 
the rider left in the swamp. Lieutenant 
Parnell returned in the face of a very 
heavy fire from the Indians, and rescued 
him. The loss of his troop in the fight 
was exceptionally heavy. There were 
fourteen killed and one wounded, out of 
fifty-four men. 





r- T-/HE Nineteenth Century gave to the 
some illustrious names of Jew- 



-L. ish origin, and among them shine 
those of several women. Some of the best 
blood of the noble and princely houses 
of France, Germany and Austria is Jew- 
ish, mainly through the intermarriage 
of Jewish women with Gentiles. In noble 
circles the social lights of Jewish birth 
most prominent during the century that 
has just closed were the Duchesse de 
Gramont and the Prinzessin von Wa- 
gram, both of whom were daughters of 
the Rothschilds of Frankfurt.. These 
ladies were rich, cultured and socially 
powerful in the higher circles in which 
they moved, although Bismarck's grand- 
mother, Mme. Menkin, daughter of the 
courtier Menkin, favorite of Frederick 
the Great, might be said to have eclipsed 
both of these women in a higher sense 
by infusing into the blood of the Iron 
Chancellor some of the blood of the 
chosen people. Psychologists are always 
ready to admit that such an intermingling 
of Jewish and Gentile blood is apt to 
be productive of augmented physical 
strength and intellectual acumen, not 
to speak of commanding genius, and they 
would probably acquiesce in the writer's 
belief that the Israelitish blood that 
flowed in Bismarck's veins had something 
to do with his iron will and massive in- 
tellect. 

Among the French nobility rise up be- 
fore us the mother of the Due de Riche- 
lieu, who was an American Jewess, she 
having been the daughter of Michael 
Heine, the well-known New Orleans ban- 
ker. By this marriage of Heine's daugh- 



ter with the House of Richelieu, Jewish 
blood began to flow in one of the proud- 
est of French families. The great French 
General Marechal MacMahon had for 
his sister-in-law the Jewish Baroness 
Sina, of a noble Austrian house, who mar- 
ried first the Due de Castries and after- 
ward the Viscount d'Harcourt, while an- 
other French General, Boulanger, of less 
savory reputation, found in the Jewess the 
Vicomptesse de Tradern one of his firmest 
supporters during his checkered and am- 
bitious career. In the hour of his falling 
glory it was the Vicomptesse de Tradern 
who sacrificed all her wealth in order 
to help further the General's visionary 
political and military schemes. This lady 
died ere Boulanger's star had dimmed, 
and Boulanger the Magnificent, alone and 
friendless, soon afterwards committed 
suicide on her grave in Pere la Chaise. 
The Vicomptesse de Tradern was the 
mother of the Due de Brissac. Princesse 
Poniatowski and the Princesse de Chi- 
may were both Jewish. The former came 
into social prominence as the daughter 
of the Comptesse le Hon, the latter hav- 
ing been a court favorite at the time of 
the third Napoleon's ascendency. Her 
more familiar name in earlier days was 
Zoe Mosselmann. De Chimay became an 
enthusiastic Wagnerian, and soon be- 
came well-known in all the European 
capitals. The ancient French house of 
Polignac made an alliance with the Jew- 
ish family of Mires, bankers, one of its 
members having become the Princesse 
de Polignac. 

The English aristocracy has among its 
social lights many Jewish ladies. The 
Duchess of Fitz-James, handsome and 



26 



Overland Monthly. 



commanding, wife of the Duke of Ber- 
wick, the Duchess of St. Albans, Lady 
Battersea, and the wife of the Earl of 
Roseberry, all are Jewesses, the two last 
mentioned being of the Rothschild family. 

In America perhaps the most brilliant 
personage of Jewish blood was the Mar- 
quise de Noailles, wife of the Marquis 
of the same name, who presided so roy- 
ally over the French legation when her 
husband was French ambassador to the 
United States. She was the daughter 
of a Moscow liquor-dealer of immense 
wealth, but in every respect was equal 
to the demands made upon her as an am- 
bassador's wife, both at Washington and 
at Rome. The Marquis was afterward 
appointed French Ambassador to Ger- 
many, and in Berlin her charms, her 
wealth, and her social tact won from Ger- 
mans unstinted admiration. Outside of 
the families of de Hirsch, Monteflore, and 
Rothschild, _Mme. Furtado, a Parisian 
Jewess, was distinguished more for her 
philanthropy than any others in high 
life. 

In various lands Jewish women have 
stood high in the domain of literature. 
Among notable Jewish writers Rebecca 
Gratz was recognized at pre-eminent, but 
her name became famous because of her 
connection with "Ivanhoe" and its au- 
thor. Miss Gratz was born in Philadel- 
phia, in the las,, quarter of the eighteenth 
century, just as the war clouds of the 
Revolution were passing away, and she 
died in her native city in the year 1869, 
so that her literary and philanthropic 
labors compassed nearly three-fourths of 
the nineteenth century. She labored 
mostly toward the education of her own 
people and founded many Hebrew benev- 
olent societies, among them The Female 
Hebrew Benevolent Society. While firm 
in her ancestral faith she nevertheless 
became the intimate friend of many 
prominent Gentile writers and educators, 
among whom was Washington Irving. 

When the au._or of The Sketch Book 
visited England he called upon the author 
of "Ivanhoe" (not yet published at the 
time) and described to him the young 
Jewess of Philadelphia, suggesting that 
she might well be taken as the original 
of the Jewish female character whom 



Scott proposed bringing into his great 
novel. Irving's suggestion was quickly 
accepted and when "Ivanhoe" was at last 
finished, one of the first copies was sent 
over to Irving, accompanied by a letter 
from the author in which he asked Ir- 
ving whether the Jewish heroine in his 
book were a clever characterization of 
the original, Rebecca Gratz. We are not 
aware of Irving's reply, but it is a most 
interesting fact, and one very little 
known among Scott's countless readers, 
that the Rebecca of "Ivanhoe" is none 
other than the Jewish-American maiden, 
Rebecca Gratz. 

Grace Aguilar, who was much more 
devoted to pure literature than Miss 
Gratz, was both a prose and rhyme 
writer. As her names would indicate, 
she was of Spanish extraction, although 
born in England, where her father had 
taken refuge from Spanish persecution. 
She was born in the year 1816, and died 
at the early age of thirty-seven years. 
Early in life she issued a volume of 
poems entitled "The Magic Wreath," 
and, later on, a romance called "The Vale 
of Cedars," the latter a pen-picture of the 
days of Jewish persecution in Spain. 
She also produced "The Days of Bruce," 
a Scottish story. But of al 1 Miss 
Aguilar's works, perhaps those best 
known among her many admiring Gentile 
readers are her "Home Scenes and Heart 
Studies," and "Woman's Friendship." In 
these two books the Jewish author 
proved her deep insight into human na- 
ture, especially the heart of woman. She 
knew the female heart, it would seem, 
better than any other author of her day, 
and even those who would criticise her 
from a literary standpoint are ever ready 
to acknowledge her mastery of woman's 
deeper depths ana sentiments. 

Emma Lazarus, another Jewish writer 
and poet, is better known among her own 
people than among Gentiles, for did she 
not sing most sweetly the Songs of Zion? 
She was Israel's sweet singer, indeed, 
and she sounded the deepest and most 
secret depths of Israel's sorrow. Emma 
Lazarus voiced the sentiments of the 
Jewish people in their sufferings and 
exile, and it was this fact that endeared 
her to the heart of modern Israel wherever 
her poetry was read. 




affair began at one of the regu- 
lar Friday night hops at La Haci- 
enda. When Maude did not appear 
during the tenth dance, I remem- 
bered the retreat on the veranda in the 
shadow of the Cherokee roses where she 
had sat out the sixth with me, while 
poor Teddy Burton searched the halls 
and stairways in vain. Burton is so 
dense. So I went down to the buffet, and 
joined Teddy in a seltzer-and-something. 
A few minutes later we strolled out to 
enjoy the ^November night air, and a cou- 
ple of Teddy's fragrant Khedives. Bur- 
ton isn't half bad at times. 

Between the silhouetted fronds of palm 
trees and luxuriant bananas, stretched 
a view of the San Gabriel valley, scintil- 
lant with the lamps of Los Angeles and 
Pasadena, until there broke across the 
picture an opaque streak of white, the 
fog that was overlaid upon the dark 
masses of the distant foothills. The 
broad porch of La Hacienda, a feature 
of every large tourist hotel in Southern 
California, spread lazily along the base 
of the majestic front, that, fretted with 
balconies and towers half-Spanish, half- 
Moresque, and pierced with constella- 
tions of deep-set arched windows, twin- 
kling through latticed tracery of passion 
vines, rose above, beautiful, a vast ex- 
panse of cream-like stucco, upon which 
lay the full, warm, yellow glory of a per- 
fect night. Under the tiles of the Span- 
ish veranda tinted lanterns of yellow 
and rose, pink and crimson, rocked and 
swung from moorings of ivy, like Chinese 
junks on the spangled sea of mystic, 
fathomless ultramarine, the sky of even- 
ing. 
The crack of ivory from the poolroom, 



By Roger J. Sterrett. 

laughter, the clink of punch bowl and 
glasses, struck into the air, dropped tink- 
ling, and were swept along in the rhyth- 
mic current of harmony, the surging 
siren measures of "La Serenade." 

Through the open door within we 
glanced into the ballroom, with its glis- 
tening floor mirroring a hundred yellow 
lights, over which graceful figures 
swayed and swung past in a succession of 
cainty colors, "like so many bees over a 
custard pie," as Burton said. 

"Bah, you Philistine." 

"Philistine, perhaps, but you artists 
are just aesthetic brutes." 

"Confess, now; with so much rose 
color in the world, is it not our duty to 
be happy?" 

"He is right, Burton, it is a duty." 

The last sentence was uttered in a low, 
serious tone by a newcomer, who stood 
back of my companion. 

"Oh, hello, Harrington! You out 
here?" said Burton, turning and intro- 
ducing me to a tall man who was not in 
evening dress, but had an overcoat 
thrown loosely around his shoulders. His 
eyes were deeply sunken under a well- 
modeled forehead, dark, but brilliant, 
with an uneasy intensity; his handsome 
mouth and chin were marked by a smile 
that was at once good-natured and sar- 
donic. As he talked he broke off in one 
sentence with a racking cough, and then 
went on as gayly as before. 

"The fog is coming up. Let me help 
you on with that coat," volunteered 
my friend. 

The animation on the face of the young 
fellow dimmed into a look of unutterable 
weariness and stolid assent. 

"Ah, I had forgotten," he said, lan- 
guidly, as he buttoned the coat up to tbe 



28 



Overland Monthly. 



collar, "but it does not matter. Nothing 
matters now." 

For a few minutes longer we chatted 
together and then he went on into the 
hotel and to his room without looking 
again toward the ball-room. 

"A fine fellow," said Burton, "but be- 
fore spring he will be dead." 

A paper lantern tipped, burning fierce- 
ly for a last instant, and then the dark- 
ness swept in over the place where it had 
hung. The music had stopped. Far 
aown the valley the edge of fog had swal- 



off the vine .with the end of his crop. 
Ho greeted me with a hearty good-morn- 
ing, and when, a few minutes later, a 
stable boy brought up a bay mare, he 
sprang into the saddle and started off 
down the hill at a pace that sent the 
gravel flying. 
Down in the valley was light light that 




lowed the lights of the city. Its breath 
touched us with a chill. We went in. 

The next morning as I walked down 
the sunny south porch I encountered my 
new acquaintance. He was sitting on 
the balcony, with his legs, which were 
smartly cased in corduroy riding breeches 
and boots, dangling over the rail as he 
reached over to flick the morning glories 



quivered and warmed and life. At our 
feet wild flowers, white and purple and 
blue, blurred the fresh green of pastures 
which would, later in the year, blaze fire 
gilded with California poppies. The 
scarlet pepper berries danced in the shin- 
ing trees by the roadside hedge. Among 
dark groves of grange trees and patches 
of vivid green standing in relief against 
a background of clean-washed sands 
appeared cottages, almost hidden in gera- 
niums, roses and flaring pointsetters. And 



When the Overland Comes In 



29 



in the distance lay purple and lilac and 
blue to the foot of "Old Baldy," and 
there again white. As I gazed, the in- 
coming overland, powdered with the al- 
kali dust of the desert, grinding along 
the rails through a labyrinth of orchards, 
wound its way down into the land of 
flowers, its glass-plated coaches articu- 
lated like the scales of a dragon, and 
within its vestibuled length of sombre 
leather ana velvet was smothered 
hot breath of consumption. Down in the 
valley was death in life. 

Burton joined me on the piazza, and 
we were still there when Harrington rode 
up to the horse block. The young man 
lilted himself heaviiy from the saddle to 
the ground and wiped the perspiration 
from his forehead, though the morning 
was still cool, and his face instead of be- 
ing flushed, was very white. He passed 
us with a polite nod of recognition and 
walked in, going straight to the eleva- 
tor. 

"Pure desperation," remarked Burton, 
as he followed him with his eyes. "It is 
tne revolt against the inevitable. No 
free spirit can live in such slavery as the 
consumptive must endure. The skeleton 
in his closet is malt and whiskey. Poor 
devil! They say his caddy carried him 
in from the links last week another 
hemorrhage." 

"I noticed that he was smoking last 
night. Is not that imprudent?" 

"Impruaent, yes. But he will never 
stop it. That would be an acknowledg- 
ment. He will stay alive until the end; 
no concessions. It is a race with death." 

As the days passed we found that Har- 
rington was a most companionable fel- 
low. He was a Princeton man, '97. 
Drawn together by the bond of college 
spirit, Burton and the invalid and I be- 
came friends. His room was decorated 
with trophies, souvenirs and pennants 
cf orange and black, pipes whose faith- 
iul coloring suggested happy hours of 
the past never a sign of the sick room. 
Golf sticks, a Winchester that revealed 
the tourist's anticipation of mountain 
lions and wild cats, a tennis racket, 
gaiters and outing suits lay about like 
invitations to sport. No concessions! 

He had done his mile in 4:37, I learned, 
and then I looked pityingly and inquir- 



ingly down at those poor limbs on which 
the trousers hung in sharp folds by their 
own weight. 

"It's a confounded shame," growled 
Burton, as we left his room one day and 
started down the hall, and we shook 
hands on the sentiment. 

Burton got the invalid interested in 
photography, and then they spent the 
sunny days out together with their ko- 
daks on the banks of the arroyo or about 
the picturesque Spanish missions. When 
I returned to the hotel each evening Har- 
rington would welcome me as the "Herr 
Doctor Professor." Many pleasant nights 
were passed over the cards with a gay- 
ety which made us forget that we were 
in the company of one who had been sent 
to California too late. 

One night we brought our pipes along 
for an accustomed hour of freedom and 
jest, and he set out a case of cham- 
pagne. 

"Fortunate youth," cried Burton, "hast 
thou inherited the Chateau Yquem by an 
uncle's decease." 

"Relatives, my dear Teddy, are a lux- 
ury that the philosopher can deny him- 
self quite easily," returned Harrington 
with a smile that was on the lips but not 
in the eyes; and then he added quickly, 
filling our glasses: 

"Gentlemen, like Porthos, we are eat- 
ing our horse. It is little Vixen." 
"What, the bay mare?" 
"Yes. It was becoming too unprofita- 
ble to pay a man for exercising her every 
day. Come, "To Amherst!" 
"To Stanford." 
"To Princeton." 
"Another, 'To Our Host.' " 
As we drank the toasts his color gath- 
ered into a red spot on each cheek. He 
faced the mirror with a superb defiance 
and raised .the goblet with rigid fingers. 
"We will drink another," he cried. "It 
is 'When the Overland Comes In.' " 

What did he mean? Was it the first 
concession? The realization! The con- 
sumptive accepts his medicine, his con- 
finement, the deprivation of exercise and 
pleasure at first with repugnance and 
later, as yet with no sense of their signi- 
ficance, as mere commonplaces, inciden- 
tals of life. When he begins to find them 
all of life, the price of life, then it is that 



30 



Overland Monthly. 




the tragedy begins, the struggle, the 
horror, the defiance, until they bear him 
down exhausted, too heavy for his worn 
soul to thrust away. Heat and food that 
sate but never satisfy, drag him down to 
mere animalism. To escape from it all 
he turns to books, to prayer, to frenzy. 
He longs for the touch of human 



horses, dogs, flowers, only that it be 
something alive something to hold on 
to in a world that is slipping past and 
closing together behind him, and he dare 
not let go lest he be carried along with 
the sands and bones of the desert. 

Then the nights come, the black nights, 
\vhen each minute drags along its length, 
like the Hindu, length by length, on the 
interminable pilgrimage towards the 
dawn. It is not the cough alone that kills. 
The black thoughts, in the black night 
they hang like vultures over the burn- 
ing ghat, ready to seize the flesh that yet 
is spared. What am I? This skin, this 
hand, that I could gash and strip to the 
bone and yet remain myself? What is 
this incubus that weighs me down upon 
my skeleton, that I should feed and warm 
this rotting nest for germs of death? 
Help me, thou soul, thou vampire mind, 
fattened with studied languages and arts, 
upon the labors of this broken carcass, 
upon its hunger and sleepless nights of 
study, or if thou canst not help, then be 
thou damned! I care not. What am I? 
Is it this thing? 

At Christmas time, when one is absent 
from home, there is always a feeling of 
loneliness shared by even the least senti- 
mental of persons. Harrington had never 
spoken of his relatives, and, as far as we 
had noticed, never received letters from 
home. I was glad, therefore, to offer him 
some new distraction during the holiday 
season. The ladies of La Hacienda and 
our host, Major Brent, had asked me to 
design the floral decorations for the six- 
in-hand tallyho which was entered by the 
hotel in the Tournament of Roses on New 
Year's day. 

I submitted my plans to Harrington for 
criticism, and he took up the ideas with 
enthusiasm. We adopted as historical 
motif, in the scheme of color and cos- 
tume, St. Claire's Irish gentlemen of for- 
tune at the battle of Fontenoy. Harring- 
ton sat at my elbow as I painted the de- 
signs in water colors, and it was he who 
suggested for the six outriders the 18th 
century uniforms of the guard, all white, 
faced with green military braid and gold 
lace, with jack boots and gauntlets of 
green satin and cocked hats of satin witk 
shamrocks and aigrets of white. Day 
and night we planned, figured and 



When the Overland Comes In 



31 



worked in a mesh of smilax and wire and 
ribbon, cord and harness and powdered 
perukes and satin banners and plumes. 
For the time our friend was almost as 
joyous as I remembered him on that first 
morning. On the night before the Tour- 
nament I had to drive him out of the cold 
stable where we were helping the florist 
to cover the coach with six thousand car- 
nations. 

On New Year's morning he was out to 
see us off. The tallyho was a moving pic- 
ture of floral beauty in pink and green. 
The body of the coach, the gear, and the 
wheels, even to the hubs, were hidden 
wnder a solid field of pink carnations 
charged with shamrocks and the fleur- 
de-lis of the Bourbon. Festoons of dainty 
smilax fluttered from seat to seat, at- 
tached with bows of pink ribbon. The 
six white coach horses fretted under har- 
ness wreathed in smilax and flowers and 
ruffled blankets of pink satin. The 
crowning beauty, of which St. Claire's 
chevaliers formed the guard of honor, 
was the company of twelve of the fairest 
ladies from La Hacienda, all in white 
dresses, their wide Gainsborough hats 
trimmed with La France roses and their 
hair powdered a la marquise, the effect 
having within it all the grace and deli- 
cacy of color to be found in a Watteau 
pastoral. 

Down in the city, where innumerable 
streamers of blue and gold fluttered in 
the sunshine, the bands were already 
playing. Followed by cheers from the 
guests assembled on the porch of the 
hotel, the coach started down the drive- 
way. The guard's bugle was sounding 
"Boots and Saddles," and our six out- 
riders cantered past in flashing braveries 
of green satin and plumes. 

"My fine Irishmen," shouted Harring- 
ton, and I swung around in the saddle to 
wave a mock salute. He had fainted. 
* * * 

That was the last time he emerged 
from the melancholy that was settling 
upon him, and he grew steadily weaker. 
Burton and I had felt certain for a long 
time that not ill-health alone was cloud- 
ing his spirit, but rather some secret. 
He avoided our attempts at reference 
to his family. Our letters to Princeton 
had failed to locate his home. One T veek 



after New Year's day Burton started for 
the East. He was going to find the 
mother of the invalid. At last came a 
letter from him that told the old story 
a college prank, an angry father and a 
stubborn son, and then disinheritance 
and separation. 

As I went up the steps of the porch 
that day I missed Harrington from his 
accustomed corner by the palm tree. I 
went to his room. An open fire was 
burning, which cast an unsteady light 
across the wall, although the sunshine 
poured in through the vines at the win- 
dow. Harrington welcomed me with a 
smile, but his hand was cold. 

"I am going back in March. See, I 
have a better color than ever," and he 
drew me up to the mirror. That color, 
the pity of it! To think, too, that It was 
pride that had dragged him over the 
desert to cue! I took those damp, thin 
hands in mine. 

"Tom," I said, "Your mother is coming 
on the overland Thursday." 

For a moment he stiffened like an ici- 
cle, then slowly sank into my arms, 
dropped his face into the folds of the 
dressing gown and cried like a baby. It 
was all over now, the pride and struggle 
and fear. He was to go home, home, 
after all! During those remaining days 
he would lie for hours together looking 
out of the window across the valley to- 
ward snowy San Jacinto, where the 
trains came in. As he gazed he smiled, 
for there was now a peace as of child- 
hood in his heart, though he grew rapidly 
weaker. On Wednesday came a tele- 
gram from Burton. The overland was 
delayed one day by a washout In New 
Mexico. Thursday night passed, and, as 
I sat by his side, the boy felt for my hand 
and whispered a single word, "Mamma." 

Still he lingered. I read the bulletin 
from Albuquerque: "Overland 5 hours 
overdue." 

On Friday morning, just before noon, 
I came out upon the porch and looked 
across a scene that swam before tear- 
dimmed eyes. There were the same wild 
flowers, white and purple and blue, and 
the sunshine and life that breathes the 
lomance of Old California, and away off 
above Santa Anita crept a dark line as 
the overland came in too late. 



AXjrNES 

LOUISE 




r^VTRANGELY did he come, and 
YV strange was the mode of his de- 
K_y parture. The cook opened the 
kitchen door one snowy morning in 
March and stumbled over a ball of 
voluminous blue cotton clothes. The 
ball wriggled, grunted and stared sus- 
piciously up at her from glittering slant 
eyes. 

"Arrah, ye haythen!" the empress of 
the kitchen ejaculated, bouncing back- 
ward in unseemly haste, as though scent- 
ing treachery on the part of the blue ball. 
"Misther Wainwright! Misther Wain- 
wright! Will yez be afther comin' here 
th' minute? G'long now ye haythen 
Chaynee! Phwativer arr yez doin' on a 
rayspictable durestep the likes av this 
cowld marnin'?" 

The blue bundle sat up stiffly and 
wriggled to locate the various portions 
of his numb body. 

"Me velly much cold," he rattled glibly, 
with which announcement, and without 
troubling himself to rise, he rolled into 
the warm room like a rubber ball. Where- 
upon the cook howled lustily and 
executed another backward bounce, which 
Wainwright caught midway as he en- 
tered hastily and with dangling sus- 
penders. Wainwright staggered. There 
have been slenderer women than Bridget. 

"Look now, Misther Wainwright! Will 
yez look at th' impidence av that? Squat- 



tin' ahl night, like as not, on a Christian 
durestep, whin th' divil himself wud av 
froze, an' whin 1 opened th' dure, curlin' 
himsilf up like a cat, th' varmint, an' 
rollin' into a rayspictable gintleman's 
kitchea! That's phwat he did, sorr!" 

"And all that noise was about this? 
H'm. Well, it is a wonder he isn't frozen. 
Hello, young China, what's your name?" 

"Ilish girl callee , me allee same 
'Heathen.' " 

The slant eyes gleamed in the direc- 
tion of the wrathfully snorting cook. 

"Sure an' that's phwat he is, sorr, th' 
onchristian craythur!" 

"Hold on, Bridget, this is my turn. 
Where did you come from, er Heathen?" 

The bright oblique eyes looked at him 
blankly. 

"Me no savvy." 

"Which by interpretation means that 
you won't savvy: Oh, well, Bridget, 
warm him up, feed him up and send him 
along." 

Wainwright returned to the completion 
of his interrupted toilet, leaving the less 
philosophic Bridget in wrath and per- 
turbation of soul. He was one of those 
favored ones who can take the world 
with nerves unruffled and digestion un- 
impaired and still be fairly certain to 
have his own way. For a mine superin- 
tendent this composition is invaluable. 

At breakfast he told his wife of their 
early morning guest, and three little 
Wainwrights forthwith clamored to see 
the Chinese boy, and filed out in solemn 
procession to inspect him. He drank 
coffee as they did when they were per- 
mitted, he ate meat and potatoes in 
alarming quantity, cleaning the plate 
which the cook reluctantly shoved before 
him at arm's length, as though fearing 
an explosion. He intimated suavely that 



'Heathen." 



33 



it would give him much pleasure to con- 
sume a second helping. There was not 
a chopstick in sigho, nor a bird's nest nor 
rodent to be seen. The three little Wain- 
wright's filed back gravely and with 
rounded eyes. 

Wainwright was late returning from 
the mine that night. When he came 
Bridget met him excitedly. It was a 
peculiarity of Bridget's that she con- 
sulted her master on all important house- 
hold matters, in preference to his wife, 
but in the free and breezy West, and es- 
pecially in this remote mining district, 
where good cooks are exceedingly rare 
and the formalities of the effete East of 
little moment, these personal idiosyn- 
crasies matter not, so long as the dinner 
is good. 

"Misther Wainwright, now will yez be- 
lieve the impidence av it? Th' haythen 
crayther's here yet, sorr. Sure an' I 
can't make him go." 

"All right, all right," responded Wain- 
wright absently. "I will take care of him 
later, Bridget." 

As they sat down to dinner, a shadow 
lay upon Wainwright's face. There was 
trouble at the mines. It had been brew- 
ing for weeks and he knew that it was 
just. He scarcely noticed the voice of 
expostulation rising high in the kitchen 
until the three little Wainwrights giggled 
and the young Chinese trotted silently 
into the room. He. balanced a tray as 
skillfully as an experienced waiter; with- 
out a word he proceeded to wait upon 
each one in turn, so quickly that he had 
almost finished when a red, wrathful face 
appeared like the rising moon in the door- 
way. Bridget had come to wreak 
vengeance upon the interloper who thus 
brazenly invaded the sacredness of her 
master's dining room. 

"Me velly much lak stay," said a bland 
voice, disregarding the rising moon. 
"Waitee on table, allight. Washee fust- 
late. Makee cook whole lot stuff." 

Wainwright looked him over .seriously. 
The stains of travel had been neatly re- 
moved; he was young, anywhere from 
twelve to sixteen, and strong an.l active. 
These Chinese made good servants. He 
turned inquiringly to his wife. 

"Suppose we let him stay," she said 



thankfully, for she had come out of the 
East to struggle with Western servants. 
"We need more help, and he can do so 
many little things." 

Heathen waited for no more, but van- 
ished with his tray, and Bridget vanished 
before him in horror and disgust. The 
new incumbent indecorously capered at 
her heels and she fled with wrathful pro- 
testations. 

"I have unpleasant news for you," said 
Wainwright as the door closed. "The 
strike has begun." 

The color receded from his wife's face, 
but she merely looked at him with ques- 
tioning eyes. 

"I don't blame them. It will be a long 
fight, too, and they will fail. I don't 
fear anything like personal violence, but 
these things are never pleasant. If you 
like you might go East for a trip." 

His wife's eyes had not left his face, 
and he read her decision in them. 

"I shall stay here," she said quietly. 

The strike was on, and that meant 
many things. It mean angry men, loafing 
on union pay and drinking more than it 
* is good for ' men to drink. It meant 
women with anxious faces and a town 
filled with much talk, and with sullen 
mutterings which now and again broke 
into a roar. It meant glowering looks 
at the unruffled mine superintendent, 
who stood between the strikers and the 
inflexible Power which held back their 
daily bread from them, and occasionally 
it meant a stone from behind a corner 
or a handful of dirt. Then the scabs 
came. 

It is not pretty to see an angry mob 
nor to hear the surging yell from many 
throats. Wainwright faced it, listening 
patiently. He brushed from his coat the 
dirt of a flying clod and his coolness dis- 
concerted them. 

"Come again to-morrow at noon," he 
said, dryly. "At present I am not in a 
position to discuss the matter." 

Their leaders held them back, for the 
time was not ripe for violence. They 
came the next day, as he had told them, 
stubbornly and nursing their bitter 
wrath, but before them had come boxes 
of firearms by swift express and men as 
cool and mob-hardened as the superin- 



34 



Overland Monthly. 




There had been slenderer women than 
Bridget. 

tendent. When the strikers swarmed in 
straggling array to the mine these men 
were waiting, guarding entrances and 
armed with big Winchesters. Only this, 
a waiting, unterrified line. The scabs 
must work, and these would guard them. 
So Wainwright told the pushing crowd 
as he came out of his office and faced 
their hoarse accusations. These were 
the company's orders, he said quietly, 
and if necessary the scabs would be 
armed also. They yelled at him and 
hated him because he represented the 
Power, forgetful of kinder days. A fly- 
ing rock left its mark in bruised flesh 
on his shoulder, but the Winchesters 
were not there for play. The strikers re- 



treated in a disorderly mass, cursing 
capital and scabs, and that night there 
was much liquor sold in the little mining 
town, half a mile below Wainwright's 
house. 

These things took many days, and the 
days rolled into weeks. Disorder was 
pitted against orderly discipline, a mob 
against a few cool men, but while Jus- 
tice lay back of the one in its beginnings, 
Power upheld the other. The 1 tide of vic- 
tory ebbed and flowed, blood was shed, 
but the scabs still worked and the mine 
ran. It was short-handed and crippled, 
but it ran. 

In the midst of these things the Chi- 
nese boy flourished. The danger in the 
air seemed to exhilarate him, and he 
sniffed it in enjoyment which no one 
shared with him. His real name they 
knew not. Heathen the cook had called 
him, and Heathen he would be, or nobody. 
His past remained enveloped in mystery. 
The Occidental is not yet born who can 
penetrate the blank innocence of an 
Oriental who wills not to tell that which 
he knows. 

Heathen washed. He did it scrupulous- 
ly. He ironed as Bridget never dreamed 
of ironing. He waited upon the table 
as no one within a radius of twenty 
miles could do it. He even invaded 
Bridget's realm and cooked nice things. 
Somewhere in the mist of his youthful 
experience Heathen had received an iron 
training in things useful. He was a gem 
of purest ray serene, and conversely he 
was beyond the peradventure of a doubt 
a child of Satan by direct descent. 

The cook hated him, feared him as she 
feared not even the powers of Hell, and 
the knowledge was balm and unction to 
his soul. He pounced at her from 
shadowy corners with long, clawing 
fingers and the face of a grinning demon, 
he tantalized her to the limit of Celtic 
endurance. The very sight of him rasped 
upon those iron things which stood her in 
lieu of nerves. The cat fled to the house- 
top at his approach, and found to her 
dismay that he scuttled after her as 
briskly as though generations of feline 
ancestors had united their agility in his 
person. Mrs. Wainwright took him aside 
and lectured him on the error of his ways. 



"Heathen." 



35 



Heathen's head bobbed downward in im- 
measurable contrition. He turned about 
and entertained the three little Wain- 
wrights until they shrieked with delight, 
and "played horse" with his pigtail; he 
brought Mrs. Wainwright at dinner a 
delectable dainty especially prepared for 
her by his own hands, and she softened 
her severity and admitted that even 
Bridget herself could not excel him in 
culinary skill. He was invaluable, un- 
endurable, irresistible. He was Heathen. 

It was Heathen's special delight to trot 
to the mine with Mr. Wainwright's lunch, 
and he feared neither man nor devil on 
the journey. The latter character began 
to be unanimously attributed to him by 
strikers and scabs alike. When Mr. 
Wainwright went down into the mine 
Heathen skipped nimbly after him and 
prowled in the dark underground cor- 
ridors like an evil spirit, swooping down 
with frightful clawing gestures upon the 
scabs, who already had enough to upset 
their nerves, dodging fairly from under 
their wrathful fists and standing at a safe 
distance with derisively wriggling fingers 
while they cursed him. It had long since 
been observed that Heathen's thumb had 
a reprehensible affinity for the end of his 
nose, which proved conclusively that he 
was a city-bred Celestial and highly im- 
bued with advanced civilization. 

"I shall have to discipline that imp," 
Mr. Wainwright said thoughtfully. "He 
is too valuable to send away. I'll just 
look after his case as soon as the strike 
ends." As soon as the strike should end! 
He frowned as he said it. When would 
that be? 

At home Bridget developed unmis- 
takable symptoms of an unsettled men- 
tality. She began to talk to herself, 
muttering the wildest nonsense. One 
member of the family after another would 
hear from an adjoining room a sudden 
explosion of malediction rolling out in 
Bridget's inimitable brogue and stopping 
as quickly as it had begun. They never 
quite caught her at it, but hearing was 
sufficient. Mrs. Wainwright taxed her 
with it one day and Bridget denied the 
charge indignantly. 

"Indade an' I niver said a wurrud, 
mum, not a wurrud," she declared 



vehemently, and Mrs. Wainwright de- 
plored the discovery that Bridget's ver- 
acity was no longer to be trusted. 

That night Bridget swore. Wainwright 
heard it and called his wife, glad of any 
diversion from the strain of the day, and 
together they descended to the undig- 
nified attitude of putting their heads out 
of the window and listening. From the 
open kitchen window came a volley of 
smothered profanity, cautious in tone, 
but frightfully clear in meaning. Mrs. 
Wainwright was horrified. The vigorous 
roll of expletives continued, and Bridget 
cursed the "haythen crayther" by all her 
gods and by every word ever expurgated 
from a God-fearing dictionary. 

"George, will you go down? This must 
be stopped immediately!" 

Wainwright went down. The kitchen 
was empty and Heathen was just enter- 
ing the open door, but at the gate he 
found the reprehensible Bridget standing 
there with unwrinkled innocence, as 
though she had just returned from a walk 
down the road. She met Wainwright's 
reprimand with a wild burst of tears. 

"Indade, Misther Wainwright, an' it's 
niver a wurrud I've said this half hour. 
May I die if I did, Misther Wainwright. 
It's ahl the doin's av that onchristian 
Chaynee, may th' divil fly away wid him, 
an' that's as near swearin' as I iver got. 
It's no human bein' he is, Misther Wain- 
wright; he's th' divil's own imp. Indade 
an' I didn't say a wurrud!" 

Wainwright left her voluble protesta- 
tions somewhat impatiently, for his tem- 
per was getting down to a thin edge of 
late. In the house he swore a little him- 
self, but laughed neverthless at the 
absurd accusation that Heathen was re- 
sponsible for the profanity they had 
heard. There was only one person in 
the house with a brogue like that. 

But these things were as nothing com- 
pared with that other trouble. It was 
growing worse. Spring had long since 
gone by and summer had passed into 
autumn. The winter was close upon them 
again, but the strike still held. It was 
phenomenal. The company had lost 
more in holding out than the desired raise 
would have cost in several years, but 
they held grimly to their decision. Capital 



Overland Monthly. 




"He balanced a tray as skillfully as an 
experienced waiter." 

loomed high behind them and labor 
should not down it. It was not the money 
now, but victory, and they knew they 
would win. In the mine the closely 
guarded scabs grew restless and fretful; 
in the mining town the strikers fought 
their great battle more wildly and indis- 
creetly. And so October drew toward its 

close. 

* * * * * 

In the heavy stillness of the night two 
men slipped away from the town and 
crept toward George Wainwright's house. 
The night was dark, but they moved 
where the shadows lay thickest. What- 



ever of speech might be needed between, 
them on their noiseless errand had been 
spoken and finished before they had left 
the little back room in Milligan's saloon, 
half a mile behind them. Not a word 
was uttered; not a twig snapped; they 
knew their road. In front of Wainwright's 
house they separated. One went to the 
north side, the other to the south, and 
each man knelt close to the foundations 
and worked quietly and carefully with his 
hands. 

A veranda ran on three sides of the 
house, stopping short of the kitchen quar- 
ters, which extended in the rear. On the 
north side of the house two eyes gleamed 
inquisitively over the end of the veranda 
roof watching the man below. They 
might have belonged to a cat, so intently 
alert was their gaze. They disappeared 
and a dark, shapeless figure, feline in 
every cautious move, crept into an open 
window. Half a minute later it was out 
on the roof again, creeping with sure 
bare feet and carrying a heavy thing. 

The man below had almost finished his 
work. There was now a little hole under 
the house at the end of the veranda and 
into this he inserted something very like 
a short, thick stick. 

From out of the black space above him 
there descended a flood. Kerosene, evil- 
smelling, saturated hair and clothing, ran 
into his eyes and mouth and gurgled in 
his ears. Blindly he jerked himself up 
and struck out at something clinging with 
monkey-like agility to a pillar of the 
veranda. Before the blow fell there was 
the crack and hiss of a match and a 
flashing grin out of the darkness. 

A hoarse scream rang out as the curl- 
ing flames leaped in response to the 
match, a staggering, writhing figure broke 
away, fell and rolled frantically on the 
ground, screaming hideous curses. The 
author of these things wriggled back, 
unmoved, out of the glare of this man's 
burning, and slid swiftly to the other side. 

The second man's work had not pro- 
gressed so far. He stopped as one frozen 
at the first shriek, and listened fearfully. 
Then they came thick and fast, prayer 
and malediction, piteous and blood-curd- 
ling. He crouched, broke and ran 
straight into the hands of the enemy. 



'Heathen." 



37 



Down from the veranda roof something 
dropped upon him before he had gone 
five paces; lit upon his shoulders and 
clung there line a panther, swaying with 
him; fingers of flexible steel closed upon 
his throat. He staggered a few steps 
further and fell, but the thing on his 
shoulders still clung. 

Thirty seconds later, when the aroused 
and terrified household rushed out of 
doors and rolled the last spark from the 
man writhing on the lawn, Wainwright 
dragged the reluctant Heathen from his 
victim. He was none too soon, for 
Heathen held not to the foolishness which 
bids a man free his enemy this side of 
the turbulent river, and so permit him 
to rise up and smite again. So they stood 
around a cowed and sullen foe, one 
grievously wounded, one just recovering 
an all but vanished breath. Wainwright 
held in his hands two grayish sticks of 
innocent appearance and his face was 
dark. 

"Dynamite," he said slowly. "Simul- 
taneous explosions. So you think me 
your enemy, boys in proportion to that?" 
Mrs. Wainwright laid a trembling hand 
on Heathen's shoulder but Heathen would 
none of her. 

"Have velly much fun, allight," he ob- 
served simply, and vanished by way of 
the kitchen, ever hungry, to forage for 
food. It was useless to make a hero of 
Heathen. Even had it been judicious he 
would not have permitted it. Nor did it 
avail to remonstrate with him upon the 
ethical obliquity of soaking a fellow 
being in kerosene and touching a match 
to him. He had been in the thick of a 
beautiful fignt, and that filled tis soul 
with pleasure and satisfaction. 

On the morning of the next day Wain- 
wright received a telegram, terse and 
stern : 

"Smash strike. Yield to nothing. I 
arrive to-morrow. A. V. MURRAY." 

Murray was one of that mighty group 
behind Wainwright, the rock upon which 
the strikers had dashed themselves for 
weeks upon weeks. Wainwright sighed. 
He had held hopes of Murray, who was 
his friend and had placed him here. A 
week before Wainwright had written 
him, saying in blunt, uncompromising 



English that the strike was just, even 
though it might be impolitic and even 
hopeless, that the denying of these de- 
mands was rank brutality to work-sodden 
men who asked little more than permis- 
sion to live in return for unremitting toil. 
When Wainwright did deliver himself of 
an opinion there was no mistaking his 
meaning. But this was the end of it. He 
sighed again, and cleared his throat im- 
patiently. 

Late in the afternoon a delegation from 
the strikers came. They were of his best 
men, and wnen he saw them file gloomily 
in, he knew that the strike was broken. 
Their spirit was broken also. 

The spokesman made his announce- 
ment mechanically, twisting his shabby 
cap in his hands. The boys wanted him 
to tell Mr. Wainwright that it was not be- 
cause they haa changed their views in 
the matter oh no, God knew it was hard 
enough, and meant the ragged edge of 
starvation, but it was work or die, and 
they must work. Winter had come and 
the company had proved the stronger and 
more relentless. They had been beaten. 
Only they must have work. The nasty 
business of the night before had turned 
the tide of prejudice against them when 
they most needed to be upheld. And 
would Mr. Wainwright believe that the 
body of the men had known nothing of 
the cowardly trick; that even those who 
hated him most had meant to fight fair- 
ly and by daylight, and this was the work 
of a few? 

Wainwright nodded curtly, looking 
them over with keen eyes. He had some- 
thing to say to them now. After a fash- 
ion these were his rough, sullen children, 
although he would have denied the charge 
as foolish sentiment, but they had been 
needlessly humiliated and he was sorry. 
Humility may be good for a man, as we 
are told, but humiliation leaves a sinister 
scar. 

"Take your word for it," he said briefly, 
referring to the dynamiters. "One thing 
more. You say the strike is completely 
off?" 

A nod and the faces settled into the 
sullenness of defeat. 

"Is this official? Is it the expression 
of a few like yourselves, or of the entire 



38 



Overland Monthly. 




Down from the veranda roof something dropped upon him. 



body of men?" 

"All of us, sir. The word was passed 
along this mornin' that we couldn't hold 
out no longer. We held a meetin' and 
we was chose to come straight to you." 

Wainwright nodded thoughtfully. 

"Very well. I had a telegram from the 
vice-president of the company this morn- 



ing ordering me to smash the strike at 
all costs. The strike is now broken. Just 
before you came I received another. It 
directs me that when the miners have 
given up I shall then, and not sooner, take 
back each man who has not resorted to 
special violence at a ten per cent raise 
on the old rates. You may tell the boys 



"Heathen." 



39 



that, and report for work to-morrow." 

Wainwright arose and they took the 
hint and turned away, staring unbe- 
lievingly. The spokesman cleared his 
throat and laughed a little, the conscious 
laugh of inward excitement. 

"It'll be good news for the boys, Mr. 
Wainwright. I s'pose we've felt sort o' 
hard on ye lately, but I guess most of us 
know the ten per cent's your work, an' 
we we're much obliged." 

"Company's orders," said Wainwright 
concisely, shaking his head. "Thank Mr. 
Murray." 

That night Wainwright slept the good 
sleep of contentment, and when Murray 
arrived the next day half the men were 
already at work and the other half only 
waiting for the scabs to go. Wainwright 
was jubilant, but Murray, after he had 
seen the dynamiters safely packed off to 
the county jail, thirty miles away, was 
most entertained by Heathen's escapade. 

"Now who would ever have expected a 
Chinaman to have so much sense?" he 
asked. "Got them both, did he? And 
made a bonfire of one? Upon my word, 
you have him well named." 

"Your pagan seems to be useful in a 
variety of ways," he said at dinner, as 
Heathen swiftly disappeared with the 
soup plates. "He waits on the table as 
though he were born to it." 

There came from the kitchen the clat- 
ter of falling crockery, one might almost 
say hurled crockery, so vigorous was the 
sound of its impact, and then a torrent of 
vivid Celtic-American. It is not in the 
nature of woman to find humor in do- 
mestic calamity, and horror came into 
Mrs. Wainwrignt's face, but Wainwright 
looked at his guest and laughed. On the 
heels of these things Heathen pattered 
in, dish-laden. He breathed deeply as 
though he had been in haste and in his 
slant eyes was the gleam of a thousand 
imps. 

"Heathen, what is the disturbance be- 
tween you and Bridget?" Wainwright 
queried with sober visage, always willing 
to exploit these kitchen catastrophes for 
whatever ot humor might be in them. 

"Ilish girl allee samee laise hellee," 
said Heathen simply, but an inaudible 
chuckle shook his shoulders as he put 



down the last plate and took his stand 
like an old ivory statue all dead but the 
eyes. 

Wainwright hastily passed his napkin 
over his mouth and stared severely at his 
plate. The hostess flushed, the three lit- 
tle Wainwrights snickered audibly, and 
the guest looked back at Wainwright and 
laughed. This naive remark seemed to 
arouse some tickling recollection in a far 
away cranny of his mind. 

"It shows that you cannot mix Irish 
and Chinese without an explosion," he 
said presently, as the recollection evolved 
itself into being. "It reminds me of a 
matrimonial Vesuvius we once had in our 
house. Funniest thing I ever saw, only it 
told on our nerves after a while. When 
we first went to San Francisco we had 
the reckless combination of a Chinese 
cook and an Irish chambermaid, both 
splendid help. Nora was strong and tall, 
with broad shoulders and a lift to her 
arm like a steam derrick. When she was 
angry she used language, but not to us, 
thank Heaven. Charley Wing, the cook, 
was a little, slippery, sinewy Chinese, as 
yellow as jaundice, but he could serve a 
beautiful dinner. He had buried one wife 
and wanted another, but one of his 
enemies had unkindly sliced off his 
queue one dark night and none of the de- 
sirable Chinese maidens would have him, 
or at least their august fathers would not. 
So he concluded that Nora would be a 
profitable speculation. He was a thrifty 
pagan, that little yellow man, and 'as he 
kindly explained to me, Nora could 'do 
heapee much work, allee same makee 
cash.' Nora took him, I have never been 
able to guess why, and then the fun be- 
gan. 

"You have heard about the tyranny of 
Oriental husbands, and that a Chinese is 
always a little god in his own household. 
Well, Charlie thought he was going to 
shut his lawfully wedded slave up in the 
kitchen, safe from the violating gaze of 
mankind, and have her wait upon him 
and beg for the privilege of putting on 
his shoes; but he had reckoned without 
Nora. The first experiment ended in a 
cyclone, and Charlie fled the house. In 
a month he was so used up that he 
dodged involuntarily if she looked at him, 



40 



Overland Monthly. 



and he gave up all attempts at anything 
more aggressive than keeping beyond the 
swing of her terrible arms. I think Nora 
enjoyed it, and the way she bedeviled 
I beg your pardon, Mrs. Wainwright 
the way she bullyragged that little yellow 
man was a cause for tears. She even in- 
vaded his favorite underground opium 
joint, and dragged him out in the face of 
half of Chinatown." 

"I should think," said Mrs. Waiawright, 
wonderingly, "that you would all have 
had nervous prostration." 

"Oh, they were kind enough to keep 
their domestic infelicities in their own 
.sphere of action. It had all the excite- 
ment of gambling; we never knew what 
would happen next. The climax came in 
the boy. He was six years old the last 
time I saw him, and looked a full-blooded 
Chinese. It was hard to tell where the 
Oriental left off and the untamed Irish 
began. He was an imp of darkness, and 
could chatter pidgin English with his 
father and turn to his mother with- a 
brogue as rich as her own. 

"After we came away we learned that 
Charley pere had inserted a long knife 
into the man who formerly relieved him of 
his queue, and had in turn been scienti- 
fically carved by the dead man's rela- 
tives. Now I hear that Nora has gone to 
the happy fighting grounds also. Peace 
to their ashes. She had a lively time 
while she lived, and he had a lively time 
while he lived with her." 

When Murray started talking he was 
likely to continue indefinitely. Heathen 
was removing the plates with his usual 
deftness, and the vice-President looked 
lazily into the impassive yellow face. 

"My incendiary young friend," he sug- 
gested, "when you take unto yourself a 
wife, be sure that she is not Irish, and 
larger than you." 

A swift grin flashed over Heathen's 
' face and disappeared. 

"Me no mally 't all. Have velly much 
good time," he grunted frankly, and Mur- 
ray laughed: "The way these Orientals 
are assimilating our Occidental civiliza- 
tion is something marvelous," he said 
ruefully to the table at large. 

The next morning the pitiless sun 
Tshowed a new and strange foliage upon 



the tall pine in front of the house. In 
full view of the mining town, half a mile 
down a straight road, in full view of such 
of the jeering public as might pass that 
way to work, hung every pilferable gar- 
ment in Bridget's wardrobe, high and dry, 
and flapping dejectedly in the morning 
breeze. There were only two creatures 
in the house who could climb that tree. 
One was the cat, who disliked the job 
exceedingly. The other was Heathen. 
They searched for him, but he was not. 
He had vanished as he had come, silently 
and without warning, and with him had 
vanished also nothing of great value, to 
be sure, but several transportable arti- 
cles which had caught his errant fancy. 
The Wainwrights' dinners were served 
no more with machine-like swiftness, the 
voice of strange profanity was not heard 
in the kitchen, and the cat came down 
from the housetop and took her nap in 
peace. Heathen was gone, and the three 
little Wainwrights lifted up their voices 
in unison, and wailed their grief at the 
departure. 

* * * 

It was some six years later that Mr. 
Wainwright, on busines in Chicago and 
rushing for his homebound train, paused 
uncertainly at the sight of a singular- 
looking hackman at the station. He was 
strong of limb and broad of shoulder, in 
height a little above medium, and he wore 
his big coat and old plug hat with uncom- 
mon jauntiness, but the face beneath 
the spluttering arc lights was such as 
never hackman wore before. His stiff 
black hair dened the brush, if indeed it 
ever had the opportunity; his skin was 
yellow, and his slant eyes, gleaming with 
Celestial guile, flashed over the crowd 
with a shrewd alertness not to be 
matched among his confreres of the pro- 
fession. There was something strikingly 
familiar in that look. His glance fell 
upon Wainwright, staring curiously at 
him, and a flickering grin lit up his old- 
ivory face. The next instant a fellow 
hackman brushed roughly up against him, 
and he fell upon that man straightway 
and smote him with ready fist and an 
unholy eloquence of speech. The catlike 
spring was Oriental, the comprehensive 
range of expletive such as grows only 



The Zuleta. 



41 



on our own free native soil; but in his 
eyes was the love for devilment for its 
own sake, and on his tongue rolled the 
burr of County Claire. He wriggled from 
sight in the crowd, still heaping objur- 
gations upon his enemy. A warning "All 



aboard!" rang in Wainwright's ears. He 
swung himself regretfully upon the plat- 
form, smiling the smile of enlightenment 
as he remembered Murray's story, and 
profanity laid to Bridget's account, but 
marveling that these things should be. 



THE ZULETA 



BY C B. ACHESON. 



=4 



1 7 NTBR1NG the "Zuleta," the visitor 
crosses the small court or "pa- 
tio," to be correct and ascends 
the staircase at the far side. Ul- 
timately one comes to the green door at 
the top, which readily yields to his touch, 
and he enters the "Monte Carlo of Mex- 
ico." At the right monte is king; to the 
left, the roulette tables rule. Various 
other gambling devices are at hand 
baccarat, craps, and the like. Hudson 
explained, as we mounted the stairs, that 
it was quite proper to visit resorts of 
this kind in Mexico, provided one was 
entertaining a guest. "You know, it's 
the regular thing to take people from 
'the States to look at this. It's typical. 
It's indicative of Mexico and the Mexican 
character. These places are wide open. 
We," (I smiled at the "we") "We don't 
have to cover up this sort of thing from 
the police. It's a national affair. Why, 
you can't walk a square on San Francisco 
street without a dozen people at your 
heels selling lottery tickets! It's in the 
blood, in the air! But let me tell you, I 
can't come here alone and play." 

"Well, if it's part of the life, in the air, 
etc., why not?" said I. 

"That's just it," he answered. 

By this time we were in the room. 
The hour was early and there were com- 
paratively few players. Hudson lowered 
his voice. 

"You see, I am an American," he went 
on. "And so many Americans come here 
to Mexico and go to the devil! There is 
something the air, maybe, the women, 
the drink anyhow, it's a fact! Dissi- 



pation is rife among the Americans right 
here in the city, and not a few have gone 
to pieces over that little game there," 
indicating a roulette board. "So you see, 
a man in my position cannot afford to let 
people think he is following so many of 
the others. It would be disastrous to my 
career. That's the reason I can't come 
here alone. But it's all right if I bring 
you. Anyone can spot you for a strang- 
er." He laughed a little and I realized 
that I had betrayed a certain degree of 
annoyance at this. I had been flattering 
myself that I had acquired an air of 
residence in the quaint old city. People 
could see, of course, that I was an Ameri- 
can one can never disguise that, nor 
would I wish to even; but it might be 
agreeable to have people think of one as 
rather an old-timer, a man who knew 
and had known long; the term "tender- 
foot" is rarely an attractive appellation. 

We turned our attention to the games. 
"You should see the place about one," 
said Hudson. It was barely 10:30 then. 
"They don't run very strong now. I tell 
you this appeals to me! Guess it's the 
spirit of that ola horse-trading preacher 
ancestor of mine. The game! The game! 
Do you know, Crawford, I feel that if my 
blood was a little more hot like this fel- 
low here I'd go crazy over this thing! 
Really, I have to keep a grip on myself." 

At this time the roulette tables were 
well-nigh deserted, monte holding every 
one's attention. This may be noticed 
frequently in a Mexican gambling house. 
As a general thing, the monte is played 
for even money. No great chance for a 



42 



Overland Monthly. 



"killing," at least not to the extent of the 
magic wheel. A player stakes his money 
on the turn of a card; in monte, if he 
wins and wins time and again, he feels 
impelled toward the roulette. The chan- 
ces are infinitely greater there, and one 
must win on "velvet." Is it not so? As- 
suredly. The player at the slower game 
becomes convinced that a chance is what 
is needed; he will not attempt to force 
an unfavorable game. Rather, he with- 
draws and wooes fortune in a new field. 
Then one turn at the roulette will possi- 
bly restore the whole loss. And thus 
the merry game goes on; monte, the rou- 
lette here a loser, there a winner! The 
happiness, the despair; the cool winner, 
the "good loser." Oh, what an object 
for admiration is the "good loser!" He 
stakes his last peso on the red, and waits 
imperturable. The movement of the ar- 
row is slower, slower, it stops; the black 
wins! The "good loser," the man with 
nerve, turns away, imperturbable. He is 
finished unless, perchance, he has some 
article of value about him a ring (these 
Mexicans are fond of diamonds they are 
worn more commonly, too, than in the 
States.) If he has such an article of value, 
one more chance; if not, well he is a 
philosopher; it's all in the game! He 
becomes a fatalist, if he is not already 
one. The other day I heard an old drunk- 
en soldier remark that a good poker 
player (and "good" may also be trans- 
lated "game") invariably made a good 
soldier. Old drunken soldiers sometimes 
speak with the wisdom of serpents. 

"Let's have a little try at this thing," I 
ventured cautiously, after a time. Hud- 
son turned and I saw that he was already 
extracting a bill from his book. "Viente 
pesos," he said to the dealer, and threw 
the bill on the table. Deftly, the man a 
slight, swarthy Mexican, with an eye like 
a gimlet, black and birdlike, whose 
lean hands also reminded one of a bird's 
claws handed him twenty of the Mexi- 
can "dobe" dollars which lay in regular 
piles upon the green cloth. Monte here 
is played mostly with the silver, although 
one may purchase mother-of-pearl chips. 
There is something in the touch of the 
coin, though, for these small gamblers 
that appeals to one. A chip is a chip: 



you lose sight of its value, but a hard 
silver dollar! It has life-power! It can 
buy what not? 

Hudson was an old-timer, a thorough- 
bred. He had worked on the Engineer- 
ing Corps of the old Santa Fe when the 
West was wila; had helped to build the 
Sonora road, and had lived down at Guay- 
mas when there were only thirteen white 
men in the territory. He had, I presume, 
been against every game of chance which 
those conditions produce, from matched 
coins to lottery tickets. As for me, the 
adventure was a delight. Although a 
novice in such matters compared with 
my friend Hudson, I had had some con- 
siderable experience in the American 
the western American particularly pro- 
pensity for gambling. Yet there was a 
charm about the "Zuleta" I had not be- 
fore enjoyed. My ignorance of Spanish 
no doubt contributed to it somewhat. 
Then, too, the character of the players 
was worthy of note. Here to my left 
was a fine-looking Mexican ranchero, 
erect and stately in his gaudy trappings 
topped with a sombrero decorated with 
gold and silver braid. The man played 
steadily, winning and losing without 
change of countenance. He had come in 
before Hudson and I, and there was ab- 
solutely nothing to indicate whether he 
was ahead or the reverse. Following 
his play, I continually backed the low 
card. 

Opposite my Mexican friend for 
whom, be it confessed, I felt a certain 
respect was a short, fat "oily" Spaniard. 
He had, I remember, a little black mous- 
tache which he continually caressed. 
Next him sat a broad-shouldered, red- 
faced American loud-voiced and jovial. 
He had also been there when I came in, 
and had for a companion one of the Amer- 
ican colony, known to Hudson but recog- 
nized only by a short nod. "One of those 
fellows I mentioned," he whispered to 
me. "Came here with the Central two 
years ago, got mixed up in bad shape and 
rapidly going to the devil." Whether 
the pair of Americans exhausted their re- 
sources or not, I am unable to say. At 
all events, they left the room before 
twelve o'clock, and we were the only Eng- 
lish speakers left. The Goddess had 



The Zuleta. 



43 



been good to us, and I was much 
elated to observe that my winnings ex- 
ceeded Hudson's. We had stuck to the 
monte for over an hour, and my longing 
to try the roulette table grew stronger. 
We therefore moved across the room to 
try our luck in another field. 

My attention was at this time drawn 
towards a young man who was standing 
opposite the croupier. His age was about 
twenty-eight or thirty, I should judge. 
Spanish or Mexican, possibly of Spanish 
parentage, he looked the aristocrat from 
his small and neatly-clad feet and shapely 
hands to his keen, dark face and intelli- 
gent eye; tall, for his race, and well- 
formed, there was something very fas- 
cinating in his presence; yet, withal, 
something to fear something attractive 
and compelling, but at the same time 
menacing and sinister. I felt this man 
could be cruel and hard; that he was sel- 
fish and passionate. One must not stand 
in his light. All this came to me vaguely, 
as it were, when I first saw him. Later 
occurrences confirmed my view. 

The play continued, and Hudson and I 
with it, extracting a large measure of en- 
joyment from our small ventures. Our 
winnings waxed 'and waned, and time 
flew by unheeded. In my attention to 
the table, I became oblivious to my sur- 
roundings, and had quite forgotten the 
purpose of my visit to the "Zuleta," viz: 
of observing the players and learning 
what I could of this place and of the na- 
tional character. Hudson touched my 
arm, and I, following his gaze, saw that 
the young Spaniard was still with us. As 
I turned, he had just reached into his 
pocket and extracted a bill. This he 
laid on the table ,and said shortly, "Cin- 
co." I saw that it was a five-dollar note, 
and Hudson murmured in my ear: "Been 
watching him. This is the last." 

The man was stolid, a little too much, 
so I fancied, to be quite natural. There 
was no gaiety in his losing, as is the case 
sometimes when a man is hard pressed. 
A tense look about the mouth, a bright- 
ening of the eye, which seemed to become 
piercing in its gaze that was all. Hud- 
son had been watching; he knew that this 
was the last stake that it was make or 
break now. Our Spaniard received his 



chips very deliberately, and with firm 
hand, placed four of the five dollars on 
the 00; the remaining dollar he laid on 
the red diamond patch in the center of 
the table, which denotes a play on the 
color. The marble whirled; the play re- 
sumed, and I turned to the board, my own 
venture forgotten in this new interest in 
the outcome of the other bet." Hudson 
leaned forward a little, and I saw that he, 
too, was intent. What an admiration I 
felt for the young man at that time! 
There was conviction in my mind, some- 
how, that the resting place of the little 
marble in this particular turn would mean 
much to the man; and there he stood, 
quiet, thoughtful and erect! The wheel 
stopped. ' Dos-negro," said the croupier, 
in that monotone peculiar to his class, 
and the next instant sank back in his 
seat with a ball in his chest! The noise 
of the shot seemed to awaken me from a 
trance. The charm of the room, the 
game, the hour, and the influence of the 
spirit of the place dropped from me like 
a cloak, and I saw only the horror of the 
affair. My strongest impulse was to run; 
to get out and away from the tobacco- 
scented room; to get away from the clat- 
ter of ivory and pearl chips and the ring 
of the silver, and that that still thing in 
the chair opposite! The man had disap- 
peared, vanished like the smoke from 
his own revolver. Inconceivable as it 
may appear, he must have gotten from 
the room, down ue stairs and into the 
street before any one made a move to fol- 
low him! Hudson took my arm, walked 
across to the man who had occupied the 
center chair at the monte table, and 
spoke a few woras in rapid Spanish, to 
which the man waved his hands coolly, 
bowed low and said: "Si, Senor." 

"The proprietor," said Hudson, and we 
left the room quietly. "What did you 
say?" "I suggested to him that we were 
not at the 'Zuleta' to-night. He hasn't 

seen us!" "But ' "No, there'll be 

no trouble. These matters are handled 
differently here. We'll not be dragged 
in. And what's more, they'll never get 
that man! That is, the authorities will 
not. They both have friends," he added 
significantly. 

When we reached the outer air, I drew 



44 



En Rapport. 



a long breath. The scene had impressed 
me much. The coolness, almost indiffer- 
ence of the occupants of the room, in- 
cluding Hudson, almost angered me. The 
man was shot! Shot! Murdered, per- 
haps! Possibly dead by this time! Do 
you hear? Dead! Shot like a dog, with- 
out preparation or opportunity of de- 
fense! The murderer, this man who had 
taken human life, was at large! I seemed 
to see him on every corner. There was 
no effort to capture him. These people 
were more than apathetic. They were 
criminally indifferent! My feelings, if 
they had not been so full of horror, would 
have been grotesque. I learned after- 
ward to regard the affair as an incident, 
nothing more. But it appealed to me then 
as a horrible, living tragedy evil preg- 
nant with evil! 

I never learned more of the matter, 
unless, perchance, the following extract 



from the "Mexican Herald" two days 
later, has some bearing on the case. It 
is at best somewhat obscure: 

"Rigoletto will be presented to-night as 
advertised, at the Teatro Renacamiento, 
but w^ith a notable change in the tenor 
part. Sr. Fernandez, whose wonderful 
voice has been such a factor in the com- 
pany's success, disappeared quite sud- 
denly yesterday, and his present wherea- 
bouts is unknown. It is rumored that 
a gentleman connected with one of the 
popular gambling resorts of the city was 
a rival of Sr. Fernandez for the affections 
of an American member of the troupe 
whose stage name is Irene Templeton. 
Inquiry develops the significant fact that 
this gentleman is lying very ill at his 
home on Calle Naranjo, and Miss Tem- 
pleton's friends report that she has not 
been seen since Monday evening." 



EN RAPPORT 



BY MARGARET SCHENK. 

Dear Love, I did not know 
That distance could so paltry be, 

I thought that seas would bar 
The way of love 'twixt you and me, 

I thought the stars of night 
Were not so far as you at sea! 



But nay, it is not so, 
Love travels with a swifter flight 

Than do the whirling worlds, 
That hurl through space, with touch so light, 

Yet sure, your heart greets mine, 
Each knows its mate, and needs no sight! 



The Law of The Medes and Persians 



BY C. BRYAN TAYLOR. 



HE fat sided lighter "Pythoness" 
snorted noisily out beyond Gant's 
-L Light and lay to near the spot 
where, fifteen fathoms deep, rested the 
hulk of the "Tnomas Garvin," schooner, 
bound for 'Frisco with a cargo of rum. 
Gleason and Craig, divers, stood in the 
bows of her and prospected as to the 
difficulties of raising the sunken cargo 
and the probable value thereof. An air 
of uneasy constraint hovered over both, 
hardly attributable to the matter in 
hand. 

"Plenty well worth salving," remarked 
Craig ruminatively. Craig was a big 
framed, clean built Northerner, with in- 
scrutably quiet gray eyes and the air of 
a better past haunting him remotely. 
His voice, in accent and intonation, was 
a cut above his station; and many facts 
may be inferred from the tones of a 
man's voice. "Most of tne stuff can be 
recovered, I should say. The cargo was 
being jettisoned when she sounded, they 
say, but probably " 

"How'd you come to take to the busi- 
ness?" demanded Gleason irrelevantly. 
Craig flushed darkly. 

"Why you see after I left after I 
left the Point " 

Gleason's jaw set hard and his eyes 
burned. Craig shuffled uneasily. 

"Oh, I say, Gleason!" he ended lamely, 
"It's no good stirring sleeping dogs, is it? 
Let the dead past bury its dead, for God's 
sake! We've met again after all these 
years eight, isn't it? and after all 
that's happend on both sides the slate's 
wiped clean or ought to be." 

Gleason's gnarled face wrinkled to an 
ugly scowl. 

"That's where you've missed your reck- 
oning, then! The slate's never wiped 

clean 'fore the score's paid, by ! 

Get your teeth into that, for the sooner 
you learn it by heart the better 'twill be 
for you. You, a town bred youngster on 



liberty, knowin' more than the Lord him- 
self could teach you, so high and mighty 
you had to get your tile on with a shoe 
horn. Me, an honest, hard workin' 
sailor man, we're talkin' facts, now, 
mind ye askin' for naught on earth but 
to be let alone and to earn a home for 
Tier. I ain't a gentleman, like you used 
to be, for I wasnt brung up that way, 
but I never yet made a woman cry. 
P'raps when we're piped to inspection 
the last day the Skipper'll let that square 
off some other things on my list. And 
Marj'rie God bless her! knowin' noth- 
ing and fearin' nothing, and trusting 
everything. There's many and many a 
tale like that, but that don't make it 
the prettier telling. How can you ex- 
pect to get off scot free when everyone 
else is brought to count? Are you so 
good and holy that you can walk the 
footstool like a wolf in sheep s cloth- 
ing " 

Craig stared. 

"Got religion?" he inquired succintly, 
and Gleason flushed to the roots of his 
grizzled hair. Gleason was not a lovely 
object at the best of times, and in his 
clumsy dress of tanned twill and his 
weighted boots he looked grotesque. 

"No, I ain't got religion," be said 
gruffly. "Nothing but the common sense 
the Lord gave me, though I'vo found 
that a pretty good substitoot if its 
worked right. But I had an old mother 
who read the Bible and she used to read, 
me yarns out of it. There was a fine 
one about two small fishes feedin' a mul- 
titood. Lordy! I was fishin' then, and 
I used to study what kind of fishes they 
might be, and how the devil they div- 
vied 'em up like that. It saved a lot 
of net hauling that day for fair." 

Craig remained discreetly silent. Glea- 
son came back to his grievances with a 
jerk. 

"And there's another yarn about a 



46 



Overland Monthly. 



man gettin' an eye for an eye, and a 
tooth for a tooth, and a life for a life. A 
life for a life mark ye that, Robert 
Craig! You took Marj'rie's life as sure 
as though you'd knifed ner with your 
own hand, and you'll pay for it with 
yours before all's said and done. That's 
God's law and man's law, and there's no 
gettin' around it, nor over it, nor under 
it. I can see ner now as she looked 
that last winter, growin' whiter and 
thinner and more peaky every day. 
She'd set on the cliff and watch and 
watch for you you! And when the 
spring came she called me one day, 
bein' pretty nigh gone, and said, 'I waited 
for him, John I waited as long as I 
could, but he stayed too long.' And 
then she died." Gleason's deep sea 
rumble faltered, broke and stopped. 

"She never married you, then?'" Craig 
inquired tentatively. He was on thin 
ice, and he knew it. Gleason turned on 
him with a roar of mingled pain and 
rage. 

"No she didn't, and that was your 
work! I'd loved her my God! I'd 
loved her ever since she was a baby in 
swaddling clothes, and you you took her 
from me and left her." 

Craig's eyes darkened. 

"I left her as I found her," he said 
sternly. 

"You killed her!" cried Gleason, lash- 
ing himself to futile passion. "If I 
hadn't promised her never to raise a 
hand against you I'd kill you, s'help me! 
You'll pay for it somehow it's down in 
black and white and you can't buck 
against it. A life for a life! That's the 
law, and the law has got to be obeyed." 

Shorter, in charge of the wrecking 
gang, bustled up to them, and they fell 
apart, eyeing each other like dogs about 
to fight. 

"What the deuce are you two jawing 
over? You'd better get harnessed up." 

He hurried off as rapidly as he had 
come, shouting an order to man the 
pumps, and ran against Overton peering 
into the depths over the lighter's stern. 
Overton was part owner of the Garvin; 
a nervous man, and desperately anxious 
about his property. 



"We'll have 'em overboard in ten min- 
utes," Shorter assured him consolingly. 
"They're good men, both, and know their 
business to the bottom. Gleason's one 
of the old breed of sea dogs, hard drink- 
ing, hard swearing, as honest as day- 
light and as superstitious as an old 
woman, with a streak of religion hidden 
in him somewhere, as so many of those 
old fellows have. He'd swear at you if 
you told him so, but it's truth. Don't 
know much about Craig; he's not been 
at it so long, and is a lot younger. 
They're the pick of the lot, sir." 

The pumps were started, and a hand 
settled the heavy brass helmet over 
Craig's head and screwed it down to the 
copper breast-plate on his shoulders. In- 
stantly all sound of the world around 
him ceased: the throaty chug of the 
pumps, the strident orders of the cap- 
tain, the shrilling of escaping steam from 
the engine room. He heard only the 
roaring of blood in his ears, like the 
surge of the ocean, and the grate of the 
helmet as it settled into place against 
the edge of the breast-plate. Gleason 
had already gone over the lighter's side, 
and a rapid succession of bubbles rising 
to the surface proclaimed his where- 
abouts. Craig looped his signal line and 
air pipe loosely over his arm to prevent 
fouling as he walked, clumped stolidly 
across the deck with twenty pounds of 
lead weighting each leg, swung over onto 
the ladder, and sank down through the 
blank green depths. 

Each time that a man disappears be- 
neath the surface, leaving only the 
swaying lines and a trail of bubbles be- 
hind him to mark his course, he is prac- 
tically taking his life in his hands. His- 
tory and sometimes experience 
teaches him that if aught goes wrong 
with his air tube, which more than all 
else breeds danger, his helmet holds air 
enough to keep him alive for two min- 
utes and no more. And when two min- 
utes stand between a man and such a 
death as follows they fly quickly. Eter- 
nal vigilance on his own part and the 
part of the watch on deck is the price 
of his safety. The rule for the supply 
of air is to give it so freely that a con- 
stant escape of air rises to the surface 



The Law of the Medes and Persians. 



47 



in bubbles all the time the diver is under 
water. The disappearance of the bub- 
bles, for whatever reason, spells caution 
to those above. But divers are brave 
men else would they follow another 
calling and get inured to risk and dan- 
ger as to hardship. A man of steady 
nerves and sound heart can stand a good 
deal in the way of pressure. He knows 
unmistakably how far he may go, and, 
if he be prudent, which many are not, 
he goes no farther. For the first ten. 
fathoms or so there is no discomfort; 
then a vague, indefinable oppression en- 
velopes him. Follows a numbing pain 
across the eyes and a roaring as of 
swollen torrents in the ears. An invinc- 
ible sense of buoyancy seems threaten- 
ing to send him, rocket-like, to the sur- 
face; always a deadening, crushing, ever 
increasing weight bears him remorse- 
lessly down. 

Craig's twenty pound shoes lit upon 
the bed of ooze as lightly as a ballet 
girl poises on the boards. Ahead of 
him, in the iridescent twilight, loomed 
the hulk of the Garvin, listed heavily to 
starboard, displaying a wide expanse 
of befouled, copper-sheathed bottom. 
Around her bows peered an uncouth 
figure, a long stream of bubbles rushing 
upward from behind its head. It turned 
solemn goggle eyes towards him, look- 
ing absurdly fish-like and exceedingly 
dignified, and made cabalistic signs with 
hands that appeared abnormally small 
and white. Craig made signs also, to 
show that he did not comprehend, so the 
solemn-eyed one lay down on the ocean 
floor upon his face. Craig followed suit. 
It is one of the tricks of the trade, and 
enables men to converse as easily as 
though ashore. 

"I've signaled for a crowbar," quoth 
Gleason. "We'd best pry open tne 
for'rad hatch and b^eak out the casks 
there first, I reckon. Hatches all seem 
to have been battened down iost care- 
ful. Rum crew the Garvin had. Here 
comes the weepon stand by from un- 
der." 

The crowbar came down to them, 
gently, and Gleason secured it and sig- 
naled back all right. The two went 
around the bows of the wreck and 



hauled themselves to the deck. They 
succeeded in raising the hatches, work- 
ing quickly before the light failed, and 
Craig descended into the hold, picking 
his way carefully, mindful for the safety 
of his life line and air pipe, for the dark- 
ness was Stygian. With the opening of 
the hatches a little light siowly filtered 
into the hold and Craig's eyes, ac- 
customed by long experience to the 
glimmering uncertainty, made out the 
casks he was in search of. 

While he worked his mind wandered 
back to the old days whose memory 
Gleason's face had resurrected, cross- 
questioning, accusing, exonerating. It 
was true that he had uone wrong but 
he could name half a hundred men who, 
in like circumstance, would have done 
worse. Who could have imagined that 
she would have pined away and died for 
love of a stranger who had come and 
gone as a thousand others had come and 
gone. But Marjorie poor, weak, pretty 
little Marjorie was not like the girls 
he had known at home. At home! Craig 
caught himself up with a harsh laugh 
that rang hollowly in his helmet and 
beat thunderously against his ears. The 
word conjured up ghosts that were best 
laid, since his past was as a sealed book. 

"I was a brute," Craig acknowledged 
bitterly. "I should not have played fast 
and loose with her, though how could 
I tell it would have ended so? It was 
only a flirtation to me and I could have 
sworn it was no more to her. That is 
it was that way at first. When I thought 
I saw trouble brewing I left. So Mar- 
jorie's dead! died loving me, and I never 
knew it till to-day. * * * Oh, shut up, 
you fool! What's the use of raking it 
up all over again?" Whereupon, with 
the inconsistency of his kind, he raked 
it up all over again carefully. Mixed 
with his very real pity for the girl was 
a wonder that she should have been so 
completely without stamina, should 
have succumbed without an effort on her 
part. Verily the ways of women were 
past finding out. The mischief was 
done; he was sorry, of course, far more 
sorry than he could tell. With regard 
to Gleason's lex talionis principles 
Gleason had loved the girl. Which fact 



48 



Overland Monthly. 



explained everything. And then Craig 
forgot about Marjorie, about Gleason and 
his principles, about all things in heaven 
and earth and the waters under the 
earth, for that had happened which, in 
the under-water world, may come to pass 
at any time. The huge casks were no 
sooner disturbed than they had floated 
up from the bottom of the hold, a con- 
tingency always to be reckoned with. 
Craig stepped forward, was brought up 
with a jerk and discovered, with a shock 
that started the sweat from every pore 
in his body, that both airpipe and life 
line had jammed between a giant cask 
and the deck beams above. An instant 
suspicion of foul play on Gleason's part 
flashed across his mind, and his hand 
jumped to the sheath knife which every 
diver carries at his hip, and drew it. 
Foul play or accident, the danger was 
the same, and what could be done must 
be done quickly. The pump on the 
barge's deck could force no more air to 
him through the blocked pipe and two 
minutes is not a long time to live. In 
such case a man needs all the nerve that 
heaven has given him. Craig steadied 
himself with an effort that left him white 
to the lips and groped fiercely, desper- 
ately for the slack of the life line beyond 
where it was caught by the cask. Let 
him find that and he could cut both lines 
and trust to the nimbleness of the watch 
on desk to haul him to the surface before 
the end came. 

And then Death sat on his shoulder and 
grinned in his face, for try as he might 
he could not reach the slack of the rope 
behind him. With the first uncontrollable 
instinct that makes men in extremity call 
upon their fellow men for aid, he shouted 
aloud for help, knowing even as the cry 
escaped his lips the utter futility of such 
attempt. In despair he gave six frantic 
tugs at the useless rope, the diver's 
signal that he is foul of the wreck, on 
the bare chance that those above might 
note it. No answering taughtening of the 
line assured him of succor coming as fast 
as brawny hands could bring it, and he 
felt himself cauguc like a rat in a trap, 
in the grasp of the Inexorable. Gleason's 
words rose in his mind and kept time to 
the hot throbbing of his brain: "It is 



the law the law the law and you 
can't buck against it." And again, "A 
life for a life a life for a life a life for 
a life" until the repetition maddened 
him. His face flushed darkly red; he be- 
gan to gasp heavily with opened mouth; 
the pain over his eyes grew insupport- 
able. His head felt as though bursting 
with blood; red lights danced across his 
vision and the world reeled beneath his 
feet. The glass of his helmet fouled and 
grew dim. The agony became more than 
he could bear; yet he had to bear it, to 
the last gasp, because by no power on 
earth could he get away from it. Be- 
neath the relentless grip of his increasing 
torture his mind worked automatically, 
with incredible swiftness. How much of 

the two minutes had fled how 

long must the struggle last the hopeless, 
horrible struggle which could end in but 

one way? Already he had 

been prisoned in the hold for ages upon 
ages, and Marjorie's thin white hands 

were holding him fast He and 

she under the sea 

alone together. And the worst was still 

to come God! if he could only 

die and get it over 

Coherent thought failed him. His 
fingers loosened upon the knife, and it 
dropped at his feet. He reeled helpless- 
ly to and fro with the sweep of the water, 
battling madly, instinctively for breath. 
His hands clutched at his helmet; he 
strove fiercely, with staring eyes, to tear 
it from his head. One breath of air 

dear Christ! Air he must 

have one breath one 

little breath of air where there was no 
air to breathe. His limbs jerked con- 
vulsively; only the action of the water 
kept him from dropping to the ground. 
He faced death standing, unconscious 
that he stood, in the horror of a strong 
man's naked struggle for the life God 
gave him; the life that half an hour be- 
fore had been pulsing and impetuous and 
ardent; the life that resisted the certain 
end with a strength which made that end 
more terrible. Voices laughed mocking- 
ly in his ears Gleason's voice Mar- 
jorie's voice. He was giving his life for 

hers the thought fastened 

itself into his delirium. His heart 



The Law of the Medes and Persians. 



49 



pounded fast and irregularly against his 
ribs, shaking him bodily at every sledge 
hammer stroke. His face was darkly 
purple; every vein stood out tense as a 
whipcord 

He was conscious of being carried 
many miles with lightning speed of a 
sudden jar and iolt. He did not see 
what had happened. He was past see- 
ing, past hearing, past caring. His hands, 
with blood bursting under the nails, beat 
impotently against the merciless walls 
of his helmet. Then, an effort that sent 
a thin black stream of blood gushing 
from his mouth .... Something inside 
his head snapped like an over-strained 
banjo string. Dense, limitless blackness 
fell upon him, blackness void of pain, of 
sound, of feeling. Aeons upon aeons of 
time passed and he was shrouded in the 
silent darkness of oblivion. Ineffable 
peace was upon him, for he had paid his 
debt to Marjorie and the slate had been 
wiped clean. Out of the blackness grew 
a nebulous haze that resolved itself slow- 
ly into a line he had read somewhere long 
ago so long that he could not remember 
when nor where. It took shape and burned 
itself upon his brain in letters of living 
fire. 

"The law of the Medes and Persians, 
which altereth not." 

He knew that it was not his own 
thought; that some one had planted it 
in his mind centuries ago, and that it 
would sear his brain through all Eternity. 

Craig opened his eyes again sanely 



upon a living world. He lay on a ship's 
sunlit deck, a crowd of palely awed faces 
about him. A brass helmet lay beside 
him and some one was holding his head. 
His first conscious rush of joy that he 
was alive was followed by agony as dire 
as he had suffered once before, when he 
was held fast under the sea by a dead 
woman's fingers. His hands, black and 
bruised and bleeding, groping blindly in 
the Shadow for help, were caught and 
held in two gnarled, horny ones, and he 
gripped them in the death agony with 
cruel strength. If they had been the 
hands of his bitterest foe he would not 
have cared. They were warm, human 
hands, that guided him gently down the 
path to the Valley hands that he could 
cling to in the awful loneliness that was 
upon him; and that was all he knew or 
wanted. A face he recognized bent over 
him Gleason's face, pale and awed as 
were the others, with solemn fear writ- 
ten large upon it. Memory returned to 
him with a rush. He raised himself with 
convulsive strength, his glazing eyes 
staring into the face above him. His 
voice, hoarse and inarticulate, broke the 
waiting silence. 



'It is the Law 
. . . obeyed." 



that was 



Again the thin black tide bubbled to 
his lips and fell, drop by drop, to his 
shining breastplate. His hands relaxed 
limply from Gleason's and he sank gent- 
ly over on his side. 




by- Harry -RdleioK 



<J . Ipr r?v C?n no r. 

I , , */ 

y / \ ! 

""^w^ ?^ 

Ride-^ift,6ey-CdJba,l!cro, ride ! 

\ 3 ' i i 



Ihe winding 



Le&ck 1o 1he-pu 



T 

ume Ihe fcenieddu^k; Ihcl-hpjirC; 

wind^i when jhe \\ by fhy udc - 

/' 
ide- ^wijl ,6e^y -c&b&llero , ride ! 



!he moon er 
liled roof 



!ounkinj 1 |low 



\ 
h wikhino 

J / S 




Ride (wij!,oh cdb&llero.nde! 
^ Wilh DonFeiipc d1-hep:ffde, 
Wilh Ju&n dnd Manuel , e'en now, 
Prone dl her jee1,wh&i chance- 
OnjOnf \hri" ^ound Ihe m<^ndo 
Thou Idoo^rd one ! The dance be<^> 




^ 




THE BIOLOGIST'S QUEST 



BY JOHN 
Author of "Only the 

"T AKE was a collector of small mam- 
2 mal skins for the Smithsonian au- 
I thorities in Washington and for the 
British Museum. His work had been done 
mainly in the mountains of Southern 
California and on the big stretches of 
Arizona deserts. In the winter of 1895 
there was a good deal of heated discussion 
between professor McLean of the Penn- 
sylvania Scientific Society and one of the 
scientists at Washington, over the ques- 
tion of whether or not a certain species 
of short tailed rat still existed in the 
Lower California Peninsula. The Smith- 
sonian authority believed that it did, from 
reports sent in by Aldrich, who had col- 
lected in the Southwest until 1893, when 
he was killed by a superstitious Mexi- 
can. The rat, if it existed, was a curious 
survival, and the scientist who could 
secure and classify it would earn an 
enviable reputation. So Lake, in the 
early spring, received orders to go down 
into the Lower California region and 
make a thorough search, following 
Aldrich's lead. 

The collector had a free hand in the 
matter of expense, and when the baggage 
man dumped his outfit onto the plat- 
form at the Yuma station it might have 
been mistaken for that of a prospector 
bound for the Yaqui mountains. There 
were two hundred traps, varying in size 
from the little, flat ones used for catch- 
ing a very small brown field mouse, to 
the yawning iron-jawed kind that a boy 
must not play with. There were jars of 
formalin, vials of arsenic, cornmeal, cot- 
ton, dried raisins for bait, and a case of 
delicate, keen-edged skinning tools that 
Lake would have swallowed to protect. 
There was food enough to keep three 
men alive for six months. 

At Yuma Lake went to the keeper of 
the Sandbar Hotel and asked for reliable 
guides, Indian or Mexican, for the Lower 
Colorado river, for he intended to float 



M. OSKISON. 
Master Shall Praise." 

down the river to the Gulf of Lower Cali- 
fornia and there rig sails to take him 
farther down the coast. The next day he 
engaged Kitti Quist, a nut-faced, broad 
footed old Yuma Indian, and "Joe" Maria, 
a Mexican desert guide. 

The boat which the three set out in 
was as broad and stable as a giant tub. 
They rigged for it a stubby mast, put in 
a kit of repair tools, thumped the bottom 
for possible imperfections and bolted a 
water-tight chest to the side in which 
Lake's precious tools, cotton, arsenic and 
note books were stored. Then the Mex- 
ican, after pushing it out into the big, 
muddy river, stretched himself in the bot- 
tom with a cigarette, and told the others 
that they were safe in the grip of the 
steady currents for three days. After 
that, he said, they must row and steer 
for a day to reach the open water of the 
Gulf. Joe had gon? up and down in this- 
way with traders who had ideas about 
the payment of duties that are counten- 
anced by neither the Mexican nor the 
United States Governments. 

While the Mexican dozed in the shade 
of a propped square of blanket, Kitti 
Quist told the collector tales of the glory 
which had been Yuma's years before. 
He said he had been the most feared 
medicine man in the Southwest. He had 
laughed in those days at the timorous 
Yaquis- who danced their snake dance 
with serpents that were young. He had 
done that dance with five big rattlesnakes 
twined on his arms and around his neck. 
But the Yumas grew poorer, less ener- 
getic, and careless of the fame of their 
great man. He had been compelled to go 
up to Yuma and do tricks for the tourists 
when the railroad came crawling in from 
the plains. Then he had guided pros- 
pectors to the mountains, and looked 
on with a smile when they came back 
half starved and cursing the day they 
were born. After that he had cured an 



The Biologist's Qu 



Arizona Governor of the rheumatism 
by sucking the man's knee-joints and 
shoulder blades, and he had become a 
self-important white man's medicine doc- 
tor. But he neglected to advertise and 
business fell off. Now he was going to 
help the new doctor catch rats for what 
he knew not. And next he would be? 
well, he didn't know. 

By night the boat was tied to the river 
bank. The Mexican woke and made 
camp. Lake used the few minutes of day- 
light in beating the cactus patches for 
lizards, showing Kitti Quist how to noose 
them with a horse hair fixed to a slender 
pole. He tied tags to these lizards with 
curious markings on them, and soused 
them into a formalin jar. When Lake 
told the old Indian that, fixed in this way, 
the lizards would not decay if kept until 
the stars came out no more, he was 
deeply impressed. The collector caught 
a desert rat once and skinned it. Kitti 
Quist watched with astonishment the 
transformation from a limp corpse to a 
flabby, empty skin, then back again to 
a cotton-stuffed, perfectly shaped rat, 
pinned out in a scampering attitude. 

"You have showed me strange medi- 
cine tricks with the rat and the lizards," 
said Kitti Quest once, as the two were 
exploring the river bank. "Now I will 
show you what I can do as a Yuma med- 
icine man." Immediately the Indian 
stepped to the side of a loose stone. He 
knelt at the side, pushed his hand care- 
fully over the top, then made a quick 
lunge, and, without suspecting what he 
was about, Lake saw a four-foot, dull- 
striped rattler writhing in the grasp of 
the old man. For five minutes the snake 
writhed and fought, held firmly by the 
neck. It hissed the venomous battle note 
that comes after the warning rattle. Its 
rattles made an unceasing, deafening 
whirr. The Indian remained calm, letting 
the snake draw its body through his free 
hand as it twisted and contracted. He 
put out his arm to serve as a support for 
the dangling body when the whippings 
grew less violent. He twined the snake, 
always keeping a tight grip of the neck, 
around his right arm, and pulled his 
fingers gently back and forth along the 
smooth sides. Then he relaxed the grip 



of the ne** c 

gers of that 




53 

slid the fln- 
slowly, imper- 



ceptibly. He spread out his hand in three 
minutes more and extended the snake's 
head to the finger-tips. Now all motion 
had ceased; the rattler lay along his 
hand and arm pliant and quiet as a huge 
cord; the unwinking eyes were still and 
the rattling had ceased. Kitti Quist raised 
the big reptile, shifted a part of its body 
to his head, then worked it down to the 
back of the neck, stretching its length 
along his shoulders until the tail dropped 
easily over the shoulder blade. The 
snake's head he transferred to an up- 
raised elbow, then drew it back toward 
his face. Here it lay with its nose held 
close to the big veins of the old man's 
neck and moved its tail gently from side 
to side. 

Lake stood as helpless and complaisant 
as the snake. He felt no surprise when 
he saw the Indian drop slowly to a sit- 
ting position and put his left hand to the 
sand. Soon the snake glided easily down 
the extended arm to the earth. Suddenly 
Kitti Quist sprang to his feet and pounced 
upon the snake again. But he did not 
touch it this time. He circled it with a 
swift moving hand while the snake's head 
followed in rhythmic movement. Soon it 
fell, quivering and inert. The Indian's 
eyes lost the stare that had grown into 
themv He picked up the body of the rat- 
tler with no more concern than he would 
show in handling a whip. Holding the 
tail, he whirled it about his head and 
brought it back with a jerk that sep- 
arated the head and body, and flung the 
mutilated trunk away. And when he 
turned to go back to the camp Lake saw 
that the sweat was thick on the old man's 
painted forehead. 

The voyage down the Colorado river 
was accomplished in the manner pro- 
phesied by the Mexican. The currents 
were steady and kept clear of dangerous 
rocks and cliffsides until near the outlet, 
where they are broken by spits of sand 
and whirled by tides and cross currents. 
Then Joe Maria threw away his cigar- 
ette and kept awake. He brought the 
boat out clear on the smooth waters of 
the Gulf, set the crude sail and began 
to beat down the Lower California Coast. 



54 



Overland Monthly. 



Inland stretched a flat expanse of salt 
marsh, only a few feet above water level 
when the tide was in, and back of this a 
range of low, cactus-topped hills. These 
hills were about five miles from the shore, 
and, when the boat had gone down the 
coast for a day, seemed to give promise 
of a rich trapping ground behind. 

Early m the afternoon Lake decided 
to leave the boat, go inland to the hills, 
to look the country over, and come back 
to the shore a few miles farther down. 
He told the Mexican and Kitti Quist to 
land where he expected to meet them and 
get the camp ready. He took a few traps, 
a pipe and a small pewter flask of water. 
He set out for the hill-top, skirting a nar- 
row lagoon of sea water that was ten and 
twenty feet deep as the tide swung in 
and out. The salt swamp grass was heavy 
and thick, and Lake was relieved to get 
out on the hill, though it was but a great 
sand bar piled and packed by the wind. 
He went on over the crest, looking for 
water courses, near which he was likely 
to find the mammals he wanted. The land 
was puzzling where ordinarily a dip 
would show the trace of a surface stream, 
there was only an evenly rounded hollow 
of sand. Yet small brushwood grew 
in scattered groups along these depress- 
ions. The streams, Lake decided, were 
underground, and he started back towards 
the boat, intending to go down for another 
day before going inland again. 

As the collector came back across the 
hill he saw the boat going down the coast 
and noticed that the wind had increased 
perceptibly. He decided to go down to 
the shore and walk along the beach to 
the camping place. But when he reached 
the shore a quarter of a mile farther 
down, he came on another of the canal- 
like inlets that he had skirted in going 
back to the plain. It was impassable, 
and he began to walk towards its head. 
This was three miles in-shore and when 
he had rounded it and reached the shore 
again the afternoon was almost gone and 
he was tired. 

Less than a quarter of a male farther 
down another of the invisible salt water 
canals met him, and for the first time 
Lake gave a thought to the formation 
of the long flat marsh. He reflected that 



tide streams would block his way as long 
as the flat country was before him. Then 
he looked at the boat that was, strangely 
enough, tacking far out in the Gulf, and' 
seemed to be in considerable difficulty. 
He knew that must get out again to the 
sandhills and walk down On them until 
the boat had been brought to shore. He 
had not spared the half pint of water 
in the flask, and now, when it flashed 
upon him that he might spend the night 
on shore, he grew uncommonly thirsty. 
But he saved the little that remained, 
wondering as it splashed and tinkled in 
the metal if some of it might not be lost 
by the continual beating and shattering 
inside. 

He was panting when he reached the 
sandhills again, for he had made nervous 
haste to get out of that tangle of long 
salt grass and treacherous tide ditches. 
He looked eagerly for the boat. What he 
saw was a scarcely distinguishable flat 
hull and a slender rectangle of sail which 
a fierce wind was bellying. Now Lake 
remembered that this Gulf was swept 
by little two-day hurricanes that danced 
in mad fury when they got away from 
the cactus and hampering sand-hills. He 
was in the edge of the storm only, yet 
the flying sand stung his cheek and his 
dried throat craved the little water that 
remained in this flask. 

The boat would be driven miles out 
on the Gulf, the watcher knew, and if it 
survived the hurricane, would land far 
south of this point. So Lake set out to 
walk as far as he could towards the pos- 
sible landing place. Farther down the 
coast, where the formation changed from 
the monotone of salt marsh, with its sin- 
gle low relief of yellow sand-hills, it might 
be possible to find water. But here it 
would be risking too much to turn inland 
to seek it. While he was gone the boat 
might put in unexpectedly, and the two 
guides, not finding him', sail still farther 
south. 

Unconsciously Lake began to walk 
fast, and when the darkness closed down 
he was fairly running toward an invisi- 
ble boat that sailed in the tail of his eye 
to an anchorage on the shore directly at 
his feet. Then he pulled himself up, and 
walked slowly. Soon lagoons, gulf and 



The Biologist's Quest. 



55 



salt marsh were lost in the gloom, and 
only the jagged cactus clumps stood out 
like giant, distorted shadows on the hori- 
zon. Lake took counsel with himself, and 
lay determinedly down to sleep through 
the night. He woke often to feel his 
jacket where the four spoonfuls of tepid 
water were. But he would not drink. 
The screaming wind showered sand on 
him, forcing him to draw the jacket over 
his head, giving small promise of an early 
landing for the boat, and questioning 
its mere survival. The collector got 
through to the daylight, sleeping a little 
and dreaming of the wonderful short- 
tailed rat, swimming forever from bank 
to bank of a sluggish salt pool that rose 
and fell as the tide crept in and out. 

As the morning broke, Lake, who had 
been sitting in the sand for a long time, 
peering distractedly into the darkness, 
rose and looked over the Gulf. There 
was no sign of the boat. The wind, its 
force spent in the night, scarcely ruffled 
the water. The sun came out big and 
glowing, and the desert heat soon pene- 
trated the. temporary early morning chill. 
The marooned man was seized with a bit- 
ter morning thirst, and raised the flask 
half way to his lips before he remem- 
bered that the little fresh water must 
be saved for a more dire necessity. He 
drew off the coat that had begun to 
weigh him down. He was about to fling 
it aside when he felt the pewter flask 
strike against him. He drew it from the 
coat pocket in a genuine panic. He felt 
the pipe, a heavy briar, in another pocket, 
and the thought of smoking with a 
parched throat made him smile. He threw 
it with all ^is strength at a clump of 
cactus, then trembled at the prodigal 
waste of a failing energy. Jamming the 
flask into his shirt bosom, he laid the 
coat aside, and stepped carefully on. 
For two hours he kept his head, then the 
swishing and tinkling of the water in the 
canteen became maddening. There was a 
too perfect harmony between its music 
and the rhythm of his steps. He broke 
this by making longer strides, then 
stopping suddenly. 

Before noon he sat down in the shade 
of a cactus. He knew that sleep, when 
the scorching sun and want of water 



would drive men crazy, had often saved 
the sanity of desert travelers. But he 
could not sleep. He rose when the sun 
was two hours from the western horizon 
and tramped doggedly on. For an hour 
after setting out he tramped slowly, hold- 
ing his hat clear of his head to protect 
it from the sun, and to let the faint breeze 
blow in his hair. To hold it in this way, 
however, tired him, and soon the eternal 
rhythm; recommenced. A lizard that 
flirted its tail and ran to cover entered 
the orchestra of his fevered imagination, 
its tail going up and down like the baton 
of a conductor. The music grew louder 
and clearer, and he forgot that the pew- 
ter flask held water that might cool the 
fever. It was the great drum whose 
beating kept the whole orchestra from 
turning to a riotous babble of individual 
performers. So the drum must not quit 
beating. 

Unconsciously Lake increased his. 
speed under the stimulus of the fever. 
To his mind the orchestra was in breath- 
less chase of a melody that grew faster 
and faster in time and louder in volume. 
There would be one final crash, he knew, 
when the strange new symphony was 
ended, and he wondered if the drum 
would be equal to its part. The crash 
cam'e as the collector, exhausted from 
a mad scamper down the side of the sand- 
hills, pitched into the rank salt grass 
near the edge of a tide inlet. 

Lake slept through most of the night 
from sheer exhaustion. He was conscious 
when he woke of a slap-slap of sound 
near. At first he thought it was the 
lapping of the water against the side 
of the boat, and wondered if the Mexican 
had yet cooked the breakfast. Then he 
rose to seacn the Gulf with his eyes for 
a sign of his companions. 

He though he- was far south of where 
he had first landed, but in fact he had 
come only a few miles. He was sure that 
he had gone past the point where the 
boat would put in and turned to tramp 
back up the coast. He went in, unthink- 
ing, to the water's edge, and had to tramp 
back to the sandhills again. He was at 
the former symphony rehearsal again 
by this time. Calling up his straying 
faculties, Lake deliberately chose a low 



56 



Overland Monthly. 



bit of ground and began to dig with his 
hands to find water. And he fainted on 
the edge of an unpromising hole before 
the sun was in mid-sky. All the while the 
idea remained fixed in the man's mind 
that he must not drink the water that he 
carried. 

The shifting of the breeze so that it 
blew into his face revived Lake early in 
the afternoon. He sat up and looked at 
the horizon, where the Gulf met the sky, 
with an air of calm indifference. He 
thought only that it would be a novel 
sight to see a little, full-bodied tub of a 
boat drop out of the sky and bring a 
nut-faced old Indian and a Mexican with 
-a cigarette up on the salt marsh. But 
it was a bore to watch anything so lack- 
ing in variety, ana Lake, under the im- 
pression that he was only to finish an 
interrupted siesta, stretched himself on 
his back to die. The flask he placed at 
his side, determined to take a full drink 
when the Mexican roused him for supper. 

All through the first night of Lake's 
absence, Kitti Quist and the Mexican 
had been driven by the storm out into the 
Gulf. They realized that it would be 
impossible to make the land after the 
hurricane came upon them. They re- 
tained a tiny rectangle of sail on the 
stumpy mast to keep the craft's head 
square to the waves that drenched the 
boat from stern to bow, and the gale had 
driven them far out. And the next day 
they had sailed back towards the West 
without sighting the coast line. 

In the middle of the second night the 
boat had jammed its nose into a mud 
bank, and the two had tied up and waited 
for the daylight. When the morning broke 
neither could tell whether this flat marsh, 
bordered by low sand hills, was the same 
through which the new doctor had dis- 
appeared, or another, fifty miles down 
the coast. They decided to sail north on 
the chance of having passed the collector. 
All day they sailed, firing a heavily 
loaded rifle at intervals. Once the Indian 
had gone ashore to search the tall salt 
marsh. But he met the sullen tide 
streams and had to get back to the boat. 
The possibility that Lake might be with- 
out water had not occurred to them, and 



they thought only of relieving his anx- 
iety about themselves and the boat. 

Near sundown Kitti Quist pointed out 
a spit of sand, upon which he said the 
white man had gone ashore. The Mexi- 
can doubted, and the boat was pulled in 
again&t the bank. The Indian was right 
Lake's tracks led off towards the sand 
hills. He said that they would tie up 
the boat and follow the tracks. But Joe 
Maria was lazy, and suggested that they 
set off a great blast of gunpowder. Lake, 
he declared, would hear it if he was with- 
in reach and come to them. Kitti Quist 
agreed; and when Lake was about to 
pass into the long sleep, which he 
thought, fretfully, he had been wanting 
for ages, the roar of the blast brought 
him to his knees. 

What he saw was worth looking at it 
provided variety. A big column of smoke 
was going up, and at one side were a 
nut-faced old Indian staring at him, and 
a lazy Mexican waving his sombrero fran- 
tically. A little, full-bodied tub of a boat 
was there, trying to climb ashore. He 
would go and see if supper was ready. 
But his strength nerve, voice, feelings 
were gone he tottered headlong into 
the grass. 

The Mexican had seen the collector rise 
from the grass like a spectre, and yelled 
to Kitti Quist to look. They found Lake, 
his tongue swollen and protruding, his 
face scorched, holding a flask with four 
spoonsful of tepid water still in it. They 
wondered at that, but set it down to the 
new doctor's curious theories. They used 
the water to revive Lake, and carried him 
to the boat. The next day they sailed 
back for the mouth of the Colorado river. 
The two guides brought Lake's wandering 
mind back to the rational world, and 
restored his parched face and swollen 
tongue to a comparatively normal state 
by a wise use of broths and careful watch- 
fulness. Two days before the awkward 
tub was pulled up at the Yuma landing 
Lake could talk, but with considerable 
difficulty, of his experiences. 

"The doctor wL* go back for the rats 
when he is rested?" inquired Kitti Quist 
as he bustled about the boat. He acci- 
dentally kicked Lake's water flask into 
view. 



Broken Strings. 



"Go back!" the collector shouted 
hoarsely. "Kitti Quist," he went on 
quietly, "the white Medicine Man can no 
longer do strange medicine tricks with 
the rats. Not with the short tailed rats," 
he added under his breath. 

Lake gave his outfit, even the delicate, 
keen-edged skinning tools, to Kitti Quist, 
and the Mexican guide. Then he took the 
train for San Francisco. Cooley, who 




57 



went down ^^^^rpftitfi^jiasrt spring to 
catch chipmunks~f6r "thiT new zoological 
park in New York, bought the traps and 
cotton from the old Medicine Man. Pro- 
fessor McLean, of the Pennsylvania 
Scientific Society, published a pamphlet 
in the fall of 1897 to show that the short- 
tailed rat described by the Smithsonian 
authority never existed except in the im- 
agination. 



BROKEN STRINGS 



BY E. R. WYNNE. 



Only the strings of a ( lute, 
.Toss them away. 

Only the strings of a lute, 

Snapped as you play. 
Yet all the song's music lies mute, 

Silent for aye. 

Only the strings of a heart, 
Toss them away. 

Only the strings of a heart, 

Broken to-day. 
All music that life could impart, 

Once in them lay. 

Only the strings of a heart, 
Toss them away. 




Old Carmel Mission before restoration, Los Angeles, Cal. 



IN THE DAYS OF THE PADRES 



BY HARRY R. P. FORBES. 



HE dark-eyed Indian girls of the 
San Diego Mission were visions of 

1 radiant beauty as they danced in 
gay fiesta dresses, keeping time to the 
soft strains of the guitar and snapping 
castanets. The valley hummed with sup- 
pressed emotion, and the gentle breeze 
carried the seductive music out to meet 
the rhythmic clapping of the spurs, as 
the gay riders rocked to and fro in their 
saddles, impatient to join the dancers 
and steal from some bewitching eyes 
the secret that they longed to know. 

Senoretta Flores watched each coming 
with a shy, restless glance, and it was 
only the keen, alert Padre de la Pefia who 
detected the reposeful change in the happy 
face, acompanied by a slight flush of rose 
in the deep coloring, when Senor Don 
Sepulveda was hailed. He, the hand- 
somest, the boldest and the gayest of all 
San Diego cavaliers, leaped his horse 
within the very dancing ground, making 
it kneel whilst he dismounted, and then 
bent low before the enchanted Flores. 
Many a young man sighed for a glance 
from those dreamy eyes, but the girl 



thought of no one but Don Sepulveda. 
Their love was plighted and she was 
happy. 

Senoretta Flores danced with the ini- 
mitable grace of a Spanish beauty, and 
her handsome lover swayed and bent 
rhythmically to the strains of the music 
as he led the girl through the mazes of 
the cuna, watching with half-closed eyes 
the richness of her beauty. 

The night had small hours when the 
neophytes sought the seclusion of the 
quadrangle. 

Many of the maidens were to exchange, 
upon the following day, the tutelage of 
the Mission Padres for the influence of 
their homes on the rancherias. 

The ever-watchful de la Pefia was glad 
when the Senorettas had retired, for he 
had reason to be thoughtful. Late in 
the evening he had overheard Don Se- 
pulveda and another, one Don JosS del 
Valle, swear to make a tour from San 
Diego to the Mission of Salano, San Fran- 
cisco, and dance with all the beauties 
of the Missions. 

Further still, they boldly made a wager 



In the Days of the Padres. 



that each would return with the sacred 
promise of a dozen of the maidens. The 
cavaliers arranged to go by the Camino 
Real, at sunrise, upon the following day 
but one. 

The honest Padre studied well what he 
should do. These godless youths, these 
thoughtless men, why could they not 
appreciate a woman's heart! Should he 
tell the Flores? No. After a short time 
he came to a satisfactory conclusion, and 
it was but a few moments until he rode 
forth in the moonlight. His face re- 
flected a confident smile, and every now 
and again he wagged his head and mur- 
mured, "we will see, young men; we will 
see!" 

As his well-fed, round little pony 
trotted along the good road that then 
stretched between each of the Missions 
of California, the faithful Padre cogi- 
tated upon the sins of the world, and es- 
pecially upon the sins of men. This good 
man grieved that the sons of Adam did 
not love the beauties of the heart, as 
they did the beauties of the face. He 
called them flatterers, deceivers, triflers, 
seducers! He spoke aloud and advised 
the absent mothers to teach purity to 
their sons as they did unto their 
daughters. He shamed the absent father 
for the neglect of his son. He called the 
son personified vanity distributing heart- 
ache! 

Should two young women raid the 
hearts of all the cavaliers dwelling be- 
tween San Diego and San Francisco, 
what would be the comment, the criti- 
cism, the verdict cast upon them? 
Shame, disgrace, and oblivion. Yet here 
were two young men guilty of seeking 
to perpetuate this infamy. Would women 
permit such desecration of their affec- 
tion, their honor, their home-life? He 
would test the Indian girl. He would 
prove her superior to the pale maidens 
and mothers who frown darkly upon 
women who trifle away their own honor, 
yet permit the male participant of that 
in to come into the very hearth-stone 
circle of the home. He fairly shouted: 
"Mother, why teach purity to your 
daughter and let your son run wild?" 

The sweet call of the Angelus rang 
out on the evening air as the weary Padre 



rode up to the hospitable door of San Juan 
Capistrano upon the following day. The 
evening meal was livened by his extraor- 
dinary recital of the cause of his visit 
to the Missions. Then he asked the Padres 
of San Juan to warn the maidens and 
thus defeat the men. Next day he passed 
on to San Luis Rey, and from thence to 
San Gabriel Arcangel. Perhaps the good 
father enjoyed the part he was taking in 
the little drama, for occasionally his 
clear voice was heard singing snatches 
of gay rhythm, strains from the cavaliers' 
songs, interspersed with sacred chanting, 
as he rode along on his way. 

Don Sepulveda and Don Jose del Valle 
were familiar figures along the Camino 
Real, as, dressed in velvet jackets, gay 
embroidered scarfs, and broad rich som- 
breros, they paid visits to the rancher- 
ias that lay scattered along the coast 
of Southern California. They were well 
known to the Mission Padres, and it was 
with certain surprise that the young men 
found only the male neophytes of the 
Mission ready to entertain them when 
they arrived at San Juan Capistrano the 
day after de la Pena's visit. They soon 
proceeded to San Luis Rey and the neigh- 
boring Pala Mission. Here their chagrin 
was almost shown when told that one 
fair senoretta after another was absent 
upon an extended visit or engaged in pur- 
suits that demanded strict attention, or 
worse still, was seen to be wholly enter- 
tained with rival senors. Inclined to be 
haughty as well as bold, for they had 
been much petted at home, and cajoled 
abroad, they timed a short stay and rode 
on to San Gabriel, designing to again 
lay seige to the hearts of San Juan and 
Pala when returning with their northern 
conquests. What! was Senoretta Jos- 
efita away upon a visit, and charming 
Weenah bethrothed to Don Antonio 
Abila? And Senoretta Mariana, and 
Benita, and the gay Loretta? Is not 
Don Juan to give a welcome and a 
dance?" they asked of the Captain of 
Don Juan's rancheria. 

"Why, yes, come this evening, and Don 
Juan will entertain you, for the sefior- 
ettas are away." 

The following morning found the young 
men riding, not so gayly, away toward 



60 



Overland Monthly. 



San Fernando Valley, wherein lay the 
grand and hospitable old olive Mission. 
Never were flirtatious cavaliers more 
keenly checked. They could not fathom 
the quiet reserve with which they were 
met. At Santa Barbara they learned 
that Padre de la Pena was but two days 
ahead of them, and they took notice for 
the nrst time that the quiet Padre was 
taking a journey to San Francisco as 
well as they. Through previous ar- 
rangement, they were joined at Santa 
Barbara by other comrades from San 
Diego, all anxious to hear of the con- 
quests. Don Sepulveda and del Valle 
covered their defeat as best they could 
oy wild stories and graceless lies; but 
soon the frienas tantalized them into the 
confession that, for the most part, the 
senorettas were away from home, as 
the young men following them well knew. 
Gay Monterey lay before them, and the 
most charming senorettas on the Coast 
were there, awaiting the attack. Padre 
de la Pena also was there before them, 
but here the maidens had arranged quite 
a different reception for the daring cav- 
aliers. They prepared a gorgeous fes- 
tival. They took council witu tfieir be- 
trothed and other gallant sefiors; also 
with the good Padre who had so graci- 
ously apprised them of the wager. The 
fascinating Senoretta Rubia, whom all 
knew held charms that all but captivated 
Don Sepulveda upon his last visit, but 
who was now the betrothed bride of gay 
Antonio Florenzo, was to lead the dance. 
The night was grand, the stars twinkled 
their aproval, and the soft wind sighed 
in pity for the men. The patio was a 
brilliant spectacle when the moon rose 
and spread her glorious rays over the 
grand arches, rendering the soft adobe 
walls into a picture of mellow beauty. 
The quiet murmur of the trickling water 
as it played over the ivy grown foun- 
tain added allurement to the enticing 
scene, gay with bright blossoms and ferns, 
rare roses and strange vines. The hand- 
some senorettas gathered in clusters 
here and there, each vying with the other 
in her charms. Don Sepulvcda and Don 
Jos6 del Valle appeared early, made reck- 
less by their former defeats and the 
knowledge that this was the only grand 



fiesta and dance they could expect. Dan- 
cing, flattery, love-making, flirting, song 
and wine made the evening gay. Appar- 
ent success made the cavaliers wild. So 
frequently did they swear the same love 
away that they almost forgot whom the 
first senoretta was. Pretty Rubia hung 
with bewitching grace upon each word 
of the faithless Sepulveda; he was 
charmed, he was reckless, he forgot the 
world and Flores, he forgot everything 
but the beautiful girl by his side. It was 
he who was promising, he who was im- 
ploring. 

"Sweet one, listen. I will break all 
bonds and live for thee alone. My every 
sigh, my every breath is but a plea that 
you may give me hope that you may 
give one ray oi sunshine to my adoring 
heart. I promise, I swear, my troth to 
you. Ah, Rubia, my love, my darling, 
I vow to Heaven my love is yours." 

Rubia listened in silence, but a world of 
wonder shone in her exquisite face. How 
could a man be so deceitful? She knew 
of his wager and believed not a word of 
his protestations. She did not know that 
the man had lost his own happiness in 
his attempt to destroy hers. His heart 
cried out for her and yet he saw that 
she believed him not. 

"Give me, Senor, the scarf and the 
band of perfect embroidery that you 
wear and then will I believe you." Un- 
hesitatingly the false Sepulveda unwound 
the scarf and band, last gifts from the 
deserted Flores, and with the grace of 
a dark Apollo laid them at her feet. As 
she bent to receive them her soft pres- 
ence was as wine to the kneeling man. 
He sprang to his feet and for one prec- 
ious moment he held her; he crushed her 
against his fast-beating heart and kissed 
her lips again and again. She would 
have screamed aloud but for shame that 
she had allowed herself to be out- 
witted. She struggled to free herself, 
and then, covered with confusion, said: 

"To-morrow I shall wear the scarf to 
the wedding at the church; you will 
be there, Don Sepulveda, will you not?" 

"With you I would follow over moun- 
tains and seas, charming jewel, my love, 
my own. My life is complete. With 
thee, I will go to the church." 



In the Days of the Padres. 



61 



"No, no, you must follow," and the 
girl, though well-poised, was subjected 
to a slight shock, for as she spoke, a men- 
tal comparison between Don Sepulveda 
and her own chosen Don Antonio forced 
itself upon her, and brought doubts which 
expressed themselves in the thought: 
could Antonio be thus untrue? Could An- 
tonio play thus insincerely with the jewel 
of a woman's love? A sadness cast a 
shadow. Sepulveda saw and with satis- 
faction believed that the shadow came 
because he might not accompany her to 
the wedding. The wager was forgotten, 
and he believed the girl's heart was his 
own. But at the sight of Don Jose, even 
at the crisis, love's malady began to mend 
a trying explanation would be neces- 
sary. He cast about for reasons and for 
lies whereby to satisfy his friends, and 
withal was very happy. He would not 
have been, could he have heard the hand- 
some girl's rippling laugh as she gayly 
rehearsed the scene a few moments later 
to the merry and exulting Don Antonio 
Florenzo. 

The diamond dew-drops of the morning 
yet glistened on the blossoms that were 
gathered to decorate the grand Mission 
chapel of Monterey. A great wedding 
was to take place, and all the senors 
and senorettas for miles around were 
to be present. Yet both Don Sepulveda 
and Don Jose del Valle were so much 
engrossed with the happiness of their 
evening's conquests that they thought 
not to inquire who the maidens were who 
were to be led to the altar. They were 
guests at Monterey, and of course going 
to the wedding; unknown to them the 
senorettas had arranged that. The bells 
rang out gaily, and hundreds flocked to 
the Mission Carmel to be present at the 
ceremony. 

List! They are coming; the wedding 
party is arriving! Many are the excla- 
mations and expressions, and some min- 
gled with surprise. 

"She is the handsomest girl in Mon- 



terey. Nay, the handsomest in all Cali- 
fornia!" "How glorious!" "How beauti- 
ful!" and many other like remarks are 
heard on all sides. 

Don Sepulveda thought and said. "Why 
no, Senoretta Rubia is the flower of Mon- 
terey, the jewel of the land." 

All who heard him smilingly gave ans- 
wer, "Why, yes, so she is." 

They were coming down the aisle, this 
glorious, lovely bride and her attend- 
ants. Don Sepulveda turned to look upon 
this wondrous beauty. He reeled, and 
his face became an ashy white; within 
the sanctuary walls a curse hissed through 
his lips as he saw the glorious Rubia 
wound in his embroidered scarf, her head 
poised high, and crowned with a towering 
comb and exquisite mantilla that partly 
hid the flaming cheeks and sparkling eyes 
and arrested tne defiant look with which 
she sought Sepulveda's bewildered gaze. 
In the expression of her face he read it 
all; the girl had known of the wager. 

He did not hear the service and was 
first to leave the chapel. After the wed- 
ding they sought him, to joke him about 
the wedding scarf, but he was gone. So 
also was Don del Valle. They made their 
way to San Francisco which was searched 
to replace the scarf and band. But nei- 
ther man knew the color nor the stitch, 
and so the search was in vain. Don Sepul- 
veda, with self-assurance, prepared a tale 
to tell the beautiful Flores; but he might 
as well have saved himself the trouble, 
for in San Diego the daring wager was 
well known. The good Padre de la Pefia 
spoke in the chapel, loudly remonstrating 
with young men for their disregard of 
plighted love. Don Sepulveda shrugged 
his shoulders, and said: "I like not San 
Diego, and shall go away." 

"To Monterey," softly whispered a 
voice behind him. 

He turned quickly, but the speaker 
was gone. The voice was that of Senor- 
etta Flores. 




MODERN philosophy has simultaneously 

traveled two paths. Why and how she 

has appeared to 

lend herself to this 

A Philosophy of seemingly inconsist- 

Modern Life. ent and paradoxical 

performance, are 

questions lying too 

close to the eternal Mystery of Things 
to require answers. But after all, mod- 
ern philosophy, so-called, is ever but an- 
cient philosophy in another garb. Styles 
change, but the philosophic mode of 
thought is only up to her old tricks again. 
She has always boasted two hands. 
One reaches earthward for things real- 
istic, one skyward for light idealistic. 
And with one hand she hauled down of 
late Kipling and his worship of the "God 
of things as they are," and with the other 
a very nest of Christian Science (and 
allied isms) lurches upon her head. 
Both phases of modernity have hosts of 
followers in both literature and life. For 
everyone writes books more or less nowa- 
days, and all that is required is an enthu- 
siasm. A book of sermons may not be 
literature, in a sense, but it is life. Hence 
from the point of view of this two-faced 
modern philosophy a weary seeress 
emaciated from the effects of some cen- 
turies' hard thinking it matters little 
whether she finds her material poetized 
or sermonized. Boys like stories of ad- 
venture, their grandmothers prefer ser- 
mons. Philosophy listens to them, in 
time tucks them into their graves but 
draws her own conclusions. From our 
own point of view a sermon may be 
either diverting or reassuring. 

We have here "The Symphony of Life" 
(a most alluring title) by Henry Wood, 
who stands at the forefront in Boston 
among the writers upon "the new philos- 
ophy." One cannot gauge the value of 
the essays and lectures contained by 
their soothing or uplifting influence upon 
Mr. Wood's followers and admirers, if 
one does not know them, but it is plainly 



to be seen that the book is not only well 
written, liberal in tendency, and idealis- 
tic, but also interesting. The essay, 
"From the Pre-Adamic to the Human," 
with which the book opens, contains a 
really beautiful study of Biblical sym- 
bolism, in which the Flaming Sword is 
shown to keep us not only from returning 
to Eden, but from returning back upon 
the roads or by-paths along which evolu- 
tion has brought us. "It would be easier 
for a man to go back to childhood or for 
the blossom to wrap itself in the bud, 
than for one to parry the sword and scale 
the walls of the Garden. But even 
were it possible, the beauty would have 
dissolved." In fact, Mr. Wood holds that 
it is possible for a once-enlightened soul 
to submerge himself in animalism, but 
not again to become an animal. His views 
are certainly in aii cases optimistic, and 
based upon the scientific views generally 
held by educated people at the present 
time. In this they are surely built 
upon a rock foundation, although he is 
so avowedly an idealist. 

But why, then, bother with such very 
Bostonese questions as ''Why was Emer- 
son Emerson?" or such trite remarks as 
"The world needs more Emersons," "Sup- 
ply responds to demand, and there is 
no law more veritable or exact," "Man 
is a vertebrate, but within closer limits 
he is a mammal"? Philosophy is never 
so prone to send her auditors to sleep 
as when she shies axioms at them. 

A central idea in Mr. Wood's very won- 
derful, thought-out philosophy (which he 
calls Truth) is, of course, that man "has 
been distanced from the Deity only in 
consciousness. In reality he has never 
left the 'Father's House,' nis seeming 
journey being only a dream in sensuous 
matter and material embodiment." For- 
tunate the intellect which can disentan- 
gle even to its own satisfaction the seem- 
ing from the real, the phantasmagoria 
from the adumbration. And how lightly 
spiced with pleasure must be the opinion 



Books To Read And Not To Read. 



63 



that "While the phenomenon of war is 
visible and objective, war itself is en- 
tirely within the mind of man. * * * 
While the idealistic philosophy inculcates 
only a recognition of the good, war is 
the dominant recognition of evil." In 
fact, idealism wrapped in the quiet of the 
study, refuses to recognize the fact of 
the dead bodies in the trenches. 

Mr. Wood already has a wide circle 
of readers, his former books, six of them, 
having passed through many editions; and 
certainly for literary finish and poetic 
beauty, they stand high. 

(Published by Lee & Shepard, Boston, 
Mass.) 

That the city is a 
place "where men 
The Making of lead a common life 
a City. for a noble end," (Aris- 

totle's definition) is 
too often forgotten 

in the modern hurry for the spread of 
municipal possibilities. The sites of 
cities are naturally chosen for commer- 
cial convenience rather than for pictur- 
esque beauty, yet this is reason but not 
excuse for the entire disregard for civic- 
aesthetics, which has been evinced by 
so many of the growing American towns 
of the last decade, rushed into existence 
by booms. There comes a time, however, 
in the life of every American town as 
so much more frequently at the very 
birth of European villages, when this 
question is considered, and lately an 
awakening, an enthusiasm for the beauti- 
fying of cities, has come about in "the 
East." Evidences are at hand in the very 
excellent book, "The Improvement of 
Towns and Cities," or "The Practical 
Basis of Civic Aesthetics," by Charles 
Mulford Robinson, member of the Archi- 
tectural League of America's National 
Committee on Municipal Improvements, 
and honorary member of English 
"Scapa." The author is, consequently, 
thoroughly conversant with his subject, 
drawing comparisons from cities all over 
the world, old and new, and has opinions 
drawn from much travel and experience. 
California grows towns with such fertil- 
ity and has so many emerging cities, that 
such a book should be found most useful 
on this Coast. Among the practical sub- 



jects treated are: "The Site of the City," 
"The Street Plan," "The Tree's Import- 
ance," "Parks and Drives," "Architect- 
ural Development," "Function and Plac- 
ing of Sculpture," "Squares and Play- 
grounds," "Works of Individuals and So- 
cieties," "The Advertisement Problem," 
"Popular Education in Art." 

It would have been impossible to in- 
dite a treatise of so broad a scope as 
this, in the seclusion of the study, and 
the' author acknowledges his obligation 
for suggestions, encouragement and for 
cordial aid, to active workers, both men 
and women, throughout the country. As 
matters stand now, more money is spent 
in the United States for municipal deco- 
ration than is paid out in Europe, but in 
many cases, especially where an old and 
ugly city is being improved by isolated 
works of art, the efforts are misguided, 
and the effects not nearly so good as in 
European cities. In many cases the orig- 
inal street plan of a city causes it to be 
difficult to beautify, and it is too often 
forgotten that a good monument or statue 
is like a good building, in that, to realize 
its full efficiency, it must have a fitting 
site. On the choice of the location' of 
a work of art depends its harmonious 
connection with city beauty. Mr. Robin- 
son speaks in termte of praise of the work 
done by means of criticism by the Art 
Association of San Francisco, also of the 
neighborhood improvement clubs of Oak- 
land. The work of The Merchants' As- 
sociation of San Francisco, in '97, in 
cleaning of the streets, etc., is also de- 
scribed. 

"Civic art," Mr. Robinson tells us, "is 
not an outgrowth only of fashion and large 
gifts. They may do much to make beauti- 
ful a village, but in a populous commun- 
ity the roots should reach down to the 
common people to the people who indi- 
vidually have little money, but who by 
the force of their numbers stamp the 
public taste and opinion, to those to 
whom the city's care is ultimately com- 
mitted." 

("The Improvement of Towns and 
Cities," by Mr. Charles Mulford Robinson. 
G. A. Putnam's Sons, New York, Pub- 
lishers.) 

GRACE LUCE IRWIN. 




Southern Pacific Depot, Kern City. 



Aston Bros. Photo. 



Kern City and the Kern River Oil Districts 



BY O. C. ELLISON. 



DISTINGUISHED American trav- 
eler who had previously "done" all 
of European scenery, finally con- 
cluded his itinerary by a thousand mile 

journey along the wonderful coastline 
of the "Land of the Midnight Sun." 

Returning he summed up his impres- 
sions by declaring that it would seem 
as if the "Almighty architect" had experi- 
mented in mountain construction else- 
where, and finally embodied all former 
attempts in one sublime effort, and thus 
created the majestic Alpine sentinels 
which guard the front of all Northwest- 
ern Europe. 

Similarly it might well be said that the 
architect of North America experi- 
mented, as it were, across the continent, 
but on reaching the Pacific shores all 
ingredients were ready for one of the no- 
blest mountain structures of the world 
and the Sierras were cast. 

Such a gift, as history has more than 
once proven, is sufficient to mould the 



character and the destiny of whole races. 
But the fairies that hovered over the 
birth of the future California were not 
satisfied with this opulence of the Gods. 
To the diadem of grandeur they added 
nearly every form of treasure-trove with- 
in the gift of Vulcan, Flora, and Nep- 
tune. Even then there was one dissatis- 
fied. Said Mercury, the goddess of com- 
merce: "Away to the North, on a little 
island on a narrow strip of sea, you have 
installed future power and dominion over 
land and sea in the untold millions of 
tons of coal. Yet just beyond these coast- 
lines is the mightiest ocean of this ter- 
restrial globe; its shores will teem with 
countless millions and on its waters the 
greatest events of human history will 
culminate. Prepare for tnese, their 
cities and their commerce, a medium 
of propulsion, at once concentrated, con- 
venient, economical, and abundant." The 
request was granted, and the under- 
ground reservoirs of petroleum were 
stored away and held in abeyance until 



Kern City and the Kern River Oil District. 



67 



the wand of time had come to reveal the 
basic foundation of a new era of the 
Pacific Slope i. e., the industrial and 
manufacturing period, an era destined in 
its varied ramifications to eclipse all the 
epoch-making achievements that have 
preceded it. 

Said Mr. M. H. de Young, proprietor of 
the San Francisco Chronicle, at the Pe- 
troleum Congress, Paris Exposition, Aug- 
ust 25th, 1900: 

"Probably a great many of the dele- 
gates here assembled are not very fami- 
liar with California as a producer of pe- 
troleum. While for many years the pro- 
duction of oil has been considerable in 
our State, it is only within the last twelve 
months that a marvelous impetus has 
been given to it. The adventurous spirit 
of some of our oil men sought out an 
entirely different section of our State 
for exploration, where they soon devel- 
oped a well producing 800 barrels per 
day. A second well producing 1,000 bar- 
rels was soon followed by a third well. 
This was enough to attract the atten- 
tion of a large amount of capital and 
enterprise. The natural result has been 
to open and develop new oil districts all 
over the State. To-day the oil region is 
said to extend six hundred miles through 
the State in length and seventy miles in 
width, equal to 42,000 square miles. 
If but a part of this is thoroughly devel- 
oped, California will be a greater pro- 
ducer of petroleum than the famous State 
of Pennsylvania. The monthly out-put 
to-day is over 300,000 barrels, amounting 
to 3,600,000 barrels per year, and I ex- 
pect to see that doubled within the 
coming twelve months."* (This predic- 
tion of Mr. M. H. de Young has been more 
than verified. Editor.) 

*Since the above w.as in type Mr. M. 
H. de Young has been elected President 
of the Petroleum Miners' Association. 

Among the pioneers of 
this place there are 
Kern City many entitled to dis- 

Pioneer Record, tinguished regard for 
prolonged service in 
behalf of public 
welfare and the maintenance of responsi- 
ble business ventures. Space forbids 
the mention of more than two: The late 
Hon. A. S. Bernard was treasurer for sev- 
era/ ^rms of Kern County, and orfe of 






KERN CITY BUILDINGS- 
2. High School. 3. Pu .Ho 



St. Josephs' Church, 
-i.-y . 



Kern City and the Kern River Oil District. 



69 




Building, corner of Baker and Railroad Avenue, Kern City. Aston Bros. Photo. 



the earliest to discern the future in store 
for Kern City. Perhaps one of the most 
active and capable in making this future 
a certainty is the happily still living and 
indefatigable Argonaut, Hon. H. F. Wil- 
liams. While resident of San Francisco, 
he is as often to be found in his favored 
spot, Kern City. To him is largely due 
the incorporation of the town, the con- 
struction of the "East-Side" Canal, the 
water of which redeemed what is now one 
of the most valuable horticultural areas 
of the whole County, known locally, curi- 
ously enough, as the "Weedpatch." It 
comprises thousands of acres that are 
now covered with productive orchards, 
peach, apricots, etc., and choice alfalfa 
meadows. Mr. Williams was also largely 
instrumental in procuring the construc- 
tion of the branch line to the asphaltum 
beds in the west part of the County. 
This was built before the oil excitement 
broke out. 

It is this particular 
epoch that constitutes 
the special reason for 
The Oil Era. this effort. To the 
credit of the "State Min- 
ing Bureau" be it said 
it officially called at- 
tention to this exceptionally rich terri- 
tory abutting directly on the Kern River 
as a most promising oil territory previ- 
ous to any other known agency, and 



nearly seven years in advance of the 
present active development. But it was 
Mr. Jonathan Elwood, who, with his 
brother, went prospecting on Mr. Means' 
ranch in May, 1899, who opened the well 
that is now known as "Discovery." This 
success, as he tersely put it, speedily 
induced the presence of a great number 
of men wearing plug hats, not very com- 
mon up till that period on the banks of 
Kern River. From that day to this, de- 
developments have gone on apace. It is this 
most remarkable progress that has made 
out of the former way station of Sumner, 
now Kern City, one of the most import- 
ant oil shipping centers in the United 
States. 

The vital commercial importance of 
this shipping point now, as compared 
with its former somewhat stationary ex- 
istence, can best be realized from the 
freight statistics available from the 
most reliable sources. Through the 
courtesy of Mr. Matlock, General Freight 
Agent of the Southern Pacific at this 
station, we are furnished an estimate of 
the merchandise passing here, aggre- 
gating $600,000 a month. The value of 
the oil alone forwarded during last May 
was fully $200,000, making a total of 
close on to $1,000,000 a month. If the 
actual output of the wells had been sent 
out, even at the then current rates, it 
would have reached close on to $500,000. 




Typical Residences, Kern City. 



Anton Bros. Photo. 



Kern City and the 

Even these figures are liable to be ex- 
ceeded any month as soon as the tempor- 
ary depression of the market is lifted. 
For it is only temporary.The real estate 
market, however, as far as Kern City is 
concerned, has known no depression. 



Kern River Oil District. 

occupying a choice incline, 
sloping immediately to the 
south of the Kern River 
bluffs. This fact, coupled 
to a wholesome artesian 
water supply and a good 




BA K E R .si. 
The New First Bank of Kern Building, 

Buildings brick and frame are under 
construction all over the town, and, from 
the present outlook, its population of 
2,000 is more than liable to be doubled 
in a couple of years. 

Kern City is the eastern terminus of 
one of the best-paying car lines in the 
State. It is lighted by electricity and 
possesses school and church advantages 
adequate to the present population. Its 
streets are oiled, and the signal advan- 
tage of this method of subduing dust in 
the interior cities will be commented 
on hereafter. The town is farther fav- 
ored by a responsible bank, the "First 
Bank of Kern," and to the traveler it is 
valuable to know that it possesses one of 
the best family hotels in the oil districts. 
Perhaps from a resi- 
dence point of view, 
Topographical one of its most vital 
Advantages. advantages is its to- 
pography. Kern City 
, islocatedona 

thoroughly drained area, by virtue of 



Kern City. 

sewer system, makes Kern City one of 
the most desirable residence locations 
of the entire interior valley basin. The 
importance of these factors in this clim- 
ate can scarcely be over-estimated. Dur- 
ing the pioneer era, before the value of 
drainage and pure water was understood, 
malarial fevers: were said to be rife. 
Whatever truth there was in these early 
tales, always exaggerated by the man be- 
yond the County line, Kern City never 
deserved it. Its location and environ- 
ment are as thoroughly wholesome as 
were the slopes of Berkeley in their most 
charming days. The bearing of this on 
the question of locating homes and fac- 
tories in this region will be understood 
by all at a glance. The place possesses 
all the advantages for a great manufac- 
turing center. What is more, it is 
destined to become such. The pioneer 
stories of unsanitary conditions are be- 
ing rehearsed, while as a matter of 
actual experience, these imputations 
never had any relevance to this particu- 



Overland Monthly. 




Cesmat Hotel, Kern City. 

lar portion of the County. Furthermore, 
it has no relevance as a whole to the 
entire region, provided one uses ordinary 
precaution. The heat is often spoken of 
as a forbidden factor. It is in this 
very connection that the naturaly drained 
condition of the soil appears in all its 
importance. Wherever the resident oc- 
cupies drained areas, the dry heat of 
the interior is not injurious. 

The discovery of pe- 
troleum oil and its 

The Manufacturing relation to the Indus- 
Possibilities, trial activity of the 
State at large is a 
subject that every 

well-wisher of this commonwealth is at 
present studying most carefully. The la- 
tent possibilities in this single resource, 
which is really a composite of a mechani- 
cal force and ingredients chemically and 
commercially valuable, amounts to an in- 
dustrial and economic revolution. Like 
many other revolutions that affect the 
social structure at large most profoundly, 
it is being carried through so quietly that 
seemingly it will be fully upon us before 
our commonwealth at large realizes the 
fact. The dynamic factors of modern 
England are its coal and iron beds, but 
chiefly the former. Coal at $2.00 a ton 
has created modern Chicago. Two dol- 



Aston Bros. Photo. 

lars worth of oil is the exact equivalent 
for one ton of coal in effectiveness, with 
a number of special advantages thrown 
into the bargain and not charged to the 
patron. The coal stratas of England 
made possible the superstructure for 
which Alfred, Elizabeth, Drake, Nelson, 
and Wellington laid a foundation. So 
the successive epochs of our own State 
have awaited the amalgam that should at 
once complete and revitalize them. 
Mining, agriculture, horticulture, manu- 
facturing, transportation by land and sea, 
all were doing their best But the whole 
were yoked to a carriage, as it were, 
whose movements in and by itself repre- 
sented as much or more capital and 
brains than the loads. This is a fatal 
disproportion, but nature, rather than 
man, was the originator of this situation. 
Then like a curtain on a new stage set- 
ting, comes the revelation of the new, 
yet old, potency locked up so long in 
nature's lap. All students of events real- 
ized at once that it came, too, at an hour 
that our one and only Henry James is 
fond of calling the "psychological mo- 
ment." Neither before or hereafter 
could this discovery be of such import as 
now. Jefferson and his Louisiana pur- 
chase, Senator Benton, and Fremont and 
their Alta California, Marshall, Admirals 




Typical Kern City residences. No. 3 shows growth of shade trees in six years 
under the influence of irrigation. Up till period named the land contained noth- 
ing but cacti. Ax: OH Bros. Photo. 



74 



Overland Monthly. 

- i; 



f 




Residence of Mr. V. E. Wilson, Kern City. 



Aston Bros. Pltoto. 



Perry and Dewey, all laid the foundation 
of what is now clearly seen will become 
the mightiest industrial empire on this 
Pacific Slope, resting, as it were, in the 
very shadow of the Sierras. It will not 
be long before the whole interior basin 
of the San Joaquin Valley will be cov- 
ered as with a wreath of manufactur- 
ing centers. There will be no dense 
smoke-stacks to defile vegetation and be- 
grime the worker, for the burning of 
petroleum oil is alike odorless and 
smokeless. "A dream from one of Rus- 
kin's or Morris' Utopias," we hear some- 
body whisper. Fortunately the above is 
sober reality. This economic revolution 
is well advanced, and that very insigni- 
ficant village of a few years back, now 
Kern City, is the very center, as well 
as the inaugural point of this new mod- 
ern era of Central California. 

California, however, is not anxious to 
create another East-side New York nor 
a West-side Chicago. She has some ex- 



perience of her own in what is im- 
plied in packing human beings as so 
many sardines in a given quarter. If not 
very extensive it makes up for it in com- 
pleteness of its object lesson. But a suc- 
cession of manufacturing villages, with 
abundance of space for all works estab- 
lished on the ground, an equal abundance 
therefor of fresh air, with individual cot- 
tages occupied by the workers, each sur- 
rounded by its own garden, and, for a 
frame around the picture, the noblest 
mountain range on the continent, will 
surely be acceptable to all concerned. 
And this very era is dawning and fairly 
under way in Kern City. Located at the 
north base of the beautiful and sugges- 
tive junction with the Sierras and the 
Coast Range with the Tehachapi, it is 
also the initiary point as well of the 
great Santa Fe system as far as Central 
California is concerned. That the new 
joint extension of these two railroad sys- 
tems to the McKittrick, Sunset, and Mid- 



Kern City and the Kern River 



way districts will ultimately give Kern 
City and its great interests a short cut 
to tide water over the Coast Range to 
the West can scarcely be doubted. A 
Santa Fe depot is to be constructed here 
at an early date. 

The following pa- 
per consti t u t e s 

The S. P. Company one of the most 
Leads the Industrial significent utter- 
Revolution, ances made in re- 
gard to the 
whole subject of 

the use of oil, its industrial and economic 
importance. The Overland Monthly is in- 
debted for the same to the courtesy and 
painstaking care of the master mechanic 
of the S. P. R. R. Co., Mr. R. B. French, 
whose headquarters is at Kern City, and 
we bespeak for it a most careful perusal: 
It will no doubt in- 
Southern Pacific terest and surprise 
Improvements. the general travel- 
at Kern City. ing public to learn 
that two hundred and 




75 



fifty engineer^-^ndl jisemen and about 
three hundred and fifty shop men are con- 
stantly employed by the motive power 
department of the Southern Pacific on 
the San Joaquin division, which includes 
Fresno as a terminus on the north, and 
Los Angeles and Santa Barbara on the 
south, a total of over seven hundred miles 
operated. These men are the best-paid 
of any mechanics in the country, and the 
result is the highest efficiency in this 
most important branch of railroad opera- 
tion. This small army of men draw a 
monthly salary of about $50,000 to $55,- 
000, which is one of the mainstays of 
the business men in the neighborhood of 
Kern and Bakersfield, where the shops 
and round house of this division are lo- 
cated. While the company is liberal in the 
way of salaries and wages, it is at the 
same time very quick to adopt any sys- 
tem of large economy in the operation of 
the road. This is no more strikingly 
shown than in the use of crude oil as a 
fuel in their locomotives and stationary 




Residence of Mrs. E. P. Bernard, Kern City. 



Aston Bros. Photo. 



76 



Overland Monthly. 




Ardizzi & Olcese Building, Kern City. 

boilers. About sixty locomotives have 
been equipped to burn oil, requiring 
about 5000 barrels of oil per day, which 
is obtained from the Kern River district. 
The fuel for these engines was formerly 
hauled from the Castle Gate and other 
mines in Utah, a distance of nearly 1500 
miles. The burning of fuel in the engines 



Aston Bros. Photo. 

alone saves the company over $200,000 a 
year on this division. Oil finds another 
important use in generating steam for the 
stationary boilers, which supply steam 
for the machine shop engine and the 
round house. The ou, which is stored in 
four tanks containing about 50,000 gal- 
lons each, located about 1200 feet from 




Bath Resort. 



Aston Bros. Photo. 



Kern City and the Kern River Oil District 



77 



the round house, is conducted through 
pipes to an auxiliary storage tank, near 
the two 450 horse-power Scotch boilers. 
Thence it is conducted to four burners, 
two under each boiler, where it comes in- 
to contact with a jet of live steam from 
the boilers, which atomizes it and sprays 
the oil mixed with ogygen into the fire 
box, where it ignites, creating a heat 
far more intense than that from coal. 
The steam jet also serves the purpose 
of a blower for creating an artificial 
draught. Everything connected with thjs 
plant is of the most raedern construction, 
and in place of a pile of dirty coal in 
front of the fire door, with a grimy fire- 
man shoveling all day long, there is a 
row of clean, compact burners, with firing 
valves and all parts polished like gold 
and silver; the floor is of concrete with- 
out a spot, and the fireman, who is also the 
engineer, simply has to watch the fire at 
intervals and turn a polished lever to 
regulate the flow of oil. 

Economy is carried still farther in the 
way of relieving the boilers of the duty 
of heating the feed water up to the boil- 
ing point, which before had to be done by 
the boiler. As it requires 772 foot-pounds 
of energy or work to raise a pound of 
water one degree of temperature (called 
the British Themal Unit) it will readily 
be seen what an important adjunct to the 
steam boilers the feed water is, when we 
consider the number of gallons of water 
that are used every twenty-four hours 
in generating steam. 

To complete the system of the econ- 
omy, the company has erected a 65,000 
gallon steel water tank, into which about 
200,000 gallons of water are pumped 
every twenty-four hours, which is used 
for filling tanks of locomotives, washing 
out locomotive boilers, and in the sta- 
tionary boilers. The supply of water is 
pumped from the depth of thirty-five feet 
below the surface from a well in close 
proximity to the shops. The water is dis- 
charged from this 65,000 gallon tank into 
the auxiliary heater mentioned above, 
where it is heated to a temperature of 
212 degrees by the exhaust steam from 
the stationary engine and pumps which 
circulates through flues in the water, 
thereby heating tne surrounding water. 
The heated water is then pumped from 
the heater into the stationary boilers. 

Another important improvement has 
been introduced. Electric lights have 
been placed throughout the blacksmith 
shops, boiler and copper shop, machine 
shop, erecting shop and round house 
which eliminates all the disagreeable 
features connected with the use of kero- 
sene torches at night, besides making 
it possible for the night force to perform 




Mr. V. E. Wilson, 

Manager First Bank of Kern. 



effective work on the locomotives re- 
quiring various emergency repairs. The 
importance of this will be appreciated 
when it is considered that ninety per cent 
of the business of the division is done 
at night. 

The system of heating water is used 
to good effect in washing the boilers of 
locomotives. This is an absolute neces- 
sity with every engine coming into the 
round house nearly every trip. If cold 
water were used for this purpose, the 
boilers would have to be cooled thor- 
oughly, otherwise the cold water would 
have a very damaging effect on the fire 
box sheets, owing to the violent con- 
traction, and as engines have to be 
washed out in a hurry, the water is 
heated by a steam jet to the same tem- 
perature as the fire boxes of the engines 
making the operation of washing out the 
boilers a speedy and safe operation. 

The fine modern round house has twen- 
ty-four stalls, a fine concrete floor and a 
steel roof. Lockers for the use of the 
men are placed at convenient points 
throughout the round house, also wash 
troughs equipped with hot and cold 
water. These features are in advance of 
anything else in the country in this line. 

All coal burner engines which have not 
been converted into oil burners are fired 
up with fuel oil, by means of a portable 
fire kindler, operated with compressed 
air, obviating the necessity of keeping a 



Overland Monthly. 




KERN CITY WATER WORKS. Aston Bros. Photo. 

These works are unique in having the motive power operated by oil fuel. This 
fuel is found at about 1,000 feet depth, some two to three miles from the works. 
The pumps lift the water from 200 feet below the surface. A navel orange or- 
chard immediately surrounding the grounds of the plant is irrigated from the 
plant, which also supplies Kern City with water. 



large supply of wood on hand for this 
purpose. The fire kindler is not used 
to fire up oil burner engines, as the oil 
contained in the tender of the engine is 
used for this purpose, in conjunction with 
the steam from stationary pipes in the 
round house. 



The above statement needs no eluci- 
dation on our part. Furthermore, it is 
due at this time to acknowledge that 
the Southern Pacific Company is un- 
doubtedly entitled to the credit of inaug- 
urating the first important experiments 
along this very line. Upwards of fif- 
teen years ago, when the corporation 
was still known as the "Central Pacific 
Company," most valuable experiments 
were under way in San Francisco. The 
only oil fields available were, of course, 
the Southern California wells, chiefly in 
Ventura County. The daily papers of 
June 9th and 10th, 1901, are just chron- 
icling the substitution of oil for coal 
on our ferry ooats as great news. But 
Mr. N. H. Foster, auditor of the Central 



Pacific, under date of October 26, 1887, 
reported to the late General Manager, 
Mr. Towne, that the advantages of util- 
izing oil as compared to coal were for 
the ferry-boat Transit, 9 per cent; Oak- 
land, 24 per cent; Julia, 22 per cent; 
Piedmont, 21 per cent in favor of oil. 
When such San Francisco establish- 
ments as the Union Iron Works, the Mar- 
ket street Railway Company, and the 
Palace Hotel substitute oil for coal, the 
question as to whether or not oil is a 
power in the land answers itself. The 
Southern Pacific, as well as the Santa Fe, 
systems are substituting oil burners for 
coal wherever oil is available as fast 
as their mechanics can effect the change. 
Those of our readers 
who have had occasion 
Oil as Dust to travel much during 
Destroyer. the summer months in 
the interior valleys 
know the serious men- 
ace to business and pleasure in the 



Kern City and the Kern River Oil District. 



79 



hitherto unavoidable masses of ever 
multiplying clouds of dust. Injurious and 
disagreeauie, they are enough to wish one 
forever located near the glacial lakes, 
at the summits instead of the base of 
the great ranges. This is another press- 
ing problem of domestic economy that 
is solved by the oil in so satisfactory a 
manner and so simply and easily that it 
amazes all travelers that such ready to 
hand a remedy was not introduced long 
ago. The poll tax is known to be very 
obnoxious tribute to all who pay it. But 
it is believed that if our county authori- 
ties will assure these tax-payers that the 
amount will be applied exclusively to 
the oiling of roaus and streets, that ex- 
ceedingly few delinquents will be found 
on the tax-list. 

Our mining popu- 
lation will be 

Smelting Furnaces, greatly interested 

in tiie remarkable 

results obtained 

from the use of oil in a furnace invented 



by Mr. Hjalmar Krusel, and so far chiefly 
introduced in Germany, where, however, 
the Imperial Government itself has be- 
come one of its principal patrons. The 
"Pacific Oil Reporter" states that at the 
State Smelting Works, located at Kol- 
pino, Germany, 1,120 kilograms of coal 
were necessary to smelt 480 kilograms of 
brass in the reverberatory furnace, while 
the same effect would be obtained from 
368 kilogram^ of petroleum, so that one 
kilogram of the latter proved equal to 
three of coal for smelting purposes. 

The relation that oil is 
Pacific Ocean destined to play in 
in Pacific Ocean 
and Oil. commerce as a com- 
mercial product for di- 
rect export as well as 
a motive power for that very activity, is 
not yet so transparent as on shore. But 
its coming power on sea is if possible 
to be yet greater. 

The United States Government some- 
what late in the day, has just inaugurated 




Southern Pacific Company's oil fuel furnace, Kern City. 



Aston Bros. Photo. 



80 



Overland Monthly. 



a series of experiments at Mare Island 
on behalf of the navy department. Uncle 
Sam, strange to sav, is about thirty-five 
years behind the times in this respect. 
The Russian Government, under the 
grandfather of the present Czar, and also 
Napoleon the Third, preceded him. How- 
ever, if the Oregon makes her next trip 
around the Horn burning California oil, 
all will be forgiven. In view of these con- 
tingencies, the whole commercial com- 
munity will be deeply interested in the 
record made by the English steamer Cow- 
rie, commanded by Captain Davies. The 
vessel belongs to the Shell Line of Lon- 



like it and the better results it gives." 
The consumption of liquid fuel aboard is 
put at about twenty-six tons a day, com- 
pared with a consumption of from thirty 
to thirty-two tons of good Welsh coal. 
In time these figures will be largely im- 
proved upon. Two days were saved on 
the run between Port Said and London. 
She arrived in fourteen instead of six- 
teen days, as usual while burning coal. 
The captain also informed the Review 
that all the "Dutch line" steamers plying 
between Batavia and Singapore use oil 
exclusively. 




Kern City Brie* Yards. 

don, and its epoch-making journey is re- 
lated in detail in the valuable pages of 
the London Petroleum Review, October 
6, 1900. 

The Cowrie is especially built for the 
carrying of oil. Sne made the long jour- 
ney of ten thousand miles from the Har- 
bor of Ballick Pappan, on the island of 
Borneo, Dutch Indies, to London, with 
oil exclusively as fuel. Her total tonnage 
capacity is 6,200 tons, subdivided in six- 
teen tanks. On the Cowrie no motive 
power is employed but oil is made to pro- 
duce it. "The longer our engineers use 
it," says Captain Davies, "the better they 



Aston Bros* Photo. 

No intelligent man of 
to-day remains will- 
The Scientific ingly in a pursuit 
Aspect. which does not afford 

him some avenue of 
intellectual diversion 
as a means of dignifying his calling and 
relieving it of being a mere form of drud- 
gery. From this point of view the oil 
industry in California challenges the 
brightest men in the commonwealth. 
Nothing could be seemingly more com- 
monplace than a "forest of derricks" such 
as at present occupies the irregular quad- 
rangle of over ten miles in extent and 
over two and a half miles in width, 



Kern City and the Kern River Oil District. 



81 



abutting the north side of the Kern 
river. Grotesque triangular freaks loom- 
ing up against the horizon, they appear 
not unlike a Munchaussen tale embodied, 
while on the other hand the scientific 
reason underlying their presence is as 
fascinating as a fairy tale. 

Before yonder "Monte Cristo" well 
could deliver its one thousand or more 
barrels a day, as it has done for weeks 
in succession, and thus enable the San 
Joaquin Company to store away hun- 
dreds of thousands of the same in yonder 
tanks "against a rainy day" as it were, 
some sundry things have had to happen 
right under and over that very derrick. 
Processes more Titanic than the fabulous 
strokes of Thor's hammer were under 
way over the immediate crest of these 
now so peaceful ranges, and but a few 
miles distant, craters were boiling, lava 
and sulphur covered the landscape there, 
while on the west side where the oil 
are now "spudding," the Pacific Ocean 
was quietly lapping this valley, then an 
arm of the sea, maintaining a sea fauna 
of unlimited myriads of beings, while at 
its very bottom from whicn this oil now 
bubbles to the top, other processes as 
delicate as the distillation in the tiniest 
retort of the chemist's laboratory were 
under way. 

California is singularly favored in 
many ways, but in no instance more so, 
than by the fact that in her geological 
evolution she is at once projected on the 
most magnificent scale, with each step 
succinct, intelligible, and clearly termin- 
ating in the most practical beneficent 
ends. Before the present oil fields of the 
San Joaquin Valley were discovered, Pro- 
fessor Lawson, then in charge of the 
geological explorations at Berkeley Uni- 
versity, wrote as follows: "The recent 
evolution of the physiography of the con- 
tinent has a profound human as well as 
a scientific interest. In no part of the 
continent is this interest so intense as in 
California. Nowhere is the record so 
legible, nowhere will greater discoveries 
reward the researches of the enthusiastic 
geologist. * * * We have at the very 
doors of the University of California a 
most wonderful chapter of geological his- 
tory spread out for our perusal, so that 



he who runs may read, all the more won- 
derful because the effects recorded are 
occurrences of but yesterday and are still 
in progress." The Professor then pro- 
ceeds in detail to present the incontest- 
ible evidence of the uplift of the coast 
ranges from the Golden Gate to San 
Diego as written in indelible geological 
handwriting of the coast range valleys 
and basins. Says the Professor, in con- 
clusion: "The facts adduced in the pres- 
ent paper, establish a recent uplift of 
the continental margin from San Fran- 
cisco to San Diego, varying from eight 
hundred to fifteen hundred feet."* 

"The tendency of the coastal uplift was 
to make the San Joaquin Valley a closed 
basin.** This, however, has been counter- 
acted by the vigorous trenching of the 
mountains effected by the Sacramento 
river at the straits of Carquinez. As a 
consequence of this, the general uplift 
of the coast, its geography has been 
radically changed in the most recent geo- 
logical times." 

Working for different scientific objects, 
in all probability absolutely unknown to 
each other, yet abetting each other's la- 
bor, while tens of thousands miles apart, 
were Professor Lawson of Berkeley and 
Professor Engler, Stutgart University, 
Germany. This latter gentleman occu- 
pies the unique scientific distinction of 
being among the most eminent living 
authorities on the question of the origin 
of petroleum. He delivered an address 
on his favorite theme at the Petroleum 
Congress, Paris, August, 1900, which we 
suggest that all investigators of this sub- 
ject peruse in full. Space forbids any- 
thing but the following extracts, quoted 
on the account of the exceedingly interest- 
ing elucidation it affords of the origin 
of the petroleum bed in the San Joaquin 
Valley, which the author has evidently 
never seen. While Professor Lawson, as 
already seen, described years before ex- 
actly the geological conditions that have 
evolved the San Joaquin Valley, Pro- 
fessor Engler discovered that these fac- 
tors must have existed in order that pe- 
troleum oil should become the inevitable 
product of sea fauna. Says Prof. Engler: 

: See Object Relief Map. 

**Geological Bulletin, University, 1894. 



Kern City and the Kern River Oil District. 



83 



"One of the main difficulties in the 
elucidation of the formation of petroleum 
from animal remains, is the question how 
the accumulation of such enormous 
masses of such remains as would be 
required to account for the formation of 
the existing extensive deposits of petrol- 
eum, could be at all possible. This diffi- 
culty is, however, overcome by the mere 
recognition of the circumstance that cer- 
tain natural processes, which at the pres- 
ent time we can only observe on a small 
scale, might very well in former times 
have occurred (and in future may occur) 
on a very extensive scale; or, again, that 
we are only able to observe such a small 
fractional part of many gigantic pro- 
casses could have been produced by the 
for us to form an accurate idea of them 
in their entirety. 

"It has already been repeatedly shown 
that extensive deposits of animal car- 
cases could have been produced by the 
isolation of bays from the adjacent sea, 
owing to the alternate elevation and de- 
pression of the coast line, the specific 
fauna developing under the altered con- 
ditions of the water as regards saline 
constituents being afterwards destroyed 
by fresh irruptions of sea water. Oschen- 
ius assumes the flooding of bays or lakes 
by solutions of saline matter. Again an 
over-production of animal life in the ab- 
sence of carrion eaters, might lead to the 
accumulation of carcasses in bays and 
inland seas, as might also the dilution of 
sea water by a new influx, or the occur- 
rence of disease, submarine earthquakes 
and submarine volcanoes. Mainly, how- 
ever, one result of the by no means suffi- 
ciently-known ocean currents may be the 
accumulation of the remains of marine 
animals at certain quiescent spots at the 
bottom of the sea; in which connection 
the micra-fauna infesting all the geologi- 
cal portion of the sea may play a still 
more important part than the macra- 
fauna. 

"Furthermore, a special importance in 
connection with the formation of petrol- 
eum is perhaps attributable to the living 
constituents of the Plankton, floating in 
the ocean, and consisting in part of organ- 
isms visible to the naked eye, together 



with microbial organisms mostly low 
forms of animal life, but also diatoms 
which infest the sea in countless hordes. 
These are dispersed by sea and tide, more 
particularly by ocean currents, and when 
finally settling down again in favorable 
situations may furnish the raw material 
for the formation of bitumen. Being 
principally mollusks, non-silicious, and 
lime-free Crustacea, larvae, etc., they 
leave behind no other residue but fat 
when decomposed. In addition, deep-sea 
explorations have led to the discovery of 
accumulations of the carcases of marine 
macra-fauna, such as sharks and whales." 
(Abundant remains of all of these 
classes are found in the Kern River Dis- 
trict. Ed.) 

Continuing, Professor Engler says: 
"Interesting data for the question at 
issue are afforded by Andrussow's re- 
searches during the deep-sea expeditions 
in the Black and Capian Seas. The Gulf 
of Karabuga, w' ^ch covers an area of 
over 15,000 square kilometers, is con- 
nected witn the Caspian by a channel 
the Karabugas Strait about 100-150 
metres wide and 5 kilometres in length. 
In consequence of rapid evaporation and 
of a difference in levels, a rapid current 
of water flows from the sea into the Gulf, 
the water of which latter is thereby 
gradually enriched with saline matter, 
so that its density attains 17 degrees 
Beau: whereas the specific gravity of 
the Caspian water is only 1% degree 
Beau: Masses of living organisms which 
are carried along from the Caspian Sea, 
and are conveyed by the specifically 
lighter water for some distance within 
the gulf, are thus brought to destruction 
and precipitation. Furthermore, large 
numbers of fish enter the gulf at spawn- 
ing time, and these also are killed by the 
exceedingly salt water; and when to this 
is added the fact that immense quantities 
of sand and dust are driven into the gulf 
from surrounding wastes by the high 
winds blowing over the steppes, the for- 
mation of bitumeniferous strata in this 
place also is easily accounted for."* 
Andrussow also drew attention to the 

*Petroleum Review, London, Septem- 
ber 1, 1900. 




San Joaquin Oil and Development Co. The Celebrated Gusher No. 16 Kern 
River District. Aston Bros - PJtoto - 



Kern City and the Kern River Oil District. 



85 




1,500,000 gallon tank erected by Lacy M anufacturing Co., Los Angeles. 



fact that the deepest layers of water, un- 
disturbed by currents, in the Black Sea, 
are so far *impregnated with "sulphur- 
etted hydrogen" that all living animals 
penetrating so far are inevitably killed 
at once. In such so-called "Axoic" situa- 
tions, the usual carrion-eaters were of 
course absent, so that the descending 
carcases remained unconsumed, and col- 
lected, with other sediment, on the sea 
bottom. 

The legitimate inference from the 
above is the exceedinly practical deduc- 
tions for which the above "quotations" 
were merely the unavoidable prelimin- 
aries, that in the San Joaquin Valley, 
and more especially for the time being, 
in the Kern River delta, we have the 
exact duplicate geologically of the Baku 
district on the Caspian sea. That inland 
salt sea, now 84 feet below sea level, 
while still possessing seals and shoals of 
herrings, is now undergoing the exact 
geological evolution that the San Joaquin 
is nearly through with. 

In further confirmation of this simil- 
arity are the statements of Dr. Abichi, a 
celebrated Russian geologist who affirms 
that the Caucassian range, which abuts 
on the west side of the Caspian Sea, as 
the Sierras do on the east of the Kern 
valley, belong to the Jurasic formation, 
while the flanks and underfalls of the 
mountains on both sides are composed 

*Sulphur springs and gas impregnated 
with gaseous sulphur abound in Kern 
County. Editor. 



of cretacious strata. These again are 
succeeded by tertiary marls and sand- 
stone extending around the base of the 
chain and forming its lowest declivities. 

Now that is exactly the conclusion that 
the two great authorities on California 
mountain structures, Professors Whitney 
and Le Conte, have reached and almost 
stated in those very words. Baku is in 
a cretaceous and tertiary declivity and 
so is the Kern River delta. The Baku 
wells have been known for over two 
thousand years and but last June, a 
year ago, gave birth to one of the most 
formidable gushers in the oil history of 
the world. This is vouched for in the 
last report of tne United States Consul 
stationed there. So far from declining 
as is sometimes rumored, they are 
progressing, new wells taking the place 
of temporary "dry" ones. 

In further evidence of the similarity 
are the presence of volcanic centers until 
within comparative recent historical 
period. One only has to cross the nearest 
mountain chain from Kern Valley to 
observe similar evidences. 
. . For a comparison, it might be stated 
that remarkable and equally interesting 
geological coincidences exist in the ex- 
tensive and most valuable iron bed found 
in immediate juxtaposition to the remains 
of the glacial era of Lake Superior, in 
Minnesota and Canada, and the Lapland 
and Delarne North and Central Sweden. 
The chemical purity and the longitude 
and latitude of these stratas, so far apart, 



86 



Kern City and the Kern River Oil District. 



TO OIL. TAHK. 



closely approximate each other. 

Now then, if the most eminent scien- 
tific authorities in the world absolutely 
agree that the various geological eras 
of the Sierra Nevada range and the San 
Joaquin basin at the foot of the same 
and the Caspian sea with Baku as its 
central point are identical, what does 
this similarity apply for California? 

The Volga is the Mississippi of Russia, 
and through this wonderful artery passes 
the commerce of the Caspian Sea into 
Central Russia, connecting with navi- 
gable affluents to the extent of 14,000 
miles. Baku is their New Orleans, with 
oil instead of cotton as the staple. This 
oil commerce exclusively demanded for 
its own transaction 166 steamers pro- 
pelled by oil fuel. Their total capacity 
were 4,683,594 cubic feet. Besides these 
there were employed 1,676 naptha barges 
and 275 steam tugs, and over one thous- 
and wooden vessels. The money value 
of the fleet alone is over 36,000,000 
roubles. This is a hasty and inadequate 
glimpse at Baku, but those who believe, 
or seem to believe, that the oil industry 
of this State is a mere zig-zag of stocks 
up and down, we trust will see their 
mistake. Scientifically profoundly inter- 
esting, the deducible facts from the above 
data is, that a commercial superstructure 
equal in importance to geological identity 
will naturally follow. 

Doctor Benjamin Ide Wheeler, Presi- 
dent of the State University, delivered 
a most eloquent address a year ago at 
San Diego on the "New Position of Cali- 
fornia." Undoubtedly California has as- 
sumed a new position in many ways, and 
perhaps one of the most remarkable of 
all is the fact that her principal city is 
geologically at the north end of the 
former Caspian Sea of the Pacific slope, 
and that commercially the laws of trade 
have placed within her hands the develop- 
ment of the Pacific Baku oil belt, and who 
can doubt she will be equal to her oppor- 
tunities? 

A university of the most practical value 
as well as recognized scholarship owes its 
existence to oil. California needs a school 
for the education of petroleum experts. 
May we not expect our president of the 
State University to secure the founding 
of one in San Francisco? 







Profile of Oil Well, from U. S. Census. Classification 
of Kern River strata, by M. W. L. Watts. 



CAM 

^* SHOWING 

AN IOAQUIN 




The above drawing is intended for a re- 
lief map of topographical rather than 
geographical features. Its main object 
is to point out the trend of the Coast 
Range and its relation to the main body 
of the Sierras, forty to fifty miles to the 
eastward, with the juncture it forms, 
constituting a perfect crescent in Kern 
Valley. 



The scientific authorities have conclu- 
sively proven that as the Coast Range 
rose out of the Pacific the present San 
Joaquin Valley became an arm of the sea. 
Professor Engler, in his Paris address, 
referred to elsewhere, describes exactly 
the physical conditions under which the 
oil belt in the Kern Basin was thus 
created. 




Fossils found in drilling for oil at various depths. Classified by Dr. J. G. Cooper, 
California State Mining Bureau. 



Kern City and the Kern River Oil District. 



89 



One of the flourishing companies of the 
Kern River field is the Peerless, owner 
of the southeast one-quarter section 31, 
28-28. Situated in the very heart of this 
wonderful oil producing region of the 
State, and surrounded by the sterling 
Monte Cristo, San Joaquin, and other 
heavy producing companies, the value 
of the Peerless ground has already been 
demonstrated to a degree which assures 
immense returns upon tne capital in- 
vested for development purposes. 

The enterprise of the management is 
shown by the progress achieved in a very 



ground, and in thoroughly equipping the 
property in a most substantial manner. 
Included under the heading of improve- 
ments is a storage tank of 12,000 barrels' 
capacity, and a pipe line 1% miles long 
to a railroad connection. 

The latest report from the company 
issued to the share holders shows that 
during the month of May the aggregate 
receipts from oil sales exceeded the list 
of production by $5,121.74, and were $3,- 
681.96 more than the total expenditures. 

The most encouraging feature in dis- 
cussing tne bright future in store for this 




Peerless Oil Company's Well. 

short space of time. In the month of 
November, 1899, the first drill began to 
drop. To-day ten wells are evidence 
of the zeal with which work has been 
pushed. Five ot these wells have been 
carried down to the depth of 1000 feet. 
Four more finished at 750 feet, and one 
ended in a flow of water used to supply 
the requirements of the company in this 
respect. 

The shipments of oil began in August 
last, and i,he proceeds of sales have been 
devoted to extending the plant on the 



Aston Bros. Photo. 

progressive and prosperous company is 
the fine quality of the oil produced, 
which is lighter than any other in the 
district. This insures a ready demand 
and a better price than can be obtained 
for the poorer grades. 

The affairs of the Peerless Oil Company 
are directed by the following board of 
directors, composed of well-known and re- 
liable business men: Mr. John M. Wright, 
President; Mr. Jacob H. Neff, Vice-Presi- 
dent; Judge James G. Maguire, Mr. E. S. 
Gather, and Mr. H. C. Park, Secretary. 



Overland Monthly. 




Colonel L. P. Crane. 

Colonel L. P. Crane, President of the 
Pacific Coast Petroleum Miners' Associa- 
tion, whose portrait is presented here- 
with, recently 

Pacific Coast Petroleum stated that Eas- 

Miners' Association, tern capital to 

the extent of 

over forty millions of dollars has already 
been invested in the oil fields of 
California. Recent statistics of the value 
of the oil lands of the State, including 
the plants which are comprised in boring 
outfits, tankage systems, pipe lines, etc., 
reaches the sum of $200,000,000. This 
Association, recognizing the commercial 
importance and the growing magnitude 
of the petroleum industry and desiring 
to promote and advance the same, organ- 
ized a corporation under tne laws of Cali- 
fornia. It is now in a position to render 
the fullest aid possible consistent with 
honorable lines, to all interested in pro- 
moting and developing the petroleum 
industry of the coast. This Association 
does not enter the field as a competitor, 
but rather as a help and aid to other in- 
stitutions having similar purposes. 

The objects are to maintain a first-class 
bureau of information to secure invest- 
ment of capital in the development of the 
oil industry of the Pacific Coast; to pro- 
vide in the East a market for oil properties 
developed and undeveloped; to arrange 



for direct communication between the 
producer and the consumer, thus secur- 
ing ready market. With this object in 
view correspondence has been opened 
with domestic and foreign consumers; 
to keep the public informed through 
the press of all matters pertaining to the 
oil industry on the Coast; to aid in se- 
curing State and National legislation, 
that will protect the petroleum industry; 
to aid in securing more economical and 
advantageous transportation rates for all 
oil products; to establish a Land Depart- 
ment, where ou lands of proven and pros- 
pective value may be listed, showing lo- 
cation, character and price of such hold- 
ings; the compilation of responsible sta- 
tistics, defining the fiscal value of oil 
properties and their respective products; 
to maintain an exhibit of the various oils 
of the Pacific Coast, accompanied with a 
chemical analysis of every grade; to es- 
tablish a law department, to protect all 
legitimate rights of those who are en- 
gaged in the industry and members of 
this Association; to issue monthly, or 
more frequently, authentic news-bulletins, 
giving a full list of oil properties accept- 
ed and indorsed by this Association. 

In pursuance of these objects the Asso- 
ciation invites and expects the co-opera- 
tion of all the oil industries on the Pacific 
Coast. The Association is in direct com- 
munication with thousands of Eastern in- 
vestors, all of whom will be regularly 
furnished with bulletins giving descrip- 
tion and principal characteristics of prop- 
erties. It will aid in the honest 
promotion of legitimate companies, and 
to this end will be alert for the protec- 
tion of the investing public. It is the in- 
tention of the Pacific Coast Petroleum 
Miners' Association to render unto the oil 
industry of this coast the same invaluable 
services that Dun and Bradstreet's Agen- 
cies now render all other commercial in- 
terests of the country. The officers of 
the association are: L. P. Crane, Presi- 
dent; General W. H. H. Hart, Vice-Presi- 
dent; Will D. Jenkins, Secretary; W. M. 
Smith, Treasurer. The San Francisco 
office is in the Parrott Building, with 
branch offices in Kansas City, Chicago, 
New York, Boston, Philadelphia, St. Louis, 
New Orleans and Seattle. Professor P. E. 
Donnels is the mineralogist and official 
lecturer. 



Overland Monthly. 



vll 



"GOLD SEAL" 

Rubber Hose 




IS THE BEST MADE 

Rubber Belting and Packing 
Boots and Shoes 

flackintoshes and Raglans 

;; ALL KINDS OF RUBBER GOODS I! 



::QOODYEAR RUBBER co. j 

R. H. Pease, President. 
F- M. Shepard Jr., Treas, C. P. Kunyon, Sec'y, 



PORTLAND 
73-75 FIRST ST. 



SAN FRANCISCO 
573-5-7-9 MARKET ST. 




Only on the 

PRESIDENT 

Suspender 

No other suspender bas the com- 
fort giving arrangement that has 
made the President famous. Every 
pair guaranteed. If "President" 
is on the buckles it's genuine. 
Trimmings can not rust. Sold 
everywhere. Price SOc, or by mail. 
. A. EDGARTON MFG. CO., 
Box 248, Shirley, Mass. 



THE UNION PHOTO ENGRAVING CO., 
now located at 142-144-146 Union Square 
avenue, San Francisco, make printing 
plates and make a specialty of making 
them right. Plant modern, machinery the 
best; employes competent and experi- 
enced. FINE ENGRAVINGS. 



Gilroy Hot Springs 



Santa Glara Go- 

Known by all California people to be unsurpassed by 
any springs in the State in quality and climate- Thor- 
oughly renovated. Table first class Rates reasonable. 
Private carriage meets all trains. For illustrated pam- 
phlets and terms address 

R. ROBERTSON, Box 2, GILROY SPRINGS, CAL. 



BUY 



Oil or Mining Stocks! 



but do not buy. any stock 
until you have prices 

OF 




530 California Street, San Francisco, Cal 



They will duplicate or discount quotations made by any 
broker or company. 



viii 



Overland Monthly. 



SUNSET DISTRICT, KERN COUNTY, CALIFORNIA. 

| A. C. LIEBENDORFER, Pres.. E. H. LOVELAND, Sec , 

BAKERSFIELD, CAL. BAKERSFIELD, CAL. 

Office of Company, 1910 CHESTER AVE., BAKERSFIELD. 



EMPEROR OIL CO. 



Capital Stock, 350,000 shares. 
Par Value, $1.00 each. 




This Company owns 340 acres of land in the Sunset and Midway Oil Districts. 

On the 20 acres of their Sunset hold ings they have completed ONE well, 
which is now producing 150 barrels of oil per day, and have the second well 
under way. 

The company has not been offering any stock for sale, preferring to first dem- 
onstrate and prove that they own OIL BEARING TERRITORY, which they 
have now done with their own money. 

To further develop their property and increase the production the company 
has decided to offer a limited amount of TREASURY STOCK for sale at 45 
CENTS per share. This stock will have to be taken immediately to be procured 
at this figure, for with the further development and increase of production the 
price of stock will be advanced. 

The company now expects to begin paying dividends in the near future. Any 
one wishing to buy stock which has MERIT can not do better than to invest In 

....EMPEROR.... 

All information given; inquiries promptly answered and prospectus furnished 
by addressing, E. H. LOVELAND, Secretary, 1910 Chester Avenue, Bakers- 
field, California. Reference: The Bank of Bakersfield. 



Overland Monthly. 



ix 



AND GRAND 



III. 'in IT 




The popularity of these two immense hotels is due to the pro- 
visions made for the comfort and entertainment of guests; to 
their proximity to wholesale and shopping districts, places of 
amusement and points of interest; to the unsurpassed cuisine 
and splendid service, and to the conveniences such as are only 
obtainable in hotels like these. 



AMERICAN PLAN 



EUROPEAN PLAN 



SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA. 



. 
CONSERVATORY 

OF MUSIC 



Forty-eight years of constant and 
healthful progress and growth has put 
this institution at the head (both in size 
and standing) of musical institutions 
in America. Comprehensive in plan, 
moderate in price, thorough in practice 
and famous for results. 

GEO. W. CHADWICK, Musical Director. 
Send for music and elocution catalogues. 
FRANK W. HALE, General Manager, Boston, Max. 



4 f 



HEADQUARTERS 

Telegraphic Codes 

All the Standard Codes and 
Ciphers Kept in Stock 

JOHN PARTRIDGE 

Importing and 
Manufacturing 

Printer, Lithographer and Bookbinder 
J06 California St., bet. Battery & Sansom* 

San Francisco, Cal. 

Telephone Main 614 



_ your Magazines to me 
to have them Bound 



' THE SPICIEST MAGAZINE OF THE 
CENTURY 

The Bohemian 



A UNIQUE MAGAZINE 
OF SHORT STORIES 

Nothing like it published. Unique in 
style and unique in contents. Such 
short stories you cannot find elsewhere. 
Clean as a whistle, yet spicy as pepper. 
If you have never read it, get a copy; 
10 cents the copy, $1.00 the year. Read 
"WHEN RIVALS MEET," and "NUM- 
BER 19" in June No. The July No. out 
June 20th., will be a treat to lovers of 
short unique stories. 

SOLD BY ALL NEWSDEALERS 

Ask them for it, and if you fail to get 
it, enclose 10 cents in stamps for copy 
June number to 

THE BOHEMIAN, 
BOSTON, MASS. 



Overland Monthly. 



SHORTHAND 



Sentences written 
in an hour by the 
PERNIN. non-shad- 
ing, non - poDltion. connective vowel method. 
Highest World's Fair award. Taught by mail, Self- 
Instructor, $2.00. FREE LESSON and circulars. 
Write H. M. PERNIN, Author. Detroit. Mich. 



1875 



CALIFORNIA 



1901 



Safe Deposit an < Trust Co, 

COR. CALIFORNIA AND MONTGOMERY STS. 

PHONE BUSH 165. 



Safe-Deposit Boxea from fS.OO per Year Up. 
Trunks and Valuables of K vpry Description 
Stored in Fir* and Burglar-Proof Vaults -it 
81. OO per Month. 

Office Bourn 8 a. m. to < p. m. 



Dr. Lyon's 

PERFECT 

Tooth Powder 

AN ELEGANT TOILET LUXURY. 

Used by people of refinement 
for over a quarter of a century. 



TYPEWRITERS 

GREAT BARGAINS 

We sell and rent better 
machines for less money 
than any house on the 
Pacific Coast. 

Send for Catalogue. 

Supplies of standard gual- 
Ity always on hand. 

The Typewriter Exchange, 

B36 California St., San Francisco. Tel. Main 2 

HAVE YOUR OVERLAND BOUND 
Magazines and Fine Bindings 

Blank Books Made to Order 

PHILLIPS BROS. 

BOOKBINDERS 




505 CLAY ST., 



SAN FRANCISCO 



Boarding and Day School for Young Ladies. 

2126 CALIFORNIA STREET 

Accredited to the Universities. Conservatory of Music 

Art, and Elocution. 
For Catalogue address the Principal. Reopens Aug. 5 

REV. EDWARD CHURCH, A. M. 

Gold Medal, Paris, 1900. 
E. & 8. CALIFORNIA. 

Olive Oil. 

Stands without a peer in point of purit] 

and deliciousness. 

Sold by all first-class druggists and grocer* 
50c. and $1.00 a bottle, 
EKMAN-STOW CO., 

No. 1 Montgomery street. 
OROVILLE CALIFORNIA 

DIVIDEND NOTICE. 

California Safe Deposit and Trust Company. 

For the six months ending June 3. 1901, dividend 
have been declared on deposits in the savings depart 
ment of this company as follows: On term deposits a 
the rate of 3 6-10 per cent, per annum, and on ordinarj 
deposits at the rate of 3 per cent, per annum, free o 
taxes, and payable on and after Monday, July 1. '901 
Dividends uncalled for re added to the principal anc 
bear the same rate of dividend as the princi t al froir 
and after July 1, 1901. 

J. DALZELL BROWN, Manager. 

Office Corner California and Montgomery streets 
San Francisco. Cal. 

D VIDEND NOTICE. 
San Francisco Savings Union. 

For the half year ending with the 30th of June. 1901 
a dividend has been decl red at the rate per annim 
of three and six-tenths (3 6-10) per cent- on terrr 
deposits and three (3) per cent- on ordinary deposits 
free of taxes, payable on and after Monday. July 1 
1901. LO V ELL WHITE, Cashier. 

Office 632 California St.. cor. Webb, San Francisco 



DIVIDEND NOTICE. 

Mutual Savings Bank of San Francisco. 

For the half year ending June 30, 1901, a dividend has 
been declared at the rate of three (3) per cent, per an- 
num on all deposits, free of taxes, payable on and aftei 
Monday, July 1. 1901. GEORGE A. S I ORY, Cashier. 

Office 33 Post street, San Francisco, Cal. 



DIVIDEND NOTICE. 

The German Savings and Loan Society. 

For the half year ending with June 30, 1901. a divi- 
dend has been declared at the rate of three and one- 
eighth 13%) per cent, per annum on all deposits, free oi 
taxes, payable on and after Monday July J, 1901. 

GEORGE TOITRNY. Secretary. 

Office 526 California street. San Francisco, Cal. 

DIVIDEND NOTICE' 

Savings and Loan Society. 

The Board of Directors declared a dividend for the 
term ending June 30, 1901, at the rate of three and one- 
eighth (3/4) per cent, per annum on all deposits free of 
taxes, and pa> able on and after July 1, 19<il. Dividends 
not called for are added to and bear the same rate of 
dividend as the principal from and after July 1, 1901. 
CYRUS W. CARMANY, Cashier. 

Office 101 Montgomery St., cor. Sutler. San Francisco. 




KNOX'S 
GELATINE 

makes the dessert the children 
love. Look after their digestions 
^ and the spelling of K-N-O-X 
and you will get the best. 

Beware of concerns that try to 
imitate my name and package. 

It will give me pleasure to Mail FREE 

my book of seventy "Dainty Desserts for Dainty 
People," if you will send the name of your 
grocer. If you can't do this, send a two-cent 
stamp. For 5c. in stamps the book and full pint 
sample. For isc. the book and full two-quart 
package (two for 25c.) 

Pink color for fancy desserts in every large 
package. A package of Knox's Gelatine will 
make two quarts (half gallon) of jelly. 

CHAS. B. KNOX, 21 Knox Av., Johnstown, N. Y. 




WEBSTER IRON WORKS, BAKERSFIELD, KERN COUNTY, CAL 



02 








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I 



STATEMENT * * * * 

THE TRAVELERS 

INSURANCE COMPANY, tf Hertford. Conn. 

Chartered 1863. (Stock.) Life, Accident and Employers 
Liability Insurance. 



JAMES G. BATTERSON, President 



PAID-UP 
CAPITAL 



$1,000,000.00 



JANUARY I, 1901. 
Total Assets $30,861,030.06 

(Accident Premiums' in the hands of Agents not included.) 

TOTAL LIABILITIES (Including Reserves), 26.317,903.25 

EXCESS SECURITY to Policy-holders, . . $4,543,126.81 

SURPLUS, 3,543,126.81 

Paid to Policy-holders since 1864, .... 842,643.384-92 

Paid to Policy-holders in J900, .... 2,908,464 03 

Loaned to Policy-holders on Policies (Life), . . 1,586,652.20 

Life Insurance in Force, 109,019,851.00 

GAINS FOR THE YEAR 1900 : 

IN ASSETS. 

IN INSURANCE IN FORCE (Life Department Only), 
INCREASE IN RESERVES (Both Departments), (3J# basis) 
PREMIUMS COLLECTED 



$3,167,819.96 
8,685,297.06 
2,484,392.52 
6,890,888.55 



Sylvester C. Dunham, Vice-President 

John E. Morris, Secretary J. B. Lewis, M. D., Medical Director and Adjuster 

Edward V. Preston, Superintendent of Agencies Hiram J. Messenger, Actuary 



I 



9 







I 



^ 



W A WON A 



The Beauty Spot of the Sierras Mariposa Big Tree Grove '. ', 

Nearest Resort to the Yotetnite 

THIS HOTEL OFFERS THE FINEST ACCOMMODATIONS 
OF ANY MOUNTAIN RESORT IN CALIFORNIA 

TERMS REASONABLE 
t WASHBURN BROS. Proprietors, Wawona, Cal. :: 

..l..MlMM..iMfr.|M|MiMtM|MiHfr.M^ 



lll ftlll till III IlLllll l| PA1NLESS AND PERMANENT HOME CURE 
J I IX I M\ I ilk III A Trial Treatment Free. Sent to anyone addicted to the useof 

^ii-m^ll-^Wl nm ^Jll *~1I Morphine, Opium or other drug- habit. Contains Vital Principle hereto- 
fore unknown and lacking- in all others. We restore the nervous and physical systems and thus remove the cause. 
I Confidential correspondence invited from all. ST. PAUL ASSOCIATION, 46 ,-. VanBuren St., CHIC AGO, ILL. 



BYRON MAUZY 



308-312 IOST ST., 8. V. 

Warranted for Ten Years SOHMER AGENCY 



D 




A Skin of Beauty is a Joy Forever. 

R. T. FELIX UOURAUD'S ORIENTAL 
CREAH, OR MAGICAL BEAUT FIER' 

Removes Tan, 
Pimples, Frec- 
kl e s, M o th 
Patches, Ka-li. 
and Skin Dis- 
eases, and 
every blemish 
on beauty, and 
d e fi e s detec- 
t i o n. It h a s 
stood the test 
of 52 years, and 
is so harmless 
we taste it to be 
sure it is pro- 
perly made. Ac- 
cept no coun- 
terfeit of simi- 
lar name. Dr. L. A. Sayre said to a lady of the haut-ton 
(a patient) : "As you ladies will use them, I recom- 
mend 'Gouraud's Cream' as the least harmful of all the 
Skin preparations." One b ttle will last six months, 
Bine it every day. GOURAUD'S POUDRE SUBTILE re- 
moves superfluous hair without injury to the skin. 
PERD T. HOPKINS. Prop'r, 37 Great Jones St.. N. Y 
For sale by all druirgiHts and Fancy Goods Dealers 
throughout the IT. S., Canadas and Eu^ ope. 



SEPH B. TOPLITZ 

Member Producers' Oil Exchange 
330 PINE STREET, SAN FRANCISCO. 

Oil Stocks bougrht and sold. Reliable information 011 
oil stocks furnished gratis. Unlisti d stocks a specialty. 
Lowest prices guaranteed. Send for catalogue. Cor- 
respondence invited. 



ALWAYS ON TOP 



WOOD ROLLERS!! [ TIN ROLLERS 



^^i 

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Overland Monthly. 



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MODERN ELOQUENCE 



TEN 

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A LIBRARY OF FAMOUS AFTER-DINNER SPEECHES, 
CLASSIC AND POPULAR LECTURES, THE BEST OCCAS- 
IONAL ADDRESSES, ANECDOTES, REMINISCENCE AND 
REPARTEE. 



HON. THO . B. REED 

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF 

> Associate Editors 

Hon. Justin McCarthy, M. P. 
Rossiter Johnson 

Albert Ellery Bergh 
Jonathan P. Dolliver 

Edward Everett Hale 

Nathan Haskell Dole 

John B.Gordon 
James B. Pond 
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The Publication of Modern Eloquence 

IS AN EVENT OF PREMIER IMPORTANCE. For the first 
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THESE GEMS OF SPOKEN THOUGHT were fugitive 
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The society resort, winter and summer, 
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This letter was written on a Lackawanna Railroad train traveling sixty miles an hour. The regularity of the 
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POPULAR PAN-AMERICAN EXPOSITION L.INE between New York and Buffalo, with 
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Write to 

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San Francisco. New York.) 

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STATEMENT * * v 



THE TRAVELERS 

INSURANCE COMPANY, Of Hertford. Conn. 

Chartered 1863. (Stock.) Life, Accident and Employers 
Liability Insurance. 



JAMES G. BATTERSON, President 



PAID-UP 
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JANUARY I, 1901. 
Total Assets, 530,861,030.06 

(Accident Premiums in the hands of Agents not included.) 

TOTAL LIABILITIES (Including Reserves), . 26.317.903.25 

EXCESS SECURITY to Policy-holders, . . $4,543,126.81 

SURPLUS 3,543,126.81 

Paid to Policy-holders since 1864, .... $42,643384-92 

Paid to Policy-holders in 1900, .... 2,908,464.03 

Loaned to Policy-holders on Policies (Life), . . 1,586,652.20 

Life Insurance in Force, 109,019,851.00 

GAINS FOR THE YEAR 1900 : 

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IN INSURANCE IN FORCE (Life Department Only), 8,685,297.06 

INCREASE IN RESERVES (Both Departments), (3^ basis) 2,484,392.52 

PREMIUMS COLLECTED 6,890,888.55 



Sylvester C. Dunham, Vice-President 

John E. Morris, Secretary J. B. Lewis, M. D., Medical Director and Adjuster 

Edward V. Preston, Superintendent of Agencies Hiram J. Messenger, Actuary 



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VOL. XXXVIII NO. 2. 

Overland Monthly 

AN ILLUSTRATED MAGAZINE OF THE WEST 
AUGUST, J90J 

CONTENTS: 



Frontispiece Portrait of Miss P 

Photograph by Dr. Arnold Genthe. 
Rebellion in Photography Dr. Arnold Genthe 93 

Illustrated by the author 
When the Snows Drift John G. Neihardt 103 

An Indian story. 
The Iron-Shod Woman Mrs. L. M. Terry 107 

Illustrated by Horen Patigian 
For Gold. Poem Walter Shea 112 

Illustrated by W. H. Bull. 
The Canadian Boatman Pearllita C. Stadelmen 114 

Labor Organizations Charles A. Murdock 119 

Maneuvers of the California Guard. .. .James F. J. Archibald 125 

Illustrated by the author and by portraits. 
Liolah Clyde Scott Chase 138 

A story of the northwest. 
Johnson's Regeneration Robert V. Carr 147 

A soldier sketch. 

The Hike Robert V. Carr 148 

A poem. 

Rooms to Let May C. Ringwalt 143 

Illustrated by Henry Raleigh. 
Current Books Grace Luce Irwin 150 

Review. 

Joseph Le Conte Wallace Irwin 149 

Sonnet. 
About Santa Barbara County C. M. Gidney 157 

Illustrated. 
From San Francisco to Monterey Illustrated 173 



The OVERLAND MONTHLY will be sent postpaid for one year to any part of the United States. 
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FREDERICK MARRIOTT. Publisher, 5% Kearny St., San Francisco. Entered at San Francisco 
Postofflce as second-class matter. 



Overland Monthly. 



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THE ELECTRO SILICON CO., NEW YORK. 



Redirrfon & Co., San Francisco, Cal., 
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v. 

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vi 



Overland Monthly. 



A PROSPEROUS 
AND PROGRESSIVE CO. 





Subscribed Capital .................. ..$12,000,000 

Paid-in Capital .................................... 2,000,000 

Profit and Reserve Fund . . . ........ 9sn nnn 

Monthly Income, over .................... '.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'. I0o!o00 

ITS PURPOSE IS 

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" " " 



HOME OFFICE: 222 Sansome St., San Francisco, Cal. 
Wm. Corbm, Secretary and General Manager. 



x 



pftf 

^G& 






by Arnold Gerztho 




^ N the early days of photography, "the 
ft art that made nature reproduce it- 
if self," the accurate rendering of mi- 
nute detail constituted the chief ex- 
cellence of a portrait photograph. It was 
natural that the 
pictorial possibili- 
ties of the new in- 
vention were not 
realized at once, 
(though some 
workers, notably 
Mr. D. O. Hill and 
Mrs. Cameron pro- 
duced some highly 
artistic photo- 
graphs), and that 
microscopical rath- 
er than pictorial 
beauty was the 
principal aim. The 
primitive appara- 
tus, necessitating a 
very long exposure 
and the absence of 
a suitable printing 
medium, were suffi- 
cient excuse for 




Study of a child. 



this. But strange it must seem that later 
on the picture makers did not realize the 
great artistic possibilities which the in- 
troduction of rapid dry plates, quick- 

Vol. xxac riii Xo. 2 f 6. 



working lenses, and mat-surface papers 
placed in their hands. Even to-day the 
work of the average professional portrait 
photographer, whose main object is to 
photograph as many people as possible, 
is just as common- 
place, lifeless and 
photographic as it 
was twenty and 
thirty years ago. 
To be sure, his pic- 
tures are not al- 
ways printed on 
the shiny, smooth 
paper. They are 
frequently techni- 
cally perfect prints 
on platinum, car- 
bon or bromide. 
His negatives, how- 
ever, have the 
same crudeness, 
the same falseness 
of values, which 
distinguished the 
work of his prede- 
cessors. All that 
was undesirable in 

their work and methods seems to have 
been faithfully preserved by most pro- 
fessional studios of to-day. 

The following will show how portraits 



94 



Overland Monthly. 




Peter Robinson. 

are being made in a typical up-to-date 
gallery, which is doing such an extensive 
business that it has branches in. several- 
cities. Just as in the old days, the roof 
and arc side of the "operating room" (the 
name is perhaps not quite inappropriate), 
are made of glass, letting in an immense 
amount of light, which on the other side 
is reflected by white screens, so that the 
sitter is fairly flooded with light. Throne- 
like posing chairs, elaborately carved 
or made of papier-mache, wicker chairs, 
twisted in fanciful arabesques, bro- 
ken columns, imitation rocks and mar- 
ble balustrades, make up the furniture. 
On one side is a large collection of 
painted backgrounds, representing some 
picturesque subject, as: towering moun- 
tains, a library, a castle, an immense 
spider-web, a garcien gate, the "sad sea 
waves," peaceful meadows, a staircase, 
the base of some massive columns, or 
simply dark clouds grouped around a 
light circular spot. To enable the sitter 
to "select his own background" without 
trouble, a small photograph of all the 
different scenes is hung on the wall. 
When the person to be photographed 
emerges from one of the dressing-rooms, 
which it must be said are very elabo- 
rately furnished in Turkish, Japanese, or 



rococo style, and has stated whether he 
wants a "cabinet" or "Paris panel," or 
a "boudoir" picture, he is put in front 
of the background of his choice and 
"posed" that is, he is twisted into one 
of the twelve standard poses more or 
less theatrical and grotesque which the 
operator has in stock, and his head being 
securely fastened in a vise (head-rest), 
that makes any motion impossible, is 
told to look at a small picture of a lady 
that is fastened on a stick (eye-rest). 
The enthusiastic pnotographer disappears 
then for some time behind his camera 
under the black focusing cloth, goes 
back to his securely fastened victim, pulls 
him a little here and there, turns the head 
a little more to tne left, and pronounces 
finally race and expression excellent. The 
sitter is asked to kindly moisten his lips, 
look pleasant, and "keep just like that, 
please," and a rather long exposure is 
made. 
The plates thus taken in one day are 




Madam Melba. 



Rebellion in Photography. 



95 




colors, imparting the decorative effect of 
the Sunday supplement front page, and 
called a "portograph"; a carbon print is 
colored in pinkish tones and called "tin- 
bretto"; the photograph is mounted on a 
piece of cardboard half an inch thick, 
evidently to inspire confidence by the so- 
lidity of its support, or some other ex- 
traordinary method is employed to im- 
press the astonished public with the "ar- 
tistic" quality of the picture. Yet all 
this (even if it were a technically flaw- 
less print) cannot deceive the seeing eye 
about the inferiority of the original nega- 
tive. The commercial photographers 
claim that the public demands ?uch pic- 
tures. Well, the public may accept them 
as long as they don't get anything bet- 
ter, but since the experiment has been 
made it was found that they do accept 
pictures that vastly differ from what the 
regular photographer used to give them. 
Owing to the absolute independence 
and iconoclastic energy of some enthu- 
siastic amateur photographers, men and 
women, a fundamental change was 
brought 'about in professional portrait 



Miss B- 



developed, not separately, but a dozen at 
a time, and when dry sent to the retouch- 
ing room, where a number of young girls, 
who have never seen the sitter, and who 
have only a faint idea of drawing and a 
rather hazy knowledge of facial anatomy, 
proceed to smooth up the face by consci- 
entiously removing, with pencil and steel 
etcher, every wrinkle or unevenness, so 
that the resulting picture, though per- 
haps something of a likeness, must neces- 
sarily be devoid of any individual expres- 
sion, and cannot claim any artistic merit, 
even if it should be printed on platinum 
or bromide paper. To disguise the poor 
quality of the negative and to attract at- 
tention by the "very latest," unusual 
means in printing are frequently resorted 
to: the picture is printed "en bas relief, ' 
without, of course, succeeding in giving 
any idea of the true surface; a few 
crossed lines are painted in the back- 
ground with a brush and the print called 
a "carbon sketch." The face alone is 
printed and pasted on a large sheet and 
the rest painted in with bright water 




Portrait of Miss O- 



96 



Overland Monthly. 



photography. In the first place, they 
fully recognized the immense advantage 
the improved apparatus put into their 
hands by enabling them to make instan- 
taneous exposures even in a moderately 
lighted room, and thus to secure an un- 
studied pose and a natural expression; 
and they further felt that if they wanted 
to obtain results of really artistic merit, 
they had not 
to work for 
the praise of 
the photo- 
graphic fra- 
ternity but 
chiefly for 
the approval 
of the painter 
and sculptor; 
that conform- 
ity with the 
laws laid 
down by 

these artists 
was, togeth- 
er with abso- 
lute simplic- 
ity, the main 
need in pho- 
to g r a p h i c 
work. A full 
knowledge of 
the technical- 
ities of pho- 
tography, es- 
pecially of its 
complicat e d 
chemis try, 
was of course 
abs ol u t e 1 y 
indispe n s a - 
ble, but all 
the cherished 
artistic tra- 
ditions of the 
old-time pho- 
tographer were ruthlessly discarded, 
with the result that there are now quite 
a number of serious workers, who make 
pictures for money (and they charge 
rather high prices) that not only please 
the artists, even those who for years 
blindly maintained that a photograph 
could never be a work of art, but also 
the intelligent public, that is sensitive 




picture, 
further- 



Portrait of Miss M- 



to subtleties and originality of treatment. 
To know how these "rebel" photo- 
tographers of to-day obtain their results 
may be interesting even to those who do 
not take an active interest in photogra- 
phy. Though the first aim must of 
course be to obtain a good likeness, these 
modern workers are by no means satis- 
fied with a faithiul reproduction of the 

features or 
the microsco- 
pic rendering 
of detail.. 
They want 
more: some- 
thing of the 
soul, the in- 
dividuality of 
their sitter, 
must be ex- 
pressed in 
the 
and 

more the ar- 
rangement of 
lines and the 
distribut ion 
of lights and 
shades must 
be managed 
in such a way 
as to make a 
pic t u r e of 
fine artistic 
merit. 

The reform 
was begun by 
transforming 
the studio in- 
to a simply 
fur n i s h e d, 
dignified sit- 
ting room, 
with a moder- 
erately bright 
single slant 

light. The impressive photographs from 
line, the head-rests, reflectors and painted 
backgrounds have gone forever. If the 
walls of the room cannot be used for 
a background, a plain light and dark 
ground or a simple portiere will be all 
that is necessary. That and the camera, 
which unfortunately cannot be made in- 
visible, constitute the only things that 



Rebellion in Photography. 



97 



will remind one of the photographic stu- 
dio. 

The sitter will be allowed to assume 
any position that pleases him, although, 
of course, not every pose which "feels 
natural" can be used for a picture. As 
the photographic lens gives a diffe/ent 
foreshortening of lines than our eye per- 
ceives, a slight modification of a pose 
is often necessary. And since the outline 
of a figure has to fit into the space which 
the photog- 
rapher has in 
mind for the 
photogra p h , 
care must be 
taken to have 
the lines fill 
space harmo- 
niously. To 
luickly deter- 
mine which 
pose will pro- 
duce satis- 
factory re- 
sults and 
which will 
not, requires 
a great sensi- 
tiveness of 
the eye, part- 
ly inborn, 
partly ac- 
quired by 
solid artistic 
training . 
There may 
not be fixed 
formulas and 
rules for 
c omposition, 
but there are 
certain fun- 
damental 
rules, which 
the painter, 

be it Holbein or Whistler, observes, and 
which the photographer cannot afford 
to neglect. It is, therefore, absolutely 
necessary for him to seriously study the 
works of the great portrait painters, not 
to imitate them, but to learn how they 
disposed lines in a given space. If the 
photographer can draw or paint, so much 
the better. He may not be able to do 
good work with the brush, but he will by 




Mrs. W- 



and daughter. 



its aid acquire quicker that sensitiveness 
of the eye witnout which the most ver- 
satile inventiveness of the man behind 
the camera is valueless. 

Also in the handling of the light the 
photograph worker will be guided by the 
principles tnat are laid down by the 
portrait painters. Lights and shades 
and he realizes that we don't always 
see people in a bright glaring light, that 
evenly illuminates the face from all 

points are 
his only 
means of giv- 
ing the idea 
of a body 
with surfaces 
in different 
planes. The 
light must 
therefore be 
so arranged 
as to render 
all the fine 
modeling of 
the various 
surfaces, and 
in such a 
manner that 
only the de- 
sirable and 
characteristic 
features are 
e m phasized. 
What is not 
wanted or 
not essential 
is subdued in 
tone. Lights 
and shades 
are also the 
photogra- 
pher's sole 
means of 
sugge sting 
color. To 

render the true t ne values of the dif- 
ferent colors correctly is especially diffi- 
cult for the photographer, on account of 
its being color-blind, so to speak. It is 
very sensitive for blues, but yellow and 
red seem to it almost as dark as black; 
so that, for instance, a person with deep 
blue eyes and light reddish hair will ap- 
pear like one with rather pale eyes and 
very dark hair. This deficiency can be 



98 



Overland Monthly. 




Portrait of Miss C- 



overcome (not by powdering the hair 
and darkening the eyelashes), partly by 
the use of chromatic plates, but chiefly 
by the judicious management of the 
light. 

To focus with microscopic sharpness 
is superfluous. One can very well, with- 
out the aid of tne procuring cloth or 
magnifying glass, adjust the camera prop- 
erly in a second or two. For it must be 
borne in mind that our eye does not see 
all the amount of detail, which the photo- 
graphic lens PICKS up, and besides, we 
can focus our eye sharply only on one 



point and not on several, that lie in dif- 
ferent planes. ue lens, therefore, ought 
to be made to see things as the human 
eye does. By avoiding absolute sharp- 
ness is not meant that fuzzy indistinct- 
ness which some experimenting artists 
affect. But it is merely logical to try to 
represent in a photograph unimportant 
details with less sharpness than the main 
features of the face. To the grouping of 
light and shade that same principle must 
be observed. The white collar of a man, 
for instance, or a white bow in a lady's 
hat, ought not to be the most prominent 
feature of a picture, a thing that is al- 
most invariably the case in those bril- 
liantly lighted photographs with glaring 
whites and impenetrable shadows ("Rem- 
brandt lighting"), that make the figure 
appear more like a primitive woodcarving 
in a calcium light than like a human be- 
ing in ordinary daylight. 

A natural pose and effective lighting 
would not make a good picture without 
a good expression. Now, everybody with- 
out exception assumes in front of the 
camera an expression which is not nat- 
ural. The very desire to appear natural 
produces a stiffening of the facial mus- 




George Bromley. 



Rebellion in Photography. 



99 




Master M- 



cles, which is disastrous. There is only 
one way of avoiding the perpetuating of 
the photograpn expression: to take the 
picture while the sitter is not yet ready. 
That can be done only by making an in- 
stantaneous exposure, while the sitter is 
talking or interested in something that 
is not connected with the camera. With 
a modern rapid lens and a noiseless shut- 
ter it is possible to expose a number of 
negatives, before even a very observing 
person is aware of what is going on. 

The conscientious photographer will de- 
velop all the plates personally, trying to 
control them so that they will give the 
best possible printing qualities. To obtain 
this in the development is not always pos- 



sible. It will often be necessary to in- 
tensify weak parts or reduce too dense 
portions of the negative, a tedious, but 
rather necessary manipulation. 

With regard to retouching, as little 
as possible will be done. The aim of the 
retouch ought to be, besides removing 
flaws in the film, simply to modify what 
the lens and plate have exaggerated: 
wrinkles that appear too prominent, 
freckles, which our eye does not see as 
dark spots, etc. But the removing of 
characteristic lines, the "modeling" of 
the face with the retouching pencil, is 
something a photographer with any ar- 
tistic conscience will not do. 

If a negative made in this fashion were 
printed on the ordinary shiny paper, it 
would present quite an acceptable appear- 
ance, but there would be a certain 
prominence of unnecessary detail, a lack 
of harmony in tone, which would offend 
the sensitive eye. The photographer, 
therefore, chooses a mat paper (platinum, 
bromide, carbon, etc.) which not only has 
a better surface, but permits also of a 
certain control over the print. With 
such a printing medium he has it in 
his power to subdue a harsh line, to 
lighten up a too massive shadow, to bring 
out more detail in the high-lights. In a 




Portrait of Miss J- 



100 



Overland Monthly. 





Margaret Anglin. 

word, he can in a most complete manner 
give expression to his individual taste 
(especially in a glycerine-developed 
platinum and the gum-bichromate print.) 
And the resulting picture, harmonious in 
tone, full of atmospheric depth, giving 
a correct idea of the firm modeling of the 
surface and quietly emphasizing only 
what is really important, will be some- 



Portrait of Miss F- 



thing diametrically opposite to the bil- 
liard-ball-like smoothness of the ordinary 
crude photograph, with its unbalanced 
blacks and whites. 

The tendency towards the achievement 
of really artistic results is also notice- 
able in landscape photography. And here 
it was again the amateur who broke 
away from the commonplace and purely 





Portrait of Miss P- 



Mrs. H- 



Rebellion in Photogr 



mechanical me- 
thod of photog- 
raphing scen- 
ery. He was 
not sa t i s fi e d 
with getting on 
his plate, in 
beautiful, even 
sharpness, a 
complete but 
solutely unin- 
teresting record 
of the facts be- 
fore him ; he 
recognized that 
a negative 
which showed 
with microscop- 
ic sharpness 
"everything in 
sight" an abso- 
lutely necessary 
requirement for 
a good picture 
of the old 
school might 
perhaps be a 
wonderful pho- 
tographic feat, 
and yet not 
bear any rela- 
tion to art. 
Other things 
than accuracy 
are more essen- 
tial to the mod- 
ern landscape 
photograp her. 
His first object 
is to select his 
point of view, 
and very care- 
fully, for on 
that depends 
the success of 
the picture as a 
compo s i t i o n, 
and though he 
has to learn to 
see things with 
the eye of the 
camera the op- 
tical lens gives, 
as we know. 
quite a different 
perspective 





Portrait of Mr. J- 




Portrait of Marjorie S- 



101 

lan the human 
eye he will 
otherwise be 
guided in this 
by the same 
principles as 
the landscape 
painter. While 
the latter has 
the great advan- 
tage of being 
able to elimin- 
ate or at least 
modify on his 
canvas any dis- 
turbing ele- 
ments tha|t 
might mar the 
harmony of 
composition or 
the tone of a 
picture (a thing 
the photograph- 
er may do only 
in a very limit- 
ed way), the 
man with the 
camera, on the 
other hand, can 
in the brief 
space of a sec- 
ond and under 
almost any con- 
dition of light 
and weather, re- 
cord the impres- 
sion of a scene 
or a passing 
mood of nature, 
which he could 
perhaps never 
get again, and 
which, natural- 
ly, the painter 
with brush and 
pencil could not 
jot down so 
completely in a 
few moments. 
It is not so 
much the obvi- 
ous picturesque- 
ness of a scene 
that attracts the 
photogr a p h e r 
as tne more sub- 



102 



Overland Monthly. 




Nance O'Neil. 



tie effects of light and atmos- 
phere; the opportunity for an un- 
usual and interesting treatment 
of a simple subject will have a 
greater fascination for him than 
the most celebrated view; so 
that, taken all in all, the photo- 
graph may really have the indi- 
viduality and suggestive charm 
of a fine painting. 

It is, of course, not to the 
ordinary amateur that this 
complete abandonment of the old 
photographic standard is due. It 
is, rather, just as in portrait-pho- 
tography, the merit of a compar- 
atively small number of earnest 
workers, who were really filled 
with love for their work the 
only true "amateurs" and 
whose artistic ability and train- 
ing enabled them to obtain pic- 
turesque results of real value 
with an instrument that up to 
then had been a mere recording 
machine. But nowadays, when 
pictorial photography is estab- 
lished on a firm and artistic 
basis, even the ever present 
button-presser cannot help being 
benefited by these new tenden- 
cies. He is gradually learning 
what constitutes the elements of 
a picture, and is no longer satis- 
fied witn simply getting "some- 
thing" on his film. He actually 
tries to make pictures. He dis- 
covers something beautiful in 
things he did not even notice in 
his camera-less days, and he 
tries to represent what he sees 
in a way that shows some evi- 
dence of artistic feeling. Here- 
in lies the great educational 
value of the modern hand cam- 
era. Hardly larger than a 
sketch-book, ready for use at a 
moment s notice, it accompanies 
us in our walks and travels and 
teaches us how to reafly see and 
enjoy the beautiful things in na- 
ture. It is to be hoped that the 
time is not far when the use of 
that little black box will be 
taught in the public schools. 



WHEN HE 





yrrj LL through the "month of the bel- 

M lowing of the bulls" the war with 
[\ the Sioux had raged; all through the 
dry hot "month of the sunflowers" 
the sound of the hurrying battle had 
swept the broad brown plains like the 
angry voice of a prairie fire, when the 
Southwest booms. But now the fight was 
ended; the beaten Sioux had carried 
their wrath and defeat with them into 
the North; and the Pawnees, allies of 
the Omahas, had taken their way into the 
South, to Duild their village in the wood- 
ed bottoms of the broad and shallow 
stream. 

On the banks of a creek the Omahas 
had built their winter village. The tepees 
were constructed by driving trimmed wil- 
low boughs into the ground in the shape 
of a cone, about which buffalo hides and 
bark were securely fastened, leaving an 
opening at the top, through which the 
smoke of the winter fire might pass. 

In accordance with an ancient cus- 
tom, the village was built in a great cir- 
cle with an opening to the east. One 
standing in this opening and facing the 
west would divide the tribe with his 
line of vision into two bands, the 
one to his right would be the Hunga 
Band, the duty of which is to defend the 
holy relics. The one to his left would 
be the Ishta Sunda band, or the "thun- 
der men." To the right, within the circle 
and near the opening, would stand the 
lodge of the council, consisting of seven 
chiefs, and tJie great tepee where the 
totem pole and the holy relics are kept. 
This has ever been the village of the 
Omaha. 

The tribe was happy, for its inveterate 



enemy, the Sioux, had been driven with 
broken bows against the blowing of the 
north wind. 

The tribe was glad; but none so glad 
as Mun-chpe (Cloud.) As he sat in his 
tepee with the thunder men, he was 
thinking of how proudly he would ride 
his pony before the old chiefs, when 
the pow-wow was held over the recent 
victory. Yes, he would ride swiftly past 
the smoking council, and they would 
call him to them and place the eagle 
feather in his hair, for had he not touched 
and slain a big Sioux chief, fighting so 
closely that he breathed the breath of 
his foe? "Hi-Hi!" his heart cried within 
him as he thought. Would not the whole 
tribe shout? Would not the old men say 
"Mun-chpe is a brave youth?" Perhaps 
the big medicine man, Wa-zhing-a-Sa- 
ba (Blackbird) himself, would praise him, 
as he dashed around the circle on his 
fleet pony, with the shout on his lips 
and the eagle feather in his hair! Yes, 
and she would see him: Wa-te-na would 
see him, and then she would be proud to 
be his squaw. "Hi hi!" he shouted with 
his great gladness; for he was a young 
man and the world was very beautiful 
and glorious. 

Then he arose and went to where the 
seven big chiefs sat before their tepees, 
smoking their long red pipes in profound 
silence; for they were men who saw 
far. Then he raised his voice and spoke 
to the chiefs. 

"Fathers, give Mun-chpe the eagle 
feather to wear; for has he not touched 
and slain a big chief, fighting so closely 
that he breathed the breath of his 
enemy?" 



104 



Overland Monthly. 



A swift light passed into the stolid 
faces of the council, then died out, and 
stern justice made their faces cold. 
Again the youth spoke. 

"Fathers, give Mun-chpe the eagle fea- 
ther that men may know him as a brave 
man." 

Then the big medicine man, Wa-zhing- 
a-Sa-ba himself, laid down his pipe and 
spoke. 

"Wa-sa-ba Tun-ga says he killed the big 
chief; many times he has seen the Hunga 
Mubli, when the snows drift against the 
Hungas; he is an old man; Mun-chpe is 
a young man." 

With a grunt of suspicion he ceased 
speaking. Then Mun-chpe spoke, impet- 
uously, after the manner of youth. 

"Fathers, may the thunder strike Mun- 
chpe; may the buffalo bulls horn him in 
the hunt; may the wolves devour his 
bones if he lies! Mun-chpe killed the big 
chief; give him the eagle feather that 
men may know he is brave!" 

Then Wa-zhing-a Sa-ba spoke: "Wa- 
kunda is a wise god; Wakunda will help 
the truthful. Bring the otter skin, and 
summon Wa-sa-ba Tun-ga that we may 
know who lies." 

The otter skin was brought. It was a 
hide, down the back of which a piece of 
grooved wood was fastened. This was con- 
sidered a holy relic and was used in de- 
ciding the truthfulness of disputants. 
Each of the disputants was to hold an 
arrow above his head at arm's length, 
dropping it at the groove. If Wakunda 
caused the arrow to fall in the groove, 
then he who dropped it was truthful. 

Wa-sa-ba Tun-ga and Mun-chpe took 
places before the holy relic, and the sec- 
ond, raising the arrow high over his 
head, prayed aloud: "Wakunda pity 
Mun-chpe. Wakunda, help Mun-chpe!" 
Then he dropped e arrow. With a cry, 
he fled from the sight. The arrow had 
fallen away from the groove. Rushing 
into his tepee he buried his face in a 
buffalo robe and wept, moaning "Wakun- 
da lies; who will tell the truth?" The 
thought drove him mad. What! Wa- 
kunda who moulded the glorious brown 
prairies! Wakunda who made the great 
bright sun! Wakunda who put the song 
in the bird's throat! Wakunda lie! The 



thought was terrible, for Mun-chpe was 
a young man. 

Now, Wa-te-na would not be his squaw! 
Maybe she would go to the lodge of Wa- 
sa-ba Tun-ga! The thought bit him like 
a poisoned arrow shot by a strong man. 

All night he wept in his lodge, moaning, 
"Wah-hoo-ha-a, Wah-hoo-ha-a," the excla- 
mation of sorrow. And the thunder men, 
awakened from their sleep by the moan- 
ing of Mun-chpe, trembled as they crept 
closer under their blankets, saying, "Wa- 
kunda is punishing Mun-chpe; it is a bad 
thing to lie." Then they shut out the 
sound with their blankets, and slept 
again. 

But Mun-chpe did not sleep. No! He 
would not sleep until he had seen the 
blood of Wa-sa-ba Tun-ga's breast. Until 
then he would not sleep. And till the 
dawn crept in through the chinks in his 
tepee he moaned and cried for revenge. 

Some hours later he was roused from 
his brooding by shouting and the gallop 
of ponies. Creeping to the door of his 
lodge he pushed back the flap and looked 
out. There was a long line of braves, 
decked in their brightest colors, with 
eagle feathers in ineir hair, urging their 
ponies about the circle of the village, 
shouting their war cries. 

A tall cottonwood pole had been placed 
erect in front of the lodge of the council, 
where the seven chiefs sat glorying in 
the prowess of the young men. As the 
braves rode at full gallop past the pole, 
they discharged their arrows and spears 
at a dead eagle which was fastened to 
the top. In all possible: manners they 
rode, hanging by their frare legs to the 
pony and shooting under his belly and 
beneath his neck, combining feats of 
marksmanship witn feats of riding. Mun- 
chpe noted the applause of the old men 
when an arrow quivered in the breast 
of the eagle; and oh, how he longed to 
try his skill! 

But, ah! There rode Wa-sa-ba Tung-a, 
mounted upon a fleeter pony than the 
rest, dashing at a full run! As he drew 
near to the pole he stood up on the back 
of his plunging steed and hurled three 
arrows in swift succession into the 
breast of the eagle. The beholders went 
mad with delight, but Mun-chpe crept 



When the Snows Drift. 



105 



back into his tepee, for his heart was 
fierce within him; he had seen his eagle 
feather on the head of Wa-sa-ba Tung-a! 

The day passed; but Mun-chpe did not 
appear. As the evening came on, the 
southeast grew black with storm clouds, 
and with the fall of the night the wind 
and rain burst howling upon the village. 
The thunder shouted and the lightning 
glared like the eyes of an angry man, but 
it was sweet to the heart of Mun-chpe, 
for it seemed that the elements were 
angry with him. He laughed when the 
fierce light leaped into the lodge; and he 
was glad to hear the groaning of the 
poles; it was like the voice of a brother! 

When the night was late he took his 
knife and went out into the storm. He 
knew where Wa-sa-ba slept among the 
Hungas; and thither he ran. Raising the 
flap of his enemy's tepee, he saw, by 
the glare of the lightning, Wa-sa-ba sleep- 
ing. With the step of a mountain lion 
he crept to the siue of his foe. He knew 
where to strike. Wa-sa-ba would not cry 
out. Carefully he pulled the robe from 
the bare breast, and waited for the light- 
ning. The knife found his enemy's heart. 
The dying man groaned. 

"Hi hi," Mun-chpe cried to himself. 
"Wa-sa-ba will not need the eagle feather 
now. Mun-chpe will wear his eagle 
feather now!" 

He snatched the coveted trophy from 
the dead man's head, and rushed out 
into the storm, shouting "Hia, hia!" 
back at the thunder. Then he went into 
his tepee, and wrapping himself in his 
blankets, slept. It was so sweet to kill! 

But at that time of the morning when 
scarcely the flight of an arrow could 
be discerned, a spirit came into Mun- 
chpe's dream. Its eyes were like two 
cold flames that dance in a swamp; but 
its face was Wa-sa-ba Tung-a's, drawn 
with the last pang of death! Dolefully 
the spirit moaned, putting its clammy 
face against the face of Mun-chpe its 
blue lips against the lips of Mun-chpe! It 
seemed to be drinking his breath. And 
oh, the eyes! Gasping, the dreamer 
shrieked and leaped to his feet; and 
there, outside his lodge, in the glad light 
of the morning, he beheld the seven stern 
chiefs of the council, peering in at him. 

He knew what they had come to say, 



for it was forbidden to a murderer that 
he remain within the circle of the village. 
Proudly he threw back his head and fold- 
ed his arms. 

"Fathers, Mun-chpe is ready," he said, 
and he followed them to the council 
lodge. 

When the dusk of the evening came, 
the village was out to witness the ejec- 
tion of the murderer. Wrapped in a buf- 
falo robe, so that his face alone was visi- 
ble, Mun-chpe was driven with the lash 
about the circle of his people for the 
last time. But suddenly his eyes lit up 
with a wild glory, as he saw, standing 
with her father and mother before their 
oldge, Wa-te-na! 

As he passed her he cried softly, "Wa- 
te-na, Wa-te-na," and as he was driven 
on by his guards, he heard a low plaintive 
sob, and his heart grew lighter within 
him. 

Mun-chpe was driven out of the open- 
ing to the east, and there the jeering 
crowd stopped; but he could not stop; 
he must go out into the night out on 
the desolate prairie alone! 

The shouting of the crowd died out, 
and the night was very dark and lonely. 
When the night was old he grew weary, 
and climbing to the top of a hill, he lifted 
his voice and cried, "O Wakunda, pity 
Mun-chpe!" He listened as though ex 
pecting to hear an answer. He could 
hear a far-away pack of coyotes yelp 
among the hills, ending in a long, dirge- 
like howl. The sound terrified him, for 
it seemed the dying groan of Wa-sa-ba 
Tung-a! Mad with fright he looked be- 
hind him into the darkness. There were 
the two flaming eyes and the drawn, set 
face of the deaa man, with parted lips 
that jeered at him while they moaned! 
Wildly shrieking, he turned and dashed 
down the hill, running, running, running 
from that hateful face behind him. He 
ran, until with exhaustion he fell; and 
there in his delirious dream he could 
Vear the moan and see the terrible glow- 
ing eyes, until the big fair dawn leaped 
above the hills and wakened him. Then 
he arose and wandered on toward the sun- 
rise. 

A sense of terrible loneliness seized 
him. The limitless prairies were deso- 
late and brown, for it was near on to 



106 



Overland Monthly. 



the time when "the elk break their ant- 
lers" (October), and he shivered as he 
thought of the nearness of "Hunga Mub- 
li," (December), the time when the 
snows drift from the north. As the day 
passed he grew very hungry, and he 
looked lovingly at his bow, the one thing 
dear left him in his loneliness. 

The night came down, and the wolves 
yelped and howled in the darkness. But 
Mun-chpe was hungry, and hunger is fear- 
less. He stealthily hurried toward the 
sound of the wolves; and creeping on 
hands and knees down a ravine skirted 
with plum thickets he could see their 
glaring eyes and hear the gnashing of 
their teeth. Fitting an arrow to his 
bow, he aimed it between the lurid eyes 
of a beast as it sat upon its haunches, 
howling. The bow string twanged; the 
arrow shrieked like the voice of a dying 
squaw. The wolf, with a mournful howl, 
leaped in the air and fell back moaning; 
and as Mun-chpe looked and listened, 
the moan was the dying moan of Wa- 
sa-ba Tung-a, and there arose from the 
quivering carcass that terrible pair of 
eyes that drawn, set face with its frozen 
leer ! 

Mun-chpe fell on his face in terror. 
When he looked again, the vision was 
gone, and he ran to the dead animal, 
hurriedly tearing away the skin and 
devouring the meat ravenously. Then he 
lay down and slept a heavy sleep. In his 
dream Wa-te-na came to him with out- 
stretched arms, weeping, "Come back, 
Mun-chpe, come back to Wa-te-na," she 
moaned. He awoke, and the pale dawn 
was on the hills. 

Many suns passed and Mun-chpe wan- 
dered alone on the prairies, longing for 
his home and Wa-te-na, and he said to 
himself, "I will go closer to the village, 
that I may hear the braves sing, as they 
dance about the fires!" 

But the north wind awoke, and the snow 
scurried through the short buffalo grass, 



and Mun-chpe was weak from hunger. 
The sharp gusts crept under his buffalo 
robe and stung his bare legs. When he 
came in sight of the village it was even- 
ing. He waited for the night, and then 
crept close to the tepees and heard the 
old men talk. Oh, if he could sit with 
them by the crackling logs and hear 
their stories. Never, never, could he 
do this again. He was as the coyote 
that howls for loneliness among the fro- 
zen hills and dies of hunger. 

With a sigh he turned away from the 
sight and set his face against the storm, 
for he wished to die. 

"Wa-hoo-ha-a, wa-hoo-ha-a," he cried. 

The old men heard the cry blown upon 
the storm, and they told weird tales that 
made the staring youths shudder. 

That night Wa-te-na, sleeping in the 
lodge of her father, had a dream. It 
seemed to her that Mun-chpe came to her 
and his body was gaunt and weak, and 
his eyes were wild and fierce like a hun- 
gry wolf's. "Wa-te-na," she heard him 
say, imploringly, "Wa-te-na." She awoke, 
and wrapping her blankets about her 
went out into the storm. 

She could hear the faint cry of anguish 
in the distance, and she hurried toward 
the cry. 

"Wah-hoo-ha-a-a, wah-hoo-ha-a-a," trem- 
ulously came the wail through the storm, 
and soon Wa-te-na stumbled upon the 
form of Mun-chpe. 

She rubbed his face and hands, striv- 
ing to warm them; but the body grew 
colder. Then she covered him with her 
blanket and pressed her body close to his, 

her lips close to the frozen lips. 

******* 

Some time afterward, a party search- 
ing' for the lost "Wa-te-na, found her fro- 
zen body outstretched upon the cold 
form of Mun-chpe. And to this day 
the old women tell their daughters of 
the -devotion of Wa-te-na. But the name 
of Mun-chpe is not spoken. 




Y F from the great Zocalo of the City of 
J^ Mexico, you make your way to the 
Y old church of Santo Domingo of 
the Inquisition, passing along its 
broken western walls to the street of 
Leandro Valle, you will eventually find 
yourself confronted at the end of the 
street by a crumbling Spanish-built house 
bearing the number three. Above the 
number, and set nrmly into the wall, is 
a broken figure of one of the saints, all 
yellowed and crumbling and moss-grown 
in spots, which is known as "La Santa de 
la Calle de la Puerta Falso de Santa Do- 
mingo." 

It is a very pious looking Saint, with 
clasped hands and eyes directed devoutly 
Tieaven wards; its presence should of a 
certainty keep away all evil influences 
and spirits. But m spite of "la Santa" 
and all the exorcising that has been done, 
the full benefits of bell, book and candle 
never having been spared, number three 
of the Calle Puerta Falsa is haunted. In 
vain have Archbishops and priests and 
acolytes prayed, and sprinkled holy water 
and wafted incense high and low in ef- 
forts to oust the ghost. In spite of every- 
thing it still remains. By her obsti- 
nacy you may know her to be a woman: 
a woman whose muffled and tapaloed 
rface has never yet been seen by mortal 



man, and whose unquiet feet, as she 
glides about at dead of night, moaning 
and wailing, click and ring against the 
old stone floors as though she were shod 
with iron. 

For this reason the different genera- 
tions of people who have lived in this 
street, and got from the fathers and 
grandfathers the legend of this rest- 
less spirit, knew her as "The Iron-Shod 
Woman." So she was called by people 
who once knew her as a living, beautiful 
woman, and so she is known to-day by 
the people who live in Calle Puerta 
Falsa, any one of whom will tell you 
about her and the different circumstan- 
ces under which he or she may have seen 
"la espanta." For, of course, everybody 
has seen her at one time or another, with 
the solitary exception of a stolid old gen- 
darme at the corner, who grunts disdain- 
fully at the thought of a ghost. "No, 
Senor; es una mentira! Aqui no hay 
nada de espantos." ("It is a falsehood; 
there are no ghosts here!") 

As he is plainly a doubting Thomas, 
you will of course refuse to believe him, 
making instead a full personal investiga- 
tion of house number three, with entire 
belief in "La Mujer Herrada," who is well 
known (by all but the gendarme) to 
haunt it. 

In or about the year 1600 this same 
house was occupied by a certain priest 
young, handsome, and fond of the good 
things of tnis life who so far forgot his 
vows as to fall desperately in love with 
a beautiful Indian woman of the name of 
Juana. Now, for a priest, this was bad 



108 



Overland Monthly. 



enough. But worse followed, for Juana 
returned his love, and would not and 
could not give him up, even though in 
loving her the priest was sinning his 
soul into purgatory. And, on his part, 
though he prayed night and day, scourged 
himself, and abased himself at the feet 
of all the saints and prelates, there was 
no help; he could not give up his beauti- 
ful Juana. Death itself would be easier. 
And so it happened that after months of 
unavailing efforts and prayers, the priest 
took Juana home with him to the house 
number three, which her spirit now 
haunts. He had offered to give up his 
vows and holy office for her sake, but in 
those days matters were often left large- 
ly to a priest's own conscience. So the 
bishop said sadly, "Go in peace, my son," 
and the alliance was therefore counte- 
nanced. In some quarters, that is to 
say! 

In other quarters, among the priest's 
heretofore devoted flock of worshipers 
there was direst dismay and dissatisfac- 
tion; no one wished to confess to a padre 
who, as they thought, was living in sin. 
What better was he than the lowest 
drunkard and sinner, and what would 
his intercession amount to with Most Holy 
Mary and the Saints? Women would not 
allow him to baptize their little babies; 
young people would not permit him to 
perform their marriage ceremonies, and 
the dead were buried without his absolu- 
tion. Verily, the poor padre was paying 
heavily for his transgression, and those 
who had loved him soon deserted him. 
Of all his friends there soon remained 
faithful to him but one man Tomas 
the blacksmith. Him no words could 
turn from the priest, for together they 
had been taught by good Fray Anselmo, 
and together they had grown into men, 
faithful comrades always. Tomas the 
smith yet loved his friend, and swore 
that the powers of earth and Hell com- 
bined could never kill that love. 

Not that Tomas neglected to remon- 
strate with his friend the priest far 
from it. On the contrary, he had labored 
over and over with him, praying with 
tears that the woman Juana be sent away 
and atonement be offered for the sin 
that had been committed. He in vain 
pointed out the final result; the discredit 



with both God and man; the scandal 
that hourly grew larger, and at the end 
of all, the unmentionable punishment 
that would be visited upon him for the 
breaking of holy vows and a life of sin. 
But it was all as water poured into a lake 
and the priest would not listen or hear; 
wedded, like Ephram, to his idols, there 
was no hope. So Tomas the smith left 
off in dispair, committing the soul of his 
unhappy friend to Holy Mary and the 
Saints and praying that they visit the 
punishment, when rendered, upon the 
woman not upon the head of the wretch- 
ed man whom she had bewuched. 

Tomas the smith, being a bachelor, 
and without any womankind to care for 
him, lived all alone in house number five 
of the Calle Rejas de Belvanera. It was 
a very plain house, for Tomas was a sim- 
ple and unpretending man, and the only 
carving or decoration that his house 
boasted was the trade sign: paring knife 
and pincers, carved up over the great 
door. (After the death of this good man 
a rich hacendado bought the house, and 
destroyed this bit of carving, which is a 
pity.) 

One stormy night the smith went late 
to bed. Even then, though worn out from 
a long day's work he could not rest or 
sleep and tossed restlessly until midnight. 
He heard the great bells of the cathe- 
dral chime out one hour after the other, 
and at last, when the stroke of twelve 
died away, there came another sound 
that filled him, for some strange reason, 
with the utmost terror. He was a brave 
man, for he lived an upright life, and had 
cheated no human being, so that he 
should not have felt terrified because of 
a mere knocking at his own door. Yet 
it was all that he could do to summon up 
enough resolution to go to the door, 
where the knocking was waxing louder 
and louder as time went on, and no one 
answered the summons. 

At the entrance Tomas found two black 
men, leading a very frightened and vic- 
ious black mule, which they belabored 
wickedly from time to time as she backed 
and trembled and lashed out her heels. 
The smith remonstrated at their cruelty, 
but the men paid on attention to him, 
merely saying that they wished the mule 
shod at once for the use of the Padre, 



The Iron-Shod Woman. 



109 



who had just then been called for by 
them, to go to a distant point. 

Knowing full well that the priest owned 
no such mule, the smith questioned the 
black men still further, asking whence 
the mule came and to what point the 
padre had to go. To all his questions the 
men returned such plausible answers, 
stating that they themselves had brought 
the mule with them for El Padre's use, 



held down the struggling, screaming 
mule, while Tomas the smith hammered 
at her hoofs, marveling the while at the 
extraordinary terror displayed by her, 
and the horrible humanness of her 
screams. Also, it eemed to him strange 
that a mule of apparently five or six 
years of age had never before been shod, 
for her small dainty hoofs showed no sign 
or trace of shoes or nails. 




"A sound that filled him with terror.' 



that the smith could no longer delay, but 
at once set about preparations for shoe- 
ing the black mule. 

After much delay and difficulty, the ani- 
mal was dragged into the shop, and 
bound so tightly that she could not move, 
the negroes beating her cruelly all the 
while, and lavishing many dreadful 
curses and expressions upon her. 

Soon the fires were glowing brilliantly; 
sparks flew from the forge and hammer, 
and iron shoes were ready. The negroes 



At last, after two hours of hard work, 
the mlule's shoeing was accomplished, 
and the smith, wiping his tired, heated 
face, aided the negroes to lead out of his 
shop a kicking, trembling, and seemingly 
bewitched animal, whose almost human 
cries and groans struck a chill to the 
smith's heart. How could his friend the 
priest dream, of riding that vicious crea- 
ture? She would be the death of any 
man, he thought, and, following the 
black men to the door, he remonstrated 



Tol. xxxviii No. 2 f 7. 



110 



Overland Monthly. 



with them, praying that the 1 substitute 
another mule in the place of this wild one; 
or at any event, advise the Padre of her 
extraordinary behavior and viciousness. 

To this the negroes returned onlv sar- 
donic laughter and jeers, and, the door 
opened, vanished suddenly into the outer 
darkness of the street, the black mule 
still kicking and struggling. 

A flash of lightning suddenly zigzagged 
across the blackness of the night; there 
arose a horrid fume of brimstone, and, as 



asked to perform priestly duties of what- 
ever description. Truly, his good friend 
Tomas must have been either bewitched 
or dreaming. 

Strangely uneasy still, and not to be 
persuaded that he had been bewitched or 
dreaming, Tomas proposed that they have 
the morning coffee together, so that this 
very mysterious matter could be further 
inquired into. This the priest gladly 
agreed to, saying that he would call 
Juana, and have her hurry preparation 




'As she glides about at the dead of night." 



the smith watched from his door, he 
heard suddenly a loud and bitter wail, 
like the last cry of a tortured soul; his 
hair rose on his head, and his heart froze 
in his body as black men and mule 
disappeared from view. Too frightened 
to look again, Tomas hurriedly barred 
his door and fled to his own room, where, 
after devout prayer, he finally became 
tranquil. For that he had been visited 
by devils, he could not doubt. 

Early next morning Tomas hastened 
to the house of his friend, for he could 
noc rest until the mysteries of the past 
night had been explained. What was hit- 
surprise to learn from the lips of the 
priest nimself that he had never heard 
of or seen any such black mule or black 
men, and that he had known of no call 
to visit any one during the night. As 
a matter of fact, he added sadly, it had 
been many weeks since he had been 



of the pan and coffee. Together the two 
men went to the kitchen, but the woman 
was not there. Then they went to her 
room, and Tomas waited saaly outside, 
while his friend went hastily in, to find 
out what was the matter. Scarcely had 
the door closed behind him before Tomas 
heard a cry that again froze the blood in 
his veins; and, knowing that something 
had happened to Juana, he stumbled into 
the room after the priest, whom he found 
at Juana's bedside, gazing with maddened 
eyes at what lay therein. 

After his unhappy friend had been 
bound down in bed, and physicians called 
to minister to him, Tomas repaired again 
to the miserable Juana's room. 

She lay stiff and cold in the bed, her 
beautiful form cruelly torn and distorted. 
Her face, with its wide-open glaring eyes, 
was a sight to craze one, and Tomas hast- 
ily covered it, praying fervently and 



The Iron-Shod Woman. 



111 



earnestly as he did so. 

One limp coid hand caught his atten- 
tion, as it dangled helplessly, and, plac- 
ing it pityingly across the dead woman's 
bosom, he happened to see, evidently 
nailed into her palm, a glittering new 
horseshoe! Almost paralyzed with hor- 
ror, he looked again, and saw that it was 
one of the same shoes that he had nailed 
on the black mule last night marked 
with his own name, and hammered cru- 
elly into the tender flesh with his own 
sharp shoeing nails. 

When he had rallied sufficiently to look 
again, the smith found that the other 
hand and both feet of the dead woman 
had been shod, and that her mouth had 
been subjected to a particularly cruel 
bit, which had cut through her tongue. 
Her body had been literally flayed to 
pieces, and her once long and beautiful 
hair had been torn out by the roots. 

Priests were hastily called in, and they 
said masses and distributed incense and 
holy water, and otherwise endeavored 
to exorcise the evil spirits. The dead 
woman could not, of course, be buried in 
holy ground; therefore, a corner of the 
patio or courtyard was dug up, and she 
was interred there, with no prayers or 
candles or mass. For, in the case of 
such a sinner, these ceremonies would 
have been both wicked and unavailing. 

That same night she rose from her 
grave, and wandered, wailing and moan- 



ing, about the house and patio, with such 
blood-curdling groans and cries that it 
became necessary to remove the priest, 
even on his bed of delirium, to a neigh- 
boring monastery. There he was nursed 
back to life and health, a saddened and 
consecrated priest, whose every breath- 
ing moment from that time on was de- 
voted to his Church and good works. 
He died at the age of seventy, beloved by 
all who knew him and to this day there 
remains many tablets and memorials 
erected in his honor and praise. 

As for the "Iron-shod Woman," on 
whom fell all the punishment for a sin 
committed by two (as is sometimes the 
case, even in these enlightened days) her 
soul has never been laid to rest in all 
these years. Even though her poor tor- 
tured body was taken up, blessed, in- 
censed and holy-watered, it has neve 
been able to rest again in peace. And, for 
nearly three hundred years, she has wan- 
dered, wailing through the deserted old 
house, with her ghastly face hidden in a 
shawl, so that no man might look upon 
it, and her iron-shod feet, clacking against 
the stone floors. 

And so she will continue to wander, 
the Mexicans of Calle Puerto Falsa tell 
you, throughout all the ages to come. 
Because Maria Sanctissima nos per- 
done! there can be no rest or peace for 
women who have sinned as did Juana 
of the Iron Shoes! 



112 



Overland Monthly. 






fleet and stroti 
e long 



amen they were ski I led and hold; 



And on mcy sailcJ From 4u1f to main, 
Through craved 4ateS \ 
And windiiif str a?ts ; \ 
Their only hopes ambition's Jam 



One morn triumph rose a cry 

AS there ahead* 

Not mist- instead 

A low , dim coast was seen to He, 




For Gold. 



113 



Thcyhoar 

And o^ei^fhe sides 

Like fti II- moo 

thevifloode 



The 

Their eyes how 
For $old lay hfea 
And strewn in 






Their che 
And bac 
They crj 
And still 



and once agai 






Not days, nor 
But years - 
Youll 
Their 



or months foiled they 
Stiff, 






:tt? :-yf^^&&*FVir > *S*&sgr{ 











There was time on this fair continent 
When all things throve in spacious 

peacefulness. 

The prosperous forest unmolested stood, 
For where the stalwart oak grew there 

it lived 
Long ages, and then died among its kind. 



There was a time when the pathless 
forest was untrodden by all save the moc- 
casined red man, and the curling smoke 
from his unpretentious wigwam marked 
the only habitation until the relentless 
axe of the settler awakened echoes that 
broke the solmen silence of nature, which 
for centuries had ruled supreme. A 
new era dawned, old things passed away. 
Fields were cultivated, homes were built, 
commerce was advanced, and a nation 
was born. 

The bold, adventurous fur-traders, dis- 
covering the rich fields for their industry, 
were the first to push out into the vast 
unknown. They were not slow to take 
advantage of their opportunities, and es- 
tablished trading posts for the purpose 
of bartering with the Indians for the rich 
furs and hides. 

As the fur trade grew is was necessary 
at last to extend it far up the rivers and 
lakes. The trading posts then became 
the rendezvous of the voyageurs at the 
end of their hazardous trips, and of the 
merchants who shipped the furs and hides 
to England. 

Such were the conditions from which 
were born the Canadian boatmen or voy- 
ageurs. They were a hardy class of men, 
trained from boyhood to the use of the 
paddle. Many of them were Iroquois 
Indians, but, as a rule, they were of 
French descent. Their lives were passed 
in wild extensive rovings in the service 



of the fur-traders and early French mer- 
chants in their trading expeditions 
through the labyrinth of rivers and lakes 
of the boundless interior. 

As night dropped her curtain and but- 
toned it with a star, the last crimson 
rays of departing day, mingling with the 
somber hues, filled that land with mystic 
beauty. Out from the shadows, across 
the beautiful lake scintillating in the 
mellow light, into the brilliant splendor 
of fair Luna's golden path, glided the 
quaint batteaux of the gay voyageurs, the 
primeval monarchs of the lakes. On the 
gentle evening breezes was wafted the 
sweet melody of song, and the voluptuous 
harmony of the glad chansons of the 
light-hearted, song-loving boatmen, min- 
gled with the musical rhythm of the pad- 
dles as they kissed the dancing waters. 
But now the beautiful days for which the 
soft zephyrs of a century and a half 
have murmured their requiem live only 
in the poet's dream. 

Progress and commerce, with relentless 
hand, have shorn the voyageurs of their 
glory, and like flowers robbed of their 
fragrance they have faded away. The 
voyageurs with all their wild energy 
are gone forever, and the rippling lakes 
and purling streams, once vocal with 
their songs, ever sigh for their return. 
The singer has passed away and may 
be forgotten, but his song will ever live. 
The hymns to their patron Saint Anna, 
that to-day are so popular with the Breton 
fishermen, all owe their origin to these 
chansons. The boat songs of the Can- 
adian boatman are almost as celebrated 
as the sailors' songs of England and 
those of the Venetian gondoliers. 

The Canadian boatmen were a light- 
hearted, song-loving people. Even the 
very poorest among them had an instinc- 



The Canadian Boatmen. 



115 



tive taste for music. Being full of anec- 
dote and song they were ever ready for 
the dance. Much of their gayety and 
lightness of heart was inherited from 
their French ancestors, and from them 
they also inherited the civility and com- 
plaisance which made them mutually 
kind and obliging. Their readiness to 
lend aid or give assistance and comfort 
in every emergency was shown by the 
familiarity with which they addressed 
each other as "cousin" or "brother" 
where, in fact, no relaionship existed 
save that of mutual good will heightened 
by the common bond of peril and hard- 
ship that so united their lives of ad- 
venture, i-o men were more submissive 
to their employers, more capable of en- 
during hardships, or so good natured 
under privations. 

. The dress of the voyageur was strik- 
ingly characteristic, being generally half 
savage and half civilized. A striped 
cotton shirt, cloth trowsers, or leather 
leggins, deer skin moccasins, a capot 
or surcoat of a blanket and a varicolored 
belt of worsted, from which dangled the 
knife and tobacco pouch, constituted his 
gay attire. Those of the governor's or 
chief factor's brigade each wore a 
feather in his cap, and whenever the wind 
permitted it, a British ensign was hoisted 
on each light canoe. 

The canoes were marvels of durability. 
Being made of thin, tough sheets of 
birch bark, securely gummed along the 
seams with pitch, they were very strong, 
yet so light that they were regarded with 
wonder by the Indians, who said they 
were the gift of Manitore. The , freight 
canoes were heavy and each built to 
carry about four tons of merchandise. 
The light cargoes, sometimes manned 
with ten or twelve men, would glide 
through the water at great speed. 

The character of the voyageur is the 
same as that which lay behind all the 
early Frencn enterprises. It implies 
those roving qualities which made the 
French pioneers in the fisheries and the 
fur trade, and which even after the 
arrival of the Jesuit missionaries, pre- 
vailed under the blessing of the church. 
The best early type of the voyageur tem- 
perament, combined with the courage of 
the church militant, is to be found in 



that old hero, Samuel de Champlain. 

An instance of the buoyant tempera- 
ment and professional pride of the voya- 
geur was shown by the gay and braggart 
style in which a party of thirteen who had 
enlisted with "The Pacific Fur Com- 
pany," of which Mr. Astor was the head, 
arrived in New York to join the expe- 
dition. 

Having determined to astonish the 
"natives" of the "States" with the sight 
of a Canadian boat and its Canadian 
crew, they fitted up a large canoe which 
they transported from the banks of the 
St. Lawrence to the shores of Lake 
Champlain in a wagon. After traversing 
this lake from end to end they again 
placed the canoe on a wagon and took 
it to Lansinburg, where it was launched 
upon the waters of the Hudson. It was 
a beautiful summer's day as merrily, in 
tune with nature, they plied their course 
down the river; making the welkin ring 
for the first time with their charming old 
French boat songs. They passed the 
villages with a whoop and halio, in order 
to make the sturdy Dutch farmers mis- 
take them for a crew of savages. At last 
on a still summer evening they swept 
around New York, in full swing and 
regular flourish of the paddle, to the ad- 
miration and wonder of the inhabitants, 
who had never before witnessed such a 
nautical apparition on their waters. 

Never so happy were the Canadian 
boatmen as when on some long voyage 
or rough expedition, diligently toiling up 
the rivers, portaging their canoes up the 
steep cliffs, gliding over the lakes and en- 
camping at night on the shores. Gathered 
around the cheery campfire they forgot 
all care in the merry gossip and cheery 
song. 

Like sailors, they looked upon the day 
of their departure as the day of fate. 
And not unlike the sailors they thought 
to drown their sorrows in the flowing 
bowl. As this often delayed the departure 
the commanders frequently resorted to 
the trick of keeping secret the exact time 
he intended to leave port. He would 
keep the voyageurs busy and then leave 
on very short notice. However, when the 
cargoes of the small crafts were nearly 
loaded the wives, children and even 
sweethearts or voyageurs would gather 



116 



Overland Monthly. 



about tlie quay to bid sad farewell and 
wish them "bon voyage." 

Farewells were soon over, and as the 
brigade of canoes shot out from Lachine, 
which was then the port for those going 
on long journeys up the Ottawa, those 
who were leit oehind rent the air with 
their cheers. No sooner would Le Maitre, 
after having found his cargo afloat, his 
officers and visitors safely seated, give 
the cheery word to start, than the men, all 
excited with the prospect of the voyage, 
would strike the paddles with the accus- 
tomed dash, and break out with a "Chan- 
son de Voyage." 

But as soon as the brigade was fairly 
off and the party had settled down to the 
motion, the priest, should one be of the 
party, would reverently remove his hat 
and pour forth a loud invocation to the 
Deity, and to a long list of male and 
female saints, to which at the end of 
each versicle all the men made response, 
"Qu'il me benisse." After this he called 
for a song. Of all the French songs 
the one most surely to be sung at this 
stage was the favorite and most beloved 
of all, "A La Claire Fontaine : " 

"A la claire fontaine, 

M'en allant promener, 

J'ai trouve 1'eau si belle, 

Que je m'y suis baigne." 

(Unto the crystal fountain, 
For pleasure did I stray; 
So fair I found the waters, 
My limbs in them I lay.) 

"Chantez, rossignol, chantez, 
Toi qui as le coeur gai; 
Tu as le couer a rire, 
Moi, je l'ai-t-a Pleurer." 

(Sing, nightingale, keep singing, 
Thou hast a heart so gay; 
.Thou hast a heart so merry, 
While mine is sorrow's prey.) 

"Long is it I have loved thee, 
Thee shall I love alway, 

My dearest; 

Long is it I have loved thee, 
Thee shah 1 love alway." 

The steersman would often sing some 
old traditionary French song, with a regu- 



lar burden in which all would join, keep- 
ing time with their oars. Should their 
spirits relax in exertion at any time, it 
was but necessary to start some gay song 
to put them all in fresh spirits and 
activity. Their paddles kept time to the 
music and they had songs for all occa- 
sions. Gliding quietly down the lakes 
their song would flow into some low 
sweet harmony. But when nearing the 
swift-flowing, foaming waters of the rap- 
ids their melody would be changed into a 
quick, courage-inspiring songs into which 
they threw all their spirit, as they went 
boldly forward to meet and conquer all 
dangers. Charles Sangster, in his poem, 
"The Rapid," has very beautifully por- 
trayed their character: 

"Fast downward they're dashing, 
Each fearless eye flashing, 
Though danger awaits them on everjr 

side; 
Yon rock see it frowning! 

They strike they are drowning! 
But downward they speed with the 

merciless tide: 
No voice cheers the rapid, that 

angrily, angrily 
Shivers their bark in its maddening 

play; 
Gaily they enter it heedlessly, 

recklessly, 

Mingling their lives with its treacher- 
ous spray!" 

Superstitious voyageurs used to relate 
how Pere Breboeuf, who had gone as a 
priest with some early French explorers, 
had been badly injured at the portage 
by some falling earth and stones. There 
was very little hope for him and he had 
lain down to die, on the spot where the 
church now stands. He prayed to Ste. 
Anna, the patroness of sailors, to whom 
he promised, on her appearing to him, to 
build a church in her honor on the spot, 
should he survive. The church is evi- 
dence that he recovered and kept his 
vow. 

It may be that the native charms com- 
bined with gentleness, unfailing sweet- 
ness, patience and courage, something 
entirely new to the Indian philosophy 
of life, did much to inspire devotion. It 
is true that when Breboeuf died in 1649, 



The Canadian Boatmen. 



by torture, he so conducted himself that 
the Indians drank his blood and the 
chief devoured his heart in hope that 
they might become as heroic as he was. 

Among all the resting places along the 
route of the fur-trader, Ste. Anne enjoyed 
high distinction. Religion and sentiment 
for a hundred years have consecrated it. 
A short distance above it, on an emi- 
nence overlooking the narrows, is a 
venerable ruin, a castle speaking of bor- 
der foray and Indian warfare generations 
ago, but now overgrown with young 
trees and the ivy of peace. 

There are now many Ste. Annes found- 
ed in honor of this saint, whom tradition 
says was the mother of the Virgin Mary. 
She was born of one of the family of Da- 
vid, and her mother, it is claimed, pre- 
dicted the birth of the Savior through 
her. Upon her death at Jerusalem, she 
was placed in the family vault. However, 
at the shrine in Canada, to-day there 
is a little glass case which contains a 
confused mass of dried and broken bones, 
which are believed to be those of this 
saint. 

In the time of Marcus Aurelius the In- 
fidels destroyed all the monuments in 
the Holy Land, but according to tradi- 
tion, one coffin could be neither burned 
nor opened, and being thrown into the 
sea floated off to the town of Apt, in 
Provence, where it lay for a long time 
buried in the sand. One day some fish- 
ermen caught in their net an enormous 
fish, which showed clearly by its actions 
that fish have instinct and reason, and 
that St. Anthony knew more than they 
gave him credit for when he preached 
to them. This fish struggled so hard 
that it made a deep hole in the sand 
on the shore, and when the fishermen 
dragged it out the coffin of Ste. Anne 
appeared in the hole. No one in Apt 
could open the coffin. The bishop Aure- 
lius placed it in a crypt, put a burning 
lamp before it, and had it hermetically 
walled up. Seven hundred years later 
Charlemagne, moved by the appeal of 
a deaf and dumb boy, caused a certain 
wall to be destroyed in which the coffin 
was found. 

Many wonderful miracles were per- 
formed at this shrine. It became, in later 
days, a regular custom for vessels as- 



113 
V r- / 

^Si^- tO ! C.-V n jr 

cending the St. Laurem5^4ztIfljsJa. broad- 
side salute when passing. 

It was at the shrine of "Le Bonne Ste. 
Anne," a village twenty-one miles from 
Montreal, on the Ottawa, now a flourish- 
ing suburban resort of Montreal, that 
the voyageur made his vow of devotion 
and asked for protection on his voyage 
and made such gifts as he could to the 
patron saint. 

As the voyageurs ascended the river 
they encountered many dangerous and 
embarrassing rapids or rifts, as they 
were then called. The most danger- 
ous and exciting part of the great voyage, 
however, was the well-known section 
where two long islands, the lower Calu- 
met and the Allumette, blocked the 
stream. There were fierce rapids. Many 
crosses are erected along the stream 
telling of those who have lost their life 
in the boiling surge. 

The Hudson's Bay Company founded 
Fort Coulongue, on the north side of 
the river between the two islands as a 
refuge in case of accident. Many are 
the stories clustering around the boiling 
flood of the Calumet. 

It is said that as early as the time of 
Champlaine, Cadieux, an educated and 
daring Frenchman, settled there with 
his dusky Ottawa wife. The prowling 
Iroquois attacked their dwelling, but Cad- 
ieux and one Indian held the enemy at 
bay while his wife and a few Indians 
launched their canoe and boldly pushed 
out into the boiling waters. From pool 
to pool the light canoe was whirled, but 
before them the Indians saw, in misty 
robes, a figure which led them on. The 
Christian spouse said it was "Bonne Ste. 
Anne" who had led them safely through 
their danger. The tradition also says 
the Iroquois gave up the siege, and Cad- 
ieux's companion having been killed, he 
died from exhaustion in the forest. Be- 
side him, was found the "Lament de 
Cadieux," his death song, which, with its 
touching and attractive strains, the voy- 
ageurs sing as they near the dangers of 
the foaming currents of the Upper Ot- 
tawa. 

The voyageurs were often filled with 
dread as they sat around their camp- 
fires on the edge of some shadowy for- 
est and told stories of the dangers of 



118 



Overland Monthly. 



the route. So alarming was the story 
of Wendigo that no crew would push 
out after sunset for fear they would 
see this apparition. By some Wendigo 
was supposed to be a spirit who, on 
account of the crimes he had committed- 
was condemned to wander to and fro 
on the earth. Others believed him to be 
a desperate outcast, who had tasted hu- 
man flesh and now prowled about at 
night seeking some victim. Tales were 
told of unfortunate traders being lost 
in the forest and never being heard of 
again, all of which more nrmly estab- 
lished the belief in this mysterious ogre. 
After many weary days of toil, Fort 
William, the goal of the Montreal voya- 
geur, was reached. Here met in rivalry 
the wild cureurs de bois of the West 
and the gay patient voyageur of the East. 
Here the great council hall, an immense 
wooden buildings, decorated with Indian 
trophies and accouterments, was used as 
the banqueting chamoer. During the days 
of unloading and loading many were the 
grave and weighty councils alternated by 
huge feasts and revels. "The tables in 



the great banqueting room groaned 
under the weight of game of all kinds; 
of venison from the woods, and fish 
from the lakes, with hunters' delicacies, 
such as buffalos' tongues and beavers' 
tails, and various luxuries from Montreal, 
all served up by experienced cooks 
brought for the purpose. 

The wine flowed freely, for it was a 
hard drinking period, a time of loyal 
toasts, gay songs and brimming bumpers. 
But at last, when the cargoes were 
loaded, the feasting and bibulous contests 
ended, and the voyageurs turned their 
faces homeward. As they merrily unfurl- 
ed their flags to the breeze, with renewed 
courage to meet the hardships, they 
glided down the river singing a favorite 
song, "V'La L'bon Vent." 

"There's a good wind, 

There's a i^ne wind, 

There's a good wind, 

And my love is calling me. 

There's a good wind, 

There's a fine wind, 

There's a good wind, 
And my love is awaiting me." 




LABOR ORGANIZATIONS 



BY CHARLES A. MURDOCK 



HERE is a deep significance in the 
{. name of the human animal: Maniis, 
the hand, Man the animal with a 
hand. As Buffon puts it, "Reason 
and the hand make man man." The ca- 
pacity for economic labor is closely asso- 
ciated with the wonderful articulation of 
the human hand. Labor is the foundation 
of man's progress, and the estimation 
in which it is held is the best test of a 
civilization. 

The incentive to labor is not our love 
for it as such, but the satisfying of 
wants. We work because it is only 
by labor that we can get that which 
will procure for us those things that 
we either need or want. And so from 
time immemorial the question of wages 
has been of first importance to the la- 
borer: how much he should receive for 
so many hours work, or how many hours 
he should be obliged to give for the 
money required to supply his necessi- 
ties. In determining the price there is 
generally a purpose on the part of the 
laborer to furnish the least possible 
amount for a given sum, or to receive 
the largest possible sum for a given 
amount. This is met by the desire, or 
the enforced necessity, on the part of the 
employer to get the largest amount possi- 
ble for a given sum, or to pay the small- 
est sum for a given amount. There is 
thus a natural antagonism tuat must be 
borne, and that always threatens. There 
is a mutual dependence and interdepend- 
ence, that in a sense forms a common in- 
terest, but in the division of the proceeds 
of combined labor and capital, complete 
satisfaction can never be expected. Dis- 
content may be good and it may be bad. 
It is commonly both. 

One of the greatest misfortunes or 
mistakes of modern civilization is the 
too sharp division of men into classes, 
and the lack of true sympathy between 
them. The difference in lot or condition 
between any two men is a small circum- 
stance as compared with their likeness 



as members of the same human family. 
It is not just to feel disdain and dis- 
respect for any human being who from 
limited endowment or stress of misfor- 
tune has been compelled to remain a 
manual laborer. "While in America class 
distinctions are incongruous, there is 
too apt a disposition to consign those 
who work for wages to an inferior caste. 
They are spoken of as the "wage-earning 
class," and is it somehow assumed that 
their rights are few. 

That they should want more wages or 
shorter hours is considered ungrateful, 
and that they should do anything to 
gain them is an infringement of the 
rights of their betters and an outrage 
on society. 

But the bulK of men labor, and being 
men they have ambition. They have 
found that through organization better- 
ment is possible. They have made many 
mistakes and will make more. They have 
wronged others and wronged themselves. 
They are not so very wise and are often 
arbitrary and unjust, but they are learn- 
ing, and may be expected to learn much 
more. They have been at this effort 
to better themselves a long time. We 
read of strikes in Italy in 1381, and In 
Germany and France in the same cen- 
tury. 

We are impressed to-day with the ex- 
tension of unions to all trades and occu- 
pations, scavengers, assistant undertak- 
ers, bottlers and packers, but in Paris 
in 1789 there were unions of lackeys and 
apothecaries' clerks. 

The great growth and power of the 
unions, however, is comparatively recent, 
and for better or worse organizations are 
becoming stronger, and, through more 
complete alliance between the various 
trades, are exercising an increased in- 
fluence in industrial affairs. There are 
aspects of trade unionism that are very 
threatening, and there is likely to be 
a call for great wisdom and absolute jus- 
tice in meeting the crisis. It is well 



120 



Overland Monthly. 



for us to gain an elevation in surveying 
so great a question. We are too much in 
the thick of it to see clearly. We must 
disabuse our minds of prejudice and 
judge it largely. 

Organization is the distinguishing fea- 
ture of modern industrial life. As a re- 
cent writer on trusts has admitted, "the 
remarkable concentration of industry, 
and growth of corporate organizations, 
is, in the main, a logical, irresistible con- 
sequence of the economic forces of the 
century." So labor organizations are one 
feature of industrial evolution. They are 
one expression of a universal law. We 
may like them or not they are here, 
and they will stay as long as they have 
a true function to perform in promoting 
equity in industrial life. A trade union 
is an association of wage-earners for the 
purpose of maintaining and improving 
the conditions of their own employment. 

That laboring men have the right to or- 
ganize for bettering their conditions is 
no longer questioned, but society holds 
them responsible for the way in which 
they use the power they gain through or- 
ganization. So long as they confine their 
efforts to caring for their sick, burying 
their dead and educating their mem- 
bers, no protest is made; but any sub- 
stantial gain as regards better pay or les- 
sened hours can be achieved only through 
antagonizing the actual or fancied rights 
of others, and the element of warfare 
is introduced. It is a continuation in 
a modified form of the old struggle for 
human rights in a political sense. Our 
commercial and industrial life has 
brought new issues, and the respective 
rights and claims of capital and labor 
are being fought out. Upon the equitable 
solution of the problem involved rests 
social welfare as well as individual 
rights. Now, no warfare is pleasant, and 
we need not expect it will be. Business 
men are apt to feel much aggrieved 
when any one interferes with the manage- 
ment or control of their business, and in- 
fringes on what they esteem their rights. 
It is true that trade unions are often 
unreasonable and needlessly exasperat- 
ing. They are frequently controlled by 
men who are ignorant and do things that 
are both foolish and indefensible. It 
is very helpful and fortunate when a pro- 



prietor is blest with imagination and sym- 
pathy, and can put himself in the place 
of his striking employee, it makes him 
philosophical and patient and inclined 
to be conciliatory. It is the part of wis- 
dom to deal with things as they are. 
An organization of employees insisting 
on that which one thinks one ought not 
to be called upon to grant, or that one 
is quite sure he cannot grant, is very 
trying, but one must accept the fact. 
Whether he will yield, or refuse and take 
the consequences, is a matter that he 
must determine from his best judgment, 
but in which he ought not to be influ- 
enced by passion or prejudice. Any one 
who has had the experience can but be 
impressed by the sacrifices that work- 
men make for what they consider the 
general good. They may be mistaken 
in judgment, but they do what they feel 
honor and loyalty to their fellows de- 
mand. Three years ago my employees 
walked out -on a strike for shorter hours. 
Many of them had come as small boys 
and went with bald heads. They all 
shook hands with me as they left, but 
they did not flinch. They gave up prob- 
ably life positions because the majority 
of their organization determined that 
the cause of labor demanded it. Men who 
had bought stock went and left it, sac- 
rificing their earnings in preference to 
their standing with their fellows. Per- 
sonally I was in sympathy with the end 
they sought. I believed in shorter hours, 
and did all I could to effect a compro- 
mise. The strike was unsuccessful, but 
it was expensive to both sides. Pro- 
prietors found that the best workmen 
were in the ranks of the union, and the 
places of skilled workmen were filled 
with great difficulty, but they were filled, 
and when the strike was declared off 
many workmen remained unemployed or 
were forced to seek new positions. Al- 
though the strike was a disastrous defeat 
it remains to be admitted that the object 
for which it was waged, an hour decrease 
of time without loss of pay, has since 
been voluntarily established. This has 
been the general result in the history of 
English strikes. The point which the 
strike failed to gain has been after- 
wards conceded. If employers would take 
the initiative in increasing wages when 



Labor Organizations. 



121 



profitable trade makes it not only possible 
but just, there would be little necessity 
for either labor organizations or strikes 
to better conditions. But how rarely 
we hear of increased pay or decreased 
hours except upon compulsion? If busi- 
ness yields unusually large profits the 
excess is added to dividends, but rarely 
does any portion of it go to the workman. 
The fact that trades unions exist is pre- 
sumptive proof of their necessity. The 
equitable division of the joint product of 
capital and labor is of first importance 
socially. Upon it is based individual con- 
tent and the well-being of the commu- 
nity. The just proportion may not be 
easy to get at. Each partner may feel 
that the other is receiving too much. 
There is much ignorance and crude judg- 
ment on the part of those whose sympa- 
thy with the laborer is greater than 
their discretion. The laborer is very 
apt to minimize the effect of ability in 
the direction of industrial affairs. The 
constantly increasing amount of wealth 
that results from the labor of the same 
number of men is due to the constantly 
increasing skill or ability of business 
managers, inventors, and discoverers of 
processes. These exceptional men de- 
serve and must have what seems a large 
proportion of the wealth produced, but 
the fact remains that the laborer fails 
to receive what must be considered a 
fair proportion. As an individual he is 
powerless to assert his rights or redress 
his grievances, and organization is forced 
upon him. The employer of labor who 
wants to pay good wages is helped by a 
well conducted trades union, if it has 
the power to compel his selfish competi- 
tor to do likewise, for whatever may be 
his desire he cannot pay much more than 
his competitor. 

Capital and labor are both almost crim- 
nally oblivious of the rights of the public 
when a fight is on. Under present social 
conditions we are so mutually interde- 
pendent that no great suffering can be 
confined to those directly engaged. The 
innocent suffer with the guilty. When 
business stagnates the whole community 
is involved. If the Pullman Company 
squeezes its workmen to add to its divi- 
dends, and the railroads are tied up to 
compel fair treatment, the shipper of 



fruit suffers more in the rotting carloads 
than any brakeman or car-builder. The 
public is an interested party, and has 
rights that cannot be ignored. Some 
means must be found of enforcing these 
rights. The experiments in the matter 
of compulsory arbitration in the English 
Colonies are of great interest and are 
significant of what the whole community 
has a right to insist on. What limitations 
will finally be found necessary cannot be 
predicted, but the American people, 
though long-suffering, are not to be per- 
manently imposed upon. As between the 
parties there must be eventually accorded 
equal rights. Legal rights are appar- 
ently equal now. If there is any advan- 
tage shown toward either in the matter 
of judicial decisions, it seems to be in 
favor of labor, the distinction being 
made that labor organizations are for the 
protection of the members and make for 
social welfare, while the trusts are for 
the promotion of interests of their mem- 
bers at the expense of the public weal. 

Moral rights rest upon invariable prin- 
ciples of justice, but public opinion re- 
gisters the interpretation arrived at at 
any given time. Commonly the success 
or the failure of a strike depends upon 
the sympathy of the community. It vir- 
tually sits in judgment, and if it decides 
a strike is just it wins; if it finds it un- 
reasonable it fails. Its judgments are 
not always right, the press is often pre- 
judiced, and represents the facts in a 
manner to justify its position, but a cause 
must command the general approval of 
a community, or it cannot hope to suc- 
ceed. There can be no doubt that aside 
from those whose interests influence 
their feelings, there is on the part of so- 
ciety, as a whole, a strong feeling in 
favor of good pay for laborers, and for a 
shortening of hours. It is felt that while 
the toilers are not truly typified in Mark- 
ham's Hoe-man, and that Henry George's 
dictum that the rich are growing richer 
and the poor are growing poorer, is not 
true, there is yet too great a discrepancy 
in social conditions, and that, while the 
manual laborer lives more comfortably 
than ever before, and has a better chance 
to improve his condition, he has not 
shared proportionally with the owners 
of capital in the enormous accumulation 



122 



Overland Monthly. 



that has marked recent years. 

It is not well for a community that a 
portion of its members (those who are its 
toilers, who put forth their utmost efforts 
for the privilege of living and rearing a 
family), shoulu be denied a reward that 
will enable them to live in comparative 
comfort, while a favored few shall roll 
in luxury. 

It is an unworthy answer that more 
wages means more beer, and that shorter 
hours will leave more time for degrading 
idleness. It is an insult to human- 
ity, for a majority of the men and a large 
minority of the women in a progressive 
comunity are wage-earners, and the indi- 
viduality and intelligence that society 
demands for its health and progress can- 
not be maintained unless the hours of 
labor leave it possible for those who 
choose to do so, to lift themselves and lift 
one another. 

In the matter of pay it cannot be de- 
nied by labor that the way is not open for 
practically unlimited return, when a pen- 
niless Scotch boy can, by his own exer- 
tions, become a capitalist with an income 
of $15,000,000 a year; and a youth who 
worked for a dollar a day a few years 
ago is President of a billion dollar trust, 
giving up a $100,000 yearly salary and get- 
ting no one knows how much, besides the 
dividends on his $15,000,000 of stock, but 
Carnegies and Schwabs are the excep- 
tions. There are many worthy men, as 
good citizens, as high-minded, clean-lived 
and honorable as either of these, who 
are ambitious for their children if not 
for themselves, who are utterly unable 
to do more than earn living wages. They 
are the majority, the common average 
men, and in is in them that the commun- 
ity is interested, for them that a fair 
return and enlarged opportunity are 
asked. 

Considerable speculation has lately 
been indulged in as to the effect on the 
future of labor organization of the enor- 
mous consolidation of capital in trusts 
and transportation monopolies. Mr. 
Arthur Brisbane is an alarmist, and looks 
upon the leader of the hosts of labor yet 
to arise as the virtual head of the steel 
trust. He regards the problem presented 
by the possibilities of a labor trust as 
more dangerous and aggressive than any 



other. On the otner hand, the editor of 
the Review of Reviews finds in the ease 
with which threatened strikes on the part 
of the anthracite coal miners, the em- 
ployees of the New Jersey Central Rail- 
road, and the American Sheet Steel Com- 
pany have lately been settled, strong 
hope for more harmonious conditions. 
He writes: "To our mind, of course, it 
is quite clear that labor has the same 
right as capital to organize and combine, 
and that there should be no more need 
of strikes in the iron and steel industry 
than of a civil war in the carrying on of 
a modern government. The steel corpor- 
ation will be so placed, as respects compe- 
tition, that it need not fear to treat all 
its employed men both justly and liber- 
ally, and it can hardly be supposed to 
have any other motive." 

Of the two writers the latter seems to 
be the wiser, i~na he has the facts up to 
date on his side. One great advantage in 
the very large combinations is that they 
bring large men to the front, and the 
larger a man is tne more likely he is to 
see both sides, the more likely he is to 
feel that peace is preferable to war, and 
that the true, long-run interest of both 
sides is peace resting on a basis of equity. 
Small, fiery spirits, self-willed, ignorant, 
and obstinate, are ready to fight on small 
provocation. Cool, calculating, far-seeing 
men are conciliatory and willing to give 
and take. The magnitude of the interests 
involved, the serious results of open war 
if it be once declared, will incline the 
leaders likely to be intrusted with the re- 
sponsibility, to be conservative and fair. 

Discussion, mutual concessions, arbi- 
tration every resource will be exhausted 
before war, the last resort, is declared. 
Great wisdom, great patience, and truly 
great leadership are called for. If a 
modicum of good will and mutual respect 
can be preserved and maintained, peace 
is rendered probable. 

There are signs of a new feeling among 
the leaders. Such a meeting as that 
held in New York on May 7th is sugges- 
tive and hopeful. It was held at the 
Chamber of Commerce, having been ar- 
ranged by the industrial department of 
the National Civic Federation. It was an 
effort to promote conciliation as a means 
of maintaining industrial peace, and was 



Labor Organizations. 



123 



joined in by leaders of unionism and of 
finance, such men as Samuel Gompers 
and John Mitchell sympathizing with 
labor. Charles R. Flint, President of the 
American Rubber Company, a prominent 
capitalist, and Bishop Potter, everybody's 
friend, joined in the praiseworthy pur- 
pose. 

This is sensible and hopeful. It is out 
of the question to think of crushing labor 
organizations. They must be endured 
and they ought to be used. They necessi- 
tate like organizations on the part of 
business interests and then fair dealing. 
Strength, and its firm, but rational, use 
breed respect, and there ought to be no 
more reason for warfare than there is for 
a fist fight between two reasonable men 
who have differences of opinion upon 
their respective rights. 

A trades union is a good thing or a bad 
thing in accordance with the way it is 
managed. If the power it represents be 
used with discretion and in accordance 
with equity and a high sense of duty and 
responsibility, it is a means of helpful- 
ness in many directions. If it be used 
bitrarily and unjustly, if it attempts the 
impossible or unreasonable, if it is selfish 
and unscrupulous, it is a source of dan- 
ger and of actual injury. It may harm 
its members, ruin their source of support, 
sow bitterness and hatred, and be a seri- 
ous detriment to the whole community. 

The part the capitalists are called upon 
to play is not an easy one, but if they 
manage to be just, patient and good- 
natured, better understanding will follow, 
and more friendly relations will be main- 
tained. 

The element of selfishness is still 
strong and generally controls. One easy 
way of avoiding disappointment with our 
fellow men is to modify our expectations. 
I am satisfied that employers make a 
serious mistake when they refuse to re- 
cognize trades unions. The representa- 
tive of the employers association of this 
city says that under no circumstances 
tive of the Employers' Association of this 
labor councils. Employers often express 
themselves as willing to listen to their 
employees as individuals, but decline to 
treat with the representatives of the or- 
ganization to which they belong. In the 
first place the ignoring of something that 



really exists is folly. An ostrich hides 
his head in the sand, but he doesn't blot 
out the world of which he is a part. Ex- 
perience teaches that conferences often 
remove misunderstandings, bring out 
facts that modify demands, and when 
reason and sympathy prevail, often avert 
threatened warfare. Again, the refusing 
to recognize a union is virtually an as- 
sumption that it is wholly bad, a conspir- 
acy against the rights of capital, and an 
enemy to be spurned not a legitimate, 
though self-constituted representative of 
a large body of reputable citizens. 

This placing beyond the pale of ra- 
tional treatment men organized for what 
they consider the welfare of their mem- 
bers, has a marked effect on their atti- 
tude and methous. Failing to be accorded 
the opportunity for presenting their pur- 
pose in a spirit of respectful protest, 
they feel justified in falling back upon 
the power that organization gives, and 
in enforcing what they feel to be their 
rights. 

As to the methods pursued by trades 
unions, it is not my purpose to appear as 
an apologist. From my point of view they 
seem often unwise and unwarrantable. 
The boycot seems to me a dangerous 
weapon as likely to injure the party who 
wields it as him against whom it is di- 
rected. I do not deny that members of a 
union have a right to withhold their pa- 
tronage, but in doing so they are almost 
sure to overstep the bounds of justice, 
and in making the person attacked a mar- 
tyr, arouse sympathy for his independ- 
ence which often is not justified on other 
grounds. 

The use of the label is often unjust. It 
is a guarantee that union labor has been 
employed, but is not a guarantee that 
fair wages are not paid except when it 
is used. To deny it to a manufacturer 
who pays union wages, but declines to 
exclusively employ union men, I think is 
unfair. 

The refusal of union men to work be- 
side non-union is the occasion of much 
ill-feeling and prejudice. It is very gall- 
ing, and to some men unbearable, to feel 
that they may not employ whom they 
will. Whether it .is good policy upon the 
part of the unionist I am not sure. It 
is a claim that they often waive, and I 



124 



Overland Monthly. 



think they gain strength when they fore- 
go from a policy that they feel to be their 
right. 

One must see their side to find any ex- 
cuse for a course that seems arbitrary 
an4 humiliating. One must remember 
that they have certain ends, that to them 
have almost the sacredness of a religious 
duty. They are bound together in a 
brotherhood that seeks the common good. 
They make great personal sacrifices for 
what they believe to be the uplifting of 
their class. No one who has not come in 
contact with it can understand their 
sense of loyalty to their union and the 
cause for which it stands, nor the dis- 
trust and often contempt they feel 
for a fellow workman who declines to 
join their organization. He stands in the 
way of their purpose for fair wages and 
just treatment. He often accepts wages 
below their scale, and displaces one of 
their members, who contributes to the 
funds with which they care for their sick, 
support their aged, bury their dead and 
fight for their rights, real or imagined. 
The non-union man is to them a traitor 
to the cause they hold dearest. By refus- 
ing to work with him they often compel 
him to join their ranks. If they consent 
to work by his side they allow an element 
of weakness in case of a strike. If an 
employer works a divided force he is 
comparatively independent. A man has 
a right to refuse work if he chooses, on 
any grounds, and if he feels that his own 
best interests or those of his class, de- 
mand that he shan refuse to work unless 
all who are employed with him belong to 
a union, or have red hair, or are six feejt 
high, he has the abstract right to do so. 
Whether it is wise or in the largest sense 
just for him to do so, is another question. 
As I walked along the street to-day I saw 
a bold placard by a small non-union res- 
taurant keeper. He said he treated his, 
help right, he paid union wages, but he 
proposed to manage his own business. 
That represents the attitude of many 
employers, perhaps of most. It is what 
we all like, but a little thought must 
convince anyone that there are two par- 
ties in interest. The man who works 
has equal rights with the man who hires 
him. He has the right to work or not to 
work, the right to accept certain wages 



if offered or to decline to part with his 
services at less than a sum that he, or 
his associates fix, the right to say how 
many hours he is willing to work for a 
given sum. The right to strike he also 
has. He often makes a mistake in exer- 
cising it. It is a weapon he does not en- 
joy using, which he is disposed to use 
with decreasing frequency. 

In judging the workingman we must 
bear in mind that he seeks an end that to 
him is good, and he uses such methods 
as he feels obliged to or finds will work. 
If he could get what he feels to be his 
rights by moral suasion he would never 
use force. But i practice he finds he 
gets mighty little that he does not fight 
for, and fight hard for. He does many 
things that we do not like, and that he 
doesn't like. The more intelligent a 
union is the more reasonable are its 
methods. Strikes are in great disfavor 
among the best unions. They are willing 
to specifically agree to submit to arbitra- 
tion any differences that may arise. I be- 
lieve that much will be gained when 
manufacturers and business men accept 
the facts, recognize the right of organi- 
zation, and are willing to confer freely 
with the representatives of the labor 
unions. 

A question like this that deals with a 
condition that is at the fore-front of civ- 
ilization can only be justly considered 
from a height mat enables us to look 
backward over the course that mankind 
has trodden and forward in the direction 
of his progress. 

Do trades unions make for progress? 
Has labor been elevated through them? 
Has man by them or through their aid 
bettered his condition? Do they foster 
healthy manhood and earnest desire? la 
their motive good do their mistakes and 
wrongs outweigh their acknowledged 
benefit? These are the questions to be 
answered. 

To my mind the trades union deserves 
charitable judgment if for no other 
reason than because it represents as- 
piration. We may be patient with its 
crude methods, its offenses against indi- 
vidual liberty, and we may have faith 
in a better future when education shall 
have added intelligence and experience 
shall have increased wisdom. 




-. , OR the first time in the history of 

I (California her troops have been 

gathered on a single tented field, 
-- have been instructed under one 
head, and have par- 
ticipated in evolu- 
tions worthy of the 
name of maneuvres. 
The people of the 
State have every 
reason to be proud 
of their troops, and 
should do all in the 
power of legislation 
to promote the wel- 
fare of the various 
organizations. But 
few States are bet- 
ter equipped with 
material for a State 
military body, and 
that body should, 
therefore, be foster- 
ed and encouraged, 
until it stands at the 
head of our great 
militia force. The 
National Guard of 
California seems to 
be under good guid- 
ance, and this first 
general encampment will do a great deal 
towards building up the organization to 
a desired point of efficiency. The State 
military reservation on the heights above 
Vol. xxxviii No. 2 f 8. 




Major-General John H. Dickinson, 
Commanding. Photo by Taber. 



Santa Cruz was given to the State Gov- 
e.rnment by the city of Santa Cruz to be 
held as a permanent reserve for the 
use of the State National Guard each 
year. The tract has 

been known as "De 

Laveaga Heights," 
and was left by the 
will of one of the 
old citizens of Santa 
Cruz to the city to 
be used as a park by 
the municipal au- 
thorities. As a part 
of their plan they 
gave the State a part 
of it for the military 
encampment. There 
are six hundred 
acres in the entire 
tract, and the city of 
Santa Cruz offered 
as much as the com- 
mission appointed by 
Governor Gage, saw 
fit to accept. Unfor- 
tunately the commis- 
sion only asked 130 
acres, and owing to 
the fact that much 
of it is of steep 
grade and therefore unfit for tentage 
ground, the only first brigade encamp- 
ment has been rather crowded. Fortu- 
nately the troops are allowed to maneu- 



126 



Overland Monthly. 




ver on the entire tract, and so the pres- 
sure will be relieved even with the 
greater growth of the various organiza- 
tions. The city of Santa Cruz furnishes 
all the water for the reservation free of 
cost, and originally laid the pipes at its 
own expense. It has built a road leading 
to the reserve, and binds itself to furnish 
a certain amount of light during the en- 
campment, and unofficially pledges the 
construction and maintainance of a per- 
manent barracks, store house, or armory 
in which the camp equipage may be 
stored, thereby saving the cost of trans- 
portation each year. 

This reserve will undoubtedly become 
one of the best institutions of the State; 
it will directly affect the thousands of 
men of the Guard and will be a great 
source of true pride to all persons inter- 
ested in the welfare of the State. The 
reservation of the New York National 
Guard on the Hudson River has become 
one of the most profitable institutions the 
State has ever formed, and there is no 
reason why this one on De Laveaga 
Heights should not be equally successful. 

Just outside of London the great 
"camp" at Aldershot holds, in times of 
peace, about eighty-five thousand men in 
permanent barracks. On this reservation 
are the mpst approved and modern build- 
ings of permanent character, yet that 
great camp started in a modest way as 
an actual camp, and although it has 
grown to the present size it is still called 
a camp. Naturally the camp at Santa 
Cruz will never rival even the one on 
the Hudson, but with the auspicious start 
the movement has received it should be 
one of the best in this country. 

As soon as the people of California 
becomie better acquainted with their Na- 
tional Guard they will realize how good 
it is even at the present time. They 
will look up to those men who spend 
money and time to serve the State. This 
permanent camp will do more to prove 
the real worth of the State troops than 
anything else that could be done. It will 
give the people an opportunity to see 
what they can do and allow them to 
see that they have long since ceased to 
be a subject of jest. 

The proximity to the sea will allow 
the Naval Reserve to have trainings in 



Maneuvers of the California Guard. 



127 



their branch of the service as it will be 
an easy matter, under ordinary circum- 
stances, to arrange with the Navy De- 
partment for a battle-ship or a cruiser to 
be stationed in the bay during the 
maneuvers. The Southern Pacific Com- 
pany has pledged itself to give an 
exceptionally low rate of passage to 
all members of the military force during 
the time of the annual encampment. This 
company has had, during the last three 
years, considerable experience in the 
transportation of troops, and has proven 
itself both capable and obliging. Not a 
complaint came to my notice either from 
the Quartermaster's department or from 
individual source, against the service 
rendered by the railroad in the matter of 
transportation, and yet one brigade came 
from the southernmost part of the State. 
Neither the Government at Washington 
nor the Governments of the various 



States have ever paid sufficient attention 
to the plans of mobilization of the na- 
tional forces. It is no small matter for a 
railroad to transport a large body of 
troops, and to do it with dispatch and 
comfort to the men needs a considerable 
amount of practice. In all continental 
countries of Europe each railway goods 
carriage is marked on the door with 
figures showing the exact number of men 
and horses the carriage will acommo- 
date. The heads of the railway systems 
turn into the general Government each 
day reports received from division super- 
intendents showing the number of pas- 
senger - and - goods - carriages available 
for military purposes. Regiments, bri- 
gades and divisions are moved about the 
country merely to give practical training 
to the railways. I do not believe there 
is a railway on the American continent 
better equipped and trained for the trans- 




Warfield's Brigade in Bivouac. 



123 



Overland Monthly. 



portatioii of 
troops than the 
Southern Pacific 
system, simply 
because they 
have had the 
practice. Three 
years ago they 
really knew but 
little about the 
work, and a troop 
train moving 
from the Oakland 
mole to New Or- 
leans caused 
much inconven- 
venience to the 
men them- 
selves and also to 
the trav e 1 i n g 
public. We were 
given cars unsuit- 
ed to the work, 
and the transpor- 
tation was slow. 
But to-day's effi- 
ciency shows 
what experience 
has done. One 
thing is certain, 

and that is, that every bit of knowledge 
gathered by the practice in rapid mobili- 
zation of troops at Santa Cruz may some- 
time be of untold value. Should this 
country ever be at war with & nation 




Brigadier-General 
Adjutant- 



powerful enough 
to land an invad- 
ing force to at- 
tempt the taking 
of San Francisco, 
that landing 
would necessar- 
ily be made in 
Monterey bay. 
The great batter- 
ies now placed 
and being placed 
on the sea front- 
age flanking the 
Golden Gate, are 
all powerful 
against any fleet. 
There are not 
enough ships 
afloat under any 
one flag to des- 
troy these mod- 
ern batteries, 
simply because 
their guns could 
not receive the 
required eleva- 
tion. To operate 
successfully, the 
enemy would 

be compelled to land his mobile force 
below or above the city and invest the 
surrounding country. Monterey bay 
would be the most natural objective 
point, and in consequence the training 



W. H. Seamans, 
General. 




General Muller Salutes the Colors. 



Maneuvers of the California Guard. 



129 




Governor Gage, General Shafter 



now being given 
the N a t i o n a x 
Guard of this 
State has the 
same importance 
that the great 
German maneu- 
vers have when, 
each year, the 
Kaiser and his 
Field Marshals 
play at the great 
problem of the 
Rhine. Year af- 
ter year they 
study each move 
of attack and de- 
fense, looking to 
that day when a 
French army will 
make their play 
real. 

The Guardsmen 
of this State 
should be taught 
to feel that their 
work is not mere- 



ly that of driving tent-pegs, walking post 
or drilling. They should be shown that 
these exercises are maneuvers done with 
a great object of instruction in view, and 
not merely an encampment and an out- 
ing. Above all, the rank and tile of the 
militia force should be made to feel 
that they are not demeaning themselves 
as men by showing absolute subservience 
to their officers; that they are playing 
the part of a game when they are serving 
in the citizen soldiery; and that they 
should play that game to the best of their 
knowledge. The most ludicrous object 
I saw at the Santa Cruz encampment 
was an orderly on duty with the Gov- 
ernor's staff. He was attired in the fault- 
less uniform of a sergent-major of cav- 
alry. He was evidently a man of some 
position and means, and unfortunately 
he could not forget it. He was not a 
keen sport in the game he was playing. 
He had his valet at his elbow to run er- 
rands he was ordered to do by the offi- 
cers, and his horse was a beautiful thor- 
ough-bred, but with a park equipment. 
When an onicer spoke to him he stood 
with spraddling legs and a cheery smile, 




General Warfield and Staff. 



130 



Overland Monthly. 




Colonel Henry I. Seymour, 
2d Infantry. 

and his salute was more like a fond papa 
shaking da-da to a school child than any- 
thing I ever saw done by a man in soldier 
blue. Once when a brigadier-general or- 
dered him to do some service I heard him 
call out easily, "All right, General, just 
as soon as I get through here." And he 
was instrucing his valet about his own 
mount. When the Governor of the State 
and the Major-General commanding the 
regular army in this department were rid- 
ing to the review escorted by a number 
of staff officers, he rode past the commis- 
sioned staff, and cantered along beside 
the carriage, chatting with the Governor. 
What a soldier of forty years in the regu- 
lar army thought of it is hard to imagine. 
I do not tell all this because of the man 
I do not even know who he was but 
merely to give it as an example of what 
a citizen soldier should not do. When 
I saw this man slapping officers on the 




back in the same familiar manner that 
he would at home, I could not but think 
of how I saw brave Willie Tiffany drop 
a spade he was using in a trench and 
stand rigid attention when Colonel John 
Jacob Astor happened to be the officer 
inspecting. At their clubs in New York 
and Newport those men were comrades, 
bound by close ties. In the field they 
were officer and man, and both had the 
sand to "play the part." I could not but 
think of an instance at Old Point Com- 
fort when a volunteer sailor was busily 
scrubbing the deck, and a regular officer, 
who was escorting some ladies about the 
ship, called to him and said: "You man, 
there, you belong near here, don't you? 
Whose yacht is that?" The volunteer 




Major George Filmer, 
1st Infantry. 



Commander G. W. Bauer, 
Naval Reserve. 

looked out over the rail, brought his hand 
to his cap in sharp salute, and said 
quietly: "That's mine, sir." it was that 
spirit that made the Rough Riders under 
Colonel Roosevelt the greatest regiment 
of volunteers this country has ever seen. 
It is that spirit that made the City Troop 
of Philadelphia what it is. They are true 
sportsmen and not afraid to play the 
game. Nothing can be done to bring the 
National Guard nearer the efficiency of 
the regular army than for the men to 
feel a pride in knocking their heels to- 
gether, saluting sharply and standing 
rigid attention when the regulations re- 
quire. The entire system of electing 
popular officers is wrong, and I trust will 



Maneuvers of the California Guard. 



13' 



be done away with, as I have reason to 
believe it will. But as long as it remains 
let the men take pride in treating their 
officers as though they were in the regu- 
lar establishment. 

It has been advocated for some time, 
and I think will be accomplished, that the 
Federal Government give actual as well 
as moral backing to the State troops, and 
join the two bodies in the annual maneu- 
vers, thereby giving the State troops the 
advantage of the regulars' example. We 
are the most military nation in the world 
to-day, and the volunteer principles are 
the strength of the republic. Our cadet 
corps, private military schools, and volun- 
teer regiments are almost unknown ex- 
cept in England, and even there the pri- 




Lieut.-Col. E. A. Forbes, 
2d Infantry. 

vate military school system is quite un- 
heard of. In Brigadier-General W. 1. 
Seamans, tne Adjutant-General of the 
State, the troops have a capable and ener- 
getic friend, who has the welfare of the 
service well at heart, and who shows a 
personal pride in the work. Tae com- 
mander of the troops, Major-General John 
H. Dickinson, has done much to bring the 
organization to its present efficiency, and 
fortunately politics have been kept out 
of the appointments. The various bri- 
gade commanders, as well as the division 
commander, have received their stars 
through merit. The line officers have had 
in many cases actual service during the 
Spanish war, and consequently the work 
they are able to do is of a high grade. The 




Lieutenant Thomas Rutledge, 
2d Infantry. 

staff officers have, in most cases, been 
chosen for their knowledge of the par- 
ticular duty they are called upon to per- 
form. I have never seen, even among 
the regulars, an army officer who per- 
formed the duties of Quartermaster of 
a division better than Major John W. A. 
Off of General Last's staff, who was made 
acting Division Quartermaster by General 
Dickinson. No regular engineer officer 
could have handled the planning of the 
camp site better that the Division En- 
gineer, Lieutenant-Colonel T. Wain-Mor- 
gan Draper. It is not surprising, how- 
ever, that Colonel Draper should do his 




Colonel Thomas F. O'Neill, 
1st Infantry. 



132 



Overland Monthly. 




Governor Gage, Generals Shafter, Seam ans, and Dickinson, and Staff Officers. 



work in a creditable manner, as he has 
been in military life for many years, and 
was in the United States service as cap- 
tain of engineers. These are merely 
instances of what may be expected of the 
mien who hold the commissions in the 
Guard. After all there is a great deal of 




Colonel F. E. Beck, 
Paymaster-General. 



everything in real war except fighting. 
Clever business or professional men 
make the best of soldiers even on active 
campaign. 

The hospital corps of the division mer- 
its more than a passing mention, for it 
showed more than ordinary excellence 
during the few days of encampment. The 
medical corps is one of few divisions of 
the Guard service that has actual practice 
and real work during a campaign of 
make-believe war. Limbs are broken, 
fevers contracted, and there are gun-shot 
wounds as real as though the command 
were actually in the field. The splendid 
service must be due to the men in it, 
and therefore those at its head cannot 
receive too much praise. 

The Surgeon-General of the State is 
Colonel Winslow Anderson, A. M., M. D., 
M. R. C. P., the President of the College 
of Physicians and Surgeons. Dr. Ander- 
son's record of success in his profession 
gives proof of his ability to guide the 
work of the State military medical 



The Fear That Treads Life's Path. 



133 



corps. He graduated from the University 
of California medical department in 1884, 
but even before his graduation he was 
made assistant to the Chair of Materia 
Medica and Medical Chemistry. Even af- 
ter his graduation he continued the posi- 
tion for several years. After extensive 
European travel on the continent in 1890, 
Dr. Anderson entered the St. Bartholo- 
mew's Hospital College for practical 
training. After a year's work he took the 
degree from the Society of Apothecaries 
of London, and three months later quali- 
fied in the examinations for the degrees 
of L. R. C. P. of London and M. R. C. S. of 
England. Later, before the Royal College 
of Physicians, he received the degree of 
M. R. C. P. of London. After a year spent 
in traveling he again settled in San Fran- 
cisco, and continued his practice. Dr. 
Anderson is now the owner of St. Wini- 
fred's Hospital, and was form'erly inter- 
ested in the Waldeck, St. Andrew's, and 
McNutt Hospitals. He has been the prime 




Colonel Winslow Anderson, 
Surgeon-Genera I. 

mover in the success of the College of 
Physicians and Surgeons, and much of its 




Major >/. J. Hanna Captain H. H. Look. 

Sanitary Corps, 2d Regiment. 



134 



Overland Monthly. 



success is due directly to his endeavors. 
He is a specialist on gynecology and ab- 
dominal surgery, and is a prominent 
member of the State Board of Health. 

The Sanitary Corps of the encampment 
was under the direct supervision of Col. 
William D. McCarthy, the Division Sur- 
geon, and to him is due the major share 
of the credit of the excellent work per- 
formed. I have never seen a more per- 
fectly-appointed field hospital than the 
one at Camp Gage. At no Eastern en- 
campment have I ever seen one nearly so 
well appointed. The field operating tent 
would be a credit to any metropolitan 
hospital. The corps of women nurses in 
their uniformi gray and white dresses 
presented a charming picture, but their 
work was reality. The division hospital 
occupied two large tents, and under this 
covering were about fifty beds. In one 





The Regulars. 
Maj. Young. Capt. Clark. Col. Wilhelm. 



Colonel Draper. 

tent the doctors gathered all sur- 
gical cases, while in the other 
were the medical cases. The 
medical and surgical supplies 
occupied an adjoining tent, and 
this canvas covered a perfect 
and modern drug store ready to 
supply any needful drug or surgi- 
cal supply. The division hospi- 
tal occupied an excellent and 
healthful site near division head- 
quarters; a little too near, per- 
haps, as the bustle and hurry of 
the headquarters business could 
not but annoy a sick man. The 
hospital should be placed in a 
more quiet spot during other en- 
campments for this reason. 

The comjnissary department 
seemed to be well managed, and 
there were few complaints of 
the quality of the food issued 
to the men. I accompanied Gen- 
eral Seamans, Colonel Wilhelm 
of the regular army, and Sur- 
geon-General Anderson on an in- 
spection of the entire camp, and 
during the tour all of the com- 
pany cooks were asked for their 
opinion on the quality of food. 
They were unanimous in pro- 



Maneuvers of the California Guard. 



135 



nouncing it good. A couple of the sensa- 
tional papers of San Francisco endeav- 
ored to create some talk by claiming to 
have discovered bad meat in camp, but 
the men themselves resented the accusa- 
tion by showing strong disapproval of the 
presence of tne writers in camp. It is 
to be regretted that the local press should 
assume the attitude toward the National 
Guard that it has done. Instead of pre- 
senting an honest criticism of the 
methods employed, the columns were de- 
voted to gathering petty scandals or to 
attempts at stirring ill will between com- 
manders. One of the older and most 
clever of the writers, whose name is of 
sufficient importance to be displayed in 
black type at the head of his writings, 
devoted the entire telegraphic dispatch 
to his paper, on the day of the review of 
the division, to telling how a General 
lost his chapeau, and how a panic was 
created at a dance the night before by 
someone tapping the barrel of punch by 
boring a hole up through the floor. On 
another day more than a column was de- 
voted to how "rival dances lead to woeful 
tangle." A man can stand any amount of 
criticism, but he objects to ridicule. The 
day has passed when the National Guard 
is a subject of jest, and the daily press 
should assist them in their work rather 
than try to make it more difficult, for the 
very papers publishing this ridicule 
would be among the first to demand 
the protection of these citizen sol- 
diers in case of riot or internal strife. It 
should be remembered that these sol- 
diers are literally paying for the privi- 
lege of doing the State's police work, 





Capt. Geo. H. Voss. 
2d Infantry. 



Col. A. K. Whitton. 
5th Infantry. 

and they should receive the gratitude of 
the people for it. Our regular army 
would not be any better if they only re- 
ceived a week's training as a body during 
a year, and only had an evening each 
month devoted to drill. I have seen 
worse soldiers in European regular 
armies than these same volunteer 
guardsmen. 

General Warfield's brigade made an ex- 
cellent showing on a practice march from 
the camp. The brigade went out with two 
days' rations and field equipment, made a 
march to Capitola, a few miles away, 
and went into camp just as it would on 
active duty. Sentries, outposts, and pick- 
ets were posted, and the entire force was 
on the alert to protect against attacks 
from the rest of the division. General 
Warfield's brigade is one of the best in 
the State organization, and it is mainly 
due to his personal supervision, as he is 
a thorough and capable officer, fully quali- 
fied for the work intrusted to him. 

I saw some excellent work done in the 
skirmish field by General Muller's bri- 
gade, but it lacked the convincing end 
that might have been given to it had 
there been regularly appointed umpires 
to watch the proceedings and count out 
any command or such portion of a com- 
mand as in their judgment would be lost 
in battle under the fire delivered. In 
European maneuvers the umpires accom- 
pany both sides. The commanders re- 
port to them the elevation, range, and, in 



136 



Overland Monthly. 



case of artillery, projectile to be used, 
and by this information they judge of the 
possibility ot injury to the enemy, taking 
into consideration the manner in which 
the opposing force has exposed itself. 
A certain number of men are accounted 
as wounded, to give employment to the 
hospital corps. The men declared killed 
in action are marched off to a remote 
portion of the field, and held during the 




Lieut. Goudet. 
1st Infantry. 

remainder of the engagement, their am- 
munition being turned over to the sur- 
vivors. All this adds much interest to 
the men, and causes them to be much 
more careful, as they have a pride in 
continuing the battle. In some of the 
German and Russian maneuvers the bat- 
tles are waged by Army Corps, and last 
several days, until a decided advantage 
has been gained. Two years ago a Ger- 
man Field Marshal commanded the army 
opposing that of the Emperor. During 
the third night of the engagement, the 
Field Marshal commandeered every horse 
in the farm, and village stables for miles 
about, mounted his infantry, and by a 
forced march gained the rear of the 
Emperor's force before daybreak, and 
thereby gained an apparent victory. This 
move cost the Government several 
thousand dollars, but money is not con- 
sidered during the military instruction 
maneuvers. It is advisable to go as near 
real war as possible, although, of course, 
it will never be possible for us to go to 
the extremes practiced by the Germans 
or Russians. 

The attention of the officers of the 



California Guard should be directed prin- 
cipally to the discipline of the corps. 
Men should be made to understand that 
a strap means as much in the citizen- 
soldiery as it does in the regular army. 
Officers can be firm, but diplomatic in 
their firmness, and the men must be 
made to feel that it is their duty to treat 
their officers as officers, when they are 
in uniform, even though they are com- 
rades or brothers in every-day life. 

Collars unsoldiered the entire Guard 
at Santa Cruz. The collar is a small but 
very important portion of the uniform of 
a soldier. There was no seeming attempt 
to preserve any uniformity in this re- 
spect. I saw more kinds, sorts, and con- 
ditions of collars than could be found in 
a metropolitan haberdasher's shop. Hun- 
dreds of men and officers were properly 
collared, but those who were not, spoiled 
the look of their entire organization. One 
of the best organizations in the camp was 
the heavy artillery battalion from San 
Francisco. The uniforms were new and 
well cut, the arms polished to an inspec- 
tion point, the company streets cleanly 
policed, the tentage properly pitched and 
tastily decorated. On the whole it was 




Capt. Thomas J. Cunningham. 
1st Infantry. 

a model organization, but I shall always 
remember one flaming red bow tie at 
the top of a high turn-down collar. I 
cannot think of that battalion without 
seeing in my mind's eye that awful, hid- 
eous unmilitary tie. The collar was un- 
military, t^e tie worse, and consequently 
the otherwise perfectly appointed sol- 
dier looked like a Casino comedian. He 
undoubtedly approved of himself, or he 



Maneuvers of the California Guard. 



137 




The State's Navy. 



would not have had on that collar and 
red tie, but where was his squad corporal, 
where was his first seargent, where was 
his company commander, that they 
should allow this one man to parade him- 
self about in a high turn-down collar and 
a red tie. If any one ever mentions Cali- 
fornia Heavy Artillery to me I shall al- 
ways think of that tie. This was merely 
an example of many of the others. There 
should be an order issued calling the at- 
tention of company commanders to the 
style of collar authorized, and the com- 
pany commanders should take pride in 
seeing the order enforced. 

As a whole the brigade under General 
Charles F. A. Last made an excellent 
showing. The men were soldierly and 
well equipped in all matters and 
paid much attention to the minor detail 
such as turning out the guard at the 
proper times, standing attention when 



an officer passed, facing out of post after 
retreat. All tnese points help very mater- 
ially in the general tone of the command. 

It is surprising that there should be no 
battery of light artillery in the State 
organization. It is a branch of the ser- 
vice that is most useful, the drill is with- 
out doubt the most interesting, although 
at times it is very hard. It would only 
take about fifty men to fully man a bat- 
tery of about four pieces, including spare 
caission and forge wagon. 

Thousands upon thousands saw most 
of General Warfield's brigade march in 
the escort to President McKinley on the 
day of his arrival but oddly enough they 
were so soldierly that they got no credit 
for their State. They were so good that 
no one could tell them from the regu- 
lars and the great majority simply took 
it for granted that they were all in the 
regular establisment. 




T IOLAH is a name revered to-day by certain 

K northwestern tribes almost as greatly as 
those of Princess Angeline and the Prin- 
cess' father, Chief Seattle. Some traditions 
nave it that in her veins flowed the blood of that 
mightiest of Indian monarchs of the Pacific Slope, 
the fearful Oregon, in whose heart pulsated the blood 
of an alien race and who, for more than a century, 
beginning about the year 1600, ruled his people as they 
had never before, nor since, been ruled. These tradi- 
tions cannot be verified, but it is known that she 
lived a long and useful life in the great mountain- 
girt basin where ebbs and flows the green waters of 
Puget Sound that she died a few years since, and 
that her grave, with the quaint roof such as the Si- 
washes erect over the resting places of their dead, 
now marks a quiet nook of the picturesque bay 
where the greater part of her life was spent. 

Liolah was not beautiful at least not to the eyes 
of other races than her own. She was short of stat- 
ure, more muscular than graceful, and possessed 
the broad, heavy lips, wide nostrils, and ugly, flat- 
tened head of which all the older types of her peo- 
ple are manifestly proud. But beneath her uncomely 
exterior a human heart beat with noble and genuine 
human impulses. She professed the Christian faith 
as taught by the early missionaries, and bent all 
her time and energies toward the betterment and 
uplifting of her degraded people. She never married 
nor consorted in any way with the male sex, for rea- 
sons that will be spoken of further on. She passed 
away childless at the age of about seventy years. 

Liolah lived with her widowed and aged father in 
a rudely constructed hut upon one of the many little 
harbor spits scattered about tne picturesque ramifi- 
cations of the Sound. The dwelling was made of 



Liolah. 



139 



driftwood from the beach, mats of woven 
grass, and large flakes of cedar bark, 
and at different points above the bay 
were a score or more of other Siwash 
huts constructed in the same rude fashion 
a primitive Indian hamlet. 

Once this little hamlet was a veritable 
dominion of its own, for as yet no white 
settler had come to disturb its sacred 
neighborhood. Season after season its 
brown, stolid-faced men paddled their 
dugout canoes whithersoever they listed, 
gathering fish and water fowl to satisfy 
their physical requirements; season af- 
ter season its equally brown and stolid- 
faced women braided their baskets and 
rugs of the bullrush, the willow, and the 
strong white cuticle of the cedar tree, 
tanned and made rude garments of skins, 
gathered wild blackberries from the for- 
est, dug clams from their lowly bed 
beneath the tide-flat, herded their scat- 
tered broods of youngsters at night, and 
roasted the nsh for the evening meal 
over a smoking fire of driftwood; season 
after season their great sky-father, "So- 
calee Tyee," sent to them the pleasant 
summer days with their goodly store of 
woodland fruit and countless millions of 
rich, juicy salmon from the great ocean; 
season after season the cold, raw winds 
of the rainy winter months drove myriads 
of ducks, geese and brant into the shel- 
ter of the bay where the skillful Siwash 
could secure them without care or trou- 
ble. 

Here the girl Liolah had lived since 
;she was a tiny pappoose of three years, 
.and to her the world was comprehended 
in the blue arms of the Sound upon which 
she dwelt, the few miles of dark, heavy 
forest extending back to the range of 
snow-covered mountains and the vast 
archway of tinted sky overhead, across 
which traveled each day the great ball 
of sun-fire and from which peeped at 
night the twinkling campfires from the 
home of the Great Spirit. She had heard 
in a garbled, distorted way of a strange 
race of people beyond the big mountains 
a people with no color in their skins, 
and who destroyed the trees and even 
much of the ground upon which they 
lived, and rebuilded into strange, weird 
structures according to their own fancy; 
Tmt these stories had made little or no 



impression on her mind, until one day 
there came to the little hamlet a mission- 
ary from those very people of whom such 
wicked tales were told. After that she 
developed a keen interest in things out- 
side her own narrow sphere of existence, 
and it was not long before she had learn- 
ed to speak the language of the white 
missionary who told her many things 
about his own land, stranger by far than 
any of the stories told by the old wise- 
heads of her people. 

When she was about twenty years cf 
age the first white settler came to live 
near the little Siwash hamlet, locating 
a few miles up the river, which emptied 
its waters into the Sound a short half- 
mile distant. 

This event was more than a nine-day 
wonder to Liolah and her people, and not 
until many of the Siwashes had passed 
up and down in their canoes by the queer 
log house which the white stranger had 
built, and held much subdued conversa- 
tion regarding the appearance and re- 
markable characteristics of his family, 
did they settle down to anything like 
their accustomed carelessness and indif- 
ference. 

One of these strangers was a young 
man of strong, erect figure, and with the 
steady, fearless e^e of the pioneer. He 
spoke the Chinook jargon the passport 
to the good graces of all northwestern 
tribes and, as business of one sort or 
another took him frequently to the lit- 
tle hamlet on the bay, he in time be- 
came looked upon as an interesting and 
welcome visitor there. Liolah often sat 
by her sputtering fire and talked with 
him about his people and the great coun- 
try beyond the mountains, and under the 
circumstances it is perhaps not strange 
that the girl's soul, which had hitherto 
slumbered, indifferent to the attractions 
of the indolent young men of her tribe, 
should awaken to life with all the in- 
tensity of her strong nature, and over- 
whelm her with the passion of a great 
love. Indeed, it seems hardly other than 
a natural sequence. 

Quite different was it with the object 
of her love. He saw in her an unusually 
intelligent specimen of her race, with 
unusually ugly features, and with some 
really interesting ideals and depths of 



140 



Overland Monthly. 



mind but he saw nothing. 

Before the girl had an opportunity to 
comprehend this sad truth the momen- 
tous catastrophe, which was to leave its 
impression upon her whole after life, oc- 
curred. The part she played therein is 
but one of the many heroic adventures 
of her career, but it illustrates in a meas- 
ure the indomitable spirit she possessed, 
and is given as the main incident of this 
sketch. 

It was winter, and the sky frowned, 
sullen and heavy, over the waters of 
Puget Sound; over the wet, mossy shore- 
land, the dark ozonic forests, the shel- 
tered lakes and dashing rivers. The air 
was cool and still, and the gentle swells 
upon the surface of the Sound kissed the 
gray pebbles of the beach with scarcely 
an audible whisper. Upon either hand 
the rugged mountains towered white and 
speckled with the overhanging clouds, 
clothed with a heavy mantle of snow, 
ever so oeautiful to look upon a beauty, 
however, portentious of future disaster 
to the country traversed by the mountain 
streams. The "chinook" the warm wind 
from the west, before which those lofty 
snows disappear like dew before the sum- 
mer sun would soon come to bring 
mighty and destructive floods in its train. 

To those whose attention has never 
been called to the "chinook," it should 
be stated that this remarkable wind oc- 
curs at more or less regular intervals 
during the winter season, and is as impor- 
tant a factor in the climatic conditions 
of the Pacific northwest as it is unacount- 
able in origin. The Siwashes suppose 
that it comes from the land of the Chi- 
nooks, a once powerful tribe who ruled 
the coast country to the southwest, and 
from this fact it derives is local term. 
The whites have several theories as to its 
origin, all of which seem to be devoid of 
satisfactory foundation. That this balmy 
wind arises at a certain degree of north 
latitude and travels eastward well into 
the Rocky Mountain country, warming 
into life and verdure what would other- 
wise be a bleak and frozen land, is alike 
a mystery to scientific minds and a most 
beneficent reality. 

The day was near its close when the 
aged father of Liolah emerged from his 
rude hut, and witu critical eye inspected 



the prophetic overhanging clouds. 

"Ugh! The chinook will soon come," 
he said. 

"Yes, father," responded Liolah, who 
just then came and stood by his side. 
"The clouds are taking on the soft look 
of summer, and already the air grows 
warm before the breath of the chinook." 

Then, inspired oy a sudden thought, she 
added: "How deep and white the moun- 
tains are covered with snow! And how 
rapidly it melts in the wind from the 
land of perpetual springtime!" 

"Yes, my child." 

"Father, are not our white friends in 
peril?" 

"Yes, they may be all swept away by 
the flood which is sure to come soon, 
for they know not the danger they are in, 
and are not wise like we," the old man 
replied. "I have not seen so much snow 
on the mountain since I was a young 
man and the bravest of my tribe. Then, 
long moons ago, a mighty chinook came 
and kissed the Dig hills when they were 
white as they now are, and within one 
short day great trees were torn out of 
the earth and broKen like straws, and the 
water dashed and roared along yonder 
valley two Siwash deep!" 

The girl shuddered, and her eyes ex- 
panded with an expression of anxiety. 

"Our friends must be warned of their 
danger!" she exclaimed. 

"That is impossible, my child. It is, 
some distance to their home, and night 
already approaches. Before morning 
the river will be up and roaring so loudly 
that no canoe would dare to brave its 
anger. And then, pain has your father's 
best arm in its ev'l power, and his canoe 
must lie idle upon the spit," returned 
the old man, sadly. 

"But my arm is strong and my heart 
fears not the anger of the flood," cried 
Liolah, impulsively. "I will go!" 

"No, no, Liolah; you must not think 
of such a rash thing," the father pro- 
tested. "The Siwash must meet his dan- 
gers as best he may. Are those white 
people any better than he?" 

"Hush, father!" the girl returned, im- 
patiently. "Let not your heart speak 
like a child you who were once the 
bravest of your tribe. I must warn our 
friends, if it is possible to reach them 



Liolah. 






in time. If I fail, the will of the Great 
Spirit be done." 

As she uttered these words Liolah 
seized a paddle and walked swiftly down 
to the beach where lay moored her 
father's canoe. Grasping it by the long, 
dragon-like neck, she pushed it over the 
grating pebbles until it floated upon the 
incoming tide. Then, placing a folded 
deerskin in the bottom for her knees to 
rest upon, she sprang into the slender 
craft and paddled away toward the mouth 
of the river. 

The journey by land was one difficult 
of accomplishment even in daylight, so 
dense and tangled was the forest under- 
growth bordering the stream, so to reach 
the objective point by way of the river 
was the girl's only hope in her arave un- 
dertaking. 

As matters stood, the tide, being at his 
flood, would back up into the river for 
nearly half a mile, making this much of 
her journey quite easy; but thenceforth 
a herculean battle must be fought with 
the strong current. 

As Liolah entered the channel and the 
towering forest closed in on either side, 
darkness surrounded her; but the moon 
was struggling through the clouds in the 
eastern sky, and its feeble light would 
enable her to follow the course of the 
stream without difficulty. 

The breath of the rising Chinook sighed 
dreamily through the tree-tops, and 
fanned the girl's dark cheek with the soft, 
balmy temperature of the tropics. She 
raised her head and drank the pleasant 
air in deep inspirations, for she loved its 
warm, dreamy breath. To her it was not 
one of the atmospheric mysteries of the 
planet upon which we dwell; it was the 
warm wind sent by the Great Spirit Soc- 
alee Tyee to drive away the frost and 
chill and cause the woodland to spring 
forth in perennial green. 

As the wind increased in volume Lio- 
lah began to burn with the flush of ex- 
ercise. The light doeskin cape about 
her shoulders grew uncomfortable and 
was cast aside. Soon the gale was hurl- 
ing itself through the forest with a sullen 
roar, and perspiration was standing in 
beads upon the girl's forehead. Just 
ahead the dashinp of the rapids sounded 
an accompaniment to the voice of the chi- 

ToL xxxviii Xo.2 f 9. 






nook. The stem- feature of the journey 
was at hand. 

Allowing the canoe to drift a few yards 
by its own momentum, Liolah unfastened 
the girdle about her waist. Then she 
seized her paddle with renewed energy 
and began a determined fight with the 
strong rapids. Throughout the long hours 
of night the swelling river fiercely dis- 
puted her progress, but with an endur- 
ance almost miraculous the brave girl 
fought on witn unflagging determination. 
The gray light of dawn began to soften 
the surrounding shadows, and still she 
had not reached her destination. The 
last and strongest of the rapids, now 
swollen to a fierce torrent, lay just before 
her. 

Her blood was superheated to an 
alarming degree, and perspiration was 
streaming in rivulets from her face and 
neck. She could breathe only in quick, 
labored gasps, while in the muscles of 
her arms and breast were sharp pains 
like the stinging of briar thorns, but not 
for a moment did she think of turning 
back. 

Suddenly she tore loose the fastenings 
of her sole remaining garment, and flung 
it with spiteful desperation into the for- 
ward end of the boat! She could now 
breathe easier, ana with increased inten- 
sity of determination she bent to her 
heroic task, whh the cords and veins 
stood out on arms and forehead as if 
threatening to burst beneath the strain 
upon them. Foot by foot the canoe 
mounted the swollen rapids. And soon 
the white settler's cabin was visible in 
the morning twilight! 

A mad whirlpool of water and debris 
encircled it; its inmates were doubtless 
imprisoned within. Liolah fixed her ach- 
ing eyes upon the doomed cabin, and a 
fearful dread almost stilled uie wild beat- 
ing of her heart. Sne saw the angry flood 
dashing against the little structure saw 
the tall trees above it swaying and reel- 
ing in the grasp of the torrent. And even 
as she looked a hoarse, grinding noise 
sounded above the roar of the flood; a 
giant fir, uprooted by the great pressure 
against it, descended to a prostrate posi- 
tion with a sickening crash! Momen- 
tarily the brave girl was unnerved by the 
spectacle, for the cabin had been 



142 



Overland Monthly. 



smashed into fragments by the fallen 
giant. 

A foaming current of water rushed 
over the spot, and the broken timbers 
were whirled out into the mad stream. 
A human face and arm arose for a brief 
instant above the foam, a face ghastly 
and blood-stained; then a whirling frag- 
ment of timber struck the apparition 
from Liolah's sight the face which was 
indelibly stamped upon her heart! The 
paddle slipped through her nerveless 
hands, a shudder convulsed her over- 
wrought frame, and she fell forward in 
the bottom of the boat, unconscious. The 
light craft, freed from its restraining 
hand, danced swiftly away on the bosom 
of the river. 



In after days Liolah arose from a bed 
of sickness, for her superhuman struggle 
with the terrible flood had nearly cost 
her her life. And she arose a changed 
being. In time her full measure of 
strength returned, but a new expression 
had settled in her eyes never to depart, 
and her temples had become as though 
touched with frost. 

Her whole subsequent life was a re- 
markable example of Christian woman- 
hood, but the memory of that fearful 
night of disaster evidently haunted her to 
the close of her days. She seldom 
spoke of it, but her friends were aware 
of her reasons for remaining unmarried. 
The eye of her unswerving faith saw the 
man she loved awaiting her in spirit land. 



THE FEAR THAT TREADS LIFE'S PATH. 



BY RAGLAN GLASCOCK. 



When low the evening sun the fair earth kisses 
And leaves a blush upon her crimsoned face, 

Then down in darkness falls her raven tresses 
Glittering bright with jewels from distant space. 

Soft the night wind sweeps o'er bruised bosom, 
Giving to all a hollow, mournful sound. 

And the great firs sigh forgot is all their wisdom 
No voice is heard but nature's wailing sound. 

Even man's hearts stoops down before this sadness, 
The heart that toils earth's weary path alone; 

And the dumb, mute soul brings forth no note of gladness 
That rising skyward, seeks to find His throne. 



o om 




e t . 







R 



OOMS to Let" from all di- 
rections the words mocked 
Kelcey's weariness, for all 
that foggy, windy August af- 
ternoon, he had trudged 
along the San Francisco 
streets in a vain effort to secure suitable 
apartments. With the stubbornness of 
despair he determined to make one more 
attempt before returning to his hotel, 
and, selecting a placarded house at ran- 
dom, he impatiently went up its front 
steps and rang the bell. 

From within came the sound of patter- 
ing feet, and the slow, difficult grating 
of a key in the lock, then the door opened 
a crack a crack sufficient in width to 



M4Bf C. PfclNGNAJLT. 

Illustrated ^Henrr Raleigh. 

frame the delicate slimness of a fragile 
little girl. 

The wide blue eyes that looked up at 
the stranger with a startled eagerness 
made Kelcey wince, and he wondered, 
for the hundredth time, why the eyes of 
all the children that he had noticed for 
the past five years were of that inevi- 
table blue. Then, recovering himself, 
half in play, half in reverence for the 
compelling sweetness of the eyes, he 
lifted his hat to the little maid. The 
opening of the door widened, the child's 
trusting nature forcing back into forget- 
fulness the admonitions of caution that 
she had evidently received. 

"May I see your mother, little one?" 
Kelcey gently asked. 

"I'm sorry, sir, but she's out. I can de- 
liver any message, though," she answered 
with quaint primness of speech and man- 
ner. 

"There's no message," said Kelcey. "I 
simply called to look at the rooms to let." 

The child's eyes grew wistful then a 
flash of daring made their blue piercing. 

"If you wouldn't mind, / could show 
you the rooms," said she in* an excited 
little gasp. 

Kelcey hesitated. Even if the rooms 
should suit, could he endure the sweet 
torture of daily looking down into the 
tender memories that those blue eyes 
would ever mirror? 

"I could, really," coaxed the child, her 



144 



Overland Monthly. 



shy timidity pushed aside by the awful 
fear that he would go away. "I've been 
with mamma every time that she's shown 
them and it's been so very often!" 

Kelcey was unable to withstand the 
pleading sadness of those last words, 
so he hastily consented, and with a proud 
importance the child ushered him into the 
hallway and triumphantly closed the 
front door. 

"We always show the parlor suite first," 
she announced, as she held back the por- 
tiere to let him enter. " For you see," 
she naively confided, "that is the most ex- 
pensive, and if some one would only take 
it, my mamma would no longer have to 
worry about our rent." 

Kelcey silently gazed about him, the 
indescribable air of taste and refinement 
that pervaded the simple apartments giv- 
ing a strange sense of homesickness. 

"Any little touches that you might sug- 
gest could easily be added, you know," 
said the child, solemnly. 

Kelcey laughed to conceal his amuse- 
ment. It was evident that unconsciously 
the lesson of showing rooms had been 
learned verbatim but with interpolations 
that would have startled the absent 
mother. 

"You see, we couldn't afford to buy any- 
thing more until we got some lodgers. 
Why, we haven't even carpets in our own 
rooms, and what do you think? we've 
only two chairs altogether, so we have 
to carry them about wherever we go 
isn't that a joke?" 

Again Kelcey coughed, but not to con- 
ceal amusement. 

"Did you notice the Southern expo- 
sure?" she queried, guiding him to the 
front windows. "That's a great advan- 
tage in San Francisco perhaps you are 
a stranger?" 

"Yes, I arrived only yesterday," replied 
Kelcey, smiling. 

"We've nved here a long time," said 
she. "Six whole weeks." 

"You don't mean it!" exclaimed Kel- 
cey. 

The child solemnly nodded. "You see, 
there is a fine Bay view. It's pretty foggy, 
but if you duck your head and squint real 
hard you can 'most make out the Golden 
(late." 



To please her, Kelcey went through a 
severe contortion of neck and eyes, ac- 
companied by an "oh!" of delighted sur- 
prise, while she prattled on by his side. 

"At my grandpapa's, in the East, there 
never were any rooms to let, though his 
house was as big as a fairy palace." 

They had come close together at the 
window, and as she spoke the last words 
her hand stroked the sleeve of his coat. 
The light touch sent a thrill through his 
heart. 

"My grandpapa died, you know," she 
sorowfully added. 

"I am sorry," said Kelcey, tenderly. 

The child's fingers slipped down from 
his arm and lovingly fluttered into his 
hand. As it tightly closed over them 
she looked up into his face and smiled. 

"I want to show you the nice grate be- 
hind this little silk curtain," she said, 
leading him from the window to the man- 
tel. "Just look at its big basket!" she ex- 
claimed, as she let go his hand and knelt 
upon the hearth, holding back the curtain 
with her tiny fingers. "They say fire 
is a necessity in the rainy season, so the 
grate is another advantage. I'm awfully 
sorry," she apologetically ended, "but the 
fire is extra." 

She scrambled to her feet, and as a 
matter of course took his hand again. 
"My grandpapa didn't leave my mamma 
a cent of money," she announced in an 
awed tone. 

"No?" queried Kelcey. 

"No wasn't it naughty of him? You 
see, he was very angry because my mam- 
ma wouldn't promise never to have any- 
thing to do with my poor daddy." 

"So your father isn't dead?" said Kel- 
cey. "Suppose," he quickly added, dis- 
creetly trying to change the subject from 
private family matters, "that you show 
me the bed-room now." 

"Certainly!" cried the child. "You 

see the rooms are communicating that 

is another advantage. No, my daddy 

wouldn't die, though my grandpapa 

wanted him to." Her gaze fell upon the 

floor, and her voice sank to a subdued 

whisper. "He turned into a black sheep." 

"Did what?" asked Kelcey. 

"Turned into a black sheep. I didn't 

see him do it because he went away when 



'Rooms to Let." 



145 



I was little a great deal littler than now 
but my grandpapa said he had become 
a regular black sheep. I'd like to call 
you attention to the inclosed wash-stand. 
You'll find running water another advan- 



great hope. "Don't you suppose," sne 
wistfully asked, "that a black sheep 
could turn into a man again." 

Kelcey stooped and kissed her. "It 
would be hard work, little one, and take 




'Did you notice the southern exposure?" 



tage. Once I went to a circus up in a 
barn, and there was an elephant. It fell 
down, and then it turned into two boys 
I saw it myself." The blue eyes, looking 
up into Kelcey's, grew luminous with a 



a long time, but I knoir that he could!" 
he murmured in a strained voice. 

"I'm so glad that I asked you!" joy- 
ously cried the child. "I've wondered 
and wondered but I couldn't ask mamma, 



146 



Overland Monthly. 



for she always cries when I talk about 
daddy she says it's because she loves 
him so much." 

Kelcey's face whitened and the cor- 
ners of his sensitive mouth twitched. He 
stood silent, but within him surged a 
passion of thought like tumultuous waves 
breaking against a stern rock. The jus- 
tice of fate seemed a bitter mockery as 
he fiercely compared "daddy's" lot with 
his own. The former scoundrel, who in 
all probability was still recklessly bad, 
had this wife and child longing for his 
return, while he Kelcey who had 
climbed out of the pit, who yearned for 
love and home, dared not go back. This 
man's wife had sacrificed all for her love 
of him, but his Helen oh, he knew her 
so well, the strong, superb creature with 
a magnificent capacity for worship, who 
could not love looking down, who could 
not forgive and forget, who could never 
stoop to kiss a fallen idol. Yet there was 
his baby girl, his blue-eyed darling with 
her clinging little ways, her tender ca- 
resses, if he could no, she had grown 
up out of all remembrance of him. They 
were both cherished in ease and luxury. 
He would not cast a shadow over their 
happiness. 

"Here is a large closet, big enough for 
a trunk," interrupted an enthusiastic 
voice at his elbow. 

"Very nice, very nice indeed," stam- 
mered Kelcey. If his Helen and his little 
Nell were only as this poverty-haunted 
woman and child, how eagerly he would 
beg forgiveness, shield them, work for 
them, love . 

"I'm afraid that you don't like the 
rooms after all," said the child by his 



side, with a plaintive sigh. 

"On the contrary," said Kelcey, in 
sudden decision, "I'm going to take 
them." 

"Really? Honest true, cross your 
heart?" she breathlessly asked. 

"Honest true, cross my heart!" Kelcey 
answered, forcing a smile, as he playfully 
went through the motion. "I must go 
now, but I shall come back and see your 
mother this evening." 

She danced before him, a whirl of ex- 
citement, the blue eyes sparkling with ex- 
ultation. 

"You must tell mamma what a capable 
agent her little daughter is," he said as 
he paused in the hall a moment, for the 
child insisted upon opening the front 
door for him. 

"Oh," she exclaimed in delight, as she 
swung back the door, "here comes mam- 
ma now!" and she darted out and down 
the steps. 

The fog had lifted, and through the 
opened door the sunshine floated in upon 
Kelcey, and with it the sound of kisses, 
and the soft sweet prattle of the child as 
she breathlessly told of her wonderful 
adventure. He stood back and waited. 

They hastened up the steps the tall, 
graceful woman, and the pretty child 
clinging to her skirts. They were enter- 
ing the house at last, and he looked into 
the woman's face the face of infinite 
tenderness that had haunted his dreams. 
For an instant he was dazed, powerless 
to move or speak. Then, with passionate 
eagerness he sprang forward with out- 
stretched arms. 

"Helen! my Helen! and my little 
Nell!" he cried. 




JOHNSON'S REGENERATION 



BY ROBERT V. CARR. 



y OHNSON was thinking. It would 

1 1 have oeen better for Johnson had 
fc)\ he done no thinking. As the First 
Sergeant had once informed him, 
a private had no right to think. The 
sergeant explained that there were super- 
ior beings drawing salaries for the ex- 
press purpose of doing the thinking for 
the privates. But Johnson's intellect 
could not grasp that. Private Johnson had 
been a school teacher before the war, and 
he rather prided himself on his education. 
Besides that, he possessed a strong imagi- 
nation. This would have helped him in 
the ranks of the gifted wielders of the 
pen, but it was useless to him as a private 
of United States Volunteers. It does not 
require a filigree intellect and a vivid 
imagination to be a good soldier. But 
Johnson gave his imagination full play 
and thereby incurred his undoing. 

Now, he was on out-post with a dis- 
agreeable Swedish Corporal, and the ter- 
ror of the tropic night smote him with 
a cold, damp hand. He almost hated the 
Swede's composure. There he sat, chew- 
ing a hard-tack like a swine-herder, John- 
son thought. How could the man remain 
unmoved when death lurked in the 
shadow and beckoned from the jungle 
depths? Johnson shivered and pulled his 
wet shirt away from his chest. He might 
be killed before morning. Then he turned 
his imagination to wounds of every 
known variety. The Swedish Corporal 
swore at the mosquitoes and crunched 
his hard-tack. Back in the trenches they 
had taken from the Filipinos the men of 
K Company told of Johnson the "cold- 
foot." 

That afternoon the regiment had gone 
into its first engagement. They had 
swept across an ancient rice paddy and 
filled the trenches on the jungle's edge 
with dead and dying natives, and after 



that they sat down and contemplated 
their work. Then they got the dead out 
of the way and camped. 

It was during the course of the charge 
that Johnson was possessed of ideas 
that stood out in bold outline against the 
shadows of other thoughts: They were, 
that he might get hit by a bullet from 
the Mauser of a vengeful Filipino, and 
that this would mean a good deal of 
agony, and that he might die; that all 
this could be prevented if he laid down 
and hugged the earth. About that time 
a man whirled from a group on his right 
and staggered toward him with the blood 
spurting from a wound in the neck. Then 
Johnson laid down, sick and faint. 

"Here you, Johnson; you hit?" yelled 
a sergeant, turning back. 

"No, I'm not hit; I " 

The sergeant understood and with an 
oath hastened after the charging groups. 
Presently the hospital corps came up 
and tenderly placed the wounded man 
on a stretcher. Johnson looked at them 
dully, and when they asked if he was 
wounded he answered faintly, "played 
out" 

After the trenches were taken John- 
son joined his company. Too tired to 
curse him they made no comment. But 
that night Johnson went on out-post 
known as Johnson, the "cold-foot." 

And now the mystery of the night 
deepened and the voices of the jungle 
swelled into a throbbing chorus. John- 
son shivered and kept thinking. The 
Swedish corporal took a chew of tobacco 
and wondered what the cook would have 
for breakfast. 

Johnson had been sitting there, it 
seemed to him, for ages, when the cor- 
poral suddenly fired into the darkness. 
Then the gloom became streaked with 
red flame, the sound of rushing feet 



148 



The Hike. 



came from the jungle, and Johnson dimly 
realized that the outposts were attacked. 
The old terror was creeping into his brain 
when a bullet ploughed through his shoul- 
der. Then Johnson became another man. 
He could feel the warm blood, and it 
filled him with a strange rage. The 
corporal was down and dying, and John- 
son gave him a drink from his canteen. 
Then he took the revolver of the non- 
commissioned officer and took his stand. 
He did not think now. Wounds were not 
to be imagined, and the trickling of the 
blood down his chest had filled him 
with a contempt for death, and undone 



the work of centuries of culture. Stripped 
of imagination, filled with the fighting 
lust, he stood and fought as his fore- 
fathers had fought ages ago. 

When the company came up they found 
Johnson standing over the corporal's 
dead body. 

"Why didn t you fall back?" the captain 
demanded, sternly. 

"I wasn't relieved, sir," Johnson ans- 
wered simply. 

Whereupon the company pressed upon 
him gifts of tobacco and spirits and to 
him was given another title: Corporal 
Johnson. 



THE HIKE 



BY ROBERT V. CARR. 

Since revellay we've floundered thro' 
A million miles of green bamboo, 
An' waist-high grass without no road, 
An' half th' regiment gone an' throwed 
Itself; played out sun-heat kerflop! 
But still what's left hain't time to stop 
Fer it's the hike th' man-killin' hike, 
Of Privates Bill an' Tom an' Mike 
Of th' regular infantry. 

Hike along 'til your feet's blood-sore, 
Your gun like an iron two-by-four; 
Your belt a-sag around your main, 
Like a grindin', bindin' loggin' chain; 
Your lips cracked wide with red-hot dust, 
Your eye-lids feel like black-burnt crust 
Fer it's th' hike th' man-killin hike, 
Of Privates Bill an' Tom an' Mike, 
Of th' regular infantry. 

Hike along, Oh, th' rains are on, 
Th' mud's come 'round, th' dust is gone; 
But hikin's here th' water runs, 
An' th' sky is pourin' down great guns. 
River to cross or crick or lake, 
Which ever we're ordered to take, we take- 
Fer it's th' hike th' man-killin' hike, 
Of Privates Bill an' Tom an' Mike, 
Of th' regular infantry. 




Copyright. 1901. Wilcox. 
JOSEPH LE CONTE. DIED JULY 6, 1901. 

We who are young are used to look on age 
With more, perhaps, of pity than regard, 
Seeing, too oft, the markings dull and hard 

That life has written on the open page 

Poor comic part that closes on the stage 
Bearing both act and actor on toward 
An aimless end, and leaves the action marred 

With memory of Death's obscene visage. 

But what a monument thy years have made, 

Recorder of God's purposes divine, 
Leader of younger feet by stream and shade 

Through all those calm, age-honored years of thine! 
Knowing thy works, good master, I have prayed 

That such an unembittered age be mine. 

WALLACE IRWIN 



( 



UNIVERSITY 




Reviewed by Grace Lvice Irwin 



A book of more than or- 
Yankee and dinary interest is "Blue 
Britisher Shirt and Khaki," writ- 
Compared, ten by the well-known 

war correspondent, Cap- 
tain James F. J. Archibald. It draws a 
daring and truthful comparison be- 
tween the blue-shirted American sol- 
diers in Cuba and the khaki-garbed 
Britisher in South Africa. Like all 
books compiled of material gathered on 
the field, it contains quantities of hither- 
to unpublished facts, told in the simple, 
fresh style of an eye-witness; but, unlike 
other books of its kin, carries no extrane- 
ous matter. The chapters are all strictly 
to the point of the subject, and form to- 
gether a satisfactory, cohesive essay, in- 
cluding discussions of "British and 
American Recruits," "The Officers," 
"American and British Tactics," "Feed- 
ing the Two Armies," "Transportation of 
Troops by Sea," "The Last Days of the 
Boer Capital," "The British in Pretoria," 
and allied topics. "There is obvious 
reason," Captain Archibald says, "for a 
detailed comparison between the fighting 
men of the United States and Great 
Britain. They have more in common than 
either army has with the soldiers of any 
other nation. They have, during the 
last three years, fought testing wars 
against other civilized nations, in which 
they faced for the first time the new con- 
ditions of modern warfare. The relative 
qualifications of the two armies have a 
pressing bearing on the troublous ques- 
tions of alliance or disputes yet to be be- 
tween them. When the soldiers Of these 
two nations meet now, each has a sense 
of their peculiar relation of neutrality, 
which is made piquant by the uncertainty 
whether they will continue to support 
one another as in China, or whether 
there is an evil day in store when they 
shall have to cut one another's throats." 
But the unchanged and unchanging senti- 



ment of the British is shown by the reply 
of an officer of General French's staff, 
when asked why he had not been more 
courteous to an American war corres- 
pondent: "We do not care a tuppenny 
damn what any American on earth thinks 
of us!" Within fifteen minutes the same 
officer asked whether America would not 
stand by England in the event of a Euro- 
pean war. The opinion is expressed that 
the British soldiers, unlike our unparal- 
leled army of volunteers, are on all occa- 
sions too dependent upon their officers: 
opportunities for escape of large num- 
bers of prisoners, for sorties, or pursuits, 
all failing to enthuse or interest, unless 
taken advantage of by efficient leaders 
which during the Boer war seem so 
often wanting. "To compare the relative 
bravery of the American soldier and 
Tommjy Atkins is very difficult; there is a 
difference, but it is undoubtedly due to 
the training and not to the actual cour- 
age of the men. There could be no better 
or braver soldier desired than the Brit- 
ish when he knows what to do, and, 
when he is properly led; but the trouble 
is that he has not been taught to think 
for himseif, and the majority of his offi- 
cers do not take the trouble to think for 
him. The consequence has been that the 
Boers took more prisoners than they 
could feed." Among many interesting 
details we learn that the McClellan 
saddles used by our army are only one- 
half the weight of the English saddles, 
and superior for their purpose. The 
Canadian troops in South Africa created 
a sensation because half of them used 
the McClellan saddle (about two thou- 
sand of which ihey had purchased after 
the saddles had been condemned by the 
United States Government as being a 
fraction of an inch too narrow across 
the withers) ; and the other half sported 
the Montana "cowboy saddle." Here- 
after in England our usual army saddle 



Current Books. 



151 



will be known as the "Canadian saddle." 
British officers, now and then, themselves 
own to the superiority of the light kit 
carried by the American soldier, in com- 
parison with the heavier British equip- 
ment. "Oh, well, we shall have that 
some day," one officer is quoted as say- 
ing. "In aoout thirty years, when you 
have invented something much better, 
our War Office will adopt something like 
this." 

A valuable feature of the book is the 
quantity of photographs illustrating all 
phases of the narrative and taken by the 
author in South Africa. 

One of the best bits of writing is the 
description of the life of the "Common 
Soldier in the Field," including character- 
istics of the Spaniards as well as of 
"Tommy Atkins," and the less known per- 
sonalities of those strong, self-restrained, 
silent, patriotic men the Boers. In 
spite of all that has been written of them 
of late they have come upon the world's 
stage as history makers too recently for 
us not to be grateful for all news of them 
which throws light upon the reasons of 
their victories and struggles. "If Presi- 
dent Kruger had been a handsome, pol- 
ished and dignified man," is Captain Ar- 
chibald's opinion, "the world's opinion 
of the Transvaal burgher would have 
been entirely different, for the descrip- 
tions of the typical Boer have had their 
origin in his personality. He is far 
from prepossessing; he is entirely lack- 
ing in polish or distinction of appear- 
ance. He wears a shabby frock coat that 
looks as though it had never been 
brushed or cleaned since the day it left 
a ready-maae stock. His clothes, how- 
ever, are not the most notable nor the 
most repellant characteristic of the 
head of the Transvaal Government. Mr. 
Kruger smokes a pipe incessantly, and 
has an unpleasant habit of expectorating 
in any place that pleases his momentary 
fancy, and with very little accuracy of 
aim; even the front of his clothes shows 
signs of this habit. His eyes are inflamed 
and are seemingly afflicted with some 
opthalmic disease, which causes the lids 
to show lines of red under the eyeball. 
His hair and beard are unkempt, except 
on state occasions and Sunaayp, when 



they are brushed to an oiled nicety. His 
hands are heavy, as though from great 
toil; but when shook hands he did so 
in the cordial manner of one who wished 
to show a heart-felt welcome to his guest. 
* * * All thougnt of the personal appear- 
ance of President Kruger was dispelled 
when he spoke, or even when he was lis- 
tening to anything of importance; for 
he conveyed the impression of being 
the possessor of a great reserve force 
and of a wonderful mental power which 
grasped a subject instantly and with 
precision. Once in touch with the work- 
ings of his great brain, his untidy appear- 
ance was forgotten, and you thought of 
him as a magnificent relic of the noble 
Dutch blood, one who had reclaimed a 
new continent from wild beasts and 
wilder savages; a man who had fought 
in the great veldt and into the mountains, 
and had built a home for thousands of 
contented followers, only to be driven 
out by a more powerful nation." 

("Blue Shirt and Khaki," Silver, Bur- 
dett and Company, New lork.) 

The early mining 
London's Latest, camps of California 

had their Bret 

Harte, the Klondike has its Jack London. 
"Prentice hands" now and then have 
tried to picture the life there in the far 
north, but no one else has approached the 
masterly power he shows in creating 
anew in art form the bigness, the strange- 
ness, the terror of that country of Arc- 
tic snows. His latest volume of short 
stories, called "The God of His Fathers," 
the name of the first tale, contains also 
"The Great Interrogation," "Which Make 
Men Remember," "Siwash," "The Man 
With the Gash," "Jan, the Unrepentant," 
"Grit of Women," "Where the Trail 
Forks," "A Daughter of the Aurora," "At 
the Rainbow's End," and "The Scorn of 
Women," tales which have already 
made their mark on appearance in dif- 
ferent magazines, but are for the first 
time issued together in book form. Gen- 
erally speaking they voice paramountly 
these things the vastness and beauty 
of the northern country, in sight of 
whose great mountains and water courses 
no trifling matters can be considered, 



152 



Overland Monthly. 



the flashes of nobility in the stern, rough 
human natures there, both white and In- 
dian, the exploitation of such rugged An- 
glo-Saxon virtues as good-nature toward 
the weak, summary vengeance on the 
mean, and a doggedness when started 
on any sort of a trail. There are pluck 
and curses, starvation and the eternal 
earth dream of gold, in plenty, but there 
are also some wonderfully noble hearted 
men and women. "Grit of Women" is 
a tribute to the wonderful beauty of 
woman nature, and "The God of His 
Fathers" to the greatness of manhood; 
and these intrinsically true, away from 
the virtue engrafting prop of civilization. 
In style there is much of the dash and 
zest of Kipling, but also always a touch 
of the drama. The author is a believer 
"in those rare, illuminating moments 
when the intelligence flung from it time 
and space, to rise naked through eternity 
and read the facts of life from the open 
book of chance." 

"Life is a strange thing. Much have 
I thought on it, and pondered long, yet 
daily the strangeness of it grows not less 
but more. Why this longing for life? 
'It is a game which no man wins. To live 
is to toil hard, and to suffer sore, till 
Old Age creeps heavily upon us and we 
throw down our hands on the cold ashes 
of dead fires. It is hard to live. In pain 
the babe sucks his first breath, in pain 
the old man gasps his last, and all his 
days are full of trouble and sorrow; yet 
he goes down to the open arms of Death, 
stumbling, falling, with head turned 
backward, fighting to the last. And Death 
is kind. It is only Life, and the things 
of Life, that nurt. Yet we love Life, and 
we hate Death. It is very strange." 

This from the puzzled lips of Sitka 
Charley, a half-breed, who appears in 
more than one of the stories. The humor 
throughout is of a grim, ironical sort, 
in keeping with the hard life of the men, 
and with their dreary, bleak surroundings. 
The courage and physical endurance of 
women are shown in a way seldom found 
in fiction. These are not the virtues of 
theirs which usually win them a place in 
literature. 

("The God of His Fathers." McClure, 
Phillips & Co., New York.) 



"The Flight of 

A Western Muse. Helen" is a taste- 
ful little volume 

which contains some really good things. 
Among the best are "Love's Memories," 
"Consolation," and "At Morn." The senti- 
ment in nearly all these poems is refined 
and deep, the form pleasing, and the 
choice of words significant. A cultivated 
spirit shows in the little gray book from 
cover to cover. To quote "Love's Memo- 
ries": 

"When one by one the years have taken 

wing, 
And we are old, and all my songs are 

still; 
And at your touch no more I feel the 

thrill 
That stirs bare boughs in March to 

blossoming; 

Think not, within, I shall forget to sing, 
Or dreams of you less oft my vision 

fill. 
Bless God, old age has not the power 

to chill 
The warmth at heart these tender 

memories oring. 

But love be true, and being true be 

kind; 
That when their spell the days have 

wrought in me, 
And I sit lonely, I shall surely find 

These pensive ghosts a kindly 

company. 
Their breathings sweet through all the 

empty hours. 
With the old fragrance of the March 

love's flowers." 

("The Flight of Helen and Other 
Poems," by Warren Cheney. Elder & 
Shepard, San Francisco.) 

Mr. Churchill, like 

Mr. Churchill on Mr. Frank Norris 

the Rebellion. is one who takes 

his profession of 

novel-writing seriously, and has set him- 
self to write his novels in series. This 
series bids fair to present itself in large 
terms an historical pageant. First he 
has shown us "Richard Carvel," who 
moves as a demi-god among the Titanic 
figures with which the enthusiasm of 
Revolutionary Sons and Colonial Dames 



Current Books. 



153 



has peopled for us the early period of 
our national history. And now, the 
scenes of "The Crisis" we find are laid in 
St. Louis just before and during the Civil 
War, and in its pages walk descendants 
of Richard, also one wno much re- 
sembles him the hero, Stephen Brice. 
But he is not so Titanic as the earlier 
Carvel is reduced more to the usual 
human size being brought closer to our 
own time. Nevertheless the book is a 
huge canvas and the painting done with 
a free and vigorous hand. The descend- 
ants of the Southerner, Richard Carvel, 
meet in St. Louis the descendants of a 
New England Puritan of equally good 
birth and breeding, and the two great 
American types are drawn with consum- 
mate literary skill and artistic sympathy. 
There has been a more frequent portrayal 
in fiction of the Southern gentleman 
his picturesqueness suggesting the cava- 
lier but here we have also the Puritan 
gentleman, self-contained, high-minded, 
courageous, courteous, and with as fine 
a respect for women. 

Mr. Churchill has made a somewhat 
daring experiment in introducing as char- 
acters, figures from real life of the period, 
as well known to us as President Lincoln, 
General Grant, General Sherman, yet he 
has made the experiment an unqualified 
success. The interest in Lincoln's won- 
derful personality steadily deepens, as 
one perceives beneath his homeliness the 
elements of power and of nobility in his 
character. The book possesses above all 
the great and unusual quality of inter- 
preting American life from an intelligent 
American point of view. It is one we 
are proud to have a foreigner read. 

("The Crisis," by Winston Churchill. 
The Macmn.an Company, New York.) 

Here is a most 

The Master Knot of remarkable and 
Human Fate. interesting book. 

It is written by 

a woman; it is striking, and it has a sin- 
gular purity of style. The circumstances 
surrounding the man and woman who live 
its chapters are far removed from the 
commonplace, in fact entirely and frank- 
ly improbable, yet it seems to be the con- 
sensus of opinion that the author has suc- 
ceeded in making her story intensely 



human. The main interest is the conver- 
sations between the two characters, yet 
by this means she has been able to de- 
velop a play of human emotion, the move- 
ment of human experience, the force of 
human love. It is a novel with a problem, 
and contains all the mystery of the "un- 
guessed riddle." Yet the idea of the new 
deluge, which cuts off the hero and hero- 
ine from the rest of the world on an 
island, seems in itself only fit for dreams 
of a Utopia, or the humor of a comic op- 
era. Here on this island once supposed 
to be a portion of the Rocky Mountains 
the man plows and reaps, the woman 
binds the sheaves. And their talk is 
on questions of economics, on psycho- 
logic and religious possibilities, brilliant- 
ly garnished with significant quotation. 
"But," to quote Richard Le Gallienne, 
"such a resume gives no idea of the beau- 
tiful way, with touches of gentle, pure- 
hearted humor, in which the slow-going 
love is developed in these two hearts, 
and when love is at last born, and will be 
denied no longer, comes the question, 
Is it right for them to love?" It is cer- 
tainly extraordinary to find in a book 
which is the literary sensation of the 
hour, only two characters, and these 
made interesting and unique from cover 
to cover. It is printed in large, clear 
type, which will prove an added attrac- 
tion to many eyes. 

("The Master Knot of Human Fate," 
by Ellis Meredith. Little, Brown & Co., 
Boston.) 

The term decadent is so 

The Book frequently applied that it 

of Jade. is bound to be at times 

misused. But to a phase 
of modern poetry, it clings justly, bar- 
nacle-like, and yet seems unable to kill. 
On the contrary, unfortunately, it appears 
to make for it a brief fashion. Imitator 
of Swinburne and Bandelaire, the author 
of these "verses underneath the bough," 
has succeeded in accomplishing only 
their faults, not the redeeming greatness. 
He writes always in one tone a dull 
grayness of disgust which disgusts, of 
ennui which bores. His subjects are the 
utterances of rotting corpses, the unnatu- 
ral love of the utterly bad, the sensuous 
delight of getting tired of things. To a 



154 



Overland Monthly. 



normal and healthy mind such verses 
seem only the deplorable result of a dissi- 
pation of forces in the character of the 
poet. For we must own, in this case at 
least, that the author shows himself pos- 
sessed of some (though misdirected) 
poetic talent. This opinion is based 
solely on the fact that the form of his 
verses is more often than not correct, 
and that they contain so large a number 
of musical lines. As instance: 

"Under the velvet night wide India 

reposes, 
Now in the scented dark the champak 

odors swoon; 

Slowly the summer moon 
Riseth into the azure night made drunk 

with roses; 
And lo, the camel-bells, now that the 

daylight closes, 

Tinkle their quiet tune." 

His picture drawing, also, though to lit- 
tle purpose, is frequently dainty and sug- 
gestive, as in his "Nocturne": 

"Lo, how the moon, beloved, 
Far in the heavens gleaming, 
Over the ocean dreaming, 

Her pallid light doth throw. 

****** 

There 'neath the stars eternal 

We two shall sit, we only, 
While from the heavens, lonely, 

The moon sinks in the sea." 

The book is gotten up in extremely at- 
tractive style, both as to covers and print- 
ing. 

("The Book of Jade." Published by 
Doxey, New York). 

Dedicated to Captain Al- 
Our Lady of fred Dreyfus, the scenes 
Deliverance, of this story are laid in 
France. It is a well- 
spun yarn, wrought evidently for the love 
of spinning and resultantly entertaining. 
Involved in the plot is the tale of a young 
officer, who suffered unjust disgrace, ex- 
pulsion from the French army, and exile 
to New Caledonia: his pardon and res- 
cue take place in the last chapters. How- 
ever, the reader has little to do with him, 
more than by hearsay, until then, being 



engaged in following the love episode of 
one Lament, a Scotchman, and a little 
French aristocrat, Denise, including 
much adventure, and the rescue, at the 
close, of her brother from his unjust im- 
prisonment. The heroine, beautiful, ami- 
able, is drawn with a tenderly admiring 
touch worthy the days of chivalry, and 
always in appropriate frame. Perhaps, 
however, the best portrayal is that of 
Boulot, the bull-dog. He commands the 
situation whenever he appears, and wins 
the respect of all with whom he comes in 
contact. 

Lamont, the millionaire Scotchman, 
falls in love with the portrait of Denise, 
in a Parisian art gallery. Following her 
to her country home, he not only becomes 
acquainted, but very soon one of the 
intimate circle at her chateau, pledging 
himself to do all in his power to bring 
about her brother's freedom. An abbess 
and a priest, a mad artist, and a villain- 
ous French officer, also figure in the plot, 
which is full of incident and invention. 
In fact, if you wish to read something 
exciting and not in any degree instruc- 
tive, dashed with a spice of humor and al- 
ways surprising, lay aside all critical 
spirit, and while away an idle hour with 
this youthful romance. 

("Our Lady of Deliverance," by John 
Oxenham. Henry Holt & Co., N. Y.) 

The first volume of the Jewish Ency- 
clopedia, a monumental work, now out, 
is to be followed by eleven others, which 
will altogether contain a very large quan- 
tity of illustrations. It is a record of 
the history of the Jews from the time 
of Abraham to the present day, compiled 
under the direction of a thoroughly relia- 
ble editorial board. The names of these 
men alone vouch for the value of the 
work. Among them are Mr. Cyrus Ad- 
ler, Ph. D., Mr. Richard Gottbeil, Ph. D., 
Mr. Marcus Jastrow, Mr. F. de Sola Men- 
des, Ph. D., Mr. Isadore Singer, Ph. D., 
Mr. Joseph Jacobs, B. A., and others. 
Dr. Jacob Voorsanger, Professor of Se- 
mitic Languages in the University of 
California, says it is the most remark- 
able work published since the close of the 
Talmud. 

("The Jewish Encyclopedia." Funk, 
Wagnalls & Co., New York.) 



UNIVERSITY 



Current Books. 



OF 



155 



Harry B. Smith's bubbling lyrics, 
like those of the great Gilbert, I find, 
please the eye about 
as well as they do the 
Charming Lyrics ear, since they have 
from the Stage stood the test of type 
in "Stage Lyrics," 
which we have at 
hand. Not that I mean to place the au- 
thor of "Stage Lyrics" on a par with the 
author of "Bab Ballads," for Mr. Smith, 
though a very loving and pleasing rhym- 
ster and librettist does not claim equality 
with Gilbert. "Stage Lyrics" is a vol- 
ume well worth having and with every 
cause to be a great favorite, since there 
are echoes from "Robin Hood," "The 
Fortune Teller," "The Highwayman," 
"The Idol's Eye," "Rob Roy," "The Man- 
darin," and other operas from Mr. 
Smith's prolific pen which we will all be 
glad to recall at any time. The book 
is beautifully bound and profusely ill- 
ustrated with pen drawings by Mr. 
Archie Gunn, Mr. Ray Brown, and Mr. 
E. W. Kemble. Scattered through the 
book are forty-one character portraits 
of members of the old Bostonian Com- 
pany, and others. 

("Stage Lyrics," by Harry B. Smith, 
R. H. Russell & Company, Publishers, 
New York.) 

"A Stepdaughter of Israel," by Robert 
Boggs, deals with a love affair in Spain 
during the reign of Philip II., between a 
poor but blue-blooded soldier and the 
grand-daughter of a rich Jew. Woven 
through it is an account of the adventures 
of a party of Spaniards in North America. 
It is hard to see any connection between 
the two phases of the story. Each might 
have been written independently. The 
thread of the tale jumps bewilderingly 
from the old world to the new, and it is 
written in a rather labored style with 
hardly enough interest to hold the read- 
er's attention. The good are rewarded 
and the bad receive just retribution. As 
a whole the story has some merit and 
gives promise of better work in the fu- 
ture. 

("A Stepdaughter of Israel," Robert 
Boggs. F. Tennyson-Neely Co., New 
Tork.) 



"The Road to Rigby's," by Frank Bur- 
lingame Harris, is of the usual popular 
length for an afternoon's reading, and is 
entertaining by means of its intense real- 
ism and depiction of honest, simple hu- 
man emotions. It has just been pub- 
lished, after its author's death. He was 
a young college student and newspaper 
man, and his enthusiasm for life and lit- 
erature makes vivid the pages of this 
his first and last book. In the young 
educated country girl, Sibley Ridgeway, 
he has created a charming and life-like 
figure full of intelligence and dignity. 
The scenes are laid on farms in Iowa, 
which the young author personally vis- 
ited. 

(Published by Small, Maynard & Co., 
Boston.) 

The Rubaiyat of Mirza Memn is an- 
other beautiful translation of the Rubai- 
yat of Omar Khayyam. It is a para- 
phrase in the form of Fitzgerald's, but 
with the 131 quatrains, drawn mainly 
from the prose versions of Nicholas and 
McCarthy. It is well-printed and illus- 
trated. 

(Published by Henry Olendorf Shep- 
herd, Chicago.) 

The dedication of the Hall of Fame in 
the New York University in the early 
part of June makes the appearance of a 
volume on the subject timely. In "The 
Hall of Fame," by Mr. Henry Mitchell 
MacCracken, we have an account, not 
only of the origin of the building, and its 
objects, but also excellent brief biogra- 
phies and estimates of the great Ameri- 
cans chosen to be there immortalized. 
The book is well printed and illustrated. 

("The Hall of Fame," by Mr. Henry 
Mitchell MacCracken. G. P. Putnam's 
Sons, New York.) 

The title word of "Anting-Anting 
Stories," by Sargent Kayme, is one used 
by savages in Eastern islands to desig- 
nate at once a mysterious power to pro- 
tect its possessor, and the symbol of pro- 
tection. The book contains short stories 
of the more savage Filipinos. 

(Published by Small, Maynard & Co., 
Boston.) 



156 



Overland Monthly. 



The dramatic happenings 

Mills of God. of this book portray Vir- 
ginia and England, in the 
later eighteenth century. 
We are treated to a round of gaieties a 
royal scandal, court balls, junketings, 
much glittering bravery of bearing, and 
all the picturesque goings on of that 
profligate time. The theme is somewhat 
tragic. We like the dominant figure of 
the heroine, Elinor Grafton, who is beau- 
tiful and dramatic, yet burdened with a 
heart. Other greater shadows, however, 
are interwoven in the book, for we meet 
George IV., Napoleon, Goethe, Tom Moore 
and Sheridan. Everyone nowadays tries 
her hand more or less at one of these 
striking and picturesque romances or 
melodramas. Yet there is no more of a 
supply than there is a demand. Novelists 
like orators listen at the pulse of the pub- 
lic, for the theme by which to thrill it. 
They only tell us what we wish to hear. 

("Mills of God," by Elinor Macart- 
ney Lane. D. Appleton & Co., New York.) 
It is at least customary 

Good Naval to deny believing with 
Story. Admiral Sampson that a 

man behind the gun or in 
the fo'csle should not aspire to the cabin. 
"Masters of Men" takes the popular view, 
being the history of one sailor, Richard 
Halpin, who begins at the bottom of the 
service, and sees the hardest sides of life 
afloat. Yet the whole novel is a witness 
to the fact that only by a superhuman 
effort may the sailor ever become the 
officer. But Halpin, in the latter part of 
the book, as a young officer in Sampson's 
own fleet, attains to some of the better 
things of sea life in our modern navy. 
Many of the pictured experiences are said 
to be taken directly from the life of the 
author himself. It is interesting, and is 
the first long novel by one of cur fore- 
most writers of sea stories. 

("Masters of Men," by Morgan Rob- 
ertson. Doubleday, Page & Co., New 
York.) 

A book of verses, entitled "Poems of 
the New Time," by Miles Menandre Daw- 
son, is at hand. The book is neatly gotten 
up and published by the Alliance Pub- 
lishing Company, New York. 



The annual reports 
for the years ending 
Scientific Works June 30, 1897, and 
of Value. June 30, 1899, of the 

Board of Regents of 
the Smithsonian In- 
stitution, showing the operation, expendi- 
tures and condition of the institution, has 
just been issued by the public printer. It 
contains a comprehensive report of the 
work done and also a memorial of Mr. 
George Browne Goode, who did so much 
for the United States National Museum. 

The seventeenth and eighteenth annual 
reports to the Smithstonian Institution 
by the Bureau erf American Ethnology 
have just been received. To students of 
ethnology these are of great interest. 
They are well written and are illustrated 
from photographs of the Indians, their 
cqstumes and habitations. There are 
also many maps which add to the value 
of the works. 

We have at hand the second edition of 
the second report of the United States 
Board on Geographic Names. It con- 
tains all the board's decisions up to April 
4, 1900, as to the spelling and pronuncia- 
tion of difficult geographic names. It also 
contains a list of all the counties in the 
United States. 

(Annual reports for 1897 and 1899 of 
the Board of Regents of the Smithstonian 
Institution; seventeenth and eighteenth 
annual reports of the Bureau of American 
Ethnology to the Smithstonian Institu- 
tion; second report of the Jnited States 
Board on Geographic Names. Govern- 
ment Printing Office, Washington, D. C.) 

Geo. Hansen, of Berkeley, has written 
a little volume entitled "What is a Kin- 
dergarten?" Of the inside workings of 
a kindergarten he pretends to no knowl- 
edge, but his book is devoted to his 
theories of the influences of plants over 
children, and the advisability and ad- 
vantage of bringing them up surrounded 
by trees and flowers. His views are in- 
geniously set forth, and the book has 
many careful diagrams illustrating his 
ideas. 

("What Is a Kindergarten," by Geo. 
Hansen. D. P. Elder & Morgan Shepard, 
San Francisco.) 




* 



At Point Concepcion 
the coast line of Cal- 
ifornia bends like an 
elbow to the Bast, 
and for a distance of 
about seventy miles 
the trend is almost 
exactly in that di- 
rection. 

To keep this elbow at a proper right 
angle, Nature firmly set the solid paral- 
lelogram of Santa Barbara County, and 
ribbed and stayed with parallel and trans- 
verse mountain ranges that western 
block which on this national bastion 
forms the salient angle in a mighty 



line of defences that successfully defy 
old Neptune's fiercest attacks. 

This parallelogram of Santa Barbara 
County presents two of its sides to a 
sea, but to seas so unlike in character 
that their contact has made the land as 
different as the waters. 

The mariner from the north, tossed 
and buffeted by an angry sea-god, hails 
with delight that continental outpost, 
Point Concepcion, and his storm-beaten 
craft glides around the promontory into 
a "summer southern sea," unvexed by 
the wind-god's frown. 

With a western and a southern shore, 




Vol. xxxviii No. 2 f 10. 



President McKinley at Santa Barbara, May 10, 1901. 

Photo by Newton. 




CO 



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O fc 



m 



co li- 



I 



T3 W 

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^ 

31 

Q. CO 



About Santa Barbara County. 



159 




Santa Barbara Mission, founded 1786. 

Santa Barbara County has two climates 
one a modified edition of San Francisco, 
Oakland and the contiguous section, the 
other an improved edition of Southern 
Italy. This western and southern front- 
age explains why the apples of Lompoc 
and the lemons of Montecito take the first 
premium wherever exhibited. For the 
apple thrives in the bracing coolness of 
the western coast where the hoar frost 
occasionally whitens the fields in winter 
and there is a snap in the air o' mornings, 
while the lemon finds a congenial home 
on the southern shore where the corn leaf 
never curls from the heat nor the lily 
droops from the cold and 

"Where falls not hail or any snow." 
It may be asked why the northwesterly 
winds that impinge on the western coast 
do not sweep the southern shore as well. 
Such would be the case were the county 
a plain, but Mother Nature had in mind 
the creation of a spot where all the 
elements that go to the making of an 
Edenic retreat might be present, so she 
laid an east and west wall more than 
three thousand feet high, along the 
southern shore, and from three to five 
miles distant from where the gentle wave- 
lets lap its sands, and when the winds 
that have swept unchecked over seven 
thousand miles of ocean bear down OD 
the western coast, the northern slopes 
of the Santa Ynez range raise a mighty 
barrier against their onward rush, and 
the winterless shore that basks in the 



Edwards Photo. 

sunshine on the southern slopes of the 
range is forever protected against the 
storming battalions of the occidental 
Keewaydin. 

Not only did kindly Mother Nature 
lay this protecting wall to guard the 
southern shore from winter's chill, but 
she did more to make it truly a "land of 
the sun." Twenty-five miles out she 
raised an island barrier against the surge 
and fret of old Ocean, and thus formed 
within the favored inclosure a bit of sea 
that knows no storm, and whose sun- 
kissed waves have naught for the mari- 
ner but a kindly welcome. Warmed by 
a southern sun and flushed by a south- 
ern return current, the Channel of Santa 
Barbara is a reservoir of heat that has 
a large influence in determining the 
temperature of the shore its waters lave. 
If the glance of the sun of August be 
too ardent, the cooling breeze from this 
body of water at 66 deg. tempers the 
ray. If through a mountain defile a sus- 
picion of frost creeps into the happy val- 
ley in January, it is blown back again 
by a warm breath from this aqueous 
equalizer at a temperature of 60 deg. 
Hence to mountain and ocean, quite as 
much as to latitude and sun, are we in- 
debted for the charm of a climate from 
which both frost and heat are eliminated. 

But that figures are wearisome, we 
would present the indisputable evidence 
of carefully kept records to show that 
on the southern shore o r Santa Bar- 



160 



Overland Monthly. 



bara County the golden mean of a cli- 
mate that is cool but never cold, warm 
but never hot, has been realized. From 
those records, however, we desire to give 
prominence to the fact that but twice 
in a generation has the thermometer 
registered above 100 deg., and then under 
abnormal conditions produced in part 
by mountain fires. Twice only in that 
time has the thermometer dropped below 
freezing point, and then less than four 
degrees as a minimum. The lowest tem- 
perature during 1900 was 38 deg. above 
zero, and but once did the mercury drop 
so low as that, viz : on the last day of the 
year. 



they fail to give such a vivid idea of the 
climate of this favored land as does a 
comparison instituted between Santa 
Barbara and some favorite resorts on 
the Atlantic coast. By such a comparison 
it is found that our January is equivalent 
to the month of May at Nantucket, our 
February to May at Atlantic City, our 
March to May at Norfolk, our April to 
May at Portland, Me., our May to May 
at New Haven, our June to May at New 
York, our July to May at Philadelphia, 
our August to May at Washington, our 
September to May at Brooklyn, our Oc : 
tober to May at New London, Ct., our No- 
vember and December to May at Port- 




Santa Barbara Polo Grounds. The game. 

The mean temperature of January, 
1900, was 57.5 deg., that of July 65.9 deg.. 
a difference of but 8.4 deg. The mean 
temperature of the three winter months 
was 57.4 deg., of the spring months 
58.3 deg., of the summer months 64.8, 
and of the fall months 64.1. This gives 
as the mean for tae year, 61.1 deg., being 
1.1 deg. above the average temperature 
as indicated by observations made over 
a period of thirty years. The preceding 
year, 1899, was much cooler, showing a 
mean temperature for the year of 59.7 
deg., or 0.3 deg. below the normal. 

While these figures are suggestive, 



land, Me. Thus our year is the charm- 
ing month of May as it moves with the 
changing season up the Atlantic shore. 
Bear in mind oiis comparison is for tem- 
perature only. The many unpleasant 
features that, even in "sweetest May," 
vex the sojourner in the localities men- 
tioned, are here entirely absent or very 
much modified. 

There are four essential elements that 
enter into the indescribable, almost in- 
tangible, yet highly important thing we 
call climate, to wit: sunshine, tempera- 
ture, wind and humidity. 

Now every day is not sunshiny in Santa 



About Santa Barbara County. 



161 



Barbara. If such were the case old Sol 
would cease to be appreciated. But he 
only withdraws himself within his cur- 
tain of cloud sufficiently long at a time 
to make his face the more welcome on 
his re-appearance. The record shows 
that on an ' average but one day in six 
is cloudy. Many of these cloudy days 
are among the most delightful of the 
year, the sun being veiled by a high cur- 
tain of vapor, while the air is dry and 
warm below, and most charmingly suited 



disagreeable, but these days come so 
rarely and there are so many days when 
the wind movement is just a breeze 
sufficient to rustle the leaves and keep 
the air fresh, that, to a person of long 
residence here, there is no suggestion of 
an unpleasant experience in the ques- 
tion asked at the beginning of this para- 
graph. 

Twice in a hundred years, viz., on the 
17th of June, 1859, and on the 27th of 
July, 1889, a sirocco from Death Valley, 




"Before the Game." Arlington Golf Links. 



A. H. Rogers, Photo. 



to picnics, sports, etc. 

"But how about the wind?" some aero- 
phobic reader may ask. Let us turn to 
the record again. A Robinson anemo- 
meter has been in use here for twelve 
years, and during that time the greatest 
recorded wind movement in any 24 hours 
was 402 miles, or not quite 17 miles per 
hour. The average velocity during the 
twelve years has been but four miles 
per hour, and during 1900 it was but 3% 
miles per hour. In the spring months 
we occasionally have windy days, and 
sometimes on such occasions the dust is 



through some inadvertence, wandered 
this way, blowing fiercely for a few hours 
and raising the temperature in the first 
instance to 136 deg., and in the latter 
to 107 deg. These rare occurrences seem 
scarcely worth mentioning in view of the 
fact that the much-vaunted climate of 
Southern Italy contributes siroccos of 
three days' duration each, several times 
in a season, to that very sun-kissed land. 
The element of humidity, including 
rainfall, number of rainy days and at- 
mospheric saturation, seems happily 
proportioned in the Santa Barbara Val- 




ISLAND SCENERY, SANTA BARBARA COUNTY, CAL. 



About Santa Barbara County. 



163 



ley, for there is just as little rainfall as 
is consistent with growth and production, 
just as few rainy days as will give the re- 
quired amount of moisture, and just 
enough of watery, vapor in the air to 
make its inhalation a constant delight. 

While there are from twenty to thirty 
days of each year in which rain falls dur- 
ing some part of the twenty-four hours, 
this statement does not mean that there 
are from twenty to thirty rainy days in 
the year. From an experience covering 
fifteen years the writer believes that the 
really rainy days of each year may be 
numbered on the fingers of one's hands, 
and in some years on those of one hand. 
This will the more readily obtain cred- 
ence when one remembers that we have 
on the average an annual rainfall of but 
seventeen inches, distributed over eight 
months of the year. During the past 
season we had but fifteen days in which 
a quarter of an inch or more of rain fell 
during the twenty-four hours, and the 
total rainfall for the season is but I5y 2 
inches, yet the crops already harvested 
are abundant, and those now growing 
give promise of ample returns. 

The annual percentage of atmospheric 
humidity for Santa Barbara is 71 as com- 
pared with San Francisco's 80. But the 
average percentage for the winter 
months, when a high relative humidity 
would chill, is but 67. These are the 
figures for the city of Santa Barbara. 
The foothill district, two to four miles 
from the shore, having an elevation of 
from 600 to 1000 feet, has an annual per- 
centage of but 63, with an average dur- 
ing the winter months of but 53, much 
less than that of San Bernardino, Los 
Angeles or San Diego. This foothill re- 
gion receives the full benefit of the sun- 
shine and the refraction from the ocean 
on its slopes and the light breezes from 
the Channel are tempered to greater 
mildness and dryness. 

Because we have said so much about 
our incomparable situation and climate 
the reader may think we have naught else 
to commend our county. Such is not the 
case. We yield to none in the fertility 
of our soil, the abundance of our har- 
vests, or the variety of our agricultural 
and horticultural productions. With 
much of this, however, we but share in 




The Montecito Palm. Tallest in California. 



164 



Overland Monthly. 



common with many other portions of 
our great State. Consequently our de- 
sire has been to call attention to attrac- 
tions possessed by this section that are 
not shared by other localities and to 
make patent the fact that on this bit of 
southern coast, under these sheltering 
mountains, by this sapphire sea, is found 
a charm of ocean and sky, of mountain, 
island and shore, of tropical growth and 
temperate airs, such as no other nook 
of this old planet possesses a charm 
which holds one in a thrall of happy 
enjoyment that lasts the whole year 
round. 

And it is the "whole year round" 
character of the climate that is Santa 
Barbara's winning feature. One may as 
consistently come here to escape the 
heats of summer as the frosts of winter. 
A change from the sweltering days and 
stifling nights of the Mississippi Valley 
and the Middle Atlantic States to the 
fresh airs and cool nights of this equable 
valley is as much a relief as to come 
here in January and thus exchange 
snowdrifts and furnace heated rooms 
for roses and sunshine. The coolness of 
the nights during the summer months 
is a constant delight to the Eastern visi- 
tor, and the hours one spends in bed are 
attended with a most refreshing slum- 
ber. During the summer of 1900 there 
was but one night when the temperature 
was above 60, and then it was but 63. 

That part of the county lying north 
of the Santa Ynez range differs in climate 
to a considerable degree from the south- 
ern shore. Its western portion is rela- 
tively low as compared with its mountain- 
ous eastern section, and for ten or a 
dozen miles inland the strong winds, 
laden with moisture, are quite raw. But 
as they pass over the hills and valleys 
these winds become warmer and dryer 
until at a distance of fifteen to twenty- 
five miles from the ocean, fog is rarely 
seen and the summer days are hot, 
though the air is light and bracing. In 
this interior section the thermometer 
drops much lower in winter tnan it does 
south of the mountains, and tempera- 
tures of 18 and 20 above zero are not in- 
frequent. Yet, though lacking the equa- 
bility of the southern shore, it is a de- 
lightful section, and to some woulrl 



seem equally attractive. This western 
section of the county has great agricul- 
tural possibilities, and the inauguration 
of the beet sugar industry at Santa 
Maria, the development of apple culture 
and dairying at Lompoc, and the exten- 
sive production of grains in the Santa 
Ynez and Los Alamos Valleys, are at- 
tracting that large class of persons who 
desire to till the soil under circumstances 
where toil is attended with a minimum of 
discomfort, and where the returns are 
satisfactory. The coolness of the summer 
in western Santa Barbara County is a 
most attractive feature to the man who 
toils in the field, and farming operations 
can there be carried on under conditions 
more favorable than perhaps those of 
any part of the United States. 

The mountainous eastern section of the 
county is now covered by the "forest re- 
serves," known as the Zaca Lake and 
Pine Mountain Reserve, and the Santa 
Ynez Reserve, containing 850,000 acres, 
or about one-half the area of the county. 
These reserves are practically great 
parks, cared for by Government rangers, 
who devote their time to cutting trails, 
extinguishing or preventing fires, .and pa- 
trolling the reservations. This Govern- 
ment protection not only increases the 
value of this mountainous section as a 
watershed for the streams, but affords 
to the camper, hunter and prospector 
a most inviting field for pleasure and ex- 
ploration. Trails are being cut in all di- 
rections to facilitate the movements- of 
the rangers, and one in particular, run- 
ning for forty miles along the summit of 
the Santa Ynez range, has probably no 
superior as a scenic outlook on the con- 
tinent. On the south is the lovely Santa 
Barbara Valley, then the wide and placid 
Channel; beyond, the mountainous is- 
lands of Anacapa, Santa Cruz, Santa 
Rosa, and San Miguel. To the north 
one sees the rugged ranges of the San 
Rafael, Sierra Madre del Sur and the 
grove-dotted park of the Santa Ynez Val- 
ley. To the southeast the view extends 
to the Catalinas, the Sierra Santa Moniea, 
Old Baldy, and the wide wilderness of 
mountains lying north of Los Angeles. 

It may have occurred to the reader 
that a section so favored by nature as 
is that portion of Santa Barbara County 






BITS OF SANTA BARBARA. 

A Santa Barbara Grammar School. Photo &// Rogers. 2. A Banana Patch, 

Barbara, Cal. 3. Buried in Roses at Santa Barbara. Photo by Edicards. 



Santa 



166 



Overland Monthly. 



lying along the Channel, must necessarily 
be the habitat of many species of plants 
and trees usually found in the tropics, 
and such is really the case. The whole 
world has been levied upon and pays 
tribute to this sheltered vale. In re- 
gard to the fruits grown here a well- 
known writer has said: "One who has 
lived in the temperate zone may write 
down the names of all the fruits he ever 
saw, and then add to the list all those 
his memory can call out of the books 
he has read, and in this valley he shall 
be reasonably sure of finding them. 
Fruits from Mexico and South America, 
from China and Japan, from Italy, 
France, Spain, India, here prosper side 
by side. Could it be shown that the 
primitive Eden bore as many fruits pleas- 
ant to the taste, it would add a new 
pang to the thought of original sin." 

And it is very largely this world-wide 
range of fruit and flower and tree that 
is bringing to Santa Barbara a class of 
cultured and refined persons who seek 
to surround themselves with all the 
beauty and fragrance of the vegetable 
world. Santa Barbara has been well 
named the "City of Roses," but the lux- 
uriance with which the Queen of Flow- 
ers grows in this vicinity is only typical 
of the growth of other shrubs and plants, 
and the poorest home may be a bower 
of fragrance with no expense but the 
very small amount of labor necessary 
in planting the wished-for varieties. 

The County of Santa Barbara has but 
one incorporated city, its shire town. 
Lompoc is an incorporated town of the 
sixth class, Santa Maria is big enough 
for incorporation, while Guadalupe, Los 
Alamos, Santa Ynez and Summerland 
are villages of 200 to 500 population. Of 
these villages, Summerland is the center 
of the petroleum industry and the loca- 
tion of the famous submarine oil wells. 
Santa Maria is the financial and com- 
mercial center of the great Santa Maria 
Valley, which has an area of nearly a 
quarter of a million acres. It has a popu- 
lation of 1200, a bank with a capital 
stock of $25,000, several large merchan- 
dise establishments with stocks of $20,000 
to $50,000, many small retail stores, a 
large fruit dryer, a cannery and a soda 
factory. Only five miles away at Better- 



avia is the huge Union Sugar Factory, 
built in 185*8, at a cost of over one 
million dollars. This institution employs 
about 500 men in the sugar season, and 
its advantages to Santa Maria and vicin- 
ity are very great. This section has a 
magnificent future, and the intending set- 
tler who wants to buy land at a rea- 
sonable figure and at the same time se- 
cure a home in a pleasant climate, will 
do well to examine the claims of this 
great valley. Mr. A. W. Cox, the resident 
Supervisor, or Mr. L. E. Blochman, are 
gentlemen who will take pleasure in ans- 
wering any questions from would-be set- 
tlers. 

Lompoc is the center of a very fertile 
farming and dairying section. It has a 
population of 1500, a bank with $145,000 
in deposits, a fine high school building, 
and a grammar school building costing 
$15,000, is on a branch of the Southern 
Pacific, nine miles from the main line 
at the ocean, and is an up-to-date town 
in every particular. The town owns its 
water supply, maintains a fire depart- 
ment and has well-graded streets. There 
are two weekly newspapers published in 
the town, and two good hotels provide 
for the traveling public. The section 
tributary to Lompoc is very well adapted 
to dairying, and the people of that neigh- 
borhood are justly proud of their cream- 
ery, the product of which is the most 
popular butter made in this section of 
the State, and is as fine as is produced 
anywhere. Lompoc seems the natural 
home of the apple, and its product has 
taken the first prize at the great fair 
at New Orleans and at Chicago was 
awarded a diploma of excellence. The 
codlin moth is here unknown, and Lom- 
poc apples are never "wormy," so there 
is every prospect that this industry will 
eventually become of the first import- 
ance, especially as the demand for Lom- 
poc apples always outruns the supply. 
Another production of which Lompoc has 
a monopoly for the United States is 
English mustard, which is here grown 
on a large scale. Our space forbids 
anything like a proper review of this 
important section, but any person having 
in view a home in Lompoc or vicinity 
will do well to correspond with W. 
W. Broughton, Esq., resident Supervisor 



About Santa Barbara County. 



167 



and editor and proprietor of the Rec- 
ord, as he is very familiar with every- 
thing pertaining to that section. 

The city of Santa Barbara, the capital 
of the county, is an historic old city, 
and many a romance hangs around its 
older dwellings, and the valleys and 
canyons in its vicinity. Founded 120 
years ago, it was, during the heyday 
of the Mission era, the most important 
town in California. We have room for 
but a brief sketch of this city, famous 



mesa and the foothills of the Santa 
Ynez, on an inclined plane with an aver- 
age slope of about 100 feet to the mile, 
the rose-embowered homes of 7000 people 
are found, scattered over an area of 
about 3,000 acres. Thus many of these 
homes have very ample grounds, and no- 
where is the population crowded. With 
rare judgment the Franciscan friars who 
founded the Missions of California select- 
ed this locality as the site of their most 
important post, and the Mission founded 




Submarine Oil Wells at Summer-land, Santa Barbara County. 



Leach Photo. 



throughout the world for the beauty 
of its situation and the salubrity of 
its climate. Its location at the foot of 
the highest peaks of the Santa Ynez 
range, with an outlook toward the south- 
east and the beautiful bay that is said 
by travelers to be almost a counter- 
part of that of Naples, Italy, leaves noth- 
ing to be desired. South of the city 
and forming a protection against the 
fresher breezes from the Channel, lies 
the "Mesa," a range of hills from 300 
to 400 feet in height. Between this 



here 115 years ago this coming Decem- 
ber has been a landmark to the mariner 
along our shore and an object of interest 
to every visitor through the years inter- 
vening. Not only is it the largest and 
best preserved of all the California Mis- 
sions, many of which are now but heaps 
of ruins, but it is the only one that has 
never been without regular ministrations 
under the Franciscan order since its 
foundation. Crowning, as the mighty 
structure does, the crest of the slope 
on which the city rests, its presence 



168 



Overland Monthly. 




Main street in Santa Maria, Santa Bar bara County. 



seems ever the perpetual benediction of 
that .virgin saint and martyr for whom 
the city was named and to whom the 
grand old church was dedicated. Bar- 
barenos, regardless of creed, are proud 
of the venerable structure and of its . 
work in the past, and as its presence 
dominates the landscape, so is no de- 
scription or picture of Santa Barbara 
complete without something of the his- 
toric old landmark. And as one stands 
in its towers and looks out over a most 
beautiful panorama of city, valley, moun- 
tain, ocean and island, there is no ques- 
tion as to why Father Junipero Serra 



selected this spot as the site of his 
most important mission. The reason 
is apparent. 

And first and foremost is the re- 
markably advantageous commercial situ- 
ation disclosed by this view. The ob- 
server looks down on the wharves of the 
city, where, with a depth of water suffi- 
cient to float the largest vessels, ships 
may safely land their cargoes on any day 
of the year. Protected on the west, 
north and east by the semi-circular sweep 
of the coast, and on the. south by the 
mountainous island barrier, this mis- 
named "roadstead" possesses the best 




H Street, Lompoc, Santa Barbara County, looking north. 



About Santa Barbara County. 



169 



harbor accommodations on the western 
coast of America, ever safe, accessible 
at all times without tha assistance of a 
pilot and with room for the fleets of the 
world. During the recent visit to this 
State of the Sub-Committee of Congress 
on Rivers and Harbors, the party took 
in this situation from these same grey 
old Mission towers, and so impressed 
were they with the manifest advantages 
of this admirable port that every mem- 
mer 01 the committee not only acceded 
to the proposition that Santa Barbara, 
should be made a port .of entry, but 
agreed to make such a recommendation 
to Congress. Had such a privilege been 



a summer resort, not only from the raw 
and chilling winds of the metropolis, 
but from the hot winds and blistering 
sun of the interior valleys as well. And 
to those who enjoy sea-bathing (and who 
does not) Santa Barbara offers unusual 
advantages, as the absence of storms 
or undertow makes its beach particularly 
attractive to inexperienced bathers, wo- 
men and children. A parent need have 
no concern here about the little ones 
as they can play along the water without 
the slightest danger. This removal of 
anxiety and of the need for watchfulness 
makes the sojourn of the tired mother 
at Santa Barbara oeach a season of rest 




Union Sugar Co.'s Factory, Belteravia, Cal. 



granted to Santa Barbara years ago, 
and had the railroad advantages which 
the city now possesses been secured to 
her in the early seventies, when surveys 
were made for a transcontinental line 
to this point, t' re never would have 
been any demand for a Government-built 
harbor at San Pedro, as the development 
of this port would have made this city 
the metropolis of Southern California. As 
it is the fine steamships of the Pacific 
Coast Steamship Company regularly ply 
between this port and all points north 
and south, there being four steamers 
each way every week. 

The recent connection of the city with 
San Francisco oy rail has called attention 
to the attractions of Santa Barbara as 



and recuperation nowhere else found. 
And the summer temperature of the 
water makes the bathing at this season 
a delightful experience. Those persons 
who are familiar only with the ocean tem- 
peratures of San Francisco, 52 deg., and 
Santa Cruz, 59 deg., may shiver at the 
thought of plunging into the surf, but one 
experience in Santa Barbara waters at 
68 or 70 degrees will convert them into 
enthusiastic bathers, who can't be kept 
away from the beach. For very delicate 
constitutions the new bathing establish- 
ment just erected at a cost of $40,000, and 
one of the best-equipped and most ele- 
gantly appointed on the coast, furnishes 
an opportunity for bathing in sea water 
tempered to suit any taste. This magnifi- 



170 



Overland Monthly. 




Harvesting mustard near Lompoc, Santa Barbara County. 



cent establishment is supplied with every 
convenience, including two large plunge 
baths, and is in operation both summer 
and winter. Its location adjoining the 
beautiful Plaza del Mar and just under 
Punta del Castillo, is most admirably 
chosen. The cuts which accompany this 
article give the reader a suggestion of 
the style of this up-to-date institution 
and its happy surroundings. The Plaza 
del Mar is situated at the western ex- 
tremity of the Boulevard, a fine asphalt 
driveway, bordered by palms, that skirts 
the water front of the city for a distance 



of two miles, just above the surf line. 
At low tide the hard ocean floor is util- 
ized for a speedway, and one can drive 
for miles along i,ue beach in either direc- 
tion. 

Recently the gas and electric light- 
ing plants and tne electric street rail- 
way system have passed into the hands 
of a corporation with a very ample 
capital. The old car lines are being 
improved and new ones extended. The 
company has just finished and equipped 
one of the largest and most complete 
power houses on the coast, and not only 




Deep-water Wharf, Santa Barbara. P. C. S. S. Co.'s Steamer Santa Rosa. 

Edwards Photo. 



About Santa Barbara County. 



171 



proposes to meet the wants of the city 
of Santa Barbara but of the rapidly grow- 
ing suburban districts east and west of 
the town. 

Of Santa Barbara's many attractions, 
socially and otherwise, we have room 
for but a paragraph. The Union Club, 
the Santa Barbara Club, the Country 
Club, and the Woman's Club are, in their 
several spheres, institutions second to 
none. All the fraternal orders are repre- 
sented, there being about thirty differ- 
ent lodges in the city. Fourteen different 
religious organizations exist, and several 
of the churches are very creditable struc- 
tures. With excellent public schools, 
both grammer and kindergarten, a fine 
high school, a collegiate school, a busi- 
ness college and a manual training 
school, the educational interests of 
the city and vicinity are well cared for. 

The press of the city, comprising 
three dailies and two weeklies, is 
enterprising and courteous, and the 
daily happenings of the neighborhood 
and of the world at large are spread be- 
fore the public in a presentable form. 
The hotels and boarding houses, from 
the big Arlington, with room for 500 
guests to the family circle that finds 
a place for two or three extra chairs t 
the table, are homelike and comfortable. 

An attractive feature to visitors is the 
attention being given to the popular 
sports of polo and golf. The local clubs 
maintain fine grounds for both games, 
and owing to the equable character of the 
climate, both sports may be indulged in 
during any season of the year. These 
grounds may be reached by a ten 
minutes' walk from the business section 
or the hotels, and are admirably situated 
in every particular. 

Santa Barbara's general interests are 
carefull looked aiter by an active and 
energetic Chamber of Commerce, com- 
prising between two and three hundred 
of the business men and other enter- 
prising residents of the city and county. 
The Chamber has centrally located rooms 
with a secretary constantly in attendance 
to wait upon visitors, answer inquiries 
both verbal and written, distribute liter- 
ature, etc., and any information concern- 
ing the city or county will be cheerfully 
furnished on application to aim. 




From San Francisco to Monterey 



BY HARRY W1LKES 



G1LMOUR. 



T is a most interesting study, and 
one well worthy the attention of any 
student of history, to trace the devel- 
- opment of what is known to-day as 
the modern hotel. Before, and for many 
centuries after the Christian era, the 




The entrance. 



Sharon at an enormous cost, has, if an 
article published recently in a Califor- 
nia paper is to be relied upon, expended 
for betterments during the past ten 
years something over a million and a 
half of dollars. The statement is fre- 
quently heard on the Pacific Coast that 
the builder wished to leave behind him 
a monument that would illustrate his 
faith in the commercial supremacy of 
San Francisco, and although the cost of 
maintaining that unique monument is 
doubtless considerably in excess of 
what was expected, the experience of 
the Palace builder can be duplicated in 
every city which has within its confines 
a fashionable hostelry. We may, without 
undue vaunting, claim the distinction 
of possessing the model hotel of the 
world one that is not surpasped in ap- 
pointments by any hotel. 

To San Franciscans it would be a 
waste of words to go into anything like 



hotel was merely an inn, with bad ac- 
commodations for men, who from choice 
or necessity were obliged to patronize 
them. Even up to the middle of the 
present century the very best hotels 
were scarcely more than large boarding 
houses, but the invention of the tele- 
graph and the advent of the railroad, 
which bring men from the most remote 
parts of the earth together in a few days 
at the uttermost, render better and more 
completely arranged buildings an abso- 
lute necessity. The ingenuity of ar- 
chitects are taxed, millions of dollars 
are involved and science in every form 
is brought into use, the result being 
the colossal and luxurious caravansaries 
that are gradually taking the place of 
the private home. 

The Palace Hotel, in San Francisco, 
which was built by the late Senator The Court. 




Overland Monthly. 



a detailed description of the Palace, of 
its magnificence or of. the superb manner 
in which it is conducted. So it would 
be to most people throughout the coun- 
try, and even abroad, and scarcely a 
stranger comes to town who does not 
know all about it. The Palace has long 
since become one of the institutions of 
San Francisco. The people here have 
learned to look upon it as theirs, and 
they point to it with pride. And why 
not? There is nothing to compare witn 
it in magnitude and elegance in Amer- 
ica, and few, very few, elsewhere. And 
when it was erected yea^s ago it was 
conceded to be the most modern and emi- 
nent structure of its kind in the world. 
It is so yet, for under its present manage- 
ment nothing has been left undone to keep 
it not only abreast, but ahead of the 
times. No new convenience, device, or 
invention calculated to attract or accom- 
modate guests has ever made its appear- 
ance that the Palace Hotel was not the 
first to seize and make good use of it. 
Such enterprise and go-ahead spirit is 
an honor and a benefit to any city and 
should be commended. 

Besides the grill and supper rooms, 
with which the public are thoroughly 
familiar, it has facilities possessed by 
no other similar institution for serving 
banquets, large and small, and on ex- 
tremely short notice. The management 
can handle the most important balls, 
wedding parties, receptions, and theatre 
parties in superb style, as has already 
been done. Maple and Marble Halls, 
where most of the big affairs take place, 
have the reputation of being among the 





The Grih. 



The Parlor. 

most elegant and eminently appropriate 
places for such gatherings, and de- 
servedly so. The Palace is also the place 
where professional men, bankers and 
the better class of sportsmen congre- 
gate, and to the court or the grill is the 
place the seeker of a friend will invari- 
ably turn. During political times it is the 
nucleus of all parties, and it the same 
with reference to all large gatherings. 
And it is safe to predict that these con- 
ditions will not change, for judging from 
the progressive spirit that has at all 
times been in evidence in the conduct of 
the Palace it will continue to attract 
those who appreciate the things that 
have so much to do with the comfort 
and convenience of patrons. 

The site for the erection of a hotel 
like the Palace was singularly fortunate 
being in such close proximity to the 
wholesale and shopping districts, to 
places of amusement and with the ad- 
ded advantage of having street cars 
to all depots and points of interest pass 
the entrance. It occupies an entire block 
on the south side of Market street at 
its junction with New Montgomery and 
contains over one thousand rooms, mak- 
ing it the largest structure ever dedi- 
cated to the needs of the traveling pub- 
lic. Being on the highway between the 
Occident and Orient, and having at its 
gates attractions which for variety and 
uniqueness cannot be equaled in any 
other corner of the world, San Francisco 
is the inevitable destination or resting 
place of every extended traveler. 



The Queen of Watering Places. 



BY THEODORE GONTZ. 



Situated on the sparkling waters of 
the Bay of Monterey, one hundred and 
twenty-five miles south of the Golden 
Gate, is the pride of the State of Cali- 
fornia, the beautiful Hotel Del Monte and 
its royal park of one hundred and twenty- 
eight acres. No one place has been more 
widely praised, and it is now universally 
pronounced the most beautiful and fas- 
cinating resort in America. 

Every open-air sport, particularly 
adapted to this land of out-of-door living, 



The invigorating, flawless atmosphere is 
the joy of the golfer's heart, who natural- 
ly feels that he has an option on the 
weather, albeit he is not alone in this 
feeling. Each and every tourist imagines 
the weather should be made for his es- 
pecial benefit. We have all seen him, and 
his name is legion! He will not be dis- 
appointed in this pretty little Eden, 
where one -of its chief charms is in the 
clear, sunshiny days, the bluest of blue 
skies, and cool, balmy breezes. Coaching 




Club House at Hotel Del Monte. 



has its scores of devotees. Golfers have 
here the best links in the State, a nine- 
hole course, free to guests and all play- 
ers. In August the great golf tourna- 
ment of the year will take place on the 
Hotel course. Some close and spirited 
contests have brought together represen- 
tatives of the "400's" wealthiest and most 
cultured people of large cities, many of 
them Eastern aristocrats now wintering 
at the Hotel del Monte or in the State. 



is one of the jolliest pastimes, the ride 
par excellence being the Seventeen-mile 
Drive. 

Surf bathing in the winter months can 
be enjoyed by people living at the 
Hotel del Monte. Or if surf bathing Is 
not desired, the immense casino, having 
three large tanks of various degrees of 
temperature, offers ample opportunity for 
all kinds of "damp novelties." 

Seven thousand acres are owned by ths 



Overland Monthly. 



Pacific Improvement Company (owners 
of Hotel del Monte), practically all the 
peninsula of Monterey. From this area 
are derived all the supplies for the Hotel 
del Monte. Nothing is ever "out of 
season," for a cold storage plant pre- 
serves, from season to season, abundant 
stores of fruit and other products. Nat- 
urally the sportsman finds plenty of game 
to bag, and the followers of Izaak Wal- 
ton never return empty-handed from a 
day's pleasure in these extensive 
grounds. Added to these sports are 
polo games, racing, sailing, tennis and 
all other attractions conducive to a 
happy, free existence. The broad aven- 
ues and driveways, covering fifteen miles 
in the hote,l grounds proper, are perfectly 
level and afford special delight to the 
cyclers who spin merrily in and out 
among the wonderful flower beds that 
resemble suites of gardens. 

The Hotel del Monte has the practical 
advantage of being a perfectly equipped 
hostelry, one that the traveler might hap- 
pily call "home." It is not a resort to " e 
visited, enjoyed and forgotten; it is a 
domicile of spacious proportions; every 
guest-chamber has the benefit of sunshine 
and views of the courts and grounds at 
large. The table and cuisine are unex- 
celled, as the resources are endless. 
Fresh fish, vegetables, fruits, rich cream 
and butter, together with quail and other 
game are obtainable in the vast demesne. 
The social side is a feature second to 
none, and the ballroom is the scene of 
brilliant assemblies to concerts or 
dances. A clubhouse near the Hotel is a 
very popular place for both sexes, the 
sunny verandas for fashionable, yet infor- 



mal, five o'clock teas, and the cozy rooms 
for "smokers" and a quiet game at cards 
after bowling or billiards. 

Ample returns for the very moderate 
expense incurred by a season at the 
Hotel del Monte are not the least of the 
good things mentioned, albeit that item 
is to be first considered by the man who 
foots the bills for miladi and himself and 
family. So it would never do to draw a 
comparison between that man and the 
one who described a very interesting 
journey on this wise: "We started, and 
that's the beginning; we got there, and 
that's the end," for it's not only "getting 
there" that must be considered, but the 
"staying there" as well. 



Hotel Vendome, San Jose, stopping 
place for visitors to the Lick Observa- 
tory on Mt. Hamilton, is ranked among 
the most luxurious resorts of the Coast. 

In architecture the building is an im- 
posing structure of welcome aspect. Se- 
cluded as it is from the outside world, 
it is yet conveniently situated to all the 
avenues of travel a few blocks from the 
railroad station. 

Wide verandas, a white marble prome- 
nade, a welcoming rotunda and assembly 
hall, old-fashioned fire-places, wide cor- 
ridors, reading rooms, billiard parlors 
and elegantly furnished apartments for 
guests, are a few of the many attractions 
to be found at Hotel Vendome. There 
are two hundred and fifty guest rooms 
mostly en suite, supplied with bath and 
other modern conveniences. 

The hotel grounds are as picturesque 
as modern landscape gardening and Na- 
ture's, own hand can make them. 




Hotel Vendome, San Jose, Cal. 



Overland Monthly. 



vii 



"GOLD SEAL" 

Rubber Hose I 




IS THE BEST MADE 

Rubber Belting and Packing 
Boots and Shoes 

flackintoshes and Raglans 

+ ALL KINDS OF RUBBER GOODS '' 



IQOODYEAR RUBBER co. :; 

B. H. Pease, President. 
F. M. Shepard Jr., Treas, C. F. Kunyon, Seo'y, 



PORTLAND 
73-75 FIRST ST. 



SAN FRANCISCO 
573-5.7-9 MARKET ST. 



PRESIDENT J 



are made to 



make men 
comfortable 



at work and 
at play. 

Every pair guar- 
anteed. Trimmings 
n not rust. Look 
for "President" 
on the buckles. 
Price 50c. Sold 
every where or 
by mail. 
C. A. 

EDGARTON 
UFO. CO., 
Shirk-}-, 




FREE 
TRIAL 

Death to Hair 

ROOT AND BRANCH 




New Discovery by the 
MISSES BELL 

A Trial Treatment Free 
to Any One Afflicted 
with Hair on Face 
Neck or Arms. 



We have at last made the discovery which has baffled 
chemists and all others for centuries that of absolutely 
destroying superfluous hair, root and branch entirely and 
permanently, whether it be a mustache or growth on the 
neck, cheeks or arms, and that too without impairing in 
any way the finest or most sensitive skin. 
..The Misses Bell have thoroughly tested its efficacy and 
are desirous that the full merits of their treatment, which 
they have given the descriptive name of "KILL-ALL-HAIR," 
shall be known to all afflicted. To this end a trial will be 
sent free of charges, to any lady who will write for it, and 
say she saw the offer in this paper. Without a cent of cost 
you can see for yourselves what the discovery is; the evi- 
dence of your own senses'will then convince you that the 
treatment, "KILL-ALL-HAIR," will rid you of one of the 
greatest drawbacks to perfect loveliness, the growth of 

superfluous hair on the face or neck of women 

Please understand that a personal demonstration of our 
treatment costs you nothing. A trial will be sent you free, 
which you can use yourself and prove our claims by sending 
two stamps for mailing. 

THE MISSES BELL, 

78 and 80 Fifth Avenue, New York. 



vii! 



Overland Monthly. 



THE Montecito will have hereafter, 

beginning next month, a preparatory 

school for boys 

in all points 

Saint John's School, equal to the 

Santa Barbara, Cal. great schools of 

the East. The 

location is the 

Kinton Stevens place about three miles 
from Santa Barbara. For the first year 
the number of students will be limited and 
the only buildings will be the residence 
of the late Mr. Stevens, besides a cot- 
tage for a dormit ry to accommodate ten 
in addition to those in the main house, 
and a school building to be erected dur- 
ing the summer. Other buildings will 
arise during the coming year and a large 
institution will be established. This 
place will bear the name of "Saint John's 
School, Santa Barbara," and is under the 
care of the Rev. Alfred H. Brown, a 
clergyman of the Episcopal Church. 
Though a church school, boys of all 
creeds are equally welcome. The fa- 
culty is composed of a number of gentle- 
men of great ability, graduates of lead- 
ing universities of America, some of 
whom have studied in Europe also. The 
appointments of the school are of the 
finest and the life there as elegant and 
refined, as in a gentleman's home, with 
excellent table and good service. 

No better place could be selected in all 
America than the site of St. John's. The 
healthful climate makes physical growth 
and development an easy matter. It 
would seem difficult for any boy to spend 
a term of years under all the conditions 
which obtain at St. John's School without 
becoming a man strong in body, mind 
and soul. 



A Revelation. 

If there are doubting Thomases or Maid- 
ens fair, or those unfair, who fain would 
be fair, let them use 

Dr. T. Felix Gouraud's 

Oriental Cream 

and prove the efficacy of what the pro- 
prietor has so long tried to impress on 
the minds of all, in nearly every part of 
the World. As a Skin Purifier and 
Beautifier it has no equal or rival. If 
the reader would prove the virtues of 
Oriental Cream, use it where a Scratch 
or slight Cut, or where a Black-head or 
Pimple is troubling you, then you see its 
healing and purifying qualities if it 
does its work well, then read the adver- 
tisement again for further testimony of 
its virtues, and by using Oriental Cream 
renew both Youth and Beauty. 

New York, Nov. llth, 1887. 
Ferd. T. Hopkins, Esq.: 

I would like to know the price of 
One Dozen bottles of your Oriental 
Cream, as I use it and like it. Would 
like to get a supply to take on my tour, 
soon as possible. Answer and oblige, 
Mrs. James Brown Potter, 
Brevoort House, New York. 



Half of the discomfort of ocean travel 
it taken away by having comfortable sur- 
roundings, such as are to be found on 
the steamers operated by the Pacific 
Coast Steamship Company. This com- 
pany has in commission, plying between 
San Francisco and Los Angeles, and 
touching at Santa Barbara and other 
points, the steamers Queen, Santa Rosa, 
and State of California, which are all the 
most fastidious could desire. These 
boats are modern in every respect, the 
cuisine is of the best and the service 
exceptional. Every care is taken for 
the comfort and convenience of the 
guests. 



THE SPICIEST MAGAZINE OF THE 
CENTURY 

: The Bohemian 



A UNIQUE MAGAZINE 
OF SHORT STORIES 

Nothing like it published. Unique in 
style and unique in contents. Such 
short stories you cannot find elsewhere. 
Clean as a whistle, yet spicy as pepper. 
If you have never read it, get a copy; 
10 cents the copy, $1.00 the year. Read 
"WHEN RIVALS MEET," and "NUM- 
BER 19" in June No. The July No. out 
June 20th., will be a treat to lovers of 
short unique stories. 

SOLD BY ALL NEWSDEALERS 

Ask them for it, and if you fail to get 
it, enclose 10 cents in stamps for copy 
June number to 

THE BOHEMIAN, 
BOSTON, MASS. 



-#- 



PAUL P. BERNHARDT & CO. 

P. O. Box 214 

UBBE$ STACQPS 

Stencils and Seals 
434 Montgomery Street 



Overland Monthly. 



THE FAMOUS COURT 



m 



M! 



WONDERLAND. 

No feature connected with the Pal- 
ace Hotel excites greater wonder than 
the spacious court with its display of 
tropical palms, affording as it does op- 
portunities for enjoyment and conven- 
iences for travelers that cannot be 
found in any other hotel in the West. 

CONVENIENCES : 

Directly off the court are the world- 
famous grill rooms, where the prepara- 
tion of delicate and substantial dishes 
has attained a degree of perfection that 
has won universal recognition. For the 
comfort and convenience of guests, tele- 
graph, telephone, and cable offices, re- 
ception and reading rooms, elevators 
and main office adjoin the court. 



PALACE HOTEL, SAN FRANCISCO 







> 




of KERN RIVER OIL DISTRICT 
SUNSET OIL DISTRICT 
MIDWAY OIL DISTRICT 
HcKITTRICK OIL DISTRICT 

aii located in Kern County, California 

These maps carefully compiled from actual field work, and 
are accurate and up-to-date. Map re-produced in July issue of 
the OVERLAND from my new Kern River map. 

PROSPECTUSES FOR OIL COMPANIES 

gotten out in very best manner, using my copyrighted maps. Prices quoted 
on application. 

HHF A -f * SUCCESSOR TO 

1 . /\USlin, HEDGES, BISBEE & AUSTIN, i 

1503 Nineteenth St., BAKERSFIELD, CAL 



Overland Monthly. 




LUNDBERG & LEE JEWELERS AND SILVERSMITHS 



Sole representative for Miss Wheelan's applique 
leather. Complete new stock just received. 



232 POST STREET, SAN FRANCISCO 



Stamp Collectors 

The originator of the Bicycle Post- 
age Stamp used between Fresno 
and San Francisco during the rail- 
road strike of 1894 nas a few of 
the original stamps for sale at 
$1.00 each. Same may be had by 
addressing 

EUGENE DONZE, Santa Barbara, Cal. 



Dr. Lyon's 

PERFECT 

Tooth Powder 

AN ELEGANT TOILET LUXURY. 

Used by people of refinement 
for over a quarter of a century. 



c 

** ^ 



SANTA BARBARA 

Fine Gentle Horses for Bugrsry or Saddle- Parties Driven 
to any Place Desired, by Careful Drivers, with two or 
four Horses: any kind of Carriage. Reasonable Prices. 
Horses Boarded. 



The Largest Liv- 
eries in the State 
of California .* .* 

The Only Open and Glass 

Landaus in the City 



Overland Monthly. 



xi 




KEEP UP WITH THE TIMES j 



Do not buy a lifle 
__ i until you have 
fi.K u-~. examined into 
the merits of the 

SAVAGE, which is the 

TWENTIETH CENTURY 

ARM. 

Absolutely Safe, 
Strongest 
Shooter 

On'y hammerless re- 
peating rifle in the ! 
world. 

...Constructed to shoot.... i 
SIX DIFFERENT CAR-' 
TR1DGES in one rifle. 

Adapted for GRIZZLY 
BEAKS and RABBITS 
We guarantee every 
SAVAGE Rifle. 

.303 and 30-30 calibres. 

Write for our hand- 
some new catalogue 
No. 3. 

SAVAGE ARMS COMPANY 
UTICA. NEW YORK, U, S. A. 

Baker & Hamilton, San Francisco 
and Sacramento, Cal. Pac. Coast 
Agents. 

Awarded Grand Gold Medal at 
Paris, Beating all Competitors. 
Result of a single shot from a .303 Savage Expanding Bullet. SAVAGE ARMS CO. 






( AAS THE 

ike 




THE 
BULLETIN 

50 

CENTS A MONT 



EDITION 
SAMPLE COPIES MAILEC! FREE 

THE 
BULLETI 

5r. 




xii 



Overland Monthly. 



MAKE <PRJNTING <p 

WE MAKE A SPECIALTY OF MAKING"" 
THEM FLIGHT. ^> 

OUR PLANT is MODERN, OUR MACHINERY* \1 
THE BESTS OUR EMPLOYEES ARE COMPETENT 
AND EXPERIENCED IN FINER GRADES OF 
ENGRAVINGS. IN A WORD WE NOT ONLY 
HAVE EVERY REQUISITE FOR 

FINE ENGRAVINGS 

OF ALL DESCRIPTIONS, BUT THEY ARE HANDLED 
TO THE ENTIRE SATISFACTION OF A CUSTOMER, 
IN THE ESSENTIAL MATTER OF TlME 
AS WELL AS DUALITY. 



142-144-146 



Overland Monthly. 



xiii 




" Who steals my purse 
steals trash ; 

But he that filches from 
me my good name makes 
me poor indeed." 

SHAKESPEARE. 



KIM OX S GELATINE 



Knox is spelled K-N-O-X 

Don't be deceived by spurious imitations which flood the market. 
KNOX'S GELATINE has the largest sale in the United States, and was 

started only eleven years ago. It has staggered its competitors by its 
honest and rapid growth. People will have the best and I mean them 
to know which make it is, and to warn them against attempted fraud. 

I WH I M AH FPFF my book of sevent y "Dainty Desserts for Dainty People," if you will send the name 
'*-'*-' J'Hli- I a\lwlw of yourgrocer. If you can't do this, send a 2-cent stamp. For 50. in stamps, the book and 
full pint sample. For 150. the book and full two-quart package (two for 250.). Each large package contains pink color for 
fancy desserts. A large package of Knox's Gelatine will make two quarts (a half gallon) of jelly. 



CHARLES B. KNOX, 



?21 Knox Avenue, Johnstown, N. Y. 



A TRIAL FREE 



TAR-PINE 

Catarrh 
Cure 



A New Discovery that Posi- 
tively Cures. The Greatest 
Boon Ever Offered to Suffer- 
ers from Those Dread Dis- 
eases CATARRH and HAY 
FEVER. 



NOTHING LIKE IT 
UNDERTHE SUN 

BELL DRUG CO., 

4 and 6 East 14th Street, 
NEW YORK CITY. 



Thousands have studied and experimented for years to 
discover a remedy that would not only relieve but cure 
catarrh and hay-fever, absolutely and permanently, but 
all have failed in giving any more than merely temporary 
relief... We have the only positive and complete remedy 
in our 

TAR-PINE CATARRH CURE 

and the reason for this is simply in the fact that we have 
used in the formula new remedies that have never before 
been tried in the treatment of catarrh and hay-fever. 

In order that everyone afflicted may have an oppor- 
tunity of testing the merits of our remedy, we will send 
absolutely free, a trial treatment of our Tar-Pine Catarrh 
Cure, to anyone who will write for it, and enclose two 
two cent postage stamps for mailing. . .You can use the 
trial treatment and see for yourself the great good you 
will derive from it... Our treatment contains absolutely 
new ingredients which have never before been used in 
curing catarrh and hay-fever.. .They are the result of a 
recent discovery by one of the greatest medical authori- 
ties in the world, whose name the ethics of the medical 
profession prohibit us from making known 

Send for the trial treatment at once and obtain immedi- 
ate relief.. .There is no reason why you should still suffer 
when the remedy is so easily within your reach.. .Remem- 
ber, the trial treatment is absolutely free, if you send us 
two two cent stamps for mailing. 



xiv 



Overland Monthly. 




RIDER AGENTS WANTED 

one in each town to ride and exhibit a sample 1901 model 
bicycle of our manufacture. YOU CAN MAKE $10 TO 
$50 A WEEK besides having a wheel to ride for yourself. 

1901 Models S!2 $10 to $18 
'00 & '99 Models t$7 to $12 

500 Second Hand Wheels** A 

taken in trade by our Chicago retail stores, j7u IU 



many good as new 

We ship any bicycle QN APPROVAL to 

anyone without a cent deposit in advance and allow 

10 DAYS FREE TRIAL. 

no risk in ordering from us, as you do not need to pay 
a cent if the bicycle does not suit you. 

IIAT DIIV a wheel until you have written for our 

IIU I DUI 



FACTORY PRICES and FREE TRIAL OFFER. 

This liberal offer has never been equaled and is a guarantee of 
_ _ the quality of our wheels. 
___ ___ iNT a reliable person in each town to distribute catalogues for us in 

exchange for a bicycle. Write today for free catalogue and our special offer. 



DEP'T 32 P., 



Chicago. 



Gold Medal, Paris, 1900. 
E. & S. CALIFORNIA. 



Stands without a peer in point of purity 

and deliciousness. 

Sold by all first-class druggists and grocers. 
50c. and $1.00 a bottle, 
EKMAN-STOW CO., 

No. 1 Montgomery street. 
OROVILLE CALIFORNIA 



TYPEWRITERS 

GREAT BARGAINS 




We sell and rent better 
machines for less money 
than any house on the 
Pacific Coast. 

Send for Catalogue. 

Supplies of standard gual- 
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The Typewriter Exchange, 

536 California St., San Francisco. Tel. Main 2 



A Positive Relief for 
PRICKLV I IK AT 
CHAFINft, aiirt 
srvmitv, and all 

afflictions of the skin. "A Utttt 
hinher in jzrice, perhaps, than 
worthless substitutes, but a reason for 

it.'* Removed all odor of perspiration. Drllfrhtful 
fter Sharing. Sold eTerywhere. or mailed on receipt of 26e. 
the original. Sample fre. GERHARD MENNEN CO. , NEWARK, N. J. 






DEAFNESS 

THE AURAPHONE is a new invention 
which will restore the hearing of any 
one not BORN deaf. Invisible in the 
ear, causing no discomfort. Send 
for Pamphlet, mailed Free. Ad- 
dress F. P. ITNTiAY, 5S9 

CURED 



Sewing Machines 

STBHDRl PflTTERNS 

J. W. EVANS 

1021 Market St., near 6th, South Sid* 



Highest Perfection 
Lowest Price 
.Catalogues FrM 




Overland Monthly. 



xv 



A REMARKABLE OFFER TO OVERLAND MONTHLY SUBSCRIBERS. 

NEW 20TH 

Century Encyclopaedia Britannica 

31 VOLUMES 

Our circulation department has arranged with the publishers to advertise and distribute for 
them on the Pacific Coast, the first edition of this work and at the same time increase our own 
circulation. With this end in view we have set aside, with the compliments of the 
publishers, for distribution, while they last, 

ABSOLUTELY FREE 

each alternate book throughout the entire set together with one year's 
subscription to the OVERLAND MONTHLY. 

IT CONTAINS 

16,509 separate articles. 

3,399 articles written and signed by specialists, or 142 
per volume. 

16,255 pages compiled by special contributors, forming 
four-fifths of the entire work. 

338 full-page engraved plates, containing over ^ 

900 separate illustrations. 

675 maps and plans, including 237 colored 
maps. 

Nearly 12,000 illustrations, exclu- 
sive of 
maps and plans. 

12,000,000 More Words 

than the largest English 

dictionary extant. 

has been prepared 

at a cost 

about 

$3,000,000 



It 




of 



The 
Brit- 
annica 
is a lib- 
rary so 

that 

covers the entire 
range of human 
knowledge and fa 
so reliable that it has 
become the standard of 
" E "3'ish speaking coun- 
tries. It means for you the 
help of the world's greatest 
specialists in every depart- 
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Can you afford to be without it? 

Cut out the attached inquiry blank and 
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Name 

Street 

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XVI 



Overland Monthly. 



IRVING INSTITUTE 

Boarding: and Day School for Young Ladies. 

2126 CALIFORNIA STREET 

Accredited to the Universities. Conservatory of Music, 

Art, and Elocution. 
For Catalogue address the Principal. Reopens Aug. 

REV. EDWARD CHURCH, A. M. 



Sentences written 
in an hour by the 
PEKNIN. non-shad- 
ing, non - position, connective vowel method. 
Highest World's Fair award. Taught by mail, Self- 
Instructor, 12.00. FREE LESSON and circulars. 
Write H. M. PERNIN, Author. Detroit. Mich. 



HAMLIN SCHOOL and 

VAN NESS SEMINARY, 

1849 Jackson St.. cor. Gough. . F. Boarding and day 
school for girls. Accredited by Vassar. Smith, Welle- 
sley colleges, and by the Universities of California and 
Leland Stanford Jr. Re-opens August 12, 1901. Send for 

SARAH D- HAMLIN. Principal. 



_ , 

CONSERVATORY 

OF MUSIC 



Forty-eight years of constant and 
healthful progress and growth has put 
this institution at the head (both in size 
and standing) of musical institutions 
in America. Comprehensive in plan, 
moderate in price, thorough in practice 
and famous for results. 

QEO. W. CHADWICZ, MnilcU Director. 
Send for music and elocution catalogues. 
FKABK W. HALE, General Manager, Boiton, MM. 



Saint John's School ; 

Santa Barbara, Cal. 

COLLEGE PREPARATORY AND FINISHING 
SCHOOL FOR BOYS, located in the healthful 
and beautiful Montecito Valley, three miles 
from the city of Santa Barbara. The members 
of the Faculty are all graduates of leading uni- 
versities. 

The course prepares for eastern and western 
universities and scientific schools. 

For particulars and for catalogues address 
the Head Master. REV. ALFRED H. BROWN, 
at DELHI, N. Y., until September 1st.; after 
that date at Santa Barbara. 



DIVIDEND NOTICE. 

The Continental Building and Loan Association 

has for the six months ending June 30th, 1901, declared 
a dividend at the rate of 5 per cent per annum on all 
deposits. 

WILLIAM CORBIN. Secretary. 

Office 222 Sansome St., San Francisco, Cal. 



California 
Missions 



beautifully illustrated in colors on the now 
popular "PRIVATE MAILING CARDS," put up 
in sets of ten and mailed to any address upon 
receipt of 25c, by the publisher, 

EDWARD H. MITCHELL 
225 Post Street, San Francisco, Cal. 

8"Also in stock 100 other subjects- among 
them Big Trees, Yosemite, Chinese and other 
California scenes. These are just the thing to 
mail to friends. 



DAILY STAGE LINE 

between 

Santa flaria 
and Quadalupe 

Stages leave Ouadalupe for Santa Maria. 4.20 a. m. and 
11.50 a. m. (or on arrival of Southern Pacific (Coast 
Line) trains.) 

Stages leave Santa Maria for Guadalupe (and con- 
nect with Southern Pacific Coast Line trains) at 2.30 
. m. and 10 p. m. (Stage drive of 50 minutes.) 

R. D. COOK, Proprietor. 



THE HART HOUSE 

Santa Maria, Cal. 

Under 3 Ne\v 2 Management. 

The Only First-Class Hotel 
in Town. 

Large Sample Rooms. 

A. M. COX, Prop. 



Northwestern 
Literary Bureau 



1401 UNIVER- 
SITY AVE.. 

Minneapolis, 

Minn. 



The only bureau of its kind in the Northwest.HWhol- 
ly for helping and advising writers. Manuscripts ex- 
amined conscientiously, at low cost: books published 
for authors; typewritten matter preferred. Under 
tried and well-known literary management. 

Sen'2c. stamp for circular. 



Overland Monthly. 



xvii 



D 



A Skin of Beauty is a Joy Forever. 

R. T. FELIX OOURAUD'S ORIENTAL 
CREAfl, OR MAGICAL BEAUTIFIER. 

Removes Tan, 
Pimples, Frec- 
kl e s, M o th 
Patches, Bash, 
and Skin Dis- 
oases, and 
every blemish 
on beauty, and 
d e fl e 8 detec- 
tion. It h a 8 
stood the test 
of 53 years, and 
is so harmless 
we taste it to be 
sure it is pro- 
perly made. Ac- 
cept no coun- 
terfeit of simi- 
lar name. Dr. L. A. Sayre said to a lady of the haut-ton 
(a patient): "As you ladies Will use them, I recom- 
mend 'Gouraud's Cream' as the least harmful of all the 
Skin preparations." One battle will last six months, 
Mine it every day. GOURAUD'S POUDRE SUBTILE re- 
moves superfluous hair without Injury to the skin. 
FEBD T.HOPKINS. Prop'r, 37 Great Jones St.. N.Y 
For sale by all druggists and Fancy Goods Dealers 
throughout the IT. S., Canadas and Europe. 




HEADQUARTERS 

Telegraphic Codes 

All the Standard Codes and 
Ciphers Kept in Stock 

JOHN PARTRIDGE 

Importing and 
Manufacturing 
Printer, Lithographer and Bookbinder 
306 California St., bet. Battery & Sansom* 

San Francisco, Cal. 

Telephone Main 614 



Send your Magazines to me 
to have them Bound 



The 



Murdock Press 



C. A. Murdock & Co. 



PRINTERS AND ENGRAVERS 

532 Clay St., San Francisco, Cal. 



2O6POWELL S 1 
SAN FRMCISCOAL. 



Books 
MAGAZINES 

AND 

PAMPHLET 
BOUGHT MD&O 




A.A.PALY. 



HL.CURKAN 



SPECIAL ATTENTION 

OIVLh TO LITERATURE 
f\JBLISHf O ON WO 

RELATING TO TIC 
PACIFIC COAST. 



ALWAYS OIN TOP 



WOOD ROLLERS!! I TIN ROLLERS 



Always on top " 
is the judgment expressed 
by those whose experience with 
inferior shade rollers has conclu- 
sively proven the supremacy of the 

j improved Hartshorn 

(8 When you buy the genuine Hartshorn 
Shade Roller, you have a guarantee 
against time, trouble, and the 
many petty annoyances caused 
by an inferior roller. Al- 
ways look for the auto- 
graph signature of 
Stewart Hartshorn 
on label at- 
tached to 
roll- 
er. 



AVOID 
IMITATIONS 



NO 
TACKS 



DEALERS 

IN 

ALL KINDS Of 




PFUNT'ING 

AND 

WRAPPING 




uvenana mommy. 





|ne salesman may offer you a strongly- 
perfumed soap in fancy wrapper and 
box, or a wnite soap made to looR liRe 
tne Ivory. If you want perfume and 
a fancy wrapper, well and good, but if you 
want pure soap, buy Ivory Soap and not one 
of tne imitations. Tnere is safety in Ivory 
Soap, it is so mild tnat even a baby's delicate 
sRin is not Harmed by it. 



AUTOMOBILES 

WE BUILD TO ORDER 

Gasoline Automobiles 
Steam Automobiles 
and Automobile Parts 



; All Automobiles Built by this Company are Guaran- 
teed for One Year. Automobiles cared for, repaired, 
and delivered on telephone order. Automobiles on 
Monthly Payment Plan. 

California Automobile Co., 

FACTORY: 346 flcAllister St., Tel. Jessie 366. flAIN OFFICE: 222 Sansome St. 

,!^ h V! ER . T< A , GEN o , SAN FRANCISCO. 

6 North 2nd St., San Jose, Cal. 




Decker & Son 
PIANOS 

The Old, Original and only * ^ 

Decker Piano. <* <* >* >* <* <* 

THE ZENO MAUVAIS MUSIC CO. 
769 MARKET ST., S. F. 



Bordeaux 550 fliles to Belgium 

Mons. Chas, Duerincfc, St. Gillcs lez Termonde, Belgium, 

Winner of more than 400 prizes, diplomas, and gold medals, otters guaranteed Homers 
rung with Federation rings, flown Bordeaux in the day stamped by the liberator; 4 pairs 
$10, 8 pairs $20, carriage paid to New York. PHEASANTS, golden and silver, $7 per pair, 
Reeves. $14; Swinhoes. $15. Versicolor, $14; Melanottes, $14; Elliots, $15; Lady Am- 
herst, $15: Bohemia, $9; Reynaud, $14. English ring-neck Pheasants. $7, all per pair. 
BELGIAN HARES, first prize winn-jra at Paris, Brussels, Termonde, $12 per pair at my 
risk, and carriage paid to New York. 

* * 



Union Metallic 

CARTRIDGE COMPANY. 

Latest and Best. Our new 22- 
calibre smokeless cartridges. 



Uniformity 
Cleanliness 




\.2S LONG 
1! ('MUSHROOM 
// SMOKELESS/ 



BLANK AMMUNITION LOUDEST 

REPORT. SURE FIRE 



m 



For sale by the trade. 

Send for complete catalogue of 
Primers, Caps, etc, 

UNION METALLIC CARTRIDGE CO. 

Bridgeport, Conn. San Francisco, Cal. 



Oemington 

Typewriters 




a.re vised by the 

Hea.vy users 

This is the supreme test of a typewriter. 
Good work on a brand new machine 
proves little or nothing. But it takes 
a first-class typewriter to keep doing 
good work, year after year, under 
the heaviest kind of service. 

This is the secret of Remington 
supremacy. It accounts for the uni- 
versal preference shown for the Rem- 
ington by experienced users. 

Wyckoff, Sea.ma.ns . Benedict, 
New York. 



BAKER'S 
BREAKFAST 

COCOA 






tfCHOCOZ 



"KNOWN THE WORLD OVER 

HAS RECEIVED THE HIGHEST ENDORSEMENTS) 
FROM THE MEDICAL PRACTITIONER, THE NURSE 
AND THE INTELLIGENT HOUSEKEEPER AND CATERER^ 

WALTER BAKER & CO. Limited 

ESTABLISHED I7AO DORCHESTER. MAM. 

COLO MEDAL, PARIS IOOO ^ 



CALDER'S 

*Sd/? O 7~l 6L C e OU, S 

DENTINE 

Arrests 



It removes 
IcVll Im- 

pvirities, sweeten- 
ing -ye Breath aoid 
a.r enm^e um^ 
otronp , xv-hib e 

i Teeth follov^ its 
Use. 

Pf? Sold by ev.ll druggists 
of the Pa.cific Coa.st 



m 



or by 

Tvvo sixes: 



c. Of 



rt, JL. Colder, E 
Providence, R.I. 



SAN FRANCISCO: 211 Montgomery St. LOS ANGELES: 
147 South Broadway. PORTLAND: 249 Stark St. 



Overland 
Monthly 



AN ILLUSTRATED MAGAZINE OF THE WEST 




SAN FRANCISCO 

SEPTEMBER I9OI 



PRICE TEN CENTS 









Arlington Hotel 




Barbara 



The finest summer climate in the State. Sea bathing every 
day in the year. The best green turf golf links in California; 
Five minutes' street car ride from the hotel. Special low 
rates during the summer. 

E. P. DUNN, Proprietor. m 



Round the 
World Tours 

30th SEASON, 1901 
DEPARTURES: 



From San Francisco.. ..September 4 

From Vancouver September 9 

From San Francisco October 15 

From San Francisco. .. .October 31 

Illustrated descriptive 
piogrammes on appli- 
cation to 

Thos. Cook & Son. 

62! Market St., San Francisco. 



I GOLD SEAL" I 

Rubber Hose 




IS THE BEST MADE 

Rubber Belting and Packing 
Boots and Shoes 

flackintoshes and Raglans 

ALL KINDS OF RUBBER GOODS 






GOODYEAR RUBBER CO- 



L 



B. H. Pease. President. 
P. M. Shepard Jr.. Treas, C. F. Runyon, Sec'y. 

PORTLAND SAN FRANCISCO 

73-75 FIRST ST. 573-5-7-9 MARKET ST. 



IN MAINE WITH A SAVAGE 





RESULT OF A SINGLE SHOT FROM A .303 SAVAGE EXPANDING BULLET. 

KEEP UP WITH THE TIMES Do not buy a rifle until you have examined into the merits of the SAVAGE, 
which is the Twentieth Century Fire Arm. Absolutely Safe. Strongest Shooter. Only hammerless repeating 
rifle in the World. Constructed to shoot SIX DIFFERENT CARTRIDGES in one rifle. Adapted for GRIZZLY 
BEARS AND RABBITS- We guarantee every SAVAGE rifle. .303 and 30-30 calibers. Write for our hand- 
some new catalogue No. 3. Awarded GRAND GOLD MBDAL at Paris, beating all competitors. 

SAVAGE ARMS CO., UTICA > NEW Y <> R K, u. s. A. 

BAKER & HAMILTON, San Francisco and Sacramento, Gal., Pacific Coast Agents. 



A TRIAL FREE * 



TAR=PINE 

Catarrh 
Cure 



A New Discovery that Posi- 
tively Cures. The Greatest 
Boon Ever Offered to Suffer- 
ers from Those Dread Dis- 
eases CATARRH and HAY 
FEVER. 



NOTHING LIKE IT 

UNDERTHE SUN 

BELL DRUG CO., 

4 and 6 East 14th Street, 
NEW YORK CITY. 



Thousands have studied and experimented for years to 
discover a remedy that would not only relieve but cure 
catarrh and hay-fever, absolutely and permanently, but 
all have failed in giving any more than merely temporary 
relief. ..We have the only positive and complete remedy 
in our 

TAR-PINE CATARRH CURE 

and the reason for this is simply in the fact that we have 
used in the formula new remedies that have never before 
been tried in the treatment of catarrh and hay-fever. 

In order that everyone afflicted may have an oppor- 
tunity of testing the merits of our remedy, we will send 
absolutely free, a trial treatment of our Tar-Pine Catarrh 
Cure, to anyone who will write for it, and enclose two 
two cent postage stamps for mailing. ..You can use the 
trial treatment and see for yourself the great good you 
will derive from it... Our treatment contains absolutely 
new ingredients which have never before been used in 
curing catarrh and hay-fever. . .They are the result of a 
recent discovery by one of the greatest medical authori- 
ties in the world, whose name the ethics of the medical 
profession prohibit us from making known 

Send for the trial treatment at once and obtain immedi- 
ate relief.. .There is no reason why you should still suffer 
when the remedy is so easily within your reach.. . Remem- 
ber, the trial treatment is absolutely free, if you send us 
two two cent stamps for mailing. 



Arlington Hotel 








The finest summer climate in the State. Sea bathing every 
day in the year. The best green turf golf links in California; 
Five minutes' street car ride from the hotel. Special low 
rates during the summer. 

E. P. DUNN, Proprietor. m 



Round the 
World Tours 

30th SEASON, 1901 
DEPARTURES: 



From San Francisco.. ..September 4 

From Vancouver September 9 

From San Francisco October 15 

From San Francisco. .. .October 31 

Illustrated descriptive 
piogrammes on appli- 
cation to 

Thos. Cook & Son. 

62! Market St., San Francisco. 



GOLD SEAL 



Rubber Hose 




IS THE BEST MADE 

Rubber Belting and Packing 
Boots and Shoes 

Hackintoshes and Raglans 

ALL KINDS OF RUBBER GOODS 



IQOODYEAR RUBBER co. 

R. H. Pease, President. 
F- M. Shepard Jr., Treas, C. F. Kunyon, Sec'y. 

PORTLAND SAN FRANCISCO 

73-75 FIRST ST. 673-6-7-9 MARKET ST. 



IN MAINE WITH A SAVAGE 




- 



-. 




RESULT OF A SINGLE SHOT FROM A .303 SAVAGE EXPANDING BULLET. 

KEEP UP WITH THE TIMES Do not buy a rifle until you have examined Into the merits of the SAVAGE, 
which is the Twentieth Century Fire Arm. Absolutely Safe. Strongest Shooter. Only hammer-less repeating 
rifle in the World. Constructed to shoot SIX DIFFERENT CARTRIDGES in one rifle. Adapted for GRIZZLY 
BEARS AND BABBITS. We guarantee every SAVAGE rifle. .303 and 30-30 calibers. Write for our hand- 
some new catalogue No. 3. Awarded GRAND GOLD MEDAL at Paris, beating all competitors. 

SAVAGE ARMS CO., UTICA > NEW Y <> R K, u. s. A. 

EAKER & HAMILTON, San Francisco and Sacramento, Cal., Pacific Coast Agents. 



j j A TRIAL FREE 



TAR=PINE 

Catarrh 
Cure 



A New Discovery that Posi- 
tively Cures. The Greatest 
Boon Ever Offered to Suffer- 
ers from Those Dread Dis- 
eases CATARRH and HAY 
FEVER. 



NOTHING LIKE IT 
UNDERTHE SUN 

BELL DRUG CO,, 

4 and 6 East 14th Street, 
NEW YORK CITY. 



Thousands have studied and experimented for years to 
discover a remedy that would not only relieve but cure 
catarrh and hay-fever, absolutely and permanently, but 
all have failed in giving any more than merely temporary 
relief... We have the only positive and complete remedy 
in our 

TAR-PINE CATARRH CURE 

and the reason for this is simply in the fact that we have 
used in the formula new remedies that have never before 
been tried in the treatment of catarrh and hay-fever. 

In order that everyone afflicted may have an oppor- 
tunity of testing the merits of our remedy, we will send 
absolutely free, a trial treatment of our Tar-Pine Catarrh 
Cure, to anyone who will write for it, and enclose two 
two cent postage stamps for mailing. ..You can use the 
trial treatment and see for yourself the great good you 
will derive from it... Our treatment contains absolutely 
new ingredients which have never before been used in 
curing catarrh and hay-fever. . .They are the result of a 
recent discovery by one of the greatest medical authori- 
ties in the world, whose name the ethics of the medical 

profession prohibit us from making known 

Send for the trial treatment at once and obtain immedi- 
ate relief.. .There is no reason why you should still suffer 
when the remedy is so easily within your reach.. . Remem- 
ber, the trial treatment is absolutely free, if you send us 
two two cent stamps for mailing. 



VOL. XXXVIII NO. 3. 

Overland Monthly 

AN ILLUSTRATED MAGAZINE OF THE WEST 

3 SEPTEMBER, 1901 

CONTENTS: 

Frontispiece Pago-Pago Harbor 

A Colonial Experiment J. F. Rose-Soley 173 

Illustrated from photographs. 
The Free Trader &. J. Brown 182 

Illustrated by G. Leslie Hunter. 

Cupid's Diary E. Scott O'Connor 194 

Poem. 

The Man from St. Just Ernest Atkins 195 

A mining story. 

El Dia de Todos Santos L. M. Terry 199 

Illustrated from photographs. 
Side-Lights on Lincoln James Matlack Scovel 204 

Dave's Letter Charles Udell 207 

A story of Alaska. 
The Meadow Lark Ernest McGaffey 209 

Poem. 

No Man's Ranch William McLeod Raine 21 > 

Illustrated from photographs. 

A Greenhorn's Luck Alice J. Stephens 215 

The story of a hero. 

The Corn People A Story of Zuni Cromwell Galpin 21& 

Illustrated by Alfred Galpin. 

The Singing of the Frogs John G. Neihardt 22(> 

An Indian story. 

To My Violin Eloise Davis 230 

Poem. 

A Matter of Opinion 231 

Editorial. 

Current Books Grace Luce Irwin 233 

Review. 

San Antonio, Texas, City of Parks Vinton S. James 239 

Illustrated from photographs. 

The OVERLAND MONTHLY will be sent postpaid for one year to any part of the United States, 
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Overland Monthly 



VOL. XXXVIII 



September, 1901 



No. 3 



A COLONIAL EXPERIMENT 



BY J. F. ROSE-SCLEY. 



the war with Spain changed 
\ the traditional policy of the United 
\ (3) States and committed us to a 
course of expansion, we have taken 
our first lesson in the difficult art of 
Colonial government. It is hard, even 
for a country like Great Britain, after 
centuries of experience, to manage her 
colonies with entire satisfaction to the 



public, based on purely democratic prin- 
ciples, to adapt its cumbrous form of ad- 
ministration to the task of governing an 
alien and far distant race. The very 
checks and counterchecks necessary to 
ensure the maintenance of our liberties 
render it difficult to entrust the executive 
with the arbitrary imperial power re- 
quisite for governing our foreign subjects. 




Raising the flag in Tutuila 

governed and the governors. Witness 
the recent South African war, which has 
involved an enormous sacrifice in blood 
and treasure, and which is not yet com- 
pleted. And it is doubly hard for a re- 
11 



And yet this is the only way in which our 
colonies or at least those inhabited by 
semi-civilized or savage races can be 
successfully managed. We have still to 
face the problem in the Philippines, 



174 



Overland Monthly. 




In full dress. 



where the civil power has not yet sup- 
planted the military, and when the time 
for peaceful occupation comes, we will 
do well to be guided by the happy re- 
sults of our brief administration in 
Samoa. 

In February, 1900, we came into undis- 
turbed possession of the little Island of 
Tutuila and the still smaller adjacent 
islets, which form the Eastern portion of 
the Samoan Group. It was a purely har- 
monious diplomatic arrangement, in 
which the entire three great powers con- 
cerned, the United States, Germany and 
Great Britain, agreed to divide the group 
between the two former nations. Eng- 
land, wisely enough, did not insist on her 
share of this troublous land. She had 
matters of a more urgent nature to at- 
tend to elsewhere, and besides, her 
strategical position in the Pacific would 
have been weakened rather than strength- 
ened had she assumed responsibility for 
one of the islands. The extensive Fijian 
Group, in the most central position, gives 
her an admirable base for naval oper- 
ations in the Pacific, and she would have 
gained nothing by undertaking to de- 
fend any part of Samoa. The claim of 
the United States to Pago-Pago, the only 
good harbor in the group, was fully recog- 
nized by both Germany and England, so 
we were given Tutuila, whilst the Ger- 
mans took the two large islands of Upolu 
and Savaii. The natives, I need hardly 
say, were not consulted, but happily, as 
far as this country was concerned, they 
were perfectly well pleased with the ar- 
rangement. 

In point of size our new possessions 
are indeed very small affairs, but a mere 
speck on the map, five inhabited islands 
in all, not to mention a few barren rocks. 
Tutuila, the largest, has an area of 240 
square miles and a population of about 
four thousand. Then comes Manua, 
ninety miles to the Eastward, with an 
area of 100 square miles and a few hun- 
dred people. The other three islets, Tau, 
Olesanga and Ofu, are unimportant. 
Geographically the group occupies a com- 
manding position, right in the very center 
of one of the most important trade routes 
of the Pacific, from Australia to this 
Coast. It is situated between the degrees 
of 169 and 172 west longitude and the 



A Colonial Experiment. 



175 




A chieftain. 

parallels of 13 and 14 south latitude. It 
thus forms a sort of midway stopping 
place between Hawaii and Australia and 
gives us a strategic position of immense 
value. Indeed, it is safe to say that, with- 
out a coaling station and the accompany- 
ing fortifications on Pago-Pago harbor, 
we would find it impossible to carry on 
naval operations against a great power 
in the South Pacific. It provides us 
with a base within easy striking distance 
of the Australian or New Caledonian 
Coasts, and in fact dominates the myriad 
islands which make up Polynesia. The 
following table of distances will clearly 
illustrate this fact: 

From Pago-Pago to Miles. 

Auckland, New Zealand 1,577 

Vavau (Friendly Islands) 380 

Lavuka, Fiji 630 

Tongatabu 475 

Tahiti 1,250 

New Caledonia 1,445 

Sydney, N. S. W 2,410 

Melbourne, Victoria 2,%4 

Honolulu 2,28.^ 

The importance of Pago-Pago has long 
been recognize^. It is not only the finest 



harbor in the Samoan Group, but far and 
away the best in Polynesia. It is a great 
Gulf, or Fjord, which nearly divides the 
little Island of Tutuila. The approach is 
from the south, being clearly indicated 
by a high peaked conical mountain rising 
over two thousand feet. No mariner can 
miss finding Pago-Pago with such a land- 
mark. The entrance, about three-quar- 
ters of a mile wide, is deep and perfectly 
free from obstructions, and, a few miles 
further in, the bay turns abruptly at a 
right angle, forming a perfectly land- 
locked inner harbor. Here is a sheet of 
water some three miles long by one in 
breadth, an ideal anchorage. It is per- 
fectly screened from all storms; the most 
violent tropical hurricane which ever 
raged could not hurt a vessel lying there. 
The water is deep and the bottom fur- 
nishes what sailors call good holding 
ground. There is room here for the whole 




A Village Tampo. 



176 



Overland Monthly. 



United States Navy to shelter, secure 
from all attack. 

Over twenty years ago the United 
States Government realized these facts 
and made a treaty with uie then King 
of Samoa by which we secured possession 
of a piece of ground near tne entrance, 
suitable for a coaling station. But noth- 
ing else was done, neither buildings nor 
wharves were erected and the place lay 
neglected and forgotten. At last, some 
four years ago, the Government awoke 
to a sense of its responsioilities. A sum 
of $200,000 was available for the erection 
of a coaling station and the contract was 
awarded to a firm of this city. The new 
structure, now fast approaching com- 
pletion, includes a large steel shed and 
an extensive wharf, running out into deep 
water so that men-of-war may come di- 
rectly alongside to coal. But much re- 
mains to be done. The coaling station, 
to be of any use in the event of war, 
must be defended by powerful guns, and 
an appropriation must be obtained from 
Congress for the purpose. Fortunately 
the harbor can very easily be made im- 
pregnable. The high hills on either hand 



afford admirable sites for fortifications 
and a chain of torpedoes can rapidly be 
laid across the entrance. 

When tne United States Government 
took possession of Tutuila it already had 
a warship on the spot, the armed collier 
Abarenda, one of the craft purchased dur- 
ing the Spanish war. The vessel had been 
sent to Pago-Pago to superintend the con- 
struction of the coaling station and in- 
cidentally to afford protection should 
trouble arise with the natives. The Ad- 
ministration made a wise choice when 
they selected Commander B. P. Tilley, 
her senior officer, as first Governor of the 
group. Tilley had been on the scene 
for over a year and had become thor- 
oughly familiar with the native customs 
and peculiarities. Moreover, he has 
proved himself a man of rare tact and 
judgment, and it is to be hoped that he 
may be retained in his position for many 
years. The success or failure of our oc- 
cupation depended entirely upon his ac- 
tion at the outset. All hung upon the 
first impression made on the native mind. 
An injudicious or tyrannical man might 
easily have spoiled everything, for the 




Missionary Girls in Tutuila. 



A Colonial Experiment. 



177 



Samoans are a particularly sensitive 
race and would speedily have resented 
any interference with their cherished 
liberties. 

Owing to the nature of the ground a 
rebellion once started in 'i'utuila would 
have proved a very difficult thing to sub- 
due. There is hardly an acre of level 
land on the island; the country is an 
alternation of high peaks and deep gorges, 
thickly covered with luxuriant tropical 
growth. There is abundance of shelter 
in the forests and nature supplies lavish- 
ly all the simple wants of the islanuers. 
Had the bamoans once rebelled and taken 
to the hills it would have required a very 
large force to dislodge them. The most 
that could have been done would have 
been to hold the small villages which 
fringe the coast, and this would have 
called for many isolated garrisons, which 
would always have been exposed to raids 
by large bodies of natives. The recent 
sad experience near Apia, where several 
Americans lost their lives, has proved 
that the Samoan is by no means a de- 
spicable foe, even when pitted against 
whites armed with the most modern 
weapons. Thus it will easily be seen that 
the military occupation of Tutuila, in the 
face of a hostile native population, would 
have been a costly task. 

The Tutuilans have been regarded as 
the most turbulent members of the Sa- 
moan family. They have always enjoyed 
practical independence, their allegiance, 
under the old regime, to the King of 
Samoa, being a purely nominal affair. 
Now and again, it is true, large bodies of 
them would cross to Upolu and join in 
one of the numerous fights between the 
Malietoa and Tamasese factions. But 
this was more for the fun of the thing 
than anything else; in a general way 
they were content to remain at home and 
fight, or pretend to fight, amongst them- 
selves. 

The Samoans are still in the patriarchal 
age, and the family system of govern- 
ment prevails, or rather did prevail be- 
fore the annexation. That is to say the 
head of each family was a chief and ruled 
his small group of dependents with a 
firm but kindly hand. These heads of 
families formed a sort of town council 
for managing each little village. As a 




Samoan Girl. 

rule the towns were excellently gov- 
erned, and in no place in the world are 
cleanliness and sanitation more strictly 
observed than in Samoa. But beyond 
the towns the system did not work well. 
The islands were divided into several dis- 
tricts, naturally defined by the mountain 
ranges. Each of these districts had its 
own fono, or parliament, composed of 
leading chiefs. The fono used to meet 
occasionally in some great house and 
talk at much length, but it had little real 
power over its own people and none over 
those of the other districts. The result 
of all this was that the various districts 
were always quarreling, wars and rumors 
of war were ever in the air. Leone, the 
former capital of Tutuila, was the only 
walled town to be found in the islands. 



178 



Overland Monthly. 



r 




Group of Natives. 

It was surrounded by a high stone wall 
several miles long and practically it was 
always in a state of siege. This con- 
dition of affairs had naturally a most 
demoralizing effect on the natives and 
hampered their material progress con- 
siderably. The taro and yam plantations 
were neglected, for the people argued 
that it was no use planting food when 
their enemies might come along and eat 
it up at any moment. Consequently each 
village grew barely enough for its own 
immediate requirements, and if a bad sea- 
son occurred there was often great 
scarcity. 

Such was the condition of affairs when, 
on April 4th, 1900, Commander Tilley 
hoisted the Stars and Stripes over Swim- 
ming Point, on the shores of Pago-Pago. 
The ceremonial was a most elaborate one. 
The flag was saluted in truly impressive 
style; there was general feasting and re- 
joicing. Fortunately for the success of 
Tilley's task, the Samoans welcomed the 
flag with the utmost enthusiasm. Their 
brethren in Upolu, on the other hand, did 
not take at all kindly to the German 
national emblem; they threatened war 
when the flag was raised and demanded 
that the Samoan standard be hoisted 
above the German. 



Hence Tilley began the work of or- 
ganizing a government under favorable 
auspices. Furthermore, he had the great 
good fortune to secure a most able as- 
sistant, Mr. E. W. Gurr. This gentleman, 
a lawyer of ability, had long been asso- 
ciated with the natives as their advocate 
in the Apia Supreme Court. For years, 
whilst Chief Justice Ide was deciding a 
lengthy list of land claims, Gurr defended 
the interests of the natives, and won their 
heartiest gratitude. Through the length 
and breadth of the land Misi Tia, as the 
Samoans affectionately called him, was 
known and honored. Tilley at once ap- 
pointed Gurr Colonial Secretary and the 
choice had a very happy effect on the 
native mind. They were reassured as to 
American intentions, for they felt that 
as long as Misi Tia was chief adviser to 
the Governor things could not go far 
wrong. Tilley's first step was to pro- 
claim universal peace amongst the war- 
ring tribes, and to issue an order calling 
in all firearms. The natives submitted 
to disarmament readily enough and some 
thousands of old Remingtons and Sniders 
and other obsolete kinds of rifles were 
collected. These guns had practically no 
market value the stocks, in many cases, 
were badly worm eaten but all the same, 



A Colonial Experiment. 



179 



if Congress would vote the money, it 
would be a wise step to compensate the 
Tutuilans for their willing sacrifice. 

In deciding on the form of government 
Tilley went to Fiji for an example. He 
saw that the wisest plan for the na- 
tives would be to allow them to govern 
themselves, on the system planned by 
Sir Arthur Gordon. Fiji is generally re- 
garded as Great Britain's model Crown 
Colony, and thirty years of her adminis- 
tration there has had a marvelous effect 
on the natives. Peace and prosperity 
reign over the whole group, and cultiva- 
tion has largely increased, whilst the 
population is actually gaining in number. 
This is a remarkable showing, considering 
that, in the Friendly and Marquesan 
groups and in nearly every island brought 
under civilized rule, the population is 
rapidly declining. So Tilley divided the 
islands up into districts of suitable size 
and appointed a native chief as governor, 
or chief magistrate, of each one. The 
only trouble was the superabundance of 
material available. There were so many 



chiefs, great and small, that it became a 
matter of great difficulty to decide which 
was really entitled to the honor. An 
elaborate examination of genealogical 
trees was necessary, but finally the 
hereditary chiefs of the bluest blood and 
longest pedigrees were picked out and 
installed in office. Their duties were not 
very onerous; they had merely to see that 
good order prevailed in their districts 
and to exercise a wholesome moral con- 
trol over their dependents. They also 
acted as justices of the peace in dealing 
with petty offenses and were authorized 
to issue marriage licenses. The system 
of local or village government was al- 
lowed to go on much as before, except 
for changes made by the natives them- 
selves. Here was a genuine surprise. 
The Samoans, generally considered one 
of the most conservative races on the 
face of the earth, actually began to in- 
stitute their own reforms. It was never 
supposed that they, of their own initia- 
tive, would abolish any of the traditional 
customs which have prevailed amongst 




Village in Pago-Pago. 



180 



Overland Monthly. 



them for thousands of years. But when 
the first General , Council, composed of 
the governors of the districts, met, the 
natives voluntarily proposed some im- 
portant reforms. There are many in- 
jurious customs which have long been 
prevalent in Samoa and which of course 
can only be abolished by the force of pub- 
lic opinion. Chief amongst these was the 
practice of going on Malangas, or large 
holiday parties. The natives of a village 
would suddenly take it into their heads 
to knock off work and go on a junketing 



where else, until the traveling party gre"' 
weary and returned to their home. In 
turn they themselves would be visited by 
some other village, and so the malangas 
went on indefinitely. The practice 
naturally led to much waste and im- 
providence, and when the council decreed 
its abolition the natives cheerfully obeyed 
the law, although previous to the estab- 
lishment of a settled form of government 
no individual would have dared even to 
suggest the change. 

Another injurious custom abolished was 




A street scene. 



or picnicking party. Sometimes they 
would travel in their large boats and 
sometimes they would go by land, but in 
any case there was feasting and gaiety 
wherever they went. The Samoans re- 
gard hospitality as almost a sacred rite, 
and it was the bounden duty of each vil- 
lage to entertain its guests in the most 
handsome manner. Pigs and fowls were 
ruthlessly slaughtered and the visitors re- 
mained until the village was eaten out. 
Then the process was repeated some- 



the extravagant presentation of fine mats. 
These fine mats, woven from a species of 
pandanus, are the most valuable of Sa- 
moan heirlooms. They are preserved 
with the greatest care and handed down 
from generation to generation, their 
value being reckoned at two or three hun- 
dred dollars. On weddings or other 
festal occasions it was considered 
etiquette for the bridegroom's relatives 
to present the bride with a number of 
mats. In return the bride's relatives had 



A Colonial Experiment. 



181 



to purchase vast quantities of trade 
goods, such as salt and tinned beef, bis- 
cuits, colored prints, etc. Tnis cost much 
money and the extravagance would often 
impoverish whole families for years. 

Commander Tilley looked on approv- 
ingly whilst these and many minor 
changes were made. The natives were 
certainly governing themselves and his 
task was appreciably lightened. The 
government, small and inexpensive 
though it is, cannot be carried on entire- 
ly without revenue. When it came to 
establishing a system of taxation, Tilley 
again turned to Fiji for example. Casn 
is a scarce thing amongst the Samoans, 
and to ask the natives to pay a money 
tax would be simply to force them to sell 
their copra at a ruinous sacrifice to some 
white trader. Consequently the natives 
were requested to tax themselves in 
produce. The council assesses the 
amount eacn district should be called 
upon to pay and the copra is then sold 
by tender. The traders' price for copra 
to the natives used to be only about a 
cent a pound, but Tilley managed to get 
nearly two cents. As any surplus over 
the amount of taxation required is re- 
turned to the districts the natives beneut 
accordingly, for they may sell all they 
can produce in this way if they choose. 
The yearly revenue raised amounts to 
$7,500, sufficient to pay the expenses of 
administration. 

On Manua, the only other large island 
of the group, they used to have a royal 
dynasty all of their own. Being so wide- 
ly separated from the other Samoans, the 
Manuans had many peculiar and original 
customs. One of these was to treat their 
monarch as a kind of Deity and to keep 
him or her strictly guarded, in perpetual 
seclusion. The last Queuen, a young girl, 
fell ih from the confinement and one 
night was actually suffocated in her hut 
when a nre broke out. When Tilley 
hoisted the American flag on Manua 
there was a vacancy in the regal line, as 
no one had been found ambitious enough 
to accept the position of King or Queen. 
The new Governor at once abolished this 
absurd practice and appointed the heir 
to the throne chief magistrate of the 
island. For the rest the same system of 
government was introduced as on the 



larger Tutuila and the plan is working 
with perfect smoothness. 

The new Governor found no need to in- 
terfere with the marital customs of the 
natives. The Samoans are naturally a 
virtuous people and could give points in 
this matter to many white nations. Nor 
was there any need to meddle with their 
religion. The London Missionary So- 
ciety, a non-sectarian body, which, for 
more than a century, has done admirable 
work throughout the whole Pacific, is 
firmly established in the group. As all 
the natives have long since been con- 
verted to Christianity its work is rather 
to educate than to evangelize. It main- 
tains a teacher in each village, besides 
a large High School for girls at Leone. 
Thus the Government is relieved of the 
task of educating the growing generation, 
and it seems better, for the present at 
any rate, to leave the matter in the hands 
of the missionaries. There are also sev- 
eral Roman Catholic priests, some nuns, 
and a number of Mormon apostles. 

As yet no seat of government has been 
established on Tutuila. The deck of the 
United States ship Abarenda has been 
the State Capitol, and Commander Tilley's 
cabin the Governor's residence. But 
doubtless, when the Administration 
realizes the excellence of the work which 
has been done there, it will build a proper 
Government house ashore and provide 
the Governor witn a guard suitable to his 
dignity. Beyond this there seems no 
necessity for making any immediate 
change in Tutuilan affairs and the longer 
the little island is allowed to govern 
itself under the present system the bet- 
ter for its peace and happiness. 

Indeed, it is obvious that the less we 
interfere with the primitive ways and 
customs of this simple-minded folk the 
better for the success of our administra- 
tion. We have accepted a heavy moral 
responsibility as guardians of these peo- 
ple and we must see to it that the race 
does not deteriorate. It is not a ques- 
tion of money making; there is no finan- 
cial gain to be got out of Tutuila. It is 
purely a question of international repu- 
tation, and, having taken the islands for 
strategical reasons, we must show the 
peoples of the world that we are equal 
to the task of governing a colonial de- 



Overland Monthly. 



pendency. As I have pointed out, we 
have begun well and it is only necessary 
to continue on the same lines. The Sa- 
moan form of civilization, in its way as 
highly developed as our own, dates back 
to the patriarchal age; indeed, many of 
the rites observed, such as the making 
of turmeric, show distinct traces of 
Judaic origin. Far back in the bush, over- 



across Asia and eventually spread them- 
selves over the islands of Polynesia. The 
assumption is at least probable, but the 
proposition is too intricate to be con- 
sidered within the brief limits of a mag- 
azine article. 

But whatever their origin there is no 
doubt about the intense conservatism of 
the Samoan people. Civilization has 




The Cocoa Palm. 



grown with foliage, one may still trace 
the ruins of a huge stone inclosure laid 
out on exactly the same lines as the tab- 
ernacle, with its inner and outer courts 
and the holy of holies in the center. 
These facts have led many ethnologists 
to hold that the Samoans are a remnant 
of the ten lost tribes, which wandered 



wrought havoc with the inhabitants of 
most of the other South Sea Islands, but, 
for this very reason, it has done little or 
no harm to the Samoans. Your Tahitian 
or Marquesan showed himself only too 
ready to adopt civilized customs, and I 
may add, vices. He took to intoxicating 
liquors with avidity, and murder and 



A Colonial Experiment. 



183 



rapine resulted. His women were at the 
disposal of the white strangers and as a 
consequence the people were decimated 
by diseases. The lax marital customs 
prevailing in most of the islands greatly 
aided the spread of these complaints 
which contaminated whole races. 

The shirt, the common everyday gar- 
ment of commerce, proved deadly in its 
work. It may seem strange, but it is 
nevertheless true, that the introduction 
of European clothing was directly re- 
sponsible for the terrible ravages wrought 
by pneumonia amongst the natives. Be- 
fore Europeans came to the South Seas 
consumption, along with a host of other 
diseases, such as smallpox, measles and 
influenza, was absolutely unknown. But 
the Kanaka showed a fatal facility for 
contracting it and his delicate constitu- 
tion proved unable to stand the strain. 
The islander naturally desired to possess 
European clothing; one of the first things 
he would purchase would be a shirt, and, 
perhaps, a pair of trousers. He was so 
proud of his new garments that he would 
go to work in them, and after laboring 
for a while in the tropical sun would 
suddenly discover that it was extremely 
hot. He would sit down to rest, and, in 
order to cool off, would remove his 
clothes. This reversal of the natural or- 
der of things generally resulted in a fatal 
chill. 

Now in Samoa, alone of the South Sea 
groups, things are ordered quite differ- 
ently. There is natural virtue among tne 



people and they show strict observance 
of the marriage tie. Then the stubborn 
conservative native obstinately refused 
to adopt European dress and to this day 
he adheres to his decision. Other island- 
ers might put on shirts and trousers if 
they chose, but he would would keep to 
his national lava-lava. The lava-lava, I 
may explain, is simply a sheet of calico, 
or any kind of print, about six feet square. 
It is folded in two and wrapped round 
the waist, being held in place by a sim- 
ple twist. Except on state occasions this 
forms the sole costume for men and 
women alike. It is healthy, graceful and 
complies with all the requirements of 
decency as viewed from a Samoan stand- 
point. Boots and shoes are unknown, and 
indeed, the sole of the native's foot is so 
tough that he can walk unhurt over 
jagged coral reefs which would cut a 
white man's foot to pieces. 

The only change which the mission- 
aries have been able to make is the in- 
troduction of the ofu loti, or church- 
going dress for women. This is simply 
a long "Mother Hubbard," worn only at 
divine service. It is a common enough 
sight, especially in rain weather, to see 
a woman walking to church with her 
dress over her arm and putting it on 
when the door of the sacred edifice is 
reached. To this primitive simplicity of 
dress and general cleanliness of habit, 
we may attribute the comparative im- 
munity of the Samoan from European 
diseases. 




12 



The Free Trader 



BY A. J. 
EVON'S dominant characteristic 

\ was an extreme individualism that 

- 

/ was not only temperamental but 
philosophically thought out and ap- 
plied in the business of living. Essentially 
he was a theorist, and his theories jus- 
tified the natural anarchy of his dispo- 
sition. Detesting restrictions from with- 
out he set up his personal honor, which he 
held high and sacred, as the final judge 
of his actions and it might have been 
foretold the sequel brought him trou- 
ble. Moreover, as is usual in such cases, 
others were compelled to share his trou- 
ble. For, pursuing secretly, though from 
deliberate moral conviction, a line of con- 
duct catalogued on the reverse side of 
that medallion which society has struck 
and labeled "Right and Wrong," he came, 
at the same time, to love my sister; and 
well, so the trouble fell. 

From one point of view, however, no 
man could blame him. For Claribel was 
undeniably beautiful I use the term in 
an absolute sense. She was of the kind 
that move men and some women deeply, 
the former from desire, the latter from 
a sort of mental nearsightedness called 
jealousy. Her beauty seemed to come 
from within, and her dark eyes, could you 
look into them, were deep with latent 
thought and feeling. Devon, who had 
fathomed them, was carefui to conserve 
his opportunities, and, when his difficul- 
ties reached a climax, those eyes or at 
least the thought and feeling which lay 
back of them proved valuable. 

But I am speaking after the event. As 
I surveyed the guests aboard my friend's 
yacht that day in the early autumn, I 
did not know what was in store for us. 
I was smoking in the bow and was dwell- 
ing with approval upon our host's quali- 
fications as a brother-in-law, when I be- 
came aware that a heated controversy 
had sprung up, and, feeling that my wis- 
dom could no longer be spared, I aban- 
doned my isolation. 

"Mr. Swain, your sister is certainly a 
very silly girl," said the smart Miss 
Baker, as I joined the group. 



BROWN. 

"How do you make that out?" I asked, 
tossing my cigar overboard. I had al- 
ways quoted Claribel's common sense as 
above par. 

"Absolutely refused to accept a piece 
of Chinese peach-blossom silK because it 
was smuggled in by Mrs. Drillcombe." 

"Nonsense; I don't believe it." 

"And real peach-b'ossom does not come 
on every steamer." 

"And twenty-five cents a yard duty 

"I think it's a crime!" exclaimed Clari- 
bel. 

I could not resist the temptation. 

"Suppose," I said, "a person should 
smuggle on principle." 

"On principle!" Claribel's face ex- 
pressed every syllable of the contempt 
she would feel for such a person. 

"Yes," I continued, "in the honest be- 
lief that a government has no right to 
hinder the freedom of trade." 

"Do him lots of good in a court of law," 
laughed Theodore Black, a lawyer and 
openly derisive of abstract questions 
especialy in ethics. 

"Yet he would be right," said Devon, 
seriously; "a tariff is an unjust restric- 
tion on the individual one which he is 
not bound to regard." 

This, though evidently a sincere state- 
ment of conviction, only served to draw 
the fire of Claribel's disapproval. 

"When a man sanctions the breaking 
of a law of his country," she said, almost 
in anger, "how do we know that he would 
fight for that country?" 

Oh, the logic of displeased femininity! 
I saw that the matter was going too far. 

"Claribel," I said, "Devon's patriotism 
is not in question, and your remark is 
entirely beside the point." 

The rest of the group, seeing the 
serious turn of the conversation, began to 
talk with one another in very perfunctory 
style, and quickly drifted apart, leaving 
Devon and me alone with Claribel. She 
had seen her fault in an instant, and was 
ready to make amends. 

"Mr. Devon," she said, "my words were 
quite uncalled for; I " 



The Free Trader. 



185 



"Miss Swain, I beg you will not 
"Yes, I shall, Mr. Devon; I offer you my 
sincere apology. Perhaps a man might 
make such a mistake and still be a man. 
I don't know." 

With that she turned quickly to hide 
the rising color in her face, and joined 
one of the ladies who stood near. I 
looked at Devon and found him very pale, 
and then the only fear I ever saw de- 
picted in his countenance crept into his 
burning gaze. I told him not to think of 
the matter again, and that I blamed my 
sister's impetuosity for the whole occur- 
rence, but he would not hear of it. 

"It is evidently a point of honor in 
her estimation," he said; "1 wish I could 
agree with her." 

I saw one thing very clearly, I told 
myself, and that was that there was only 
one way of accounting for Claribel's sud- 
den loss of temper. A proud woman is 
apt to feel something very like resent- 
ment at a disappointment in a man who 
is the object of her personal regard. 

And for the rest of that day the re- 
sentment continued; not solely, however, 
because of the disappointment. For 
Claribel, having apologized, was in the 
throes of a mortifying pique, hidden, of 
course, by a deal of vivacity, and was 
not more kind than she need be to Devon. 
It was evident, indeed, that she was pun- 
ishing him for her self-inuicteu wounds, 
by flirting with Black. That gentleman, 
being possessed of common sense, felt 
keenly the falseness of his position. It 
was no secret that he admired my sister 
intensely, nor that he was more favored 
than most of her suiters, but he saw quite 
clearly that for the time being he was 
merely an instrument of torture. 

Black had the reputation of being a 
very good fellow, and he was certaimy 
successful in his profession. He was ' in 
politics," being at the time United States 
District Attorney, and there was an ugly 
rumor that he had sacrificed a political 
ally for the appointment. As an aspirant 
for the hand of my sister, I had not 
thought of him as a rival to Devon, nor 
did I now, regarding present conditions 
as essentially transitory. But as we left 
the table that evening I noticed that 
which made me say to myself: "The in- 
strument of torture is barbed, and if it 



can, it will wound beyond healing." The 
cause of my observation was a glance, 
quick and determined, almost malevolent, 
I thought, directed toward Devon as we 
filed out of the cabin, and revealed to me 
by a mirror which Black and I both 
faced, though from different directions. 
It showed plainly enough that hate had 
been born of rivalry for a woman's heart. 
The same evening brought us home 
through the Golden Gate, and Devon put 
his guests ashore as soon as v:e reached 
the town; that is, all except myself. He 
had requested me to sleep on board over- 
night and to accompany him up the bay 
to Belvedere, where he kept his boats, 
in the morning. 

"Black win jump at the chance to take 
your sister home," he said, "so there is 
no reason why you should not stay, old 
man; and besides, I want .o tak to you." 
I admired that in him which took no ac- 
count of a rival, and consented. 

On his return to the yacht, Devon came 
aft to where I was smoking, and began 
as I had anticipated. 

"Swain, old fellow, I love your sister." 
"You lack originality." 
"I know that," meditatively, "but, in 
spite of what happened this afternoon, I 
feel that she cares for me to some ex- 
tent." 

"You are" puff "damned conceited." 
"I suppose I am, but well, honestly 
now I know I have no right to ask 
but what do you think?" 

"Me? Oh, I quite agree with you"- 
puff "but if you were not conceited to 
the degree I have indicated you would 
never have known." 

"But you don't really mean it!" 
"Yes, I do, Devon both." 
A long ash intervened; then: 
"I should like your permission to ask 
her to become my wife." 

"And you have it, old man; and I hope 
you may win her." 

We shook hands on it and turned in. 
But if I had looked for any immediate 
pressing of his suit, on the part of my 
friend, I was doomed to disappointment. 
Devon seemed in no haste to learn his 
fate from the court of final appeal, and, 
as a consequence, Claribel's host of ad- 
mirers were not unusualy discouraged. 
Theodore Black, indeed, appeared to gain 



186 



Overland Monthly. 



in confidence as time passed, and I be- 
gan to note the development, in his case, 
of a sort of collateral attack. I refer to 
his growing fondness for my society. 
Just what he ex- 
pected to gain 
by tais method I 
could not tell, but 
I knew that his 
motive, whatever 
it was, would be 
disclosed in due 
time. 

And I was right. 
It was served 
with the coffee 
one evening, as 
we dined tete-a- 
tete at the club, 
and the time was 
well chosen, as it 
afforded an op- 
portunity for re- 
treat the man 
certainly planned 
well. The waiter 
had just deposit- 
ed the customary 
lump of sugar in 
Black's cup and 
the half-lump in 
my own, and had 
departed. Black 
broke the suc- 
ceeding silence. 

"I met your sis- 
ter and our friend 
Devon on the 
links this after- 
noon." 

"I believe they 
play quite fre- 
quently" natural 
malice on my 
part. 

"Yes; I believe 
so; your sister 
plays an excellent 
game." 

I noticed that 
he adhered to the 

subject even under difficulties, so i 
waited expectantly. The pause was ar- 
tistically ended at the exact instant and 
in the exact tone of voice required to 
suggest an absolutely casual meditation 




'Devon's the 'Friend.' 



induced by the last remark. 

"Some rather odd things about Devon, 
don't you think?" 

In spite of myself I was taken off my 
feet, and I replied 
rather tartly: 

"No, I don't! 
Nothing odd 
about him at all. 
Devon is my 
friend." 

"Oh, quite so, 
quite so; I had no 
intention of of- 
fending." 

He had taken 
out his watch 
while speaking. 

"By Jove! It's 
later than I 
thought. I must 
be going. But, 
by the way eh 
there's one rather 
unusual thing 
about him. He 
spends a lot of 
money, but no 
one seems to 
know where he 
gets it. Do you?" 
He had risen to 
his feet while 
speaking and the 
attentive waiter 
was ready with 
his coat and hat. 
I was thoroughly 
angry, but two 
reasons prevented 
me from showing 
it the presence 
of the waiter, and, 
more important 
still, the fact that 
I could not ans- 
wer the question 
presented. So I 
said nothing, and 
Black's manner 
did not betray the 

slightest expectation of a reply. He 
got into his coat quickly, without any 
appearance of great haste, however, and 
took his hat, not forgetting the purchase 
price. 



The Free Trader. 



187 



"Good night, Swain." 
"Good-night." 

So that was the purpose of all bis good- 
fellowship! I laughed. What did I care 
about Devon's money or how he got it? 
It was perfectly evident that my sister 
would be well taken care of if my friend 
should win her for his wife, and beyond 
that I had never thought of the subject. 
Black's insinuation could only cause me 
to like him the less. But why had he 
made it? And why had he taken such 
pains to arrange an opportunity for mak- 
ing it? Could it be that he knew some- 
thing discreditable to Devon? Nonsense! 
And I thought no more about it. 

The next day, however, I received, 
about four o'clock in the afternoon, the 
following note from Black: 

"Dear Swain: I have occasion to go 
outside the Heads to-night, aboard a tug. 
It promises to be a beautiful, moonlit 
night, and I request the pleasure of your 
company. Only men are coming, so don't 
dress. Be at the Jackson-street wharf 
at six sharp. Perhaps we shall learn 
something interesting with regard to our 
friend. 

In haste, 

THEODORE BLACK." 
What in tue name of anything but 
idiocy could he mean? "Something inter- 
esting with regard to our friend" 
Devon, of course to be learned by going 
outside the Heads on a tug? I was angry. 
Then I was frightened. I remembered, 
suddenly, that there was at least one 
point concerning Devon on which I was 
not informed; perhaps he was in danger 
from this officious District Attorney. At 
any rate I should tell him the whole busi- 
ness. So I rang up his rooms by tele- 
phone, to ascertain whether or not he 
was at home, and I received the answer, 
"Mr. Devon is out of town, and will not 
return till to-morrow." 

This was very strange; the man had 
no right to be so mysterious; he should 
have more regard for his friends. Then 
I cooled down and decided that Devon 
was the most competent person I knew 
when it came to taking care of himself, 
and that he certainly could not be en- 
gaged in anything disgraceful he was 
too much of a gentleman. 



But it was evident that Black had 
reached a different conclusion, and, also, 
that he desired to bring me to his way 
of thinking. Of course his motive was 
very transparent. His methods, however, 
were, so far, effective; for I had to admit 
that his note, coming so immediately on 
the heels of our conversation of the 
eVening before, had thoroughly aroused 
my curiosity. My faith in Devon was not 
shaken in the least, but I decided to go 
with Black for the purpose of seeing him 
fail, if for nothing else. I resented his 
too active interest in the affairs of my 
family. 

I hurried home to put on a golf suit. 
As I was leaving the house I met Clari- 
bel in the hall. She had just come in 
from out doors, and I noticed how thor- 
oughly the rather sharp weather had 
invaded her cheeks. Her presence re- 
minded me of something. 

"George!" I exclaimed. "I almost for- 
got. You'll have to take Aunt Martha to 
the play, Claribel I can't go. I'll run 
back and get the tickets;" and I sprang 
up the stairs. 

"Why can't you go?" she called after 
me. 

"Read that," I answered, tossing 
Black's note over the bannister. "Devon's 
the 'friend.' " 

I was gone only a few seconds, but 
when I returned the color had quite left 
my sister's face, and I thought, as I 
looked more closely at her, that the 
expression of her eyes and brow betok- 
ened fatigue, not- of body but of mind, 
as though she had been thinking much 
but to little purpose. She handed the 
note to me and said, making no effort to 
hide her concern: 

"Will he be taken?" 

"Who? Devon?" I asked. "Why should 
he be taken?" I glanced sharply at her. 

"Don't you know?" she said. "Oh, I 

can't think of it! He is a sm ; that is, 

he calls it free trading; but to-night is the 
last time he was under contract, he 
said, for to-night." 

She was very pale now, and I, in spite 
of my astonishment, was thinking rap- 
idly. 

"He told you? He must have had an 
object in letting you know, Clar." 



188 



Overland Monthly. 



She saw my meaning. 

"I I suppose he should have spoken 
to you first." 

"He has," I said, simply. "But, of 
course now you would rather I should 
withdraw what I said. He didn't tell me 
he was a sm " 

"Yes of course he must not say any- 
thing. I couldn't 

"No, I'll tell him, Clar poor little 
girl. But I must go now, or I'll be 
late. Better go to the play, Clar." I was 
moving toward the door. 

"Yes, I'll go he said it was the last 
time; do you think they will " 

But I had to run for the car. 

My thoughts as we pitched viciously 
down the hill toward the water-front 
were anything but kindly toward Devon. 
I saw only too plainly that Claribel's 
present pain was the measure of the 
liking she had entertained for him; and 
I cursed the man for his dishonorable 
conduct. I had no sooner done so, how- 
ever, than I felt, sharply, the wrong I 
had done him. For, even in the midst 
of my sympathy for my sister, I realized 
that Devon's honor was still intact. In 
carrying out in practice his radical ideas 
concerning Government and the rights 
of the governed, he was acting, I knew, 
in thorough accord with a highly sensitive 
conscience. His peril was due, not to 
any moral defect, but wholly to an error 
of the mind the result of an over-zealous 
worship of an individual. And when I had 
reached this conclusion I found my anger 
directing itself, with full force, toward 
the man who was trying to accomplish 
his ruin. I could not but aespise the 
energy with which Theodore Black served 
his government, for I knew from what 
deep personal interests it sprung. 

I did not know, however, what informa- 
tion he possessed with regard to Devon's 
illegal practices, and I determined to 
seize the first opportunity for finding out. 
Accordingly as the tug which, I noticed, 
was manned by a crew of deputy custom 
inspectors left the wharf I asked Black 
point-blank what was the object of the 
expedition. He looked at me with a queer, 
steely sort of a glance and, handing me 
an envelope, told me to. examine the 
letter it contained. I took the paper and 



read the following: 

To the U. S. District Attorney, 
San Francisco, 

Dear Sir: This is to inform you that a 
certain gentleman, who is well known in 
San Francisco society, is engaged in 
systematic smuggling operations. He has 
been successful, for several years past, 
in getting diamonds and precious stones 
into the States free of duty. If you will 
be at Mussle Rock, which is about seven 
miles down the coast from Seal Rock, 
on the evening of October 3d, you may 
see for yourself, as he expects to bring 
off a consignment from a ship which will 
pass within a few miles of that point. He 
uses a small electric launch, constructed 
entirely of steel. The gentleman I refer 
to belongs to one of the swell clubs and 
keeps a yacht and several very fine 
horses, though his friends might find it 
difficult to say where the money comes 
from." 

The letter was unsigned and I saw, at 
once, that it had no sort of value as 
legal evidence. I told Black as much, 
and he replied: 

"That is only too true. The writer, 
evidently, is averse to testifying in per- 
son, and therefore, has made it necessary 
for us to take the smuggler in the act. 
That is why we are now aboard this tug." 

At that moment Black was called for- 
ward, and I was left to ponder his infor- 
mation in private. Clearly, Black be- 
lieved Devon to be the smuggler impli- 
cated by the letter, and I did not need the 
rather apt designation which it contained 
to tell me that he was right. Indeed, I 
was very much frightened for my friend 
and correspondingly enraged at his 
enemy. As the tug made its way through 
the Golden Gate and south, along the 
coast, I tried to think of some means 
whereby I might avert the danger which 
threatened Devon; but I did so in vain, 
and events relegated me to the position 
of a mere spectator. 

It was now dark, and we were lying 
dangerously near to a huge point of rocks 
which jutted far out into the ocean. 
Steam, I could tell by the sound of the 
escape valves, was being kept at a high 
pressure; and, indeed, it was utilized 
every few minutes to keep us off the 



I ! 




-a 


-c 

9 
T. 



190 



Overland Monthly. 



rocks. I had kept my place in the stern, 
and Black and his men were too intent 
on their business to pay me any atten- 
tion. They were all forward in the bow, 
which pointed oceanward. 

It was not long before tne moon, which 
Black had promised, began to light up 
the scene. As it rose in the east, it threw 
its illumination over the still waters of 
the broad Pacific, and I could not but 
admire the sight which it disclosed, a few 
miles from land, of a huge vessel stand- 
ing off to the southward with all sails 
set. The sight, I noticed, called forth 
considerable comment from the men for- 
ward, and, appreciating its significance, 
I joined the group. I found them looking 
intently ahead, evidently concentrating 
their gaze in the direction whence the 
ship had come into view. We were in 
the deep shadow of the cliffs, the light 
on the water coming nearer and nearer, 
however, as the moon rose, so that it 
became momentarily more possible to 
see clearly ahead. Each man was strain- 
ing his vision to the utmost, and it was 
not long before one of them descried 
something. 

"There she is! I see her!" exclaimed 
a deputy suddenly, and immediately he 
was engaged in pointing the others to 
his discovery. 

I followed his directions and saw, pres- 
ently, coming swiftly toward us, but as 
yet a full half-mile away, a small black 
object lying low in the water, and dis- 
playing no lights. I knew only too well 
what it was, and oh, how I wished for a 
means of warning those aboard her of 
our presence. But I had no such means, 
and could only await whatever should 
come to pass. 

Black, I saw, was looked to by the 
captain of the tug for orders, and the en- 
gineer, at his direction, was told to crowd 
on steam and await the signal. This 
was almost immediately given and the 
tug started forward to meet the unsus- 
pecting little craft that was approaching 
so swiftly and so silently. 

As we emerged from the shadow we 
were not more than three hundred yards 
from the launch, and we were immedi- 
ately seen, for her course suddenly 
changed and she fled away down the 



coast. We followed, of course, and I 
saw at once that the little boat possessed 
considerable speed, for it looked for some 
minutes as though we were outclassed. 
But slowly the larger craft began to 
gain; and, as it became evident that we 
would overtake her, the launch slowed 
down, still keeping her direction, how- 
ever. At this Black gave orders for three 
of the men to stand ready to board their 
prey with him, and all four drew heavy 
navy revolvers, preparing, as I thought, 
for a very unlikely contingency. For 
I could not but see that Devon, were 
he aboard the launch, was lost. No one, 
however, showed himself on the little 
boat, and I wondered, as we came closer, 
that no sign of surrender was displayed. 

But my wonderment soon received a 
different stimulus. For, when we were 
within less than ten yards of the launch, 
she sheered suddenly toward the open 
sea, and, turning quickly in her tracks, 
and developing speed with marvelous 
rapidity, she passed within twenty feet 
of us, heading back directly toward the 
point, which was not more than a half 
mile distant. My heart was within my 
mouth as Black, with an oath, yelled to 
the launch to stop, and almost immedi- 
ately opened fire on her with his heavy- 
calibred weapon. He was followed by 
the deputies, all of whom were armed, 
and a perfect hail of bullets must have 
hit the boat. But I knew the security of 
her occupants, telling myself that lead 
had never yet penetrated steel. And I 
could not but laugh to myself when Black 
desisted from his attempt on account of 
the lengthening range. The launch was 
by this time well back on her course, and 
the tug was churning the water into a 
veritable froth in an effort to get around 
and after her. Nor was it long before we 
were again overtaking the quarry. Black 
was in a perfect fume. I never saw a 
man in such a rage, and I knew that he 
would not fear to kill Devon if he could 
not capture him. 

But it did not look now as if he would 
do either, for the launch, making the 
huge rocks of the point, turned sharply 
around them, disappearing on the other 
side while we were still a hundred yards 
away. Our suspense, as we approached 



The Free Trader. 



191 



the spot, was intense, and my hopes for 
Devon's escape rose perceptibly. And 
as we turned the rocks, I was justified, 
for we could see the launch, a consider- 
able way off, just entering the heavy surf, 
head on for the beach. The tug, how- 
ever, did not follow. 

"There she is," roared Black to the 
Captain at the window of the wheel 
house; "why don't you follow her?" 

But the seaman knew his business. 

"Can't do it," he answered; "that surf 
is full of rocks and we'd smash to bits 
before we were half way in." And some 
one volunteered: 

"That fellow knows the channel." 

I almost danced for joy, and as I looked 
again toward the shore, the launch was 
raised high on a rushing swell and borne 
triumphantly through the foam to the 
sandy beach. As she neared it, a man, 
carrying some sort of a burden, leaped 
from her, and, running through the shal- 
low water, made for a small opening in 
the cliff. The distance was such that 
I could not tell what it was that the man 
carried, or whether, indeed, the man was 
Devon, so I did not fear when Black sent 
several shots after him. He made the 
gully in safety, I could see, and Black 
turned his attention to the launch, which 
was rolling helplessly in the surf. 

"Captain," he called, "send me over to 
that launch in your skiff; I- " 

But even as he spoke there was a heavy 
explosion, and, amidst shooting fire and 
smoke and fragments of steel, the object 
of his solicitude disappeared from sight. 
That evidence, at least, I thought, could 
not be produced. 

Failure, however, only maddened the 
District Attorney, and he directed a num- 
ber of the deputies to accompany him 
ashore in pursuit of the fugitive. Every- 
thing was done with great dispatch, and 
not more than ten minutes had elapsed 
since the man had disappeared from 
sight when Black and his followers en- 
tered the opening through which he had 
gone. It was bright moonlight now, but 
I had no fear of Devon's capture, as I 
reflected that undoubtedly he would have 
a horse in readiness on which he could 
put himself beyond any danger from pur- 
suers on foot. 



An hour sufficed to convince Black of 
the futility of his attempt, and at the 
end of that time we were headed for the 
Golden Gate with every one aboard. 
Black had shown a very sullen visage on 
returning to the tug, and had immedi- 
ately retired to the cabin. As he passed 
me, however, I could not repress a smile 
which contained, I fear, an element of 
derision. For on seeing me he had 
stopped an instant, and had blurted out: 

"I shall see that the writer of that 
letter is found and then I shall act at 
once." 

Reflecting on this, I saw that Black had 
no evidence other than the letter against 
Devon, but I was in no very happy 
frame of mind, nevertheless. For I 
knew that Black's resources for finding 
people, even such as did not wish to be 
found, were unsurpassed. I stood in the 
extreme bow for the rest of the trip, 
and as soon as the tug came within 
jumping distance of the wharf I left it 
and made for the nearest cab, in which 
I was quickly driven to Devon's rooms. 
I expected to find him there as he had 
had ample time to ride across the penin- 
sula into town while we were going 
around the end of it. So I did not knock 
in my haste, and as I entered I found De- 
von's man brushing a pair of his master's 
riding breeches. 

"Where is Mr. Devon?" I asked breath- 
lessly. 

The man knew me for a friend of his 
master and answered frankly. 

"He is not here, sir; he came in about 
half past nine but he went out as soon as 
he put on his evening clothes, sir." 

His evening clothes! Evidently Devon 
intended putting in a belated appearance 
at some social function, and, perhaps, 
it was just as well that he should. But 
since he thought so little of the danger 
of his position I was not going to worry 
any further about him that night, at least. 
So I decided to seek my own home and 
to return early the next day. 

I dismissed my cab, thinking that a 
brisk walk after all my excitement 
would give me a better chance of sleep. 
It was, therefore, rather late when I 
reached home, and as I entered tho house, 
I met Claribel, who had just returned 



!92 



Overland Monthly. 



from the theatre. She told me that 
she was expecting Mr. Devon. 

"He knew I was to be at the theatre," 
she said, "and he came in at the end of 
the second act and asked if he might call 
after the play. He said he would have 
stayed and brought us home but for a 
very important business engagement." 

Evidently I only existed for the sake 
of this fellow Devon he had monopo- 
lized my time and my mind for hours; 
and now well, my house was at his dis- 
posal at the hour of midnight! I could 
readily understand the business appoint- 



very clear evidence of Claribel's repug- 
nance to Devon's behavior, I began to 
fear for her resolution she was only a 
woman after all, and she knew that in 
deference to her the man had forsaken 
his objectionable calling. It would have 
been hardly delicate for me to have said 
anything upon the subject, but as I re- 
lated the experiences of the evening I 
did not fail to lay stress upon the danger 
that still surrounded Devon. This had the 
effect of bringing back the harassed ex- 
pression of brow and eyes which I had 
observed that afternoon, and my heart 




I saw that the matter was going too far, 

ment he had spoken of book accounts 
of long standing were, perhaps, being 
settled. But I was surprised that Claribel 
should have given him permission to call 
she could have put it off so easily. 
She must have seen what was passing 
in my mind, for she turned suddenly red 
and said: 

"I was so relieved at seeing him! And 
you will stay down, Frank, won't you?" 

I had formed a very definite determina- 
tion of doing so; for, though I had had 



smote me for augmenting the cruelty of 
her situation. My narrative was barely 
finished when the bell rang. I went to 
the door myself, and admitted our friend, 
whose face fell a trifle, I thought, at see- 
ing me. 

As we entered the parlor together, 
Claribel came forward and gave him 
her hand, saying with a coldness which I 
hoped was entirely genuine: 

"You are to be congratulated on a most 
fortunate escape." 



The Free Trader. 



193 



He was taken completely by surprise, 
and I said: 

"Yes, Devon, so you are; I was on the 
tug Black invited me." 

His surprise increased to a very serious 
concern, and he said, looking first at 
Claribel: 

"I was going to tell you about it; but 
is it known that I was in the launch?" 

"No!" said Claribel eagerly, "there's 
no proof. But" as she caught my sur- 
prised look, she returned to her former 
manner "you are in very great danger, 
nevertheless." 

"Black has shown me a letter," I said, 
"written by some one who was able to 
give the information which led to the at- 
tempt to capture you. It isn't signed 
and it doesn't mention any names, but 
well, Black is District Attorney, and all 
he needs is the man who wrote that let- 
ter." 

Devon made no immediate reply to this, 
but after thinking a moment he drew 
some papers from his pockets, and show- 
ing me one of them, asked if the hand- 
writing it contained was the same as 
that in which Black's letter was written. 
It was, and I told him so. 

"Then, as I thought," he said, "I am 
in no danger. The rascal will not be 
caught." 

"Your conclusion," I remarked, "is 
hardly an obvious one." 

"Well," he answered, "it's this way. 
He is a man whom I dismissed from my 
service because of a theft he committed 
in taking some valuable jewels from the 
Park Hotel. He was not found out, but 
he made the mistake of thinking that for 
a share of the proceeds I would dispose 
of the stones for him. Of course I re- 
turned them to the hotel management 
instead. So you see he cannot afford to 
be found. I could send him to San 
Quentin for ten years. He is probably 
well out of the country by this time." 

I could not but admit that there was 
very little likelihood of the man's cap- 
ture, and I said as much, not failing to 
note as I did so that Claribel seemed to 
be drawing considerable comfort from 
the situation. She said: 

"There is a difference between st " 

"Yes," interrupted Devon, "he failed 



to distinguish between burglary in the 
first degree and honestly conducted 
trade." 

This statement, showing the persist- 
ency with which Devon held to the ri- 
diculous ideas which had placed us all 
in such an unpleasant position, thor- 
oughly angered me, and I determined 
that Claribel, at least, should realize 
the situation. 

"Let me tell you, Devon," I said, "that 
such honestly conducted trade as you 
refer to is very far from being the re- 
spectable thing you think it. Such ideas 
as you entertain 

"Are no more than mistaken theories," 
interrupted Claribel decisively, and I no- 
ticed that Devon winced painfully, though 
my harshness had failed to touch him. 
Claribel, however, appeared not to notice 
anything, and she continued: 

"I can even realize, now, that courage 
and error sometimes go together;" her 
glance certainly bespoke a high degree 
of admiration. 

Of course she was right, and I was 
grateful to her for checking my temper; 
but I intended to make it quite plain that 
I did not desire ner to share in the danger 
that still confronted Devon, so I said, 
for the benefit of both of them: 

"Society will not listen to mistaken 
theories, and my object in speaking as 
I did was to remind Devon that Black 
has the power of the community back 
of him." 

"You are right, Frank," said Devon, 
"and though I have, to-night, severed all 
connection with what I consider a thor- 
oughly honorable business, I am still in 
some danger. I 

But Claribel again interrupted. 

"I think I understand Mr. Black," she 
said, "and I hope you won't think me 
too conceited but don't you think 
that is, if Mr. Black should lose per- 
sonal interest which he may Oh, don't 
you understand?" and she stood there, 
helplessly blushing, until our denser 
minds perceived her intention of be- 
trothing herself at once to Devon, and 
so removing Theodore Black's chief mo- 
tive in the matter. 

I saw clearly that the game had gotten 
entirely beyond me. And Devon, as Clari- 



194 



Cupid's Diary. 



bel instinctively turned to him for refuge 
from her consuming embarrassment, 
drew her tenderly to him in ardent grati- 
tude for so courageous a devotion. 

Whether Black made an effort to 
trace Devon's betrayer, or whether he 
lost "interest" in the matter, we never 
knew; for my constant fears proved 
groundless u,i;J Claribel was married in 
the Spring, at which time Black was deep 
in political affairs at the Statt Capital. 
He was not among those invited to th<3 



wedding, but we were put to shame for 
our malice by the receipt from him of a 
present, which, though it was not dis- 
played with the cut glass and the silver, 
was quite the most interesting souvenir 
of the occasion. It was none other 
than the letter which had so well-nigh 
proved Devon's undoing, and on the en- 
velope, in Black's handwriting, were the 
words: 

"People's Exhibit A." 

Truly, a satirical wedding gift. 



CUPID'S DIARY. 



Monday : 



Tuesday : 



Wednesday : 



Thursday : 



Friday : 



Saturday : 



BY E. SCOTT O CONNOR. 

Just moved to a lovely new heart 

Of which I'm unworthy I fear: 
I own I am jealous of relics and scars 

The former possessor left here. 

Housecleaning and sweeping all day, 
For room will be needed you see, 

To store the mementoes and treasures I hope 
That soon of my own there will be. 

Beginning to feel quite at home 

With idol and censor in place. 
I'm blissfuly settled for life I am sure, 

Surrounded by beauty and grace. 

How strange! I see many defects 

I never once noticed at first, 
I find the space narrow, location not right, 

And this is not even the worst. 

Decide some improvements to try, 

I'll copy a heart that I see, 
A modern arrangement I noticed just now; 

I'll go and see how it should be. 

No use, I can stand it no more, 

I'm weary and sick with chagrin; 

I constantly question what gave me delight, 
Why This, I was anxious to win. 

Last day ; for to-morrow I move 

To enter a heart I adore; 
To it I'll be faithful I solemnly vow 

I've tried all the others before. 



Sea Breeze Hotel, September, 1901. 



THE MAN FROM ST. JUST 



BY ERNEST ATKINS. 



(3 



INCE-NEZ and an enlarged vo- 
cabulary are unusual attributes in 
a mining camp, and Semprey 
-1 called for respect by these alone. 
In his sight, however, they were little 
his outstanding property was his keen 
power of analysis. Human motives 
were, he said, as apparent to him as 
stuffed birds in a glass case. There was 
no doubt of his reputation in Blue Pool 
Camp, due to a mundane spirit of pro- 
phecy which he possessed: given an in- 
habitant of the camp and a certain course 
of events, he would foretell with con- 
fidence the path that individual would 
take. The number of imaginary cases 
(discussed with the boys in the saloon), 
greatly exceeded the actual, and had in 
some measure enhanced his reputation; 
but in the actual he had never been 
known to err. 

One hot summer evening the dusty red 
stage from Hawkins put down a Cornish- 
man of the name of Pendennick in Blue 
Pool Camp; he was fresh from St. Just; 
had worked in the Botallack mine, he 
said, but the scarcity or work and the 
increasing demand of a wife and family 
upon his meagre earnings had driven him 
to try his fortune in the far West. 

The boys were not surprised to hear 
that Pendennick intended to preach in 
the schoolhouse on Sunday evening. They 
were accustomed to "Cousin Jacks" (as 
they called Cornishmen) going about 
preaching and especially tenderfoots. 
Unhappily of late Blue Pool Camp had 
had enough of preachers. Tne last was 
a drunk known as Professor Brooks, who, 
when his oratorical duties were success- 
fully accomplished, invariably repaired 
to the saloon, where he would stay with 
as little remission as possible until he 
had run through the collection. Under 
uch circumstances, Blue Pool Camp 
could hardly be blamed from having de- 
cided to forego preachers. 

"No, boys," said Semprey, in his re- 



fined way, taking his pince-nez in his 
right hand and emphasizing his words 
with them. "No, boys, if a man works 
not neither shall he eat. What I say is, 
preachers are superfluities let a man 
be honest and kind to his neighbors, that 
will suffice. And, boys," he added, bas- 
ing his remark upon his observation of 
Professor Brooks' character, "1 11 bet two 
bits Pendennick '11 give up preaching 
within six months." 

The congregation at the first Sunday 
evening service c< nsisted of the school 
ma'am and a few children. The follow- 
ing Sunday the children had deserted 
him. So Pendennick, sincere as he was, 
decided to give up the work for a time. 

Even Semprey was astonished at the 
immediate fulfillment of his prophesy; 
he meditated the greater part of a day 
upon his wonderful insight and grasp of 
character, and decided that Pendennick 
would be a man worth watching. Accord- 
ingly he dropped in on him and had a 
long talk, but learned to his amazement 
that the Cornishman was very much in 
earnest about preaching, and Semprey 
thanked his stars for a deliverance from 
an error in prognostication. Indeed, so 
impressed was he with Pendennick's 
earnestness and so well aware of the irk- 
someness of Blue Pool Camp to such a 
man that he felt he was in no way risk- 
ing his reputation in prophesying that 
Pendennick would leave the Camp within 
a year. 

A few days later the Cornishman sur- 
prised the Camp by striking a rich pocket 
at the foot of Moabite Hill. Semprey was 
the first to arrive on the scene: he went 
ostensibly to show Pendennick how to 
stake out his claim, but found the loca- 
tion notices were all in order, and placed 
with due regard to the direction of the 
vein. Semprey pegged out a claim at 
either end, one for himself and one for 
a friend "for the sake of companion- 
ship," he told Pendennick, as he sat on 



Overland Monthly. 



a fallen tree beneath the shadow of a 
monkey-pine and watched him pan out 
the gold in a little artificial pool. 

"It's always the fools that makes the 
strikes," he said to himself as he walked 
back to camp along the scorching, dusty 
road. "Here I am, the smartest man in 
town, and I hain't made grub money for 
a year." 

Pendennick's luck showed no signs of 
failing. Twenty, thirty or forty dollars 
a day were panned out regularly, and 
Semprey, emulous and not unenvious, 
set to work to lay open his claims with 
the energy of a steam-plow at times. 
Often he would go and watch Penden- 
nick at his pool; and, in the hope of en- 
tering into partnership with him, endure 
patiently his tirades against the vices of 
the Camp, and more especially the dese- 
cration of the Sabbath. Pendennick 
never worked on Sunday, but the Blue 
Pool Camp boys, had it not been for the 
fact that the boarding house supplied 
ice cream on that day in the summer, and 
oyster soup in the winter, would never 
have known it from any of the other days 
of the week. Semprey learned in the 
course of these talks that Pendennick 
had promised to return home for his fam- 
ily when he had saved five thousand dol- 
lars. 

Semprey was notably the smartest 
man in the Camp, and in his close obser- 
vation of Pendennick he perceived as 
the months passed by that his neighbor's 
avowed principles were becoming appar- 
ently less and less impedimentive to his 
practices. Pendennick at first read a 
book or took a quiet stroll on Sundays. 
After a while he would confine his walks 
to his own claim, and his meditations 
would often be interrupted by examina- 
tions of the ground ; later on, Pendennick 
used to take his pole-pick when he went 
meditating; and in a few weeks more 
he fell into the way of filling his pool 
on Sunday evenings and sharpening his 
tools for the morrow's work. Semprey 
was much concerned about these devel- 
opments. As he had made such a point 
with the boys of Pendennick's prophesied 
departure, he felt that if Pendennick 
were allowed to become lax he would 
surely stay, and his own reputation van- 



ish. Besides this, Semprey was begin- 
ning to entertain a hope that he might 
buy Pendennick's claim when the prophe- 
sied departure came to pass. At ail 
costs Pendennick must leave. 

While Semprey was contemplating this 
problem Pendennick went a step further 
he commenced to work seven days 
a week as the other boys did. He argued 
ignoring the unstable foundation of 
the assertion that as he had been un- 
able to keep his thoughts off his work 
on the Sunday, surely it would be no 
worse to work. Semprey was alarmed; 
he neglected his claims altogether that 
Sunday in his anxiety to discover a way 
of getting Pendennick to leave the Camp 
and so fulfill his prophesy, for his repu- 
tation was very dear to him. 

The next day he casually advised Pen- 
dennick to sell his claim: the gold would 
certainly give out sooner or later, and it 
would be best to get the property off his 
hands whilst it was a paying concern. 
But Pendennick would have none of it; 
he knew, he said, that he had pay rock 
for years. 

A day or two later, to Pendennick's 
astonishment and chagrin, the pay streak 
disappeared. He felt that tne blame was 
somehow due to Semprey, and vowed he 
would never tell him of his ill-luck. In 
hope of striking good rock again he con- 
tinued work, but pan after pan showed 
scarcely a color; nevertheless when 
Semprey was around the prospects were 
as rich as ever a pinch of gold dust 
from his pocket would be mixed with 
the dirt before panning, and Semprey 
continued to believe that Pendennick's 
luck was binding him closer and closer 
to Blue Pool Camp. 

At length Semprey conceived a plan 
for getting rid of his neighbor; he seated 
himself on a log one day, and, when Pen- 
dennick arrived with the pay dirt, was 
deep in meditation. 

"Look here, Pendennick," he said pres- 
ently, "you have been kinder frank 
and ingenuous with me about your af- 
fairs, while I have in a greater or less 
degree maintained silence regardin* 
mine" Semprey was proudly conscious 
of the rhetorical effect of his vocabu- 
lary. "Now, I would esteem your advice 



The Man From St. Just. 



197 



some in this matter. About twenty years 
ago I set my heart on comin' out West, 
but the old folks opposed the whole 
scheme. I talked with them day aft^r 
day continuously until at last they ac- 
corded me permission to go. Well, I 
was a religious chap in 'em days, but 
soon after I arrived" Semprey spoke 
slowly, so that the words might take full 
effect, "I dropped that kind of thing 
like everyone else, and set to work to 
make somethin'. I've been at it ever 
since, and though I've made money 
enough to look at, I feel somehow life 
ain't all it's cracked up to be out here, 
and I'm beginning to think it's kinder 
hard to leave my people desolate back 
East. What would you advise me to do?" 
He looked toward Pendennick, who had 
his eyes fixed on a heron in the creek. 
There was silence for several minutes; 
Pendennick was thinking of a letter he 
had received from his wife that morning 
begging him to return: he turned tq his 
companion. 

"I think I'd go home," he said, 
very slowly and with much hesitation. 

When Semprey reached the road on his 
way back to Camp, he laughed long and 
heartily. "Rose like a trout," he said. 
"I'll try him again to-morrow." He turned 
in at the store for his paper. Old Car- 
penter, the storekeeper, asked him how 
his claims were coming on. 

"Well," he replied, "can't say that they 
show up very well, but Pendennick's 
claim is conspicuously and continuously 
rich: I'd give five thousand for it." 

"Pendennick ain't a-goin' to pack up 
his traps yet awhile," answered Car- 
penter; "you bet cher life he ain't." 

"I'll bet ten dollars he'll be on his 
way back to the Old Country within a 
month," said Semprey. 

"I ain't a bettin' man or I'd take you," 
said Carpenter; and there the matter 
dropped. 

Pefidennick, already influenced by his 
wife's appeal to return, was a ready vic- 
tim to Semprey's veiled attack upon his 
emotional feelings; and the touch Sem- 
prey gave to his fictitious story concern- 
ing his lapse from religious principles 
struck even deeper than he had antici- 
pated. Pendennick owned to himself 



that he was fallen, and perhaps in fall- 
ing had confirmed the men's opinions 
about professors of religion; and think- 
ing that to commence preaching again 
after his claim had failed would only 
prejudice them to greater extent, he de- 
cided he would sell it, and go home. 
He was too honest to sell his property 
as a paying claim, and too sensitive to 
let Semprey know it had given out, so 
he decided not to give Semprey the offer. 

The next day Semprey again talked to 
him of home and said he supposed that 
Pendennick must have nearly saved the 
five thousand. The Cornishman began 
to suspect that Semprey was working to 
obtain his claim. 

"Expect I'll be going back to the Old 
Country soon," he said. 

"Well," answered Semprey, "I'll be 
sorry to lose your company, but I guess 
I can submit as good an offer for your 
claim as anyone." 

"Thought you were going home," said 
Pendennick. 

"Well, I guess I am; but I want to buy 
this for a friend of mine," answered Sem- 
prey. 

That evening when Pendennick went 
for his letters he told Carpenter that 
he intended to go home at once if he 
could find a buyer for his claim. 

"What do you want for it?" asked Car- 
penter. 

"A hundred dollars," answered the Cor- 
nishman. "The gold has disappeared 
haven't seen color this last month." 

"Semprey was telling me yesterday 
that it was keeping rich," said the store- 
keeper. 

"So he thinks," answered Pendennick 
laughing. "But you may be sure that 
I wouldn't offer u to you for a hundred 
if I thought there was gold there. The 
shanty cost me a hundred dollars to put 
up." 

"Well, I'll give you ninety for the whole 
shootin'-match," said Carpenter. And so 
it was settled. 

While this deal was progressing, Sem- 
prey was up at the saloon. Despite his 
anxiety to tell the boys of the approaching 
fulfillment of his prophecy concerning 
Pendennick, his eagerness to buy the 
claim kept him silent, though at times 



Overland Monthly. 



his avai ice had hard shift to conquer 
his egotism. An hour or so later he 
.strolled into the store. 

"See here, Semprey," said Carpenter, 
J 'what will you give me for Pendennick's 
.claim?" 

"Have you bought it?" asked Semprey 
in dismay. 

"Yes, but I ain't a minin' man, and will 
.sell it agin if I can make fifty dollars on 
jt," said the storekeeper, showing Sem- 
piey the agreement, but not disclosing 
Ihe amount paid. 

"What did you give for it?" asked Sem- 
jprey eagerly. 

"Five thousand," answered Carpenter. 
"Then I'll give five thousand and fifty. 
Guess you can't go back now. Can he, 
boys?" he said, turning for support to 
<the other men lounging about. 

"Well, I'd have asked a hundred if I'd 
known you were so keen on it," said the 
storekeeper. "However, what's said is 
.said. Write me a check and it's yours. *" 
Fifty dollars in a day ain't so bad. Is 
it, boys?" 

****** * 

The next morning the dusty red stage 
picked up Pendennick and Ins baggage, 
bound for home. As they stopped outside 
the store for the mail, Semprey strolled 
out. 

"Hello, Pendennick! Off already?" he 
.said, as though astonished. 

"Yes," said Pendennick. "Back to the 



Old Country. When are you going 
home?" 

"Oh, not for a bit. I've bought your 
claim from Carpenter," he answered, 
smiliay. 

"Well, I wish you luck," said the Cor- 
nishman. "But I haven't seen a color this 
last month." 

"Not seen a color!" exclaimed Sen 1 - 
prey. "Why, I have seen you takin' 
out dollars." 

"I was Kidding you," sai/1 Pendennick, 
laughing. "I kept gold dus; in my pocket 
on purpose." 

"Think you're fooling ine now, don t 
you?" said Semprey as the stage drove 
off. He earnestly hoped that Penden- 
nick was. 

"It's the plain truth," shouted the 
traveler. "What did you give for it?" 

Semprey was now running after the 
fast-disappearing stage in order to keep 
up the conversation. "Five thousand and 
fifty," he yelled; "what did Carpenter 
give for it?" 

As the stage turned the corner he -raw 
the Cornishman burst into ian/<hter, and 
shout something in return, but the wo .s 
were lost in the distance. 

Although the boys who witnessed u.e 
Cornishman's deal with Carpenter tell 
a different tale, the storekeeper stiii 
asserts he paid five thousand for the 
claim, and Semprey believes the store- 
keeperor tries to. 





N Mexico dear, lax, lazy, dolce far 
niente land of music, sunshine, flow- 
ers that she is there is never al- 
lowed to pass by uncelebrated any 
opportunity or occasion that might be 
made into a fiesta, no matter whether 
that fiesta be a civil, religious or even 
half-pagan celebration. Wherefore the 
fact that Hallowe'en-tide, in other coun- 
tries a casually noted holiday of an even- 
ing or less, is in Mexico vigorously if not 
wildly observed during two entire days. 
First there comes the Dia de los Muer- 
tos (or Day of the Dead), which corre- 
sponds to our own Anglo-Saxon All Souls' 
Day. This is a very funereal occasion 




indeed, as we will show later. But next 
day the Dia de Todos Santos or All 
Saints' Day, is a very joyous 
one, celebrating, as it does, the 
triumphant entry of those who, 
dead in body and soul yesterday, 
have to-day attained to that par- 
ticular part or state in Purga- 
tory which the priests allow unto 
them. Verily it is no wonder 
that the people of Mexico, high 
and low degree alike, have 
cause to mourn dismally on the 
Day of the Dead, and turn from 
lamentations to joy and feast- 
ing on the succeeding Day of 
Saints. 

For weeks beforehand you 
will have observed the unusu- 
ally large numbers of people who 
are coming to the city, by the 
various railways, per burros, and 
even on their own good feet. 
These are the pilgrims who in- 
tend to spend Hallowe'en time 
in the Capital that latter place 
being the veritable Mecca of 



200 



Overland Monthly. 



Mexico, both for those who celebrate 
in fashionable guise, and those who, like 
the Indians, celebrate and vend at one 
and the same time. You will note on 
the crowded narrow streets of Mexico 
City rich, fashionable carriage-folk from 
Yucatan on the South to Juarez on the 



f ,, 




Funeral Toys. 

north, and from Mazatlan on the west to 
Vera Cruz on the east. These are the 
"ricos," who will attend costly funeral 
masses for their own dead given in the 
churches of Santa Brigida and San Fran- 
cisco who will mourn with the accom- 
panying consolations of silken garments, 
lace mantillas and ivory prayer-books, 
alleviating their grief to-morrow, the Day 
of Saints, by attending box parties at the 
"Principal" or "National" to view that 
droll performance known as "Don Juan 
Tenorio!" For these folk Hallowe'en 
can be in reality a time for feasting and 
rejoicing, because they have the where- 
withal to forget their sorrows for even 
a time: in grief, as in sorrow, the rich 
have the best of it. 

From the outlying small pueblos or 
towns, and even from the far-away Sier- 
ras, many Indians journey to the Capital, 
both to see the Hallowe'en sights, and to 
vend their home-manufactured pottery, 
baskets, queer toys, and funeral wreaths. 
Accompanied by the family burro, on 
whose patient back is loaded the heavier 



part of the freight, you will see the father 
and mother Indians trudging along, he 
with a crate of pottery on his back, 
and she with a roly-poly baby wrapped 
in her reboso. They have probably trav- 
eled along in this manner for days, or 
even weeks. Once arrived safely in the 
city, these humble folk, 
who have no money for 
hotels or other roofed 
habitats, seek the great 
plaza, or Zocalo. Here 
they secure three or 
four feet of ground and 
unpack upon it such 
wares as they have 
with them. A small 
fire is built for the fry- 
ing of tortillas or enchi- 
ladas, "Lo the poor 
Indian" purchases a 
cent or two's worth of 
pulque, and upon these 
viands all the family 
feast as merrily as do 
the rich folk from Maz- 
atlan, who may at the 
same time be dining 
upon a thirteen course 
dinner. Then when the night is 
old (for your Indian is no early bed- 
goer), all the family spread upon the 
ground such tilmas and rebosos as they 
may possess. Surrounded by their pot- 
tery and baskets, and soothed by their 
pulque night-caps, they sleep the sleep 
of the just and bodily-tired, which, after 
all, is a better sleep than that of the 
untired rich. 

Next morning, which is that of the 
Day of the Dead, you will find everybody 
on the streets at a very early hour, going 
to the solemn services in cathedral ana 
churches; buying flowers to place on the 
graves, and making a general round of 
the booths. Of course, one goes first to 
mass, which is very gloomy on this day. 
No one dresses otherwise than in deep 
black you will even notice black cuff 
and collar-buttons adorning the persons 
of the men. \ery solemn musicless ser- 
vices are gone through in all the 
churches. It is a relief to get out of 
the cathedral, all dismal in black drapery 
and flickering candles, into the crowded 



El Dia De Todos Santos. 



201 



clamoring streets and flower market, 
which jut right onto the cathedral yard 
itself. 

Here it is merry enough to suit even 
a grig, and the noise and shoutings of 
the various venders and booth-keepers 
is like that of pandemonium turned 
loose. You fight your way to the 
thronged flower-market through a lane of 
clamoring, pursuing Indians, who offer 
you flowers, loose or made in the form of 
wreaths, stars, crosses, anchors, and 
Heaven knows what else, "at far less 
than you can buy them elsewhere, pa- 
tron." And they may be right, for the 
flower-sellers in the market itself demand 
prices that would make your hair stand 
upon end. At any other time of the year 
you get here a bunch of white violets 
as big as your head for twenty cents 
Mexican money; to-day, merely because 
it is el dia de los muertos, they demand 
of you the truly exorbitant price of one 
dollar for the self-same violets. 

All the world and his wife are here, 
however, and in spite of high prices, they 
are one and all investing in flowery 
stars, crosses, wreaths, and crowns for 




In the Cemetery. 

the different graves which they are now 
en route to visit and decorate. These 
funereal tokens one can purchase at 
prices ranging from twenty-five cents 
up to five and six dollars. A twenty-five 
cent wreath is of course a very insignifi- 



cant one, composed mostly of grasses or 
small yellow flowers of the marigold 
family; while the more elaborate one 
costing one, two or five dollars is indeed 
a thing of beauty. Made of camelias and 
exquisite white gardenias, velvety purple 
pansies, white honeysuckle, and frail 
maiden-hair fern, it has a sort of "sec- 
ond mourning" appearance that is fairly 
irresistible. Even if you are so fortunate 
as not to possess graves upon which to 
place them, you feel that you must have 
one or more of these magnificent 
wreaths. 

Along the side streets leading from the 
flower-market to the center of town are 
heaped huge piles of evergreens, cedar, 
small mountains of cheap yellow flowers, 
called by the Indians "flowers of the 
dead," and any amounts of dried plumy 
grasses. Also, there are heaps of queer 
picturesque fruits; yellow, white and 
black zapotes, aguacotes, and other 
things, piles of flat crackly cakes, known 
as pan de los muertos or "bread of the 
dead," the same being as unsavory as its 
appellation; and no end of toys and can- 
dies, the latter deserving several pages 
all to themselves for 
you don't see their like 
more than once a year. 
At one booth there 
are scores of exquisite- 
ly-woven Indian bas- 
kets, of soft and fine 
texture, and prettily- 
colored. Of these you 
can buy one half an 
inch high for one quar- 
ter of a cent, and from 
that size on up to a 
four-foot chiquihu i t i , 
which latter basket 
acts admirably, as the 
rebosoed Indian sales- 
lady declares, as a re- 
ceptacle for soiled 
clothes. 

Next door is a really 
big booth, and this con- 
tains truly grisly "toys of the dead," 
(you can see them in the photo), there 
being a choice assembly of funeral pyres, 
tombs, hearses, and skeleton horses, not 
to mention innumerable black-painted 
coffins and dozens of wire-strung skele- 



202 



Overland Monthly. 




Booths in the Street. 

tons, sized one inch up to a foot. 

Candy booths are doing a thriving trade 
in the sale of sweetmeats fashioned into 
the truly cheering and toothsome shapes 
of skulls, skeletons, and coffins. It is 
rather droll to watch small Mexican chil- 
dren eagerly clamoring for these grue- 
some dulces, which they proceed to eat 
with avidity as soon as purchased. Also, 
here are to be bought small furry mon- 



keys perched upon sticks; queer antedi- 
luvian birds, resembling perhaps the ex- 
tinct "dodo," for there surely is nothing 
else like unto them, in Heaven or earth, 
and hundreds of dogs, cats, burros, and 
many other small things entirely too nu- 
merous to mention. 

Up to the noon hour itself, vending 
these toys, candies, and flower-wreaths 
for the graves is kept up. There is brisk 
purchasing going on, and a veritable for- 
tune of centavos flows into the booth- 
keepers' hands, for seemingly every man, 
woman and child in Mexico is abroad in 
the streets, and everyone is buying with 
might and main. 

A little later everyone joins in an exo- 
dus from the streets to the cemeteries. 
It is safe to say that no grave is forgot- 
ten to-day there is no mound or vault 
without at least some bit of green or 
dried grass. In their elaborate carriages, 
closed to-day, and with costly wjeaths 
on the coachman's box, the rich people 
drive out along the beautiful road to the 
cemetery of La Piedad, where is one of 
the resting places of the creme de la 
creme of Mexico, though it *s really a 
French cemetery. Also, there is the still 
more beautiful "Guadalupe" cemetery, 
where are buried divers noted men of 
Mexico: Old Santa Ana, for example, 
along with his loving (?) senora (one 
questions whether she was loving or not, 
for Santa Ana was a very fine and com- 




At the Cathedral. 



El Dia De Todos Santos. 



203 



plete old rascal). Here are the magnifi- 
cent tombs of various de la Torres de la 
Sierras, Escalantes, and others. 

Leaving the finer and richer "God's 
acres," one takes (if he can find a rare 
inch of room), a Dolores street-car, along 
with the peons and poor folks, who can- 
not afford to pay coach hire to the ceme- 
teries. You have to fight for a place, 
because many hundreds of the low-class 
people have one or more graves to decor- 
ate at Dolores, and the cars are packed 
and jammed. All of the people carry 
flowers or grasses; no peon is so poor 
that he cannot afford a cent's worth of 
yellow "flowers of the dead" to lay on 
the grave where lies a mother, wife, or 
baby. Here you will see a buxom In- 
dian woman, her hair neatly braided, and 
reboso gracefully twisted, who is carrying 
a large basket filled with coronas 
(crowns) for her babies' graves. "There 
were six babitos," she will confide to 
you, "all very sweet and linda, and little, 
oh, so little! One after the other they 
died, patrona, while they were yet very 
tiny. It was the tifo; tifo is very bad 
for the small ones. Yes, two small 
crowns each there are for the chiquitas; 
they would be so pleased to know, for 
they were so. playful and loved flowers 
pero muchisimo. And quien sabe; per- 
haps la Virgin will tell them that there 
are flowers still for their graves, even 
if la pobre Madre is poor." 

Most of this afternoon is spent by all 
classes in decorating the graves of their 
dead ones, with the saying of many piti- 
ful prayers for a speedy passage through 
Purgatory. And then, toward evening, 
carriages and street cars take homeward 
the hundreds of people who, having deco- 
rated and mourned over the graves of 
their lost ones, are now prepared for a 
little diversion. So it is always with the 
Latins: joy and grief continually rub 
shoulders, and these versatile children 
of the sun find it only second nature to 
weep one moment and laugh the next. 

"Don Juan Tenorio," the queer old 
Spanish operetta which is given only in 
Spanish countries, and then only at Hal- 
lowe'en time, is said to be one of the old- 
est plots known, and one can testify to 
its being one of the drollest ever wit- 



nessed. 

At the "Principal" theatre and a very 
pretty, modernly decorated house it is, 
too pit, boxes and galleries are full to 
overflowing. The stage boxes contain 
magnificently-gowned and bediamoned 
Mexican dames, who are laughing and 
chatting, and flirting alike with dark eyes 
and gaudy fans. You would think, to 
look at them now, that they had never 
wept a tear, whereas this very morning 
they may have posed as veritable Niobes. 
And, for that matter, hanging perilously 
over the gallery-edge is your heart- 
broken peon mother of the morning, at- 
tended (more shame to her) by a good- 
looking "red-hack" driver, with a large 
cigar in his fiercely-mustached mouth, 
and a bouquet as big as a cabbage in 
his button-hole. As for her, in gaudy, 
be-ribboned bodice, stiff pink skirt, and 
high-heeled satin slippers (without hose) 
you would never believe that a few hours 
ago she had wept and bewailed the six 
dead babies "so little and so linda, 
patrona mia!" 

Oh, well, so wags the wond, and who 
can expect a Latin to mourn without ceas- 
ing? Just now, the house is listening 
intently, with "silence reigning so hard 
that you can hear it patter on the roof." 
to the long drawn-out dying song of Don 
Juan Tenorio, upon whom the marble 
ghost has fastened his icy hand; there is 
a quick sigh of appreciation as, nearing 
his very last gasp, Don Juan thrills his 
repentance and desire for a better world; 
and one last appreciative burst of ap- 
plause as Heaven (in the shape of a blue 
canvas roof dotted with tinsel stars), 
opens to receive the Don, and multitudi- 
nous angels, in appallingly little blue and 
pink gauze, dance most uncelestial can- 
cans about his stiffened form. A loud 
final paean is triumphantly given tongue 
to by both angels and Don Juan, and the 
curtain goes down. "Ay de mi, how good 
it has been this year," chatters the dark- 
eyed senorita from Yucatan; and "Dios 
de la Vida, But isn't he a fine Don Juan?" 
shrieks the erst-while broken-hearted 
peon mother to her cochero. "I would 
like to see it cada noche!" (Every night). 
Which you feel is the very last thing 
you yourself would care for. 



SIDE-LIGHTS ON LINCOLN 



BY JAMES MATLACK SCOVFL. 



HE summer rain, making the 
graves bright and green, has fallen 
on the tomb of the many-sided 
martyr of Springfield for more 
than one generation. 

Abraham Lincoln was a statesman who 
stood between a nation and perdition! 

I was a member of the State Senate 
for three years, and President of that body 
for one year, during the war, in one of 
the middle States, and saw much of Mr. 
Lincoln from 1862 to 1865. He was usu- 
ally found in the East Room of the White 
House, overlooking the Potomac. 

One Sunday, after the surrender of 
Vicksburg, the President said, speaking of 
General Grant: "I fully appreciated the 
real strength of Grant's character when 
he spent a whole day with me in Wash- 
ington, and asked that eight Major Gen- 
erals and thirteen Brigadier Generals 
should be retired, solely to make room 
for the soldiers who had won and worn 
their 'wounds and honors a' front.' 

"In vain," continued Lincoln, "I told 
General Grant that many of these officers 
were my personal friends, but he in- 
sisted. At last I yielded, and by doing so 
greatly strengthened the Army." 

On the same occasion Mr. Lincoln 
said: "I did not at first understand 
Grant's plan of campaign at Vicksburg, 
but when I saw him run the batteries 
with his transports, ferry his army across 
the Mississippi at Bruinsburg, cut loose 
from his line of communication, swing 
out into the Confederacy, beat and dis- 
perse the army confronting him, break 
up the railroads, and sit down, calmly, 
behind the Vicksburg fortifications, I 
knew the rebel stronghold would fall by 
assault or by starvation. 

"I had one scare," said Lincoln, kicking 
the blazing hickory logs in the open grate 
in front of him, "and I had only one, as to 
Grant's power of endurance, and that was 
on the second day's fighting in the Wil- 
derness. General Jim Wilson, a great 



soldier in the cavalry army of the ser- 
vice, always said that Grant was not a 
great tactician. He won his spurs by 
hard-hitting and his staying qualities as 
a fighter. The only riposte Lee ever 
made against Grant was late in the after- 
noon on the second day's fighting in the 
Wilderness, when the rebels, by a happy 
stroke, turned the Sixth Corp's right 
flank. Grant's nerves were severely 
shaken by this, his first reverse at the 
hands of Lee. General Rawlings, his 
Chief of Staff, Jim Wilson, and Phil 
Sheridan, in all that host, were the only 
soldiers of rank who served with Grant 
in the West. Meade had his headquarters 
near by, and the General trusted much 
to him. 

"The rule in Meade's army, under like 
circumstances," said the President, 
"would seem to require it to retire, and I 
feared that on the next day our army 
would be on the way to the north side of 
the Rappahannock, instead of the road to 
Richmond; Sheridan had the same fear. 
Though the Army of the Potomac had 
not been beaten, I feared that the Divis- 
ion Commanders, comparatively unknown 
to Grant, might bring a pressure on him 
to go backward, to which he might yield. 
General Jim Wilson rode rapidly to Gen- 
eral Grant's headquarters on a knoll, 
covered with scrubpine, and he was just 
ready to move and march on. 

"General Grant saw the look of anxious 
inquiry on General Jim Wilson's face, 
and, without changing a muscle of his 
impassive countenance, he called out in 
assuring tones: 'It is all right, Wilson. 
The Army is already on the move for 
Richmond. It is not going back, but for- 
ward till we beat Lee or he beats us.' 

"When I heard that," said Lincoln, "I 
never doubted the certainty of Grant's 
hewing his blind pathway across the Wil- 
derness and into Richmond". 

Abraham Lincoln, after the battle of 
Gettysburg, saw both Henry Winter Davis 



Side-Lights on Lincoln. 



205 



and General George G. Meade come into 
the White House on one of the regular 
reception afternoons. I stood near Lin- 
coln, and he leaned over, in his effusive, 
warm-hearted manner, towards me, 
grasped me by the hand, and said, look- 
ing toward Davis: "This looks well for 
us. Henry Winter Davis has not called 
at the White House till now, during the 
three years past." What the President 
meant was that Davis must see that Lin- 
coln's chances for re-nomination were 
rapidly improving, for the Wade-Davis 
manifesto against Lincoln's re-nomina- 
tion had just died a natural death. And 
later on, the same day, knowing Winter 
Davis's ambition, I said to him: "Would 
you accept a nomination behind Lincoln 
as Vice-President, from the Baltimore 
Convention?" 

"Not behind that thing in the White 
House," replied the Maryland Congress- 
man, with great hauteur. But God dis- 
poses of men and nations, as He wills. 
Winter Davis could have been nominated 
by acclamation at Baltimore for second 
place in 18t4, instead of Andy Johnson, 
who only beat Lyman Tremaine (a war 
Democrat) of New York, as candidate for 
Vice-President, by two votes on a test 
vote in the New York delegation. Greely 
was for Tremaine, Seward for Andy John- 
son, and Seward and Thurlow Weed were 
the stronger, Greely himself having brok- 
en up the once powerful triumvirate of 
Greely, Weed and Seward. With Winter 
Davis as President of the Senate (Vice 
President), Abraham Lincoln would most 
probably have died in his bed and Andy 
Johnson would have fallen into inocuous 
desuetude, after his term as Military Gov- 
ernor of Tennessee ended. 

Nothing was too great for Henry Win- 
ter's ambition. He drove Montgomery 
Blair out of Lincoln's Cabinet, but he was 
as proud as Roscoe Conkling. The latter 
always seemed to possess some traits 
like Chatterton, the marvelous boy, the 
sleepless soul that perished in its pride. 

On the afternoon of the reception al- 
ready mentioned, while I stood near 
Abraham Lincoln, General Meade came 
in and was rapidly advancing toward the 
President. Lincoln's eyes flashed. Turn- 
ing toward me, his head thrown back, 



he said: "There! General Meade has 
just come in." With a tinge of bitter- 
ness in his voice, he continued: "And that 
is the great General who ought to have 
cut the rebel army to pieces at Falling 
Waters, and he didn't do it!" More 
than once afterwards Mr. Lincoln recalled 
to me that conversation. He never 
changed his opinion on great national 
questions or about any great General 
in my hearing, and I recall his criticism, 
a memorable and historical one, on Gen- 
eral Fitz-John Porter. And in criticizing 
General Meade, he, the sweet-souled mar- 
tyr of Springfield, never failed to do just- 
ice to the great achievements of the hero 
of Gettysburg. It was of that battle I have 
heard Lincoln speak these words: 

"Of the two great efforts to enslave 
the human race in body and in mind, 
the first met its grave 200 years ago un- 
der Cromwell, at Marston Moor; and the 
second met its doom under General 
Meade, at Gettysburg." 

Mr. Lincoln was seriously and earnest- 
ly concerned about his re-nomination. 
Montgomery Blair's "time had come," be- 
cause he, Blair, sought the nomination in 
1864 at Baltimore, against his Chief. 
Chase had to leave the Cabinet for the 
same reason. Simon Cameron had just 
caused the Legislature of Pennsylvania 
to sign a memorial recommending Mr. 
Lincoln's re-nomination for President: 
and my mission to the White House re- 
ception (the day I met General Meade 
and Henry Winter Davis of Maryland 
there), was to convey the not unwelcome 
intelligence to the sweet-spirited Lincoln 
that the Legislature of New Jersey had 
signed a round-robin following Penn- 
sylvania in favor of Lincoln's re-nomina- 
tion. The next day I appeared at the 
East room of the White House by invita- 
tion. Upon comparing notes Mr. Lincoln, 
who was a master-mind in politics, took 
a card from his vest pocket and explained 
to me with the accuracy of an exact 
science that he was only thirty-one votes 
short of re-nomination in the approaching 
Baltimore Convention. By the way, Rev. 
Dr. Robert J. Breckenridge of Kentucky, 
a patriot, faithful among tne faithless, 
was the temporary president of that 
great convention, and he was received 



206 



Overland Monthly. 



with tumultuous acclaim when he deliv- 
ered his stirring and ringing address 
on opening that vast congregation of pa- 
triotic men. 

There was one thing that caused Mr. 
Lincoln no little uneasiness; and in his 
frankness, which was an integral part 
of his nature, he did not pretend to con- 
ceal the fact that he feared his enemies 
would make Grant a candidate for the 
Presidency at Baltimore. 

In fact, Missouri did cast one full bal- 
lot for Grant, but hastened to make Lin- 
coln's nomination unanimous. 

In his anxiety on this subject the Presi- 
dent, just before the Convention, request- 
ed me to see General William Hillyer and 
talk with him of Grant's views on the 
Presidency. General Hillyer was a fel- 
low-student at school with me at New 
Albany, Indiana, and was a member of 
General Grant's staff. Hillyer was at 
Willard's Hotel, Washington. 

There I went and made my errand 
known to him. After a generous Western 
welcome, and after I stated my case, he 
broke out in a ringing laugh as he said: 
"Colonel, you can go and tell the Presi- 
dent that there is no power on this earth 
that could drag Ulysses S. Grant's name 
into this Presidential canvass. McClel- 
land's career was a lesson to him. The 
latter tried to capture Richmond with 
Washington as his base. Grant is as 
wise as he is loyal to Lincoln. Talking 
of this very subject, anent the expected 
action of his Missouri friends in the com- 
ing convention General Grant said: 'I 
could not entertain for one instant any 
competition with our great and good 
President for the succession. I owe him 
too much, and it's not my time. I regard 
Abraham Lincoln as one of the world's 
greatest men. He is unquestionably the 
biggest man I ever met. I admire his 
courage, as I respect his patience and his 
firmness. His gentleness of character 
does not conflict with that noble courage 
with which he changes his convictions 
when he is convinced he is wrong. 
While stating a- complicated case to him 
his grasp of the main question is wonder- 
fully strong, and he at once comprehends 
the whole subject better than the person 
who states it.' " 



This was the last interview I ever had 
with General Hillyer, who was a bluff, 
straightforward, typical Western soldier. 
He died soon after in St. Louis, I think. 

Hillyer told me I had carte-blanche 
from Grant to say that under no possible 
circumstances could he be coaxed or 
driven into the Presidential race of 1864. 

It was with a light heart I found my 
way back to the East Room, where I 
had the good fortune to find the Presi- 
dent entirely alone. He rose to his feet, 
grasped both my hands in each of his 
own, a habit he had when pleased, 
pushed a chair over toward the one from 
which he had risen, and said, in a tone 
of voice no man can re-produce: "Now, 
tell us all you know." I said: ''Mr. Lin- 
coln, what Hillyer says Grant thinks. And 
he said that Grant is of the opinion that 
you are the one man to finish the big job 
you undertook nearly four years ago. 
He will nelp you conquer the Rebellion 
without conditions, and he will aid you 
in restoring and rebuilding the country 
and making the Union perpetual. He even 
recalled Cavour's letter to Seward, in 
which the Italian statesman said: 'You 
will again make America what she was: 
the admiration of man and the wonder 
of the world.' " 

I relate my story with a little less 
rhetoric and more emphasis than my 
memory re-produces it here. Lincoln 
rose to his feet and with more fire and 
elan than I ever before witnessed in him. 
He paced up and down the room, pausing 
to look out on the placid Potomac. He 
talked briefly and in earnest. He said, 
(and it seems to me only yesterday he 
said it) : "Ah, Colonel, you have lifted 
a heavy load from my shoulders. I was 
a little afraid of Grant, because I know 
the men who want to get behind his 
great name we are all human; I would 
rather be beaten by him than by any liv- 
ing man; and when the Presidential grub 
gets inside of a man it hides well. That 
'basilisk' sometimes kills." Mr. Lincoln, 
still pacing the room, told how General 
McClernand of Illinois tried to leap into 
Grant's place before Vicksburg, when he 
laid his Presidential veto on the in- 
triguants and strengthened Grant's hands 
till Vicksburg was captured. 



Dave's Letter. 



207 



Lincoln said: "I met Grant March 9, 
1864, and as I handed him his commission 
I said: 'As the country herein trusts you, 
so under God it will sustain you.' " That 
was a red-letter day in my memory of 
Lincoln. A nature tinged and saddened 
by his early and romantic passion for 
Ann Rutledge, who died years before his 
marriage, must always remain an enigma 
to a careless world, which did not under- 
stand how, to an intense nature like 
Lincoln's, such a passion for a tenderly 
gracious and gifted woman was as divine 
as duty and stronger than death. Added 
to the strong, masterful, practical side 
of his nature, he was of "imagination 
all compact." 

"Made sad and sure, 

By many sorrows and one love." 



He felt keenly and often so expressed 
himself, the great loneliness of power, 
and he grappled with hooks 01 steel 
those who loved him, not for the largess 
of office, but who clung to him because 
they saw and loved in him the deep, 
underlying, pathetic, self-abnegation of a 
pure, unselfish and lofty soul, and he 
had the rare power of knowing the true 
friend from the sycophant. 

And the history of this sad, glad, wise, 
quaint and lovable man from out of the 
West, great as he was pure, will live 
forever. His name will grow into the 
granite base on which shall be built 
In the coming on of time the statue of 
an ideal statesman in a Republic of 
honest men, where pure law shall be 
measured only by perfect freedom. 



DAVE'S LETTER 



BY CHARLES UDELL 



ELLO, Dave," said Lou Meyers, 
the freighter, stopping his pack- 
horses at the camp on Gold Run; 
"the Oregon is up from Nome, 
and Wilson wanted me to tell you there's 
a letter for you." 

Dave and his partners were just finish- 
ing their lunch of sour-dough bread, 
beans and bacon, which their sturdy little 
Yukon stove had cooked in spite of the 
rising wind and occasionally falling snow. 
Dave, a square-built, athletic man of 
thirty, whose ten years in Alaska had not 
seen a stampede too dangerous for him to 
be among the first to start, sprang to his 
feet: 

"Didn't tell you where it waf from, did 
he?" 

"No. Said it was plump and dark- 
covered, or had trimmings something 
like that." 

Dave's face paled. 

"You don't mean black-bordered not 
a mourning letter?" 

"No; he didn't say so, anyway." 



Dave walked over to the little A-shaped 
tent a couple of rods away, and disap- 
peared inside. 

"Now you've played hades, Lou," said 
Mickey, one of his partners. "Dave 
would mush a hundred miles in a blizzard 
to get a letter from his wife." 

"That letter's worth going after," said 
Meyers, "even if he had to go to Nome 
instead of to Teller. But don't say any- 
thing; here he comes." 

Dave re-appeared, accompanied by his 
dog, and carrying a blanket. 

"I'm going to Teller, boys. Anything 
I can do for you?' 

"Better wait till morning, Dave. The 
sun will be down in half an hour. It's 
going to stop snov/ing, and freeze hard 
before morning." 

"Can't help it; I'm going." 

"Then take more blankets; you'll be 
out all night." 

"No, I'll be in Teller by eight o'clock 
this evening. I'm only taking this one 
because I'm short in town. Good bye;" 



208 



Overland Monthly. 



and Dave was off, striding across the 
tundra to the north. 

"Bet he don't make it," said Lou; "the 
trail's bad worse than none." 

"He'll make it if anyone could," said 
Mickey. "He won't try to follow the 
trail. He's no Chechako, and has his 
compass." 

The air was now thick with snow, and 
the sun had hardly set before darkness 
came on; not the black darkness of a 
storm "on the outside," but something 
much more bewildering the thick, tangi- 
ble, muddy darkness of an Arctic storm. 
It was late in October, and the first bliz- 
zard of the season was coming on. 
Dave, a hardened and experienced pros- 
pector, knew that he was making a fool- 
hardy trip. But that letter if nothing 
more had been said, Dave might have 
started anyway; and when Lou men- 
tioned the dark color, Dave would have 
gone through the worst blizzard that 
ever raged. His heart sank as he thought 
of the ominous words, the "dark trim- 
mings." Could it mean a black-bordered 
letter, telling him that Mary was dead? 

He was stumbling on with these 
gloomy forebodings, when he suddenly 
stopped. Before him was a swift, narrow 
stream. A match struck under the 
shelter of his coat showed him the face 
of his compass. A glance convinced him 
that he had been wandering from his 
course, and was back on the Gold Run at 
one of its many curves, rie must still 
be to the north of its general course, 
but just here It lay between him and his 
route. To cross it now meant that he 
would have to wade it again, but that 
was better than following its intricate 
windings. Dave was not a man to hesi- 
tate. Quickly removing his mukluks, he 
stepped into the water. Fortunately, it 
was little more than knee-deep. Climb- 
ing the opposite bank, he put on his foot- 
wear, again looked at his compass, and 
started north. 

His dog crossed without difficulty, and 
was now in the lead. The snow had 
ceased to fall, and the air was rapidly 
growing colder. Soon he came to the 
creek again, and this time the dog 
plunged in without waiting for his mas- 
ter. The swift current seized him and 



rolled him off his feet, and Dave had to 
spring in to his rescue. When they 
reached the other side, Dave was wet 
through and his teeth were chattering. 
With his matches wet, he could no longer 
look at his compass. Stumbling up the 
bank, he followed its course, and at last 
came upon a prospector's vacant tent. 
Entering, he felt around in the darkness, 
and on a box found some di matches. 
Striking one, he looked around. There 
was nothing of which to make a fire, 
but among the contents of the box he 
found a piece of canvass and a can half 
full of baked beans. Wrapping the 
matches carefully in canvass, he placed 
them in an inner pocket. A search of 
the box revealed nothing eatable except 
the beans, and, seating himself in the 
darkness, he hastily devoured them and 
resumed his journey. The wet strings 
of his mukluks had stretched, and after 
stopping to tighten them, he again 
started toward the north. Soon the 
strings had dried enough to shrink, but 
Dave did not stop to loosen them. His 
feet were getting numb, but he did not 
believe it cold enough to be dangerous. 
From time to time he struck a light and 
looked at his compass to correct his 
course. 

Colder and colder grew the wind, 
which blew so hard that he could barely 
struggle against it. His mukluks were 
frozen stiff; and at last, fearing for his 
feet, he stopped in a hollow partially 
sheltered from the wind. Removing his 
mukluks he made the dog lie down on 
them; and, wrapping his blanket around 
his feet, he sat down. The dog put his 
head on Dave's knee, Dave's head sank 
on that of the dog, and in a moment they 
were both asleep. A month later in the 
year, that sleep would have been fatal. 
It is thus that death by freezing often 
takes its victims a drowsiness, an irre- 
sistible longing for one moment's sleep, 
which yielded to results in a frozen body 
being found by the next prospector who 
comes that way. 

Early in the season as it was, Dave's 
sleep might have been his last, but the 
dog soon started up and commenced lick- 
ing his master's face. Dave rose, and, 
thinking of that letter, pushed his feet 



The Meadow Lark. 



209 



into the mukluks and struggled on. 

It was nearly daybreak when he came 
to the brow of a hill, and heard the low 
roar of waves, although it was still too 
dark to see the waters of the bay. He 
looked for the lights of Teller, but could 
see none. Groping his way toward the 
beach, he fell over a stake. Lighting a 
match with his numbed fingers, he found 
written on the stake the words "A street." 
Dave knew that there was no A 
street in Teller, and then realized that 
he was in the townsite of Behring, six 
or eight miles from Teller. By the 
breaking day he could now make out the 
few straggling tents and shanties of the 
town; and, as he passed them by, saw a 
saloon sign over a door. Cold, half- 
starved, tired, and weak from exposure, 
Dave felt that he would give half of his 
best claim for a stiff drink of whiskey. 
He opened the door, then closed it again. 
He must see that dark-covered letter; he 
must keep his brain clear for the hard 
trip still before him. 

It was nearly noon when Dave, after 
much wandering, found himself on the 



hill overlooking the lagoon, with Teller 
spread beyond; and, after almost another 
hour's struggle, he reached the town. 
He went up Grantley avenue, and was 
passing his own cabin, going straight to 
the postoffice, when he noticed that the 
padlock was off the door and someone 
was moving inside. 

"Some of the town-loafers have jumped 
my lot," he thought. "Well, they've 
chosen a bad time for them." 

Dave was by this time certain that the 
dark-colored letter brought the worst of 
news. If Mary was dead, life had noth- 
ing left. Woe betide the lot-jumper who 
had an altercation with him in his pres- 
ent mood! 

Turning short round, with one blow 
Dave burst the door from its latch, and 
entered. A plump little woman in a 
dark-colored dress sprang forward with 
outstretched arms: 

"Dave!" 

"Mary!" 

Dave is often joked about his plump, 
dark-covered letter, but he takes it good- 
naturedly. 



THE MEADOW LARK 



BY ERNEST MCGAFFEY. 



A sea of grass on either side 

The prairie stretches far and wide; 

Its undulating line of blades 

Reflects the noontide lights and shades, 

And brings before me one by one 

The pictures wrought by wind and sun. 



Like one wild cry for loved and lost, 
From lone spirit tempest-tossed, 
It wails across the waving grass, 
And, blending with the winds that pass. 
It scatters echoes at my feet 
So full of pain, so deadly sweet. 



And silence reigns, save for the breeze Oh! heart of hearts, could my unrest 



And muffled hum of droning bees, 

Till in the summer hush I hear 

A prairie signal sweet and clear, 

In mournful, piercing notes that mark 

The whistle of the meadow-lark. 



Find such a song within my breast, 

My passionate and yearning cry 

Would echo on from sea to sky 

Along the path of future years, 

And touch the listening world to tears. 




NO MAN'S RANCH. 



BY WILLIAM MAcLEOD RAINE. 



f r rj-T7 ND do you mean to tell me the 
/I cattle jumped down there?" 
F~\ "That's what!" answered the 
cow-puncher, promptly. "Did 
you think we let 'em down with ropes and 
pull 'em up again at milking time?" 

"But do you mean they jumped nearly 
a thousand feet without getting killed?" 
the tourist asked again increduously. 

Then while they were lying face down 
with their heads projecting over the cliff, 
the cowboy pointed out a pile of some- 
thing white and glistening which caught 
the sunshine near the foot of the cliff. 

"Them's bones," he answered, more 



for a financier, liKewise a civil engineer." 
The man's voice died away in a drawl and 
his eyes twinkled. 

Riding across the alkali plain, where 
prickly cactus and gray sage brush 
stretch far as the eye can measure, one 
comes suddenly on a yawning chasm. It 
appears so abruptly, almost at your very 
feet, that instinctively you drag your 
horse back, as a man springs back to 
avoid a snake. For many hundred feet 
the Devil's Bluff sinks down sheer and 
perpendicular. Down that cliff only two 
men have been known to go, and their 
bones are bleaching in the hot Arizona 




No Man's Ranch. 

briefly than grammatically. "The bones 
of a herd of cattle that jumped off this 
bluff nigh on to twenty years ago. Like- 
wise there are two greasers' bones mixed 
up with them two rustling, murdering 
greasers. Out of that heap a dozen cattle 
crawled miore dead than alive. I reckon 
they hold the record for the long jump, 
stranger." 

"How many are there now?" 

"I've sat here and counted as many as 
three hundred. The feeding must be 
fine, but it would be a right smart job 
to market those there cattle a problem 



sun. The manner of their death was 
so tragic that one is reminded of the 
Nemesis which followed men in the days 
of the old Greek Gods, as so powerfully 
depicted by Aeschylus. 

Lying back from the base of the cliff 
a meadow stretches for perhaps half a 
mile, green and fresh throughout the year. 
It is watered by an underground stream 
which flows from under the cliff into the 
meadow and on into the bluff opposite. 
On every side the meadow is bounded by 
impassable cliffs which sternly forbid en- 
trance or egress. Except by the under- 



Overland Monthly. 



211 



ground river or down the face of the cliff 
there is no means of getting into that 
sunken valley; in other words, practically 
there is no mode of entrance at all. It is 
as if in the plastic state of the world's 
formation some titanic mastodon had 
trodden down the hollow with its im- 
m^ense foot. 

If the eye of the watcher be keen tiny 
moving specks may be seen dotting the 
meadow and feeding on the succulent 
bunch grass of No Man's Ranch. Oc- 
casionally, when the wind is right, a faint 
lowing is borne upward on the breeze. 
All is quiet and serene as a summer day 
below. The sun beats down on a scene 
more primeval than the Garden of Eden. 
In olden days the Indian has looked down 
with wondering awe, but the boldest 
climber of them all has never attempted 
these precipitous cliffs. 

The globe-trotter looked down fascin- 
ated. 

"Are the cattle growing more numer- 
ous?" he asked at last. 

"Yes, I reckon they are. Once in a 
while some cow-puncher comes along and 
plunks at them with a gun just for fun. 
Otherwise they mostly die of old age and 
too much happiness. Seems kinder like 
being in another world to look down 
there, don't it?" 

The man had hit it exactly. It was like 
looking into another world a world with- 
out man, where his restless activity and 
energy, his greed and avarice had never 
entered. The strangest sight on the whole 
planet, a world within a world, only a 
thousand feet away, but to all intents and 
purposes as far as Mars, and as inac- 
cessible. 

Then the cow-puncher told the story of 
No Man's Ranch. 

About a dozen miles from the Devil's 
Bluff James Nolan had a ranch. Working 
for him were two brothers named Ike 
and Jake Rogers. They were hearty 
young fellows, full of fun and life, and 
consequently popular with their fellow 
cowboys. It happened that one day while 
Ike was in the neighboring town about 
fifty miles away he had an altercation 
with a Mexican named Manuel. The fel- 
low had struck a woman, and Ike had 
promptly knocked him down. When he 



got back to the ranch his friends blamed 
him. 

"You hit him once too often or else 
not often enough. Never hit a greaser 
unless you are going to kill him," an old 
herder told him gravely. "Like as not 
he'll loaf around in the grass waiting for 
a chance to pump lead into you. If you 
see him you'd better shoot on sight." 
"Oh, I don't want the fellow's blood 
on my hands," said the young American, 
and turning away forgot all about it. 

But Manuel remembered, and every 
time he thought of it he gnashed his 
teeth and cursed. He lay low, his beady 
eyes alert, waiting for a chance to kill 
his enemy. One day another Mexican 
told him that the two brothers were 
stationed several miles away from the 
rest of the herders, with a bunch of cows 
whose calves had not yet been branded. 
Manuel arose, clapping his hands softly, 
and murmuring, "Buenos." The light in 
his face was not good to see at that 
moment. 

With the characteristic Mexican thrift 
he decided to make his revenge serve a 
business end. He secured to assist him 
two other choice specimens of his 
countrymen named Juan and Rodrigo. 
Waiting for a dark moonless night, the 
three treacherous Mexicans rode up to a 
clump of trees a few hundred yards from 
where the brothers were camped. From 
there they crawled forward through the 
grass like snakes until they came in 
sight of the sleeping men. 

It happened that Nolan himself had 
ridden out that day to inquire about some 
cattle of the Bar U ranch which were 
supposed to be running with his. A few 
minutes before the Mexicans appeared 
Nolan had awakened, and hearing a noise 
among the horses he stepped back out 
of the firelight to the place where they 
were tethered. So the Mexicans, seeing 
the two sleeping men, did not suspect the 
presence of a third. 

When they were within a score of yards 
of them they shot the brothers as they 
slept. Hearing the shots, Nolan sus- 
pected murder and crawled back to find 
the murderers rifling the bodies of their 
dead victims. He had no weapon with 
him, and there was no choice for him but 



212 



Overland Monthly. 



to lie back in the grass and watch them. 
He decided to follow them at a short dis- 
tance till he had made sure of their 
destination, then return for his comrades, 
organize a pursuit, and attend a necktie 
party. 

The Mexicans remounted their cow- 
ponies, and got the cattle started, after 
some trouble, toward the border. The 
night had been growing steadily darker, 
and by this time it was pitch dark. 
Nothing could be seen three yards away. 
Evidently a storm was brewing, for the 
thunder could be heard rumbling closer 



fork they would follow before returning 
to his men. 

The fury of the storm had grown to 
be a hurricane, and it seemed as if they 
were advancing into the very heart of 
it. There was but little rain, though the 
thunder growled and roared incessantly 
with a deafening noise, and the flashes 
of lightning formed an almost continu- 
ous jagged illumination. Great forks 
of light lit up the sky, and seemed to play 
about the heads of the cattle rustlers. 
The superstitious Mexicans were beside 
themselves with terror, beseeching their 




Looking Over the Cliff. 

and closer. Occasional flashes of light- 
ning lit up the blackness vividly, reveal- 
ing to the cow-man who was following, 
the direction being taken by the herd 
in front of him. The storm momentar- 
ily growing worse, made a fit setting for 
the horrible crime which had just been 
perpetrated. 

For half a dozen miles the cowman fol- 
lowed the rustlers, keeping well in the 
rear. A couple of miles in front the road 
forked, and he waited only to find which 



patron saints to remember them in their 
need, praying pardon for their sins, im- 
ploring mercy for the murder just com- 
mitted. To them the fearful storm seem- 
ed a direct visitation of Providence which 
had been invoked as a punishment for 
their crimes. It is a curious and charac- 
teristic fact that, though so filled with re- 
morse, it never occurred to them to aban- 
don the cattle; all their promises were 
for the future. 

The cattle were in even a worse way 



No Man's Ranch. 



213 



than their drivers. Greatly frightened, 
as cattle usually are in a storm, they 
plunged along aimlessly, bellowing and 
lowing. Their great numbers increased 
the panic, since the fears were passed 
from one to another, and the general 
terror increased with the growing fury 
of the tempest. Only a spark was wanted 
to bring about a stampede, and that Rod- 
rigo himself supplied. 

About a mile from the Devil's Bluff 
the trail turns to the southwest. The 
Mexicans spurred their ponies forward to 
get in front of the cattle to drive the lead- 
ers round, so that the mass would follow. 

But the animals were past control, 
and pushing straight on. The cracking 
of the whips was nothing to the roaring 
of the thunder, and the leaders would not 
turn. Mad with fear and rage, Rodrigo 
fired point blank at the head of the bull 
in front. The bullet plowed into the 
shoulder, and the enraged animal dashed 
headlong at him. He tried to turn the 
pony, but it slipped on the wet grass, 
and the bull tossed the wretched Mexi- 
can high in the air. He fell on the horns 
of the herd behind, slithered to the 
ground, and was trampled to death. Next 
day the remains were found, beaten out 
of all semblance to a human body, every 
bone crushed and broken. 

The bull, followed by the herd, dashed 
madly on, and the other two Mexicans 
:saved themselves from being trampled 
down only by joining the wild stampede. 

Unless one has seen a stampede of mad 
cattle the danger can scarcely be realized. 
A herd which has stampeded can be 
stopped by hardly any force, and rarely 
can they be turned. 

Encircled on all sides by the maddened 
cattle, a single miss-step of their ponies 
meant sure death, and the stumbling of 
a calf in front might throw the bronchos 
any moment. The riders could turn nei- 
ther to the right nor to the left, but must 
stay with the herd, wherever it might 
choose to go. They were making directly 
for the Devil's Bluff. Nolan knew that 
unless something should turn them, an ex- 
treme improbability, they would go over 
the precipice together cattle, horses, 
and men. Strange to say, though a mo- 
ment before he had been planning their 




Bounded by Impassable Cliffs. 

death, he now would have risked anything 
to save the men for the time. Yet if he 
could have saved them he would never 
have rested until he had seen them 
hanged. 

Manuel and Juan seemed to realize 
the new peril which menaced them. Their 
despairing cries rang out into the night 
again and again, and they began work- 
ing with fearful haste to reach the out- 
skirts of the herd, taking risks of being 
trampled which a moment before they 
would never have dared. With their pis- 
tols they were shooting the animals be- 
side them and slipping into the places of 
the fallen cattle. Foot by foot they were 
getting nearer the edge of the herd 
and safety. But at the same time every 
second was carrying them swiftly for- 
ward to the edge of the cliff and death. 

Vain hope! When the Mexicans were 
almost free of the stampede the leaders 
reached the edge of the precipice. For 
the fraction of an eye-wink the beasts 



204 



Overland Monthly. 



pawed the edge desperately, then plunged 
forward, driven by the impetus of their 
own rush and the weight of a thousand 
tons of moving beef behind. 

The final act of the tragedy took only a 
few seconds. Those behind pushed on 
those in front, and hurled them over 
the brink. Others took their places, 
only to be pushed over like those in front 
of them and to be hurled down down 
down. 

At the very edge of the precipice Man- 
uel freed himself from the stampede; he 
swung his pony around on its hind legs, 
and for an instant hung poised in the bal- 
ance between safety and death. 

Then a calf, running clear of the herd, 
dashed into the broncho, and all three 
went over the edge together. A flash of 
lightning showed Nolan the Mexican, still 
astride his horse in mid-air, clutching 
with an agonized face for the edge of the 
cliff he could not reach. 

The imprecations of the men, the 
screaming of the horses, and the bellow- 
ing of the cattle, mingled with the noise 
of the storm for a few seconds; then 
there was silence save for the deep rum- 



bling of the thunder and the howling of 
the wind. When the tragedy was over, 
cattle, horses and men had disappeared 
over the brow of the bluff. 

In a delirium of terror Nolan turned 
and fled to camp with the wildest story 
man ever had to tell. He had been known 
as a man of strong nerve, but that single 
night's experience weakened him. He 
never heard the roar of thunder at night 
without seeing the ghastly face of the 
Mexican, the plunging scream of the 
horse, and the final catastrophe. 

A few of the cattle which made that 
terrible leap survived. They struck on 
the pile or soft, quivering nesh and crawl- 
ed to safety. On the sweet grass of the 
meadow they lived and thrived and mul- 
tiplied. All die the death of nature, se- 
cure from the butcher, save when some 
reckless cowboy sends a random shot 
from the bluff above to find a mark in one 
of the mavericks below. 

Because no man owns them, or can ever 
own them, they are known among the 
few dwellers near as "No Man's Herd," 
and their inaccessible feeding place as 
"No Man's Ranch." 




A GREENHORN'S LUCK 




BY ALICE J. STEVENS. 



Y7T7 PROSPECTOR has been defined as 

H"a man who owns a hole in the 
ground and is the biggest liar in 
thirteen counties," and it was an 
old prospector who told me the following 
story : 

You see, it all happened in one of 
those little Jim Crow mining camps west 
of the Rockies. The camp consisted of 
about a dozen cabins where the miners 
slept and cooked, but spent the balance 
of their spare time down at the camp 
store a general dispensary for grog and 
grub, with postoffice and justice o' the 
peace court adjoining, sort o' handy-like; 
nothin' specially attractive about the 
whole blamed place, 'ceptin', perhaps, 
the store-keep's little girl a cute, yellow- 
haired kid of about four the only child 
in camp and loved by every bearded, 
gruff man there. 

Well, the green-horn struck this prom- 
isin' camp after a hard trip across the 
desert sands without seein' any indica- 
tions o' pay dirt or water, and things 
were beginnin' to look mighty hazy like 
to Greeny, when the old burro he was 
ridin' gave a sort o' grunt and struck 
a gait that almost paralyzed his rider 
with astonishment, not knowin' the old 
brute scented water, and they wandered 
into camp late that evenin', both pretty 
well used up from the journey. Greeny 
told me afterwards he was hungry 
enough to eat the burro, only his respect 
for old age prevented him. 

The first remark he made as he hove 
into camp branded him a full-fledged 
greenhorn from 'way back, and that's 
why we dubbed him "Greeny" and the 
name sticks to him yet. He rode up to 
the store where the boys were congre- 
gated for evenin' drinks and gossip, and 
said glibly, "Good evening, gentlemen." 

"Gentlemen be d d," said one burly 

miner. "Hello, Greeny," replied another. 

He got down off the burro, wiped the 
sweat from his face and said sort o' 
14 



sociable like, "Well, how do you folks 
take life out this way?" and old Pirate 
Pete took the cob pipe out of his mouth 
long enough to say sarcastically. "De- 
pends entirely on the provocation." 

Then Greeny sort o' caught on that the 
boys were guyin' him so he went in- 
side and struck old storekeep for a job. 
He was busted to beat the band, and not 
havin' located anything tangible offered 
to clerk for his grub and sleep, until he 
got a chance to find his bearin's, and old 
storekeep, bein' quick at gettin' some- 
thin' for nothin', snapped him up too 
quick but it eventually proved to be 
the best location for pay dirt ever made 
in that camp. 

He didn't know anything more about 
clerkin' than a cat knows o' scripture, 
but bein' quick witted soon got the hang 
o' things and did good work. He dressed 
so gol darned like a dude, too, that he 
drew trade like a freak at a side-show. 
He wore a big, red flannel shirt belted 
with a wide leather strap filled with all 
sorts o' shootin' irons and bowie knives, 
to make himself look ferocious, but only 
succeeded in appearin' ridiculous. After 
a while he got to sort o' regardin' him 
as a harmless critter that belonged to 
the camp, and he took our guyin' as part 
of his stock in trade. 

The storekeep, with his wife and baby 
girl, lived in rooms over the little shack 
of a store, while Greeny slept under the 
counter, pretendin' to guard the store 
from burglars but we all knew he was 
just savin' expenses. 

For some reason or other the store- 
keep's little girl got mightily stuck on 
Greeny, and used to wander around after 
him as fast as her little legs could trot. 
He seemed to like her innocent prattle, 
and was never too busy to give time to 
her wants. She owned a pet dog just 
a measly, mangy cur, a good trap for 
fleas but every fellow in camp stood 
ready to defend that dog with his life 



216 



Overland Monthly. 



because the kid loved it so. 

One mornin' we all lined up at the store 
for mail and bitters, and there was 
Greeny, down on his knees, tryin' to teach 
a litter o' yellow pups to drink condense:! 
milk out of a pan, while their mothe: 
the baby's pet was lyin' dead outside, 
with the little girl sobbing her heart out 
over the remains. 

Lop-eared Mike remarked that he'd 
draw the line at actin' as wet nurse to 
a litter of pups for anybody but Greeny 
looked up and said quietly: "Maybe if it 
cheered ' the heart of a little girl, and 
you'd buried a baby o' your own, you 
might feel differently, Mike." At that 
Lop-eared Mike just wilted, and walkin' 
up to Greeny said kindly, "You're dead 
right, pard, shake." 

After that little episode there was a 
sort o' protective feelin' among the boys 
for Greeny couldn't help respectin' the 
cuss, though nobody ever gave him credit 
for havin' any spunk or grit 'till that 
night o' the flood. Anybody that lived in 
that camp the night o' that flood dates 
everything before and after it and you 
bet they remember the date all right. You 
see, there hadn't been any rain for 
months rainy season, too flumes all 
dry and mines just sufferin' to be worked. 
'Long late in January the clouds began to 
flit across the sky and whirlwinds blow 
dust in circles, and then one night we all 
flocked down to the store feelin' pretty 
good, for the wind had veered 'round to 
southeast and that meant rain sure. 

'Bout ten o'clock all interest in a jack- 
pot was eclipsed by a regular old-fash- 
ioned downpour. Hully Gee! how it did 
rain. Talk about it rainin' Dutch dogs 
why, the breed wa'n't in it with that de- 
luge. 

It kept up that lick for three days, 
and by that time things began to look 
like they'd had a wettin'. The old arroyo 
back o' the store was runnin' bank full 
and still arisin'. The third night o' the 
storm we all sat 'round the fire down at 
the store, spinning yarns and swappin' 
lies, just hatin' to pull our freight for the 
cabins. Somehow it semed lonesome 
like, as if the wrath o' God was at hand, 
while every once in a while the crackin' 
o' some big tree could be heard above 



the roar o' the storm, and lightnin' flash- 
in' and thunder smashin'. But 'long to- 
wards midnight we tore ourselves away 
ficm comfortable quarters and lit out for 
our bunks. Hadn't been a-bed more'n an 
hour or so when there came a tremen- 
dous crash, and above the rattle o' the 
tempest we heard somethin' that stilled 
the blood in every heart 'twas a wo- 
man's scream, from the direction of the 
store. Every fellow rushed from his 
cabin without stoppin' for extras, and, as 
flash after flash of lightnin' lit the sky 
like a lamp, we saw the wooden structure 
o' the store floatin' off down stream; the 
swollen waters was a tossin' it first one 
side, then 'tother, sometimes sendin' it 
almost onto the bank safe from danger 
then catchin' it up again and whirlin' it 
off into the middle o' the stream, dippin' 
deeper and deeper into the current, like 
a cat playin' with a mouse, and every 
man in camp rushin' frantically after 
it, as the house was borne further and 
further down the stream. We were half 
daft with excitement, when a vivid flash 
o' lightnin' showed Greeny standin' on 
the roof trying to make us hear. A mo- 
mentary lull brought his words to us: 
"Get a lariat." Now, if there is one 
thing more'n another that makes a West- 
erner hot and disgusted, it is for some 
idiotic tenderfoot to call a "riata" a 
"lariat" but not a man stopped to argue 
the point with Greeny just then. 

One o' the boys had been a cow- 
puncher b'efore he got aristocratic ideas 
and went to dealin' faro down at the 
mines, and he made a hasty run back 
to his cabin, returning in a jiffy with 
his trusty raw-hide, grimly remarkin', as 
he wound it for a long throw: "Now, 
boys, just pray Almighty God that 
my right hand hain't lost its cunnin'." 
He waited for the lightnin' to light the 
way; then there was a ringin' swish as 
the rope swung round and round his 
head and by the first vivid flash it shot 
across the black waters to where Greeny 
stood ready to grasp it. By its tight- 
ening we knew he'd got it, and we all 
caught hold and swung on like grim 
death. Quicker than it takes to tell it, 
Greeny got it fastened to the house by 
runnin' the rope down through a hole in 



A Greenhorn's Luck. 



217 



the roof and back through a side window, 
completely tyin' it up so it couldn't pulJ 
loose without breaking the rope. 

Well, to cut a long story short, we 
hitched onto the stuinp o' a tree and 
gradually worked, pulled and hauled till 
we finally got the house anchored long 
enough for Greeny to get ashore. He 
came, with the baby girl snugly wrapped 
in blankets, clasped close in his arms 
and sound asleep. All he said, as he 
struck land was: "Boys, she's an orphan. ' 
Then we realized the full heroism of the 
man and the awful horror o' the situ- 
ation, for both parents had been swept 
away while he saved the baby. 

Towards mornin' the storm abated and 
we went down to look for the bodies. 
Found 'em lodged in drift wood and sand 
three or four miles below camp, and gave 
'em as decent a burial as circumstances 
would allow. You see, there wa'n't no 
preacher within forty miles o' the place 
across the desert, at that but Lop-Eared 
Mike said he remembered the burial ser- 
vice though I've always had a sneakin' 
suspicion that he got it mixed up with 
an affydavid, considerin' as how he used 
to be justice o' the peace and we sent 
down to Rowdy's Row for Scar-faced 
Annie, who used to sing in a variety 
theatre, and she came up and sang, 
"Shall We Gather at the River," which 
seemed kind o' appropriate for the occa- 
sion. And when the bodies, both in the 
same rude coffin, was lowered into the 
grave, every man there, no matter how 
hard his character, and every woman, 
no matter how free from virtue, 
uttered a silent prayer for the repose o' 
their souls, and though we wa'n't clad 
in priestly vestments, nor none o' us in 
much grace o' God, we all felt that 
surely He had heard our petition, and 
would grant it. 

A few days later the baby, whom 
Greeny had sort o' inherited, and had 
the care of, was playin' down by the river 
bank when she discovered the dead body 



of a yellow pup one of the litter Greeny 
had tried to teach to drink condensed 
milk and ran to him with the poor slimy 
thing in her arms, cryin' piteously for 
her dead pet. 

Greeny left off work and made a little 
box coffin for the puppy, and to assuage 
the grief of the child went down where 
the store had stood, to bury the dog 
near where its mother had been planted. 
No one joshed him this time, as he took 
his pick and shovel to dig the small 
grave, with the little girl sobbin' over 
the box holdin' her dead pet. 

After an hour or so some one remarked 
that Greeny must be goin' to bury that 
dog in China by the depth o' the hole ne 
was diggin', he was so blamed long about 
the job. Lookin' down from the hillside 
where we was blastin' rock to sink a new 
shaft, we saw Greeny diggin' away for 
dear life, and the baby fast asleep in the 
sun with the box o' unburied dog at her 
side. Presently Greeny took a pan o' dirt 
down to the stream and began washin' it. 
That told the tale, and when we closed 
down for noon, we all went over to see 
what he'd struck, and found location 
notices stuck up all over the place 
claimin' everything for himself and the 
little orphan girl, while right there in 
plain view, over which the old store had 
stood for years, was one o' the richest 
payin' ledges, fully six feet wide and no 
tellin' how long, which Greeny had uncov- 
ered in diggin' a grave for a drownded 
dog just to ease the grief o' a little baby 
girl. 

Well, Greeny went back to the States, 
takin' the little girl with him, and or- 
ganized a company to develop that mine. 
I seen a fellow out from New York the 
other day who told me that Greeny was 
doin' the grand at the best hotel there, 
and educatin' that baby as his own 
daughter to inherit all his wealth. 

Talk about luck why, if that wa'n't 
the guidin' hand o' Providence, what in 
thunder was it? 




T Athens Paul declared unto the 
people Him unto whom they had 
raised an altar with this inscrip- 
tion, TO THE UNKNOWN GOD: 
the while, in a far-off country whereof 
they of the Old World had not even 
dreamed, the stars of midnight shown 
down on a woman who, with uplifted 
arms, made supplication to the Unnamed 
God. Also in the room with Tee-wah 
the Old were Waytse the Slow, her son, 
and Tzanah the Sightless, her daughter. 
The night grew old, and far to the 
north, beyond the forest of jasper, the 
Seven Stars grew pale before the coming 
day. A watchman with his face and 
shoulders wrapped in his woolen mantle 
shuffled slowly across the roofs and 
climbed from terrace to terrace till he 
stood on the highest part of the eastern 
wall. 

"Wake," he called hoarsely, "the morn- 
ing comes." 

Waytse the Slow and Tzanah the Sight- 
less were among ten thousand who came 
up from the rooms and stood on the 
roofs of the houses which the women of 
the men that dwelt in towns had built 
on the crest of the Mountain of Thun- 
der. Day came and the people came out 
on the roofs of the houses to cry aloud 
their greeting to the sun, emblem of 
the Unnamed, greatest among the gods 
of the Towndwellers. 

Tzanah the Sightless came down into 
the room where Tee-wah the Old lay on 
her bed of rushes. The girl stood before 
a jar of red pottery and dipped with a 
cup to take out water; as she stooped, 
a stone flying in at the window struck 
her arm, and rebounding, fell against 
the water jar. She cried out in affright, 
then she laughed, rubbing the place 
where the stone had struck. 



PE9PLE 



Cl^VLWELL GAL.PIN 



"It is but the missile of some un- 
skillful boy who practices with his sling 
as he stands on the mesa," she said. "It 
hurt but little, and no harm is done." 

But Tee-wah the Old turned her face 
to the wall. "It is an evil omen," she 
said. "I burned fragrant cimarron and 
made petition to the gods that a little 
food be given to them that I love. A 
bruise hath come." And she made low 
moan. 

Tzanah the Sightless gave water to 
her mother, and she herself drank. For 
long she sat, patient, uncomplaining, dili- 
gent in the making of a net of twisted 
grass. But neither the old woman nor 
the young girl broke her fast, for there 
was no food in that room. 

It had not always been s'o. Long 
years before Del-tara the runner had 
taken his young wife, Tee-wah, to his 
room. Del-tara was full of knowledge of 
plain and of mountain, well aware of 
the haunts of beasts fit to eat and of 
those places where food plants grew: 
Tee-wah, his wife, was both diligent and 
skillful, and their room lacked neither 
food nor mantles ornamented with fig- 
ures of the sacred terrace, nor pottery 
painted red or black. Men children were 
born in their room; and the days passed, 
filled with love and pleasant labor, till 
Del-tara the runner and Tee-wah his wife 
began to be old. Then Waytse and 
Tzanah were born; and Del-tara and Tee- 
wah loved them, being the son and the 
daughter of their age. 

Afterward an evil time fell upon Zuni 
and upon all the people that dwelt in 
towns. There came no rain. The water 
in the irrigating ditches dried up and the 
maize stalks withered in the field. Bi- 
son and antelope, the black-tailed deer 
and the big-horned sheep sought feeding 



The Corn People. 



219 



grounds far away. Food grew scarce 
and many people died of hunger. 

On a day when the famine was most 
bitter, men of the tribes of Shis Inday 
grew bold by reason of hunger, and fell 
upon Zuni, with small tree trunks sharp- 
ened, breaking through the walls. Del- 
tara and his sons stood in their room 
and fought with axes of jasper, killing 
many. Tee-wah, seeing the men like 
to be overcome by numbers, fought also, 
using for a weapon the little stone mor- 
tar wherein she made very fine the meal 
for her young children to eat. Thereafter 
many Zuni warriors came and the men of 
the tribe of Shis Inday were killed; and 
the bodies of them were given to the vul- 
tures. But Del-tara and his" strong sons 
were dead and his young children sore 
wounded, for as one of the sons of the 
Bear was struck down his axe fell on 
the face of Tzanah, making a great 
wound and leaving her thereafter to 
grope in darkness at midday as in the 
night; another witn his club struck Wayt- 
se, breaking both the legs of the boy; 
he walked ever after on his bended 
knees, wherefore he was called Waytse 
the Slow. 

Tee-wah was given a room under the 
highest roof of Zuni, and there she abode 
with her children. Rains came, and the 
women fought the fight for food as well 
as any man of Zuni. Then age took the 
strength from the back that had been 
strong to carry and from the neck that 
had not been weak to steady a great load, 
leaving Tee-wah the Old to lie all day in 
her room, able only, at dawn and at dark, 
to make petition to the God of Hunters 
and to the God of Green Things that 
those she loved be not altogether for- 
saken. Yet most of all Tee-wah the Old 
mourned that the women of Zuni and 
of the towns round about sorrowed with 
her, because for lack of seed the women 
of the men that dwelt in towns planted 
no more maize. 

Now again for long no rain had fallen. 
The plants of the field and the vegeta- 
tion of the valleys and of the mountains 
languished and died by reason of drouth. 
Because the pasture was not good and by 
reason of much hunting beasts of the 
chase grew scarce and wild, and of such 



men as were not good hunters the women 
and the children went oftentimes hun- 
gry. 

Thus it was that there was no food 
in the room where Tee-wah the Old lay 
on her couch of rushes and Tzanah the 
Sightless worked at the making of the 
net of twisted grass. 

Waytse the Slow, hungry and almost 
hopeless, went down the path leading 
from the mesa of Zuni. He sought young 
mustard plants on the plain and succu- 
lent little ground nuts on trie hillsides, 
sighing deeply and often because he 
found nothing; until, climbing painfully 
among great rocks, he came upon a mag- 
uey growing thriftily. And so it hap- 
pened that before the sun had reached 
his highest place in the sky Waytse 
the Slow turned his face to the west 
and trailed back up the path leading to 
the houses, bearing a heavy burden of 
the heart of the maguey. 

He carried his load like a woman, in 
a net of twisted grass supported by a 
wide band across his forehead. The way 
to the house was long and steep, and the 
boy climbed slowly, sometimes sighing, 
sometimes groaning; yet his heart beat 
ever joyously. 

"For them that I love," he said to 
himself, "there shall be food in plenty." 

When the sun had reached his highest 
place in the sky and had begun a little 
to go down toward the place of the night, 
Tee-wah the Old asked for water, and 
again Tzanah the Sightless dipped the 
little cup into the great water jar. 

"The half of our water hath gone," 
she said in surprise. 

Tee-wah the Old turned her eyes 
toward the niche where the water jar 
stood. "I made petition to the gods," 
she said with a groan, "and there came 
a bruise x>n. the body of one I love. The 
stone, that bruised thee hath also broken 
the great jar, and even now the water 
that hath cost thee so much labor run- 
neth down the wall. All the omens are 
bad. It may be that Waytse my son hath 
fallen from a precipice or hath been 
slain by the Lipanes, and will come no 
more to us, who, if he come not, must 
perish from hunger." 

"He cometh even now," said Tzanah. 



220 



Overland Monthly. 



She stood with her finger to her lips, lis- 
tening intently. "He beareth a burden, 
also," she added. 

"Thou dost but dream," said the old 
woman; "I hear 
no sound at all." 
Tzanah smiled, 
saying nothing, 
but her face 
lighted up with 
eager hope as 
she stood listen- 
ing, her lips 
slightly parted, 
and her breath 
coming quickly. 

"It is he it is 
my brother," she 
said confidently. 
"Also, he bear- 
eth a heavy bur- 
den." 

"I hear no 
sound " be- 
gan Tee-wah, 
when there 

came a scuffling 
overhead, and a 
moment later 
Waytse called 
down through 
the door in the 
roof. 

"Ho, Tee-wah, 
motner, ne said, 
"here is the ans- 
wer to thy pray- 
er to the God of 
Hunters." And 
thereupon he let 
down into the 
room a great 
piece of the 
flesh of bison, 
dried, which 
Tzanah, groping 
for a moment, 
found and seized 
with a soft .cry 
of delight. 

"Here also," called the boy, "is the' 
answer to tny prayer to the God of 
Green Things," and he let down many 
pieces of gourd, dried and strung on cords 
of grass. 




Wake! The morning comes!" 



Tzanah brought under the door the 
trunk of a small fir tree having notches 
cut therein, and thereon Waytse came 
down into the room. 

"How hast 
thou gotten all 
this food?" ask- 
ed Tee-wah. 

"I found a 
good maguey ; 
part I traded 
to the watch- 
man on the sec- 
ond terrace, get- 
ting in return 
this piece of 
meat; another 
part I gave to a 
woman for the 
pieces of gourd." 
Of that food 
Waytse had 
brought some 
was soon ready, 
and they ate 
and drank. And 
Waytse smeared 
with clay the 
place where the 
great water jar 
was cracked and 
tied about the 
jar a piece of 
cloth woven of 
maguey fibre, 
and though the 
jar still leaked, 
it was but very 
little. 

The days pass- 
ed and the meat 
and the gourd 
food sufficed. Al- 
so strength 
came to Waytse 
the Slow by rea- 
son of good food 
and he went 
faster and far- 



ther, bringing 
to the room at nightfall sometimes sorrel, 
sometimes mustard, sometimes the little 
ground nuts whose round leaves are not 
easy to distinguish among the grass on 
the hillside, even to Indian eyes. So they 



The Corn People. 



221 



lived and were not unhappy. 

It fell, on a day, that by reason of the 
little water leaking from the great jar, 
the clay under the maguey cloth was 
washed away, and Tzanah the Sightless 
wept because of the loss of the water. 
Waytse again put clay over the crack 
in the jar, binding the cloth more tightly. 
So doing, he saw four small plants grow- 
ing in the earthen shelf whereon the 
water jar stood. 

"Here be four plants," he said, "grow- 
ing where the water from the jar hatn 
moistened the wall, and I, who know all 
the plants of the plain and of the moun- 
tain, know not this little one." He 
plucked up one of the green blades and 
threw it to 'j.ee-wah the Old, who lay on 
her bed of rushes. 

That woman sat up straight on her bed. 

"Harm them not! Touch them not!" 
she screamed. 

Waytse stepped back as if he had 
stepped on a serpent. 

"Thou knowest not this little plant!" 
said Tee-wah. 

She hugged the tiny green thing to her 
bosom, holding it tenderly in both hands, 
kissing it, laughing and moaning and 
talking to it as it had been her little 
child. Waytse the Slow looked and 
Tzanah his sister listened in wonder and 
in silence. 

"Thou knowest not this little plant!" 
repeated Tee-wah. "Ask of those old 
women of Zuni, who in years gone by 
slept all night nor labored long by day, 
yet looked always to see their babies fat, 
they themselves knowing no hunger; ask 
of me, Tee-wah, and of a truth you shall 
soon know." 

Again she laughed with joy, kissing ana 
fondling the plant. 

"Since thou hast had ears to hear," she 
went on, "thou hast heard men tell of the 
runners of Zuni that have gone forth 
seeking maize north, beyond the place 
where salt is; south, farther than the 
hills of turquoise; across the lands of the 
Lipanes and of the Coyoteros to all 
places wherunto a runner may attain. 
Many a Zuni warrior of strength and of 
courage hath gone forth also, glad to risk 
his life in the hope that he might gain 
even so much maize as a man may carry 



in his mouth wiiile he wields his axe with 
both hands. Many that have gone forth 
have not come back to them that waited 
beneath the roofs of Zuni; sorae returned 
sore wounded, but none brought back 
even one grain of maize." 

For a moment Tee-wah ceased to 
speak. 

"The little plant thou knowest not is 
maize," she whispered, in a tone so in- 
tense that the children listened with at- 
tention that was a_most terror. "In that 
time which men have forgotten," the old 
woman went on, more composedly, yet 
with an eager delight the children began 
to understand, "some woman dropped 
four grains of maize into that mud 
whereof she made brick for the building 
of the walls of the houses of Zuni. The 
brick was built into the wall of the room 
which is now ours, and the maize grains 
have there lain till this day, to grow 
when the cracked jar hath provided due 
moisture. 

"I, Tee-wah," she continued with grow- 
ing excitement, "who am old and know 
many things, tell thee, if thou lovest an 
unhungry belly if thou would'st have 
comfort and honor while thou art alive, 
and desirest that when thou art dead the 
women shall sing a song in honor of thee 
then see thou to it that the little plants 
lack not moisture nor sunshine nor stir- 
ring of the soil wherein they grow. When 
the moon hath five times grown old and 
died and five times lived again, these 
little stalks, grown large, shall each bear 
three ears, and on each ear three times 
ten score blue grains more sweet than 
the tongue of a bison newly killed, more 
beautiful than strings of tarconey. It 
shall be to thee a charm more potent 
than a prayer plume of the feathers of 
the great eagle; yea, than the smoke of 
the sacred weed, which they of the Coun- 
cil of Old Men smoke at night in the holy 
estufa. Thou, Waytse, need mourn no 
longer for that thy legs are crooked, nor 
thou Tzanah, my daughter, grieve by 
reason of thy blindness. The Unnamed 
could give thee no better gift. He him- 
self hath said: 'It shall be well with the 
son and with the daughter of Del-tara 
the Runner and Tee-wah his wife." 

"Shall it not be well with thee, also, 



222 



Overland Monthly. 



Tee-wah, mother?" asked Waytse, gently. 

Tee-Wah the Old rose to her feet and 
stood up straight. Very tall she seemed 
to the wondering boy, and very gaunt. 
Her eyes were bright and her proud head 
held high. 

"It is well with me, Tee-wah," she said, 
gravely, yet with gladness. "Even now 
I go forth into the Hereafter, to find Del- 
tara the Runner and to walk with him 
hand in hand." 

In the fast gathering darkness the chil- 
dren watched or listened in wonder and in 
fear as Tee-wah the Old gathered her 
tattered robe about her, standing straight 
and tall, and walking with firm steps. 
She climbed up the ladder to the roof 
and thence went down many ladders to 
the ground. She crossed the square and 
passed out on the mesa, coming soon to 
that place where the women had dug a 
grave for Del-tara the Runner. She sat 
down on the ground, her face turned to- 
ward the place of the rising sun, her chin 
resting on her drawn-up knees. Through 
the long night she did not rise nor move; 
after the sunrise one found her so sitting, 
dead. The women dug a shallow grave 
and buried her, but they waited a little 
time that Waytse the Slow and Tzanah 
the Sightless might bring water to pour 
into the grave, that the soul of their 
mother should not be athirst in the long 
dry season. 

In the little room under the high roof 
there were not so many to eat the food 
that Waytse provided; but it was very 
lonely. 

Waytse with care took the tender 
blades from the shelf whereon they had 
grown, planting them in the earthen 
floor near the window. The window he 
made larger that the sunshine might 
come in. 

That plant which Waytse had pulled 
up, and one other, withered and died; yet 
two plants throve well, and Tzanah the 
Sightless spared not labor in the carry- 
ing of water while Waytse made search 
for food. 

The days passed and the plants grew 
tall and strong. In time there came, 
above the others, leaves like plumes of 
feathers, wherefrom fell a yellow dust; 
and, from those places on the stalks 



whence the largest leaves started, there 
came little bundles of threads like soft, 
green hair. Then some leaves grew fat 
and thick, and the green threads shriv- 
eled and turned brown. But though 
Waytse looked often and with care, he 
saw none of those blue grains which Tee- 
wah the Old had said would grow. 

Tzanah the Sightless first put into 
words the fears that oppressed them 
both. 

"May it not be," she whispered, "that 
this plant is not maize? It was very long 
from that time when the women planted 
maize till Tee-wah our mother saw these 
plants; because they were so little may 
she not have been deceived?" 

"No," said Waytse, though somewhat 
hesitatingly, "every plant, from the tiny 
ground nut to the great pine of the moun- 
tain hath its own way to grow. He that 
hath once seen any plant grow need not 
thereafter ask what that plant is." 

"May it not be," said the girl, "that 
maize is not so good a plant as Tee-wah 
our mother thought?" 

"No," said Waytse. "Tee-wah our 
mother was old, knowing many things. 
Maize is a good plant." 

They said no more. But Waytse the 
Slow, though he spoke with confidence 
concerning the maize, had begun to 
doubt, and his fears tortured him. 

On the morrow he sought food on the 
plain below the town, finding there the 
Cacique of Kiakime, who came from the 
mountains, carrying in his hands a bow 
and five doves. Waytse stood aside to let 
the Cacique pass, eyeing the doves hun- 
grily the while. 

The Cacique knew Waytse by reason 
of his crooked legs; and he felt kindly 
toward the boy because he made his hard 
fight for food with courage, asking aid 
of none. 

"What hast tnou found?" asked the 
Cacique. 

Waytse held forth his empty hands, 
saying nothing. 

The Cacique handed him one of the 
doves, saying: "I would give thee more 
had I more than these, or if there were 
fewer to be fed in my room." 

Waytse took the dove, his eyes shin- 
ing with gladness. For a moment he was 



The Corn People. 



223 



silent. Then he said: "Is maize a good 
plant?" 

Slowly the Cacique put the doves into 
that hand holding his bow, and stretched 
out his right hand a large hand, but 
very gaunt, for the famine was sore in 
all that land. 

"Give me maize," he said, "and thou 
shalt come down out of Zuni and be 
Cacique of Kiakime. It shall be better 
with thee than with one whose legs are 
straight and strong, though his feet carry 
him more swiftly than the flight of the 
great eagle. With Tzanah the Sightless 
thy sister it shall also be well; my 
daughter shall woo thee for her husband, 
and the best and the strongest of the 
young men shall be glad to play on his 
flute of willow near to the door of 
Tzanah." 

"What is maize like?" asked Wayt.se. 

"Something like rushes, but greater," 
answered the Cacique. "It hath a top 
like a plume of feathers, and on the sides 
bundles of leaves. When it is ripe all 
the leaves turn yellow, and the bundles 
of leaves being pulled apart, therein are 
found many round grains of maize, blue 
or red or white. When thou hast found 
that plant it will be time for thee to re- 
joice greatly." 

The Cacique went his way, and Waytse 
climbed up the steep path and by many 
ladders to his room. While the dove was 
being made ready to eat, he told to 
Tzanah the words the Cacique had 
spoken, and a good hope grew strong 
in the hearts of each of the children. 

Day by day the famine grew more bit- 
ter, and the yellow sun still burned in 
an unclouded sky. To distress of famine 
was added unceasing harassment by sav- 
ages grown desperately bold with hunger, 
willing to kill and to risk death them- 
selves if a mouthful of food was the stake 
to be fought for. Fuel became scarce, 
and the women burned the ladders, cook- 
ing therewith the skins whereon they 
were wont to sleep. Men and women, 
wan and hollow-eyed, came down into 
the great square and looked on each 
other hungrily, helplessly, hopelessly. 
Then they climbed weakly back to' their 
rooms, with aimless eagerness to search 
again their empty vessels and the places 



of their used-up hoards. Many died in 
their rooms and their friends carried 
them out. 

For many days together Waytse the 
Slow had found no food. The nights 
grew cold, and, fearing lest the maize 
plants be chilled, the children wrapped 
their ragged mantles about the green 
stalks, they themselves sitting in a cor- 
ner of their room, naked save for their 
waistcloths, with their arms about each 
other, shivering. 

There came a day when at sunset 
Waytse saw that the maize plants had 
turned yellow. So, telling his sister, 
they both rejoiced. 

"To-morrow, Waytse, my brother," said 
Tzanah, "it shall be as Tee-wah our 
mother hath said. Thou shalt have 
straight legs and be filled with good 
food." 

"To-morrow, Tzanah, my sister," said 
Waytse, "thou shalt see the bright sun 
and the pleasant yellow of the maize 
plant, and thou shalt be no longer hun- 
gered." 

"Before the sun shall set again," said 
Tzanah, "thou mayst make flute music 
near the door of the room of the Great 
Cacique, and the daughter -of that 
Cacique shall come forth in gladness to 
woo thee. When it is time for thee and 
for me to sleep again there shall be 
couches with soft furs, both for lying 
upon and for covering. When we wake, 
maidens and young men shall deem it 
honor to bring food to us." 

So great, they thought, was the charm 
of the maize plant, for they were but 
children, and not wise. 

Through the door in the roof there 
came sounds, and the children listened u> 
the voice of the Great Cacique, as Be 
spoke to one standing near. 

"He .that guardeth the foot of the 
narrow path died of hunger, and Li- 
panes and Coyoteros, thirsting for 
blood, swarm on the mesa as vultures 
around a wounded bison.. On that 
path one man armed with a spear 
may defy a thousand, and the enemy 
now hath that advantage. There is not 
in all the four houses of Zuni fuel to 
make a signal fire whereby they of Mat- 
saki may be brought to our aid. Never- 



224 



Overland Monthly. 



theless, a Lipan will die of thirst as soon 
as a man of Zuni, and there is no water 
on the mesa." And the Great Cacique 
laughed, very grimly. 

There came QUICK steps on the roof, and 
one spoke that was breathless with the 
climbing of many ladders of knotted 
ropes. 

"The High Priest sendeth word: There 
is no more fuel, and even now the fire in 
the estufa goeth out." 

The Great Cacique groaned. "The Un- 
named, ancient and honorable god of 
Zuni, hath forsaken us," he said. 

While the yard-thick walls of Zuni 
stood, the beseiging savages might be de- 
fied. The men of Zuni knew how to en- 
dure thirst with patience, and when that 
man to whom it was given to guard the 
gate fell down from hunger, another, 
stronger, would stand in his place, but to 
every inhabitant of Zuni the going out of 
the estufa fire meant that the destruction 
of the town was at hand that the inhabi- 
tants thereof should die dishonored. 

The Great Cacique and those with him 
passed down from the high roof. Black 
clouds came up from the southwest, and 
the howling night wind was cold. The 
children, sitting in the corner of their 
room with arms about each other, said no 
word. 

All the people of the four houses of 
Zuni knew. They sat in their rooms, 
glaring up at the doors in the roof and 
waiting for the coming of death, that was 
to be altogether hideous because with it 
would come such dishonor that through 
all the dim Hereafter they that had been 
their friends would scoff at them as cow- 
ards and recreants, and their souls would 
be always athirst. 

The priests in the estufa stood beside 
the box of porphyry wherein burned the 
sacred fire. Of fuel there was almost 
none. One placed in the sacred box the 
last scraped-up splinters; and in hopeless, 
hideous terror all gazed on the wavering 
flame whose going out they believed 
meant the destruction of Zuni and the 
death of all her people which they knew 
of a surety meant to every priest of Zuni 
death by the most frightful torture that 
men, superstition-mad, could invent. 

"Lo!" said one that had come to the 



door in the roof of the estufa: "Waytse 
the Slow and Tzanah the Sightless make 
this offering in a time of peril to Zuni." 

Waytse climbed again to the room. 

"Thou shalt walk ever again with 
crooked legs," said Tzanah. 

"The bright day and the gloomy night 
shall be ever alike to thee," said Waytse. 

They sat down in the corner of their 
room. 

"It was for Zuni," whispered the girl. 

"For Zuni," answered the boy. 

They sat still in the corner of their 
room, naked save for their waist cloths, 
with their arms about each other and 
their hands clasped, shivering. 

In the estufa the High Priest unrolled 
the bundle that had been tnrown down 
two ragged mantles of wool, and two 
dry maize stalks, whereof one bore three 
ears and the other four; and the maize 
grains were fat and perfect, likely to 
grow. 

"Ho!" shouted the High Priest, as he 
thrust a dry leaf into the dying flame. 
"Send for the Great Cacique and for the 
Caciques of the houses." 

Those men came soon and to them the 
High Priest spoke: 

"Waytse the blow and Tzanah the 
Sightless have made offering of this fuel 
when otherwise the fire in the estufa had 
gone out, and of maize in a time of 
famine. 

"Waytse the Slow and Tzanah the 
Sightless had saved Zuni from peril and 
made sure the prosperity of her people. 
On the morrow let all the inhabitants of 
Zuni be upon the roofs when the sun 
shall rise, and having made customary 
greeting to the sun, let all those old 
enough to speak fold their arms across 
their breasts, naming Waytse the Slow 
and Tzanah the Sightless, and pray that 
the Unnamed may have them and Zuni 
ever in his keeping. 

"After the sunrise five score, lacking 
one, of the young men shall cover their 
heads with thick mud; the young men 
shall march around the walls and the 
women shall sing a song; and from that 
time Waytse the Slow shall be Waytse- 
Melah, the Corn Man, and Tzanah the 
Sightless shall be Tzanah-Melah the Corn 
Maiden." 



The Corn People. 



225 



As the High Priest ceased to speak, 
great drops of rain fell on the heads of 
the people that had come out of the rooms 
to hear that the town was no longer in 
peril. The women shrieked for joy and 
the fighting men went forth boldly with 
their axes of jasper; and they drove the 
Lipanes from the mesa. 

At gray dawn one went to the room of 
Waytse the Slow and Tzanah the Sight- 
less to tell the Corn People that the mud- 
heads were ready to march and the 
women to sing a song. 

The children sat in a corner of their 
room, naked save for their waist cloths, 
their arms about each other and their 
hands clasped; but they had ceased to 
shiver, being dead. 



On the summit of the Mountain of 
Thunder there is but a heap of earth 
mixed with pieces of broken pottery. 
Pestilence and the savage Apaches drove 



the people from the houses, and storms 
and the earthquake crumbled the walls. 
Yet the inhabitants of that town took 
with them to the new Zuni, seed of blue 
maize and the memory of the Corn People. 
When rains come and the running water 
laughs in the irrigating ditches the mud- 
heads march around the walls and the 
women sing a song in honor of them that 
brought maize. When the corn leaves 
turn yellow and the month of hot days 
has come, a priest of Zuni climbs to that 
place where Waytse-Melah and Tzanah- 
Melah lie buried, and places jars of sweet 
water that tKeir souls may not be athirst. 
And the priests in the estufa and the 
women in the rooms tell the story of the 
Corn People, saying that when all her 
children shall love Zuni better than their 
lives, then again shall the Unnamed, God 
of them that dwell in towns, whose em- 
blem is the sun, once more lift Zuni to 
a high place above the other nations of 
the earth. 




The Singing of the Frogs 



BY JOHN G. NEIHARDT. 




ABISGAHA loved the tawny 
stretches of the prairie smiling 
like a rugged, honest face under 
the kiss of the sunlight; he 
loved the storm that frowned and shouted 
like an angry chief; he loved the south- 
wind and the scent of the spring, yet 
the love of woman he knew not, for his 
heart was given to his horse, Ingla Hota, 
which means Laughing Thunder. 

Why should he have a squaw? Did 
not Laughing Thunder toss his mane and 
neigh when he heard the soft steps of 
his master? Was not Laughing Thunder 
his companion and his helpmeet? Ah, no, 
Wabisgaha would have no squaw. 

And furthermore, his love for Laugh- 
ing Thunder was not sentiment; it was 
religion. Many ana weird were the 
tales that the wise old men told about 
the evening fires concerning the horse 
of Wabisgaha. It was said in a subdued 
voice, lest that some demon face should 
peer into the circle of the fire from the 
darkness, that Laughing Thunder con- 
tained an evil spirit; that Wabisgaha was 
secretly a great medicine man, who had 
learned the terrible words that tame 
the spirits of the thunder, and had made 
the black Power of the storm come down 
and be his horse. Yes, and there was 
one who had watched Laughing Thunder 
graze all day upon the hills and never 
a blade was nipped; but where the breath 
of his nostrils passed, the grass was 
seared as with lightning. Another had 
noticed how Laughing Thunder wasted 
away when the storms were few, like 
sunflowers pining for the rain; and how 
one night when the lightning flashed and 
the thunder howled, he had seen a burn- 
ing horse leap from the top of a hill 
and gallop through the clouds, neigh- 
ing half like the laugh of a man, half 
like the shout of the thunder. 

"Some day Wabisgaha will ride to the 
land of the spirits," they would all agree, 
gazing wide-eyed at each other while 



the last blue flame struggled in the em- 
bers. Then they would shrug their shoul- 
ders as though the touch of an invisible 
hand chilled them; shaking their heads 
by which to say, "Ugh! there are many 
strange things." 

It was the month of the sunflower. 
Wabisgaha one night, half asleep in his 
tepee, was aroused by a strange sound 
among the horses, which were left to 
graze upon the hills near the village. 
Creeping out of his tepee into tne open 
air, he could hear nothing but the slum- 
berous moan of the distant thunder, for 
the southeast was black and glaring by 
fits with a coming storm. Then there 
burst forth upon the dull sultry air of 
the night a shrill, clear neigh and the 
sound of many hurrying hoofs. That 
neigh! Ah, it was the neigh of Laughing 
Thunder. It came again, but this time 
dimmer, and the gallop of hoofs grew 
softer as with distance. 

Wabisgaha rushed out into the night 
crying, "Ingla Hota, Ingla Hota." But for 
answer the storm howled on the hills. 
By the glare of the lightning he found 
the trail of the fleeing hoofs. He would 
take the trail and find his horse. "Ingla 
Hota, Ingla Hota," he cried. The big 
rain drops drummed upon the hills. It 
seemed to him that the thunder cried 
back, and ended with a sound like the 
neigh of a mighty steed. So ail night he 
followed the trail of the hoofs south- 
ward, mingling his cries with the cries 
of the wind and the thunder; and when 
the storm lulled and the day dawned, 
he climbed to the top of a hill and 
scanned the drenched prairies, but no 
horse! Only the pathless brown sea of 
grass glinting in the sun; a maddening 
monotony, save for the occasional gulch 
like a battle-scar on the face of a war- 
rior. No sound except the caw of a dis- 
tant crow and the monotone of silence. 

With a grunt of despair he again took 
up the trail. He noted that the trail 



The Singing of the Frogs. 



227 



was narrow and well beaten. Horses 
of themselves do not travel single file. 
Then he knew that he was following 
a party of warriors. In his haste he had 
not take his bow, and his feet were bare 
to the cactus and prickly pear; yet all 
day long he kept upon the trail, and 
when night came he slept upon it. Ah, 
no, he would not lose Laughing Thunder. 
Another night passed, and when the sun 
of the next day was half way down from 
the zenith, Wabisgaha, standing upon a 
hill, gazed into the sandy valley of the 
broad and shallow stream, and there in 
the wooded bottoms were the jumbled 
mud lodges of the Pawnee village. 

From time unknown the Pawnees and 
Omahas were friends; yet as Wabisgaha 
gazed down upon the village he feared 
that the ancient friendship had been 
broken. But he was very weary, and the 
thought of losing Laughing Thunder was 
like a lash of buckskin behind him. So 
he passed down into the valley. A band 
of shouting Pawnees in war paint came 
out to meet the lone stranger. Several 
of the party seized upon him, binding his 
arms behind him with thongs of rawhide, 
while the others danced deliriously about, 
shouting and waving their weapons above 
their heads. And the captive, weary 
and unarmed, without resistance was led 
in among the lodges. 

There has ever been a something ap- 
pealingly majestic about the defiance of 
an Indian; and as Wabisgaha strode be- 
side his captors, naked but for the buck- 
skin breech-clout, decorated with colored 
beads, his broad chest brown as of beaten 
copper; the great muscles expanding in 
impotent anger; the laboring of the 
lungs; the flash of the black eye from 
beneath the heavy brow; the long wiry 
hair tossing on his bare shoulders; these 
would have suggested to an esthetic 
imagination the incarnate spirit of the 
untamed prairies. 

As he passed between the rows of 
shouting Pawnees, he failed to notice 
among a bunch of squaws an Indian girl 
who stared at him, wide-mouthed with 
interest and wonder. She was clad more 
brilliantly than her companions, and the 
blue spot upon her forehead at once 
marked her as a maiden of distinction. 



It was Umba (Sunlight), the daughter of 
the stern warchief of the Pawnees, Pe- 
davashaloo. 

As the captive and the captors hurried 
on to the lodge of the big chief, Umba 
gazed longingly after them with that 
soft light in her eye which is not star- 
light nor sunshine, but has something 
of the gentle tenderness of the one and 
the potent glory of the other. A woman 
is a woman, though her face be angular 
and swarthy, and the love of a daughter 
of the prairie takes unto itself an element 
of boundlessness like the plain and of 
fury like the winds that sweep. 

Umba was moved by the defiant atti- 
tude of the captive, for womankind loves 
bravery. She was charmed by the magni- 
ficent brown limbs, the powerful chest, 
the fierce eye. 

Wabisgaha was taken before Pedava- 
shaloo, who stood at the door of his 
lodge. The bold eye of the captive met 
the stern glance of the chief, and for 
a while both were silent. Then the chief 
spoke: 

"Why do you come among my people?" 

The captive threw back his head, and 
in a fierce gutteral, said: 

"My people and your people have been 
friends; your people stole Wabisgaha's 
horse; give him back that Wabisgaha 
may return in peace to his village." 

The eye of the chief flashed with sud- 
den anger. 

"My people do not steal!" he thun- 
dered. "My people make war; you are 
a captive; to-morrow you shall die!" 

That night the women who slept in 
the lodge of Umba were often awakened 
by her moaning. She was thinking of 
Wabisgaha. But he, lying bound and 
guarded, did not moan; he was thinking 
of his horse. Now he was going to the 
land of the spirits. How lonely he would 
be without Laughing Thunder. Often 
through the night he prayed to Wakunda 
that his horse might be killed and go with 
him. When the sky paled with the early 
morning he slept and dreamed. He stood 
upon a high hill and the clouds were 
about him. The feverish red sun was 
sinking below him. Suddenly the clouds 
glowed as when a prairie tire roars and 
crackles through the night, and then 



228 



Overland Monthly. 



theie burst upon his ear a mighty neigh, 
half laugh, half thunder, and a burning 
steed galloped through the parting mist 
toward him. He awoke, and the Dawn 
looked in at the door! It was a good 
omen; he would not be afraid to die. 
When the sun was scarcely an arrow 
length above the hills he was led out 
from among the lodges into the open val- 
ley. 

The whole village trooped behind him, 
shouting and mad with expectation, for 
it was great fun to behold a captive 
dragged at the heels of a horse. The rab- 
ble grew thicker as he advanced. A band 
of shrieking squaws pushed their way 
to him and spit in his face. Many times 
he was dragged backward by his long 
hair onto the sand by the frenzied war- 
riors. All this was borne with a dogged 
patiepce by the captive, for was he not 
going to the land of the spirits? 

It was an ancient custom among the 
Pawnees that if a captive should receive 
a morsel of meat from one of the tribe 
he was to be spared, as thus being fa- 
vored by the Great Spirit 

Suddenly the shouting ceased, and the 
tall imperious form of Pedavashaloo was 
seen pushing a way through the rabble. 
Behind him a young squaw followed, 
carrying a morsel of meat in her hand. 
Rushing up to the surprised captive, she 
put the meat to his mouth. Wabisgaha 
seized and ate the meat greedily, and 
for the first and last time looked with 
kindness into the appealing eyes pf 
Umba. 

Then a great change came over the 
multitude. The warriors, but a moment 
before thirsting for the blood of the cap- 
tive, now fell back in awe as though the 
hand of Umba had been the visible hand 
of the Great Spirit. 

Dumb with amazement Wabisgaha 
stared about him, until Pedavashaloo 
motioned him to follow; and in silence 
they took their way to the big chief's 
lodge. After they had sat down, the chief 
took two long pipes, and lighting both, 
handed one to Wabisgaha. Silently they 
smoked the pipe of peace. 

After a while Pedavashaloo spoke, 
bluntly, after the manner of the prairie: 
"Umba weeps for Wabisgaha. Come 



back in the month when the frogs sing 
(April) and take her for your squaw!" 

Then Wabisgaha said: "I will come 
back in the month when the frogs sing 
and take her for my squaw. Give me my 
horse that I may go back to my people.' 

"Pedavashaloo will feed the horse 
with his own hand until Wabisgaha 
comes," the chief answered. 

The next morning a band of Pawnees 
rode out of the village, and among them 
rode Wabisgaha; but he was not riding 
Laughing Thunder. 

Until noon the band attended him 
across the prairies; then they turned 
backward, and alone Wabisgaha rode 
mournfuly northward toward the village 
of his people. 

In the absence of Wabisgaha strange 
rumors had grown among ais tribe con- 
cerning him and his horse. The wise 
old men whispered strange things about 
the demon horse and its rider. Ah, yes, 
Wabisgaha had at last ridden to the land 
of the Thunder Spirits. And the listen- 
ing youths crept into their blankets very 
closely at night, dreaming weird dreams. 

So when Wabisgaha rode his jaded 
pony sullenly over the brown brow of 
the hill and entered tne village his people 
had no cry of welcome for his ears; but 
slunk away in fear and awe. For had he 
not been to the land of the thunder 
spirits? Day by day Wabisgha sat alone 
in his lodge, brooding bitterly over the 
loss of his horse. And the winter swept 
down from the north and howled across 
the prairies. Far southward in the vil- 
lage of the Pawnees Umba sat in her 
lodge and gazed long hours into the 
crackling fire. There was no winter in 
her dreaming. She was thinking of the 
time when the frogs sing, for then she 
would be the squaw of Wabisgaha. 

Many days passed, but Wabisgaha did 
not leave his lodge, and his people began 
to wonder, for no one knew in what man- 
ner he procured wood for his fire. Then 
it was rumored about that the thunder 
spirits dwelt with him in his lodge. Yes, 
for one whose curiosity led him one night 
to creep up to the strange man's door 
had heard him muttering busily with his 
eyes upon the fire. Yet he was alone. 

So it happened one night in the stormy 



The Singing of the Frogs. 



229 



month when the lone goose flies (Feb- 
ruary) that he was summoned before 
the seven chiefs of the council. In their 
great tepee they sat, cross-legged, about 
the fire. Wabisgaha stood before them, 
and as they gazed upon his face, they 
shuddered with fear, for it was the face 
of a sick man's dream, and the eyes were 
cold but glowing, for he had mourned 
much and eaten little. 

Then one of the chiefs spoke as one 
who speaks to a spectre: 

"Where did Wabisgaha go in the month 
of the sunflowers?" (August). 

Then Wabisgaha's silence passed, for 
he could speak of Laughing Thunder. He 
told them how the Pawnees had stolen 
his horse; how he had followed the trail 
to their village; how they would have 
slain him but for the gift of a morsel 
of meat. He spoke with all the elo- 
quence of a wronged man and with all 
the pathos of a simple heart that is 
wounded. But the seven chiefs were 
silent. They feared him and doubted his 
story. After talking together for some 
time, they again spoke to him: 

"If Wabisgaha has been wronged, we 
will give him revenge. He shall lead a 
war party against the Pawnees, but he 
must not return alive!" 

So Wabisgaha withdrew to his lodge. 
All night he brooded by his fire. Why 
should he have a squaw? He would lead 
a war party against the Pawnees. He 
would have revenge for the stealing of 
Laughing Thunder. A great, wild happi- 
ness came over him; after that he went 
about the village with a glad heart and 
his people ceased to fear him. 

One morning, in the time when the 
frogs sing, the war party started south- 
ward, and Wabisgaha rode at their head. 
All day their ponies scurried across the 
green hills. All night they rode, and 
long before the east was gray they halted 
upon the hill that overlooked the valley 
of the broad and shallow stream where 
the Pawnee village nestled. 

At the time when the flight of an arrow 
could be discerned, Wabisgaha rode in 
front of his band, and, dismounting, he 
raised his eyes to the gray heavens and 
uttered his last prayer to Wakunda. 
Then he seized a handful of dust and 



tossed it above his head. Thus a brave 
ever does before going to certain death. 
Then he mounted his pony, and, with a 
terrible yell, the war paity swooped down 
the hill into the sleeping village. The 
Pawnees could make but little resistance, 
and those who were not slain fled in 
terror, followed by the frenzied Omahas. 
But Wabisgaha did not ride in pursuit. 
His knife was red with revenge, and now 
he would die! 

Some distance from him he beheld the 
tall form of Pedavashaloo standing before 
his lodge in defiance. His arms and 
breast were besmeared with the blood 
of the Omahas, who lay in a semi-circle 
about him. His long, sinewy arms were 
corded with the stress of fight, and his 
hand clasped the terrible hunting knife. 

Wabisgaha cast away his bow and 
quiver of arrows, and dismounting, he 
took his knife in his hand, and, raising 
his arms to the skies, he uttered a low 
wail four times. Then he rushed at the 
defiant chief. There was none to see the 
struggle, for the clamor of the fight came 
dimly from far down the valley, and the 
muffled wail of the women was heard 
from the lodges. Each knife found a 
bare, brown breast, and side by side the 
enemies lay, choking, until their spirits 
passed into the happy land where the 
tribes are at peace. 

That night, amid the silence of the 
stricken village, Umba crept from among 
the terrified women, and, hurrying to 
where Laughing Thunder was staked by 
the lodge of her father, she led the horse 
to where the body of Wabisgaha lay 
among her dead kinsmen. With great 
effort she placed the body across the 
horse's back, and, taking a bow and 
arrow from one of the dead warriors, she 
mounted behind the body and rode off 
into the still, clear night of the prairies. 

After riding many hours, she dis- 
mounted in a valley and placed the body 
on the ground. Then fitting the arrow 
to the string of the bow, she sent it into 
the heart of Laughing Thunder. Now 
Wabisgaha would find his horse in the 
land of the spirits. Then Umba sat be- 
side the bodies and moaned. 

The night passed and the sun looked 
over the green hills into the valley and 



230 



To My Violin. 



found Umba watching by the bodies. All 
that day she waited, singing softly a wild 
Indian song to the spirit of Wabisgaha. 
And the crows came out of t_e horizon 
in a low trailing cloud, cawing in antici- 
pation of their meal. Umba kept them 
away by shaking her robe above her head 
and singing louder. Then the crows, with 
a dismal rustle of wings, would soar 
above the three, cawing clamorously. 
The evening came and the frogs sang 
in the valley. Yes, it was the time of 
the singing of the frogs, 'i'his was the 
time when she should have become the 
squaw of Wabisgaha. Plaintively she 
moaned at the thought, gazing upon the 
pinched face beside her. The night fell, 
and Umba was very faint with hunger 
and watching. So she laid her head upon 



the breast of Wabisgaha. Maybe she 
would wake and be with him in the land 
of the spirits. 

The night passed, and when the sun 
looked into the valley, Umba was lying 
motionless where she had lain down to 
sleep. 

The crows swooped down, chattering; 

they were not frightened away. 

* * * * * * * 

Months afterward a hunting party of 
Omahas, finding upon the prairie three 
skeletons, one of a squaw, one of a 
buck, and one of a horse, returned to 
the tribe and told a story at the evening 
fires. 

But they could not know how Wabisga- 
ha died for his horse and Umba died for 
Wabisgaha. 



TO MY VIOLIN. 



BY ELO1SE DAVIS. 

Hast heard the moan of the wind among the trees, 

And the cry of the bird, winging his weary flight 

Across the silent spaces of the night; 

Hast heard all other mournful sounds than these, 

All sadnesses that sound in minor keys? 

The ceaseless waves, sobbing their potent might 

Out of the darkness, to the flushing light, 

The wail of the world unto the seven seas? 

And then, the love-songs of the stream, dost know?- 

The chime of bells, the joyous, trilling lark, 

Singing his matins to the flowers a-row? 

For these same sounds to comprehend, O hark! 

My violin voices all, in harmony 

That hints the measure of Infinity. 



A Matter of Opinion. 



AT THE present writing the West is 
not alone threatened with a general labor 
agitation; it is confronted 
with it. During the month 
"Fight It last past so large a number 
Out." of employes have "gone 
out" as to greatly embar- 
rass employers and cause 
serious difficulty in carrying on those 
branches of business affected. The West- 
ern unpleasantness is of course only a 
phase of the great strike which has been 
intermittently seething in the East among 
the steel workers and the laborers in the 
collieries. And as the area of trouble 
has been larger so has the general incon- 
venience been greater. The situation 
was first keenly felt in San Francisco 
during the Cooks' and Waiters' strike 
w r hen the Presidential party was in Cali- 
fornia. The disaffection spread among 
the various branches of trades until it 
settled in its present form in the general 
"walk-out" along the water front, the 
strike among the teamsters spreading to 
the longshoremen and thence to the sail- 
ors, seriously tying up the commerce of 
the bay and doing an inestimable amount 
of damage to the perishable stuff ready 
for transportation. 

This general strike has done much to 
"bring the labor question vividly before 
the business men of San Francisco and 
the State at large. What in campaign 
times was little more than a plank in a 
political platform became much more 
than a question for debate on the day 
when non-union laborers called for police 
protection along the city front. It was 
then that the voice of capital began to ex- 
press itself in no uncertain tone and it 
was a matter of some surprise when sev- 
eral men of wealth were put on record as 
saying: "Let there be a general strike 
and the labor question settled on the 
^merits or demerits of the case, once and 
:for all." 

Despite the inconvenience, or even suf- 

15 



fering which a national strike would pro- 
duce during its operation, no dispassion- 
ate thinker can but acknowledge that 
such a course would clear permanently 
the storm which is now lowering over 
capital and labor. The danger of such 
an event is, of course, the peril of a class 
war, which must needs be a cruel and bit- 
ter one. The lower classes when self- 
governed are too often ill-governed, and 
we want no repetition of the French 
Revolution. 

Unless a strike be universal it can 
hardly be other than harmful to both par- 
ties involved. The fact that a man has 
refused to work at just the time when 
he is the most needed is not calculated 
to infuse his employers with an everlast- 
ing sense of gratitude. "None of my men 
went out," an employer was heard to say 
in the present local strike. "They struck 
once before and they know what to ex- 
pect." Petty strikes more than frequent- 
ly result in loss for the employer and per- 
manent idleness for the employed. There 
is might, however, in a multitude, and if 
the fight be carried on along civilized 
lines, it would be well if the two great 
armies of capital and labor gather to- 
gether their forces and "fight it out." 

IN THE East, where the labor situation 

is much more strained than in the West, 

the e m p 1 oyers 

have already be- 

Take Up the White gun to turn their 

Man's Burden. attention toward a 

laboring class that 

never listens to 

the allurements of a walking delegate, 
knows not the name of union and is al- 
ways willing to render a dollar's worth 
of service for a dollar. In a word, it has 
been proposed that the Chinese be em- 
ployed to take the places left vacant by 
disgruntled workmen. While the preju- 
dice against the little yellow man has 
been considerable in the West, none can 



232 



Overland Monthly. 



deny that tne Eastern scheme has its 
advantages. Unlike the Occidental la- 
borer the coolie is always willing to 
work. By the wholesale employment of 
Chinese in a time of industrial dissen- 
sion the wheels of progress could be set 
in motion almost at once and a bad time 
at least tided over. The employment of 
Chinese, we take it, would benefit the 
employer more in services rendered than 
in actual saving of money. Any mer- 
chant or manufacturer of standing is will- 
ing to pay an honest wage to an honest 
workman, and the Chinese seldom un- 
derbid white labor. 

The problem of Chinese employment is 
so far only a scheme, but should labor 
still persist in its present policy of short- 
sighted stubbornness the employers will 
be well justified in taking what means they 
may to save that which they have built 
up with so much care. The seemingly 
endless recurrence of strikes in the East 
has done much to hurt the cause of or- 
ganized labor and to sorely try the pa- 
tience of capitalists, with the result that 
anti-exclusionists are becoming more 
common every day. Yhese Chinese are, 
in fact, more sought after in the East 
than on the Pacific Coast, where their 
bating now and in former years has had 
its effect. Their good treatment in the 
Atlantic States and Middle "West is caus- 
ing them to gravitate eastward in ever 
increasing numbers. More than this, the 
Oriental population is not growing in 
America, as rabid exclusionists are so 
fond of proclaiming. Statistics show 
that our Chinese population is actually 
falling off and that there has been a 
shrinkage of 17,675 in the past decade; 
in short, that they are either dying off 
or leaving the country at the rate of 
1,750 a year. At this rate we may expect 
the American Chinese to become an ex- 
tinct race a few years from now. 

"Yellow competition" is a factor which 
the walking delegate has ever been loud 
to denounce as an injustice to the work- 
ing classes. If the labor agitators who 
are making so much mischief far and 
wide wish that popular bogie to become 
smaller in the land, it rests with them to 
do less to encourage it. In the light of 
late industrial history white labor must 
suffer at times by comparison with 



yellow labor and the capitalists and legis- 
lators are quick to see this. 

It only remains for our lawmakers to 
knock away the barriers between the 
Chinese and American people to intro- 
duce a factor that would bring the 
chronic strikers quickly to their senses. 
As a matter of international justice we 
owe to China the admission of her peo- 
ple among us. The members of the Ep- 
worth League saw this while in San 
Francisco when the labor unions peti- 
tioned them to take some action toward 
the renewal of the Geary Exclusion Law. 
The Epworth Leaguers, as a Christian 
body, could ill understand how we can 
afford to put a barrier in the way of tiie 
people to whom we have been sending 
the missionaries who have stirred up so 
much strife in the Orient. We have 
made war on the Chinese because they 
have driven out our countrymen: at the 
same time we have excluded the Chinese 
and expected them to make no sign of 
retaliation. That is a blatant fault of 
logic which has done much to make the 
Chinese war a historic crime. A rule 
should work both ways, whether it ap- 
plies to a people or a nation, but tho 
American people have certainly seen the 
rule of Chinese exclusion in an extreme- 
ly one-sided light. 

The action or lack of action on the 
part of the Epworth League with regard 
to the petition of the unions may be fur- 
ther taken as an indication of the way 
the wind blows in the East. The visiting 
delegates did not represent the so-called 
" monopolists. " They were mostly 
taken from the middle and upper middle 
classes of the Eastern and Middle West- 
ern States. Yet it would take no political 
specialists to see that their silence in 
regard to the petition was due to a pre- 
vailing feeling of friendliness toward the 
Chinese, a sentiment of Christian justi va 
toward a much abused people. The peo- 
ple of the East have had a much mor'j 
trying experience with labor agitations 
than we, and their patience has been rela- 
tively diminished. Naturally they have 
turned their attention to the easiest mode 
of remedy, and they have found it or 
think they have found it in the Chinese. 
In the present unpleasantness in San 
Francisco the citizens most affected by- 



Current Books. 



233 



the strike might find Chinese labor an 
unmixed blessing. Prevailing exclusion 
laws might stand in the way of employ- 
ing non-resident coolies to take the place 
of dissenting whites, but there are enough 
yellow citizens in the city and State to 
do at least a large share of the work de- 
manded. There is almost no branch of 
common labor at which the coolie could 
not do as well or better than the Cau- 
casian. Chinese drivers might man the 
idle trucks, ship as able seamen in the 
vessels which are lying crewless in the 
port, handle merchandise along the water 
front, work in the canneries, and, in fact, 
restore to its former activity our hamp- 
ered trade. 

That the universal employment of the 
Mongolian would have its disadvantages 
to both capital and labor, the employers 
appreciate as well as the employed. The 
device is looked upon as an expedient, not 



as a remedy. If the laboring classes 
refuse to do the nation's work it must be 
laid to the door of the laboring classes 
if the capitalists are obliged to resort 
to foreigners to supply the demand. We 
have men in plenty to do the work and 
work in plenty to keep them occupied. 
It lies with those of our nationality to 
decide if they shall turn the wheels of 
our commerce or if we shall trust to a 
strange, alien race to "take up the white 
man's burden." 

It will be worth while for the laboring 
classes of the nation to think these mat- 
ters over and decide whether the strikes 
they are participating in are strikes for 
their dignity and advancement or agita- 
tions which will result surely and finally 
in opening the doors of our country to 
the much-abused and little appreciated 
Chinese labor. The whole matter lies in 
their hands. 



Current Books 



Reviewed by Grace Luce Irwin 



In "Out of the Pigeon Holes," Dr. E. S. 
Godhue has essayed a collection of alter- 
nating essays and verse, something as 
Mr. James Whitcomb Riley undertook 
several years ago, but with considerably 
less success. 

George F. Butler Publishing Company, 
Alma. 

Sarah Grand's 
books, notwith- 
standing the 
fact that it is 
quite possible to 
range one's 

opinions against hers, are always read- 
able. But there is no doubt that she 
is very opinionated. She never writes 
a novel unless it is done with an idea 
of proving something or other. With- 
out being exactly didactic she is always 
trying to convince you a very feminine, 



Grand Thoughts on 
Young Girls. 



but not altogether artistic, occupation. 
And yet the questions she brings up are 
tremendously interesting. You found 
yourself developing a theory of your own 
before you were half through "The Heav- 
enly Twins," or "Ideala," although you 
had once vowed to yourself to have only 
one theory hencetorth, and that was to 
have no theories. In her last book, 
"Babs the Impossible," she discusses the 
same question Henry James propounded 
in "The Awkward Age" how much or 
how little a young girl should know about 
things she hadn t ought to (which is a 
femininism for you.) Babs is a young 
English girl, and so perhaps not to be 
judged by our standards. But certainly 
no American girl out of pinafores (and 
Americans never wear them), would 
show such sublime and idiotic innocence, 
such subtle knowledge, as Babs shows. 



234 



Overland Monthly. 



Whoever she kissed proposed to her, 
because she had golden hair, and she had 
a very good time of it, yet she is always 
mourning over how little she had been 
told, and how badly she had been brought 
up. Her figure is lively and lovable, 
and her impossibilities would ziot have 
seemed so unconventional anywhere out 
of the traditional atmosphere of an Eng- 
lish country house. Cadenhouse, the man 
she finally recognizes as the one she 
loves, is a typical young Englishman of 
the aristocratic class, of conservative 
manners and nature, who always wears 
correct riding breeches and does the nice 
thing. He is well drawn, as are all the 
other characters in and about the country 
place of Babs' mother. Ridiculously 
limited as are the ideas on most subjects 
of these people, they are always "ele- 
gantly expressed," and five o'clock tea 
occurs with undisturbed regularity. It 
is really dreadful to contemplate what 
would take place in the study of the Eng- 
lish lady novelist (we don't have "lady 
novelists" in America) if nve o'clock tea 
were suddenly stricken from the English 
code of morals. The Heavenly Twins or 
Babs could never have made their humor- 
ously shocking remarks in any other 
metier, for nowhere else would they have 
been in the least degree shocking. Mr. 
Jellybond, in "Babs," is tremendously 
well done. He is almost Dickenesque in 
his small, good natured hypocrisies, his 
idiosyncracies, his relations with all 
classes. The booK as a whole is very en- 
tertaining in spite of "The Opinion." 

("Babs," by Sarah Grand. Harper & 
Bros., New York.) 

The author of that 
cleverly epigramatic 
Miracles and book, "Concerning Isa- 
Epigrams. bel Carnaby/' will al- 
ways command her 
market. She writes 
as the very cleverest woman of fashion 
one has ever known talks. Her books 
have dash and verve. Her characters are 
complex, modern: people one would like 
to meet out at dinner. She has out now 
a new book of short stories called "Sirius, 
A Volume of Fiction," but to the reading 
public's surprise they find it full, not of 
epigrams only, but of mysticism. Odd, 



one has never before chanced upon so 
strange a combination, epigrams with 
visions and miracles. It is a new and 
interesting side of her mental make-up 
Miss Fowler has betrayed. Her bril- 
liant and incisive method is as fresh as 
ever, but it does not seem to go naturally 
with the new and singular mystical 
strain in which she dwells upon visions 
and miracles. At the time her first book 
appeared, a well-known critic said of Miss 
Fowler's work that it showed how she 
was yet enjoying life too well to entirely 
evade superficiality. Her season's social 
pleasures in London still colored her 
work. May this book of short stories not 
perhaps presage a transition period, 
through which she will pass to something 
more serious, or is it only containing 
earlier written tales and experiments, for 
which she "dived into her barrel?" At 
least we enjoy with her her "visions and 
miracles." 

("Sirius." A Volume of Fiction. By El- 
len Thorneycroft Fowler. D. Appleton 
& Co., New York). 

Elizabeth Stu- 
art P h e 1 p s 

Mrs. Ward Discusses prefers to 
the Servant Question. write upon 
homely sub- 
jects, and up- 
on subjects which particularly appeal 
to other women. And into these 
simple themes she manages to put all 
her power of realism and feeling for com- 
edy and pathos. In her last book, "The 
Successors of Mary the First," she is 
writing a discussion of the servant ques- 
tion, which, like charity, endureth for- 
ever, but is not kin. With delightful 
satire she narrates the experiences of an 
unpretentious family who have to strug- 
gle with this leviathan problem. To some 
the subject at first thought might appear 
a dull one; to others a light and humor- 
ous one, but Mrs. Ward has shown it to 
be a very serious one, with always the 
possibility of depressing occasions aris- 
ing when there isn't any. Through her 
pages pass a procession of servants of 
various degrees of incompetency, obdur- 
acy, stupidity and carelessness. The 
trials and tribulations are recorded in 



Current Books. 



235 



full of a mistress who wrestles, to our 
sympathy and amusement, with densely 
unintelligent intelligence offices, and 
various societies for improving servants 
and protecting housekeepers. 

("The Successors of Mary the First." 
By Elizabeth Stuart Phelps. Houghton, 
Mifflin & Co., Boston). 

The art of Mr. Ham- 
lin Garland may be 
The Strength of called a "soil-fed 
Out-of-Doors. art." It springs di- 
rectly from the large 
and simple life of 

Americans in the West, and from direct 
contact with the large simplicity of its 
magnificent landscape. In direct contrast 
with the apparently (to the taste of 
many) attitudinizing style of such a 
writer as Henry James or his followers, it 
shows no conscious arrangement, no 
"posing" of situations and characters. 
Mr. Garland's art is strong, and descends 
to no subterfuges. He pictures with a vir- 
ile, large brush, and spends no time on 
mere ornamentation. For this very rea- 
son he dares to be picturesque as do few 
realistic writers. He selects picturesque 
incidents and effective contrasts, instead 
of the weird word effects, to exploit a 
paucity of color, or the subtleties of lan- 
guage to display a common-placeness of 
situation which are often used by the 
other school. His prose, as his poetry, is 
full of a contagious love of nature. 

His story, "Her Mountain Lover," by 
means of his cow-boy hero, and the moun- 
tain country he came from, blows into 
drawing-rooms like a fresh, invigorating 
breath of air. It is thoroughly American 
and thoroughly Colorado. The young 
miner, cow-puncher, and ranchman, Jim 
Matteson, is twenty-five, when he goes 
to London in order to sell part of a gold 
mine in which he is interested. On his 
way he "stops over" in Chicago and meets 
his partner's neice, a pretty girl, who 
makes a vivid impression upon him. 
Later, in London, he is "taken up" by 
a clever young woman of the world, an 
Irish girl, who is a novelist, and finding 
Matteson so "elemental and interesting," 
decides to study him and put the result 
into her next novel. Thereupon begins 
an affair between the two, which is en- 



tertaining for two reasons: it gives an 
opportunity for the big, broad-shouldered, 
honest-hearted child of nature to be pic- 
tured with a background of the most com- 
plex civilizations in the world, and also 
for the gradual development between the 
two of fascination and love. He is as 
alien in voice, words, accents and emo- 
tions to any one she has ever known be- 
fore as she is to him, with her ultra-world- 
liness and quickness of mentality. She 
is charming, so he finds her for the time 
nearer to his inner nature than the pretty 
girl in Chicago, and asks her a little 
thing to marry him, that they may return 
together to the Colorado mountains. Here 
is where the London girl shows herself 
not big enough, but altogether too wise. 
He has captured both her imagination 
and affection, but she decides to bear the 
wound rather than make the risky experi- 
ment of trying to adjust her ways to his. 
"I fancied," she said, "you would be good 
game; you end by mastering me. You 
are bigger than I thought you were. 
When you go I'm going to be sorry but 
the memory of you will be good." What 
cares Jim Matteson for these refinements 
of analysis? He has already grown home- 
sick for his mountains, and seized by an 
uncontrollable longing, heads for Liver- 
pool without even a farewell. Once up 
the gang-plank he has left all disturbing 
memories or regret behind. Now he is 
in very good humor for meeting the 
pretty Chicago girl again. She is shy of 
manner, rather spirited, wears blue shirt- 
waists, and altogether far more suitable. 
The end of the tale leaves them to their 
happiness in the midst of the beautiful 
mountain fastnesses, where the mine 
yields them untold gold. She is so abso- 
lutely girlish, ne so invincibly masculine, 
it is a far better combination than with 
the London Mary, who is wild-hearted but 
hard-headed, a hybrid which only centers 
of thought breed. The charm of the book 
lies largely in the humor of Matteson's 
words and actions, and in the descrip- 
tions of natural scenery. But nothing 
in the book is more realistic than the 
personality of Mary herself. Read about 
her if you wish to know a new type. 

("Her Mountain Lover," by Hamlin 
Garland. The Century Co., New York.) 



236 



Overland Monthly. 



Mrs. Reginald de 
Koven has had pub- 
From Modern lished another book. 
Chicago to Her first was a story 
Ancient Persia, of fashionable soci- 
ety in Chicago, and 
the one lately re- 
ceived, her second, goes back to the times 
of the Persian king, Artaxerxes, and de- 
picts fashionable society in those days 
of splendor, "By the Waters of Babylon." 
She has joined the ranks of historic 
novelists, yet does not seem to belong to 
the romanticist school, for there is real- 
ism of an almost Zolaesque order in this 
tale which has for its central interest the 
passionate love of the sister of the king 
for a young Jewisn lad. Don't give this 
book to any young person you may have 
staying with you. It was not intended 
for her perusal. If you will notice the 
books of women writers very often are 
not. Evidently they write for men. 
Amytis, the king's beautiful sister, al- 
though married to a valiant general, falls 
in love, in the manner of Arnold's Poti- 
phar's Wife, with a young Jew, whose 
character is above reproach, and whose 
morality is a wonder to the self-indulgent 
Persians. The Jew is in love with a mai- 
den of his own people, who is in turn 
loved by the king himself. The priests 
of Bel, however, covet her for the temple. 
And the struggle for possession of her is 
bitter. The priests are aided by the Prin- 
cess, who wishes the girl removed from 
her path. The denouement occurs 
through the priests overacting their roles 
and the king suddenly taking the part 
of the lovers, and bidding them be happy 
ever after. 

("By the Waters of Babylon," by Mrs. 
Reginald de Koven. H. S. Stone Co., 
Chicago.) 

It is perhaps a pity 

that Mr. Crockett 

A Tumble from has also descended 

Parnassus. from "Parnassus 

Hill," and entered 

the arena with an 

attempt at a sensational novel. His cir- 
cle of readers have admired the very 
homeliness of his tales, their simplicity 
and lack of ambitious theme. He wrote 
a love story around a sun-bonnet and it 



pleased. Will the same audience like 
"Cinderella," his latest book, as well, or 
will he win new "gentle readers" by it? 
This is also a tale of homely domestic 
life, but there is also the tabasco of sen- 
sational plot thrown in. The combination 
is rather surprising. It is all about the 
adventures of a bag of priceless rubies, 
and the heroine is accused of stealing 
what are really her own jewels. The 
manner of this and the manner of her 
vindication are certainly originally 
worked out. Mr. Crockett's renown is 
already so considerable that this book 
will probably neither add nor detract 
from it. 

("Cinderella," by S. R. Crockett. Dodd, 
Mead & Co., New York.) 

Signora Scarfog- 
lio is one of the 

Fictional Critique best known of Ital- 

of Italian Society, ian writers. She 

uses the nom de 

plume of Matilde 

Serao. She has been a journalist for 
many years, and her husband is the edi- 
tor of "Mattino," in Naples. The influ- 
ences of these circumstances is shown 
in her latest book, "The Land of Cock- 
ayne," which is a study of present social 
conditions in the Neapolitan capital, deal- 
ing especially with the lottery and with 
the pernicious effect of such an institu- 
tion upon the people. As a picture of 
Italian life in the south, the book is gra- 
phic. The plot is well sustained and 
highly dramatic, and some of the char- 
acters extremely interesting. This is not 
one of Signora Scarfoglio's most char- 
acteristic books, but as most of her later 
work is healthier in tone. The earlier 
seemed over-saturated with naturalism. 
The Mathilde Serao idea of naturalism is 
that it is the offspring of materialism 
the artistic expression of it. "Science, 
or rather the abuse of science," she says, 
"has so far prostrated imagination and 
even art as to have made it her hand- 
maid." Now, materialism seems to have 
driven the Italian novelist to take refuge 
in a sort of mysticism. 

("The Land of Cockayne," by Matilde 
Serao. Harper & Bros., New York). 



Current Books. 



237 



It is quite to be 
expected that 

Another Historical when such a wo- 
Novel. man as Annie Na- 

than Meyer trus- 
tee of Bernard 

College, chairman of the Committee on 
Literature at tne World's Fair, and clever 
impromptu speaker turns her thoughts 
to novel making, an. historical novel 
should be the result. "Robert Annys: 
Poor Priest. A Tale of the Great Upris- 
ing," is written in a style which is never 
dull. It has vigor, action, animation. 
"The Great Uprising" is that remarkable 
movement of the very poor against the 
very rich (one of so many), which took 
place in England toward the close of the 
fourteenth century. It was caused by the 
usual class of reasons intense poverty 
of the laborers, restrictions put upon com- 
merce, and also upon the free migration 
from place to place of those unfortunates 
in need of employment. But the eco- 
nomic grievances of the "man without a 
job" were further interrupted by that 
rather unmodern influence overpow- 
ering religious feeling. The teachings of 
Wyclif and others had spread a feeling 
of discontent against the Church, and 
especially against the churchmen, high 
in authority, rich in tithes and lands, 
who led lives of luxury which seemed to 
taunt the poverty-stricken peasantry with 
indifferent insolence. Robert Annys was 
one of those "russet priests," called 
"poor" by reason and by courtesy, who 
cast in their lot with the peasantry, and 
defying the Church urged on the uprising, 
in hope of touching the carefully guarded 
conscience of the king. By reason of this 
situation the book is spoken of as one 
inimical to Catholicism. Yet the finest 
character in the book is that drawn as 
the Bishop of Ely, and his statements in 
defense of the Church are the strongest 
made. 

Robert Annys, russet-clad, ill-fed, walk- 
ing from place to place and preaching 
anywhere but in churches is a very hu- 
man and consequently not untempted 
person. His first temptation to leave 
his work among the ignorant common 
people comes when the powerful and ven- 
erable Bishop of Ely gives him the oppor- 



tunity to preach in the great cathedral. 
The force and possibilities of large in- 
fluence in the young enthusiast have been 
noted by the wise churchman, and he is 
offered a high place in the Diocese if he 
will re-enter the fold. He refuses, how- 
ever, after the proper, dramatic amount 
of struggle for guiding light, and contin- 
ues his meetings in the market places. 
The "poor priest" believes in marriage, 
so he becomes engaged to a young girl, 
who is lovely, saintly, but for whom he 
feels nothing more than affection. And 
forthwith Rose Westel dawns upon the 
scene of his betrothel Rose, beautiful, 
passionate, capricious, the incarnation of 
the temptation of the flesh. Unable to 
overcome his unquenchable longing for 
this entirely unworthy girl, or to find 
content longer with her cousin, he wan- 
ders away. At length, meeting her again, 
he is driven for safety into a monastery 
and straight back into the arms of the 
Church against which he had been 
preaching. Rose, meanwhile, having fal- 
len in love with a young Marquis, be- 
comes his mistress for the brief period 
before he tires of her and marries. Her 
career is a study in heredity, which offers 
some excuse for her impulsive and head- 
strong temperament. It is at her plea 
(in order to save the life of the Marquis) 
that Robert Annys comes out of the mon- 
astery to take control of his people 
during the uprising. Rose brings her un- 
happy life to an inherited end by drown- 
ing herself. 

Briefly outlined this is the story. The 
characters are neither complex or con- 
ceived with any especial originality, the 
scenes only historically correct, and the 
force of the tale lies in the power of 
the emotion displayed. The "russet 
priest," successfully living down his 
temptations in the refuge of the Church, 
yet coming forth at the time of the up- 
rising to the aid of his people, is a 
noble, but pitiable, figure. His deserted 
betrothed seems more justly to deserve 
the title of virtuous. We must own that 
the historical time and events of the 
book are far from the most interesting 
or significant that Mrs. Meyer could 
have chosen. 

("Robert Annys: Poor Priest. A Tale 



238 



Overland Monthly- 



of the Great Uprising." By Annie Nathan 
Meyer. Published by The Macmillan Co., 
New York.) 

Ten years ago a 
number of bril- 

One of a Brilliant liant men were 
Coterie. graduated from 

Princeton Univer- 
sity. Booth Tark- 

ington was among them, Walter Wycoff 
(author of "The Workers"), Jesse Lynch 
Williams, Robert Bridges, and Post Whee- 
ler. The last-named is also the last to 
achieve fame, but his volume of verse 
just published bids fair to place him in 
the front ranks of the younger poets 
of promise. He calls it "Love-In-A-Mist," 
and it is spoken of as verse of a news- 
paper man, which is in no sense "news- 
paper verse." For many years readers 
of the "New York Press" have found a 
poem of his daily on the editorial page. 
They have been almost without exception 
lyric gems. He has evidently given of his 
best to his paper. The poems which 
have most appealed to his readers as well 
as to the author himself have been se- 
lected, retouched, and presented in a form 
worthy of their high quality. The book 
will touch that chord in the popular heart 
which is always responsive to a true ex- 
pression of the passion that since song 
began has been the throned theme of the 
poet. Mr. Wheeler's genius as revealed 
thus far, seems to be entirely lyric, with 
a tinge of the reflective. If he has had 
any master it has been Tennyson. 

After graduation from college, Mr. 
Wheeler went to Paris, where he was in- 
timate with Israel Zangwill and Paul 
Verlaine. Later he lived in Morocco, with 
a Bedowa tribe in the mountains. He 
then returned to New York to receive the 
degree of Litt. D. from Princeton, and re- 
mained for several years. His last flight 
was to the wilds of the Alaskan country, 
where prospectors found him living with 
the Indians. So that his musical lyrics 
have been composed in the silences of the 
long, white Arctic night, as well as on 
the African desert. 

( "Love-In- A-Mist." By Post Wheeler. 
The Camelot Co., New York.) 



A Frenchman, writing for both French 
and American readers that is how 
Georges Ohnet strike us in his new 
book, "In Deep Abyss"; it shows us how 
more and more foreigners stuay our types 
and imitate our ways, even our slang. 
M. Ohnet laments that his countrymen 
lack two of our most admired virtues, 
our traveling propensities and our physi- 
cal strength. He places what purports to 
be the drawing of an American girl m 
his story but she is rather coarse, an 
unpleasant creation, lacking the nervous 
cleverness of the actual type, but evi- 
dently in the Frenchman's eyes a fine 
creature. The story is that of the rescue 
of a young Frenchman condemned to life- 
imprisonment on the island of Noumea. 
A suspicion has grown in the mind of a 
friend that the prisoner was guiltless of 
the murder for which he had been com- 
mitted. The murdered one was a young 
girl. The friend persuades another friend 
of his belief, and they journey togethc 
to Noumea and successfully effect the 
escape of the convict. The tale then re- 
solves itself into the solution of the proi - 
len i who did commit the murder? A. 
complication occurs when they appar- 
ently discover the actual girl who was 
supposed to have been the victim. She 
turns out, however, to be only her dou- 
ble in appearance, and she herself con- 
fesses that jealousy on the part of her 
own lover had caused him to bring about 
the unjust condemnation of the young 
Frenchman. Thus the tale wags merrily 
on with no purpose but the engrossment 
of the reader. The actual murder, how- 
ever (more thrills) was done by the 
woman at the instigation of her lover 
(and well-known villain of melo-drama). 
The book ends in a delightfully tragic 
manner by this girl committing suicide 
in the role of Juliet, that she is singing 
in the opera. Could anything be more en- 
tirely satisfactory and calculated to make 
one certain of an anodyne for forgetting 
realistic surroundings? As to the faults 
of the book, who will notice them while 
under the influence of the anodyne? 

("In Deep Abyss." By Georges Ohnet. 
Published by Funk & Wagnalls, New 
York.) 



San Antonio, Texas, City of Parks 



BY VINTON S. JAMES. 



KHB ancient but modern City of San 
Antonio lies on the plateau between 
the foot hills of the Guadalupe 
Mountains and the plains of South- 
west Texas. 

The San Antonio River rises in the 
northern part and meanders through the 
city, its erratic course often forming a 
letter S. The river bank is lined with the 
tall pecan, liveoak, elm, willow and many 
varieties of plant life. Its waters have 
a rapid current, with a clear greenish hue, 
sometimes flowing over gravelly shoals 
and forming into large deep pools, in 
which are many varieties of fish. The 
most prized is the black bass. The land- 
ing of La Salle on the coast of Texas, in 
1685, followed by his death, and the prox- 
imity to French possession of Louisiana, 



who established in 1715 a presidio on the 
west bank of the San Pedro, a small 
stream one-half a mile west and running 
parallel with the San Antonio River. 

In 1731 an important event occurred on 
the arrival of thirteen families, pure 
Spaniards, from the Canary Islands. Their 
influence was immediately felt. Civiliza- 
tion and missionary work began now 
with a vengeance. Wild Indians are cap- 
tured, brought into the presidios and 
forced to embrace Christianity. The 
foundation of the Mission Conception is 
laid one mile south of the Pueblo on the 
San Antonio River. The Apache Indians, 
who made their headquarters at Bandera 
Pass, fifty miles northwest of San An- 
tonio, became a terror to the colony; their 
depredations even extended as far west 




San Pedro Park Springs. 

led France to lay claim to this entire ter- 
ritory. Spain hastened to remove this 
shadow from her title by sending a gar- 
rison of soldiers with Franciscian friars, 



as the Rio Grande River. On May 8th, 
1744, the building of the Alamo com- 
menced, which, with its blood-stained 
history, afterwards made many men's 



240 



Overland Monthly. 



names famous in Texas history. 

The next forty years elapsed without 
any unusual events transpiring, and in 
1765 the population was hardly five hun- 



worth of red paint and about one hun- 
dred and thirty dollars' worth of presents, 
and were sent away rejoicing. The un- 
disciplined rebel army was in turn at- 




Milam's Grave. 



dred Europeans. In 1807, Lieutenant 
Zebulon M. Pike, U. S. A., afterwards 
famous as an explorer, passed through 
San Antonio under escort bound for the 
States; he having lost his way with an 
exploring party and fell into the hands 
of the Spanish authorities in New Mexico 
and was carried to Santa Fe under arrest. 
In 1800 the population was 2,000 in- 
habitants, consisting mostly of Spaniards 
and Creoles, civilized Indians and half- 
breeds, but few Americans and French- 
men. 

In March, 1813, a rebel army of ad- 
venturers, composed of Americans, Mex- 
icans and Indians, captured San Antonio 
from the Royalists. Many of the hated 
Spanish were put to death, and the spoils 
were divided among the victors. The In- 
dians received as their share two dollars' 



tacked by the reinforced Royalist 
troops of about 3,000 soldiers; the battle 
was against the rebels in the beginning, 
but the Texans fought with the fury of 
devils, and the Royalists were again 
defeated, with a loss of 1,000 men. 

In August, 1813, Arrendondo, the Span- 
ish general, surprised the rebel army and 
defeated them with slaughter. He en- 
tered San Antonio in great triumph. His- 
tory runs along smoothly for many years. 
In 1833, Sam Houston, in company with 
James Bowie, visited San Antonio. Two 
years afterwards the colonists quarreled 
with Mexico and the war for Texas in- 
dependence was on. General Burleson 
laid seige to San Antonio and after many 
efforts to capture the city he decided to 
abandon the fight when he received en- 
couraging news from escaped American 



San Antonio, Texas, City of Parks. 



241 



prisoners, but which was insufficient to 
inspire him to make another effort, when 
a hero stepped out from the ranks of his 
faltering comrades and exclaimed: "Who 
will follow Old Ben Milam into San An- 
tonio?" On December 5th, 1835, the 
storming of Bexar commenced and Milam 
was killed. His monument, lettered with 
his inspiring words, adorns a beautiful 
park bearing the same name. His grave, 
surrounded by weeping willows, orna- 



Texan, was captured, the survivors 
butchered and their bodies burned on the 
Plaza. Here fell the gallant Crockett, 
Bowie and others. After annexation to 
the United States, in 1845, the town be- 
gan to improve, and in 1856 its popula- 
tion was 10,000 souls. 

The location of San Antonio as a mili- 
tary post was recognized by the Spanish, 
French, Mexican, Texan and our National 
Government, and almost successively for 




Brackenridge Park. 

mented with beds of beautiful flowers, 
lies almost in the shadow of some of San 
Antonio's most modern and costly build- 
ings. On December 10th, General Cos 
surrendered to General Burleson, but the 
Texan's victory was not for long. On 
February 23rd, 1836, General Santa Ana, 
with a large army, appeared suddenly be- 
fore San Antonio and demanded uncon- 
ditional surrender on the 6th of March. 
After the most desperate fighting, the 
Alamo, the last shelter of defense for the 



the past 200 years some military or- 
ganization has been quartered here. Many 
famous generals of American history 
were commanders in San Antonio; such 
notables as General Harney, General 
Worth, Albert Sidney Johnson and Rob- 
ert E. Lee. Fort Sam Houston is the sec- 
ond largest military post in the United 
States. It is beautifully located on a hill 
overlooking the city, ornamented with 
shade trees and well kept lawns. Some 
$900,000 have here been expended by the 



242 



Overland Monthly. 



Government in improvements, exclusive 
of the site. 

The Alamo is in a good state of preser- 
vation, but the three missions below town 
on the river are in a state of rapid decay. 

The town tract of San Antonio com- 
prises within its limits 38,000 acres of 
land. Here, formerly, were many irri- 
gating ditches, but crowded thorough- 
fares have caused these agricultural pro- 
jects to be abandoned. San Antonio has 
three daily papers and ten other pub- 



persons who have here regained their 
health, and also by the crowded con- 
ditions of the hotels in the winter. The 
climate is dry and is sufficiently lemoved 
from the extremes of heat and cold to 
make it delightful the year round. Its 
altitude is 650 feet and its interesting 
relics, beautiful parks, sparkling waters 
and pure sanitation leave nothing to be 
desired for the tourist and health seeker. 
Natural gas and oil have been discovered 
near the city. At present the supply is 




Brackenridge Park. 



lications. The water supply is pure and 
furnished from artesian wells, with an 
even temperature of 70 degrees Fahr. 
There are 175 miles of water mains and 
650 fire hydrants distributed over the 
city, with one large reservoir and two 
pump-houses. The sewer system has 
seventy-five miles of pipe and cost $500,- 
000, and is a perfect success. The repu- 
tation of San Antonio as a health resort 
is substantiated by the vast number of 



not sufficiently developed for commercial 
purposes. San Antonio has the finest 
equipped and managed electric car sys- 
tem in the South; many improvements 
have lately been made; its roadbed in the 
business and principal resident streets is 
over asphalt and mesquite block roads, 
while in the suburbs macadam is used. 
It has forty-five miles of street car track 
and 100 electric cars in operation. 
The river is spanned with thirteen iron 



San Antonio, Texas, City of Parks. 



243 



and six wooden wagon bridges. There 
are three public natatoriums, one of 70 
degrees Fr., one of hot sulphur water with 
highly curative qualities with a tempera- 
ture ranging from 104 to 106 degrees, and 
hotel capacity sufficiently large to accom- 
modate 100 people. The city has fifty 
public and private schools. The public 
schools have a fine reputation for learn- 
ing, large commodious buildings supplied 
with all modern conveniences and sani- 



conveniences, and its many resources, 
splendid location, many points of interest, 
fine hotels, pure water and beautiful 
parks make it the most interesting city 
and the most popular health resort in the 
South. Its population, according to the 
United States census for 1900, is 53,321 
inhabitants, exclusive of the military post 
and three populous suburbs outside of the 
city limits, and which is almost 10,000 
people more than any other city in the 




Alamo Plaza Park and Post Office. 



tary arrangements. The schools are ably 
managed by a Board of School Trustees 
elected by the people and free from 
politics. The streets in the business part 
of the city are paved with mesquite 
blocks, vitrified brick and rock asphalt, 
and there are at present under construc- 
tion six miles of additional asphalt 
streets. The cash to pay for same when 
completed is in the city's depository. 
San Antonio is certainly up to date in 
modern improvements, sanitation and 



Lone Star State. 

In the Mayor's annual message for the 
year ending May 31st, 1900, he stated: 
"That the receipts for the city of San 
Antonio from all sources amounts to 
$773,791. The bonded indebtedness of the 
city of San Antonio amounts to $1,971,000, 
bearing interest, the average rate being 
5.117 per cent. The receipts for the sink- 
ing fund was sufficient after paying $50,- 
000 of bonded indebtedness and interest 
coupons to the amount of $106,260, a bal- 



244 



Overland Monthly. 



ance was still in the hands of the Treas- 
urer of $67,809.78." No default in the 
payment of principal or interest on 
bonded debt or any other obligation has 
ever been charged to the city. The as- 
sessed valuation of real and personal 
property for the same years is $31,621,- 
895, which is about 60 per cent of the 
cash value. Real estate and improve- 
ments owned by the city amounts to 
$2,000,000, exclusive of the value of many 



rabbits and squirrels still have their 
haunts. Many miles of beautiful drives 
have been lately laid out and so shaded 
by these grand trees that the sun in mid- 
day can hardly pierce its foliage. It has 
been the aim of the Hon. Ludwig 
Mahncke, the Park Commissioner, that 
"Prince of Gardeners," to improve the 
drives without the cost of sacrificing any 
of the natural beauty, and how well he 
has succeeded in this work of love is at- 




Main Plaza and County Court House. 

miles of paved streets. Brackenridge 
Park, at the source of the San Antonio 
River, is without any question the most 
beautiful natural park in the South. For 
hundreds of years this ideal spot, with 
its crystal water, beautiful foliage and 
many varieties of fern life has been pro- 
tected by private ownership; large live 
oak trees, centuries old, laden with hang- 
ing moss in all its sombre grandeur, 
tangled wild wood in which the quail, 



tested to by all visitors. This magnificent 
park was the gift to the people of San 
Antonio from George W. Brackenridge, 
whose personality will ever be associated 
with his beautiful charity to the people 
of his home city, and his name will be as 
everlasting as the park. San Pedro Park, 
at the head of the San Pedro, is famous 
for its transparent waters, alive with 
many varieties of fish, which can be seen 
sporting in the clear water, many grass 



San Antonio, Texas, City of Parks. 



245 



plots, walks shaded with the tall pecan, 
graceful elm and giant cottonwood trees. 
All credit is due to the Hon. Marshall 
Hicks, the present Mayor, who reclaimed 
the park from the most woeful neglect 
of former administrations. Many other 
lovely parks adorn the city's thorough- 
fares, giving ample breathing spots for 
the people. Alamo Plaza, Main Plaza, 
Travis Park and many others are dis- 
tributed over the city and are beautifully 
kept. 

Among the many points of interest at 
Brackenridge Park is the deer inclosure, 
in which many graceful deer and fawns 
are to be seen gamboling under the beau- 
tiful trees. Tne Park Commissioner hopes 
soon to include some elk and buffalo. 

The Zoo at San Pedro Park contains 
many rare specimens of bird and animal 
life, while on the lake sport many beau- 
tiful water fowl. 

In the center of Travis Park is the 
commanding Confederate Monument, 
erected by the "Daughters of the Con- 
federacy." Beautiful flowers and roses 
bloom luxuriously in the many parks the 
year round. 

The following is a list of San Antonio's 
parks with the area of each: 

Name Area. 

Main Plaza Park iy 2 acres 

City Hall Park 1 y 2 acres 

Alamo Plaza Park 2 acres 

Travis Park 4 acres 

Maverick Park 4 acres 

Madison Square 6 acres 

Crockett Square 7 acres 

Milam Square 6 acres 

Franklin Square 4 acres 

Washington Park 3 acres 

City Hospital Park 2 acres 

South Heights Park 6 acres 

Seventh Ward Park Vz acre 

Moser Park l /z acre 

Jones Park % acre 

Lippold Park ^4 acre 

Market House Park 2 1 ! acres 

Walton Peteet Park y 2 acre 

San Pedro Park GO acres 

Brackenridge Park 300 acres 

Twenty parks. Total 409^ acres 

Plans have also been made for the 



Eighth Ward Park, one and a half acres, 
and Seeligson Park, one acre. 

The Mayors' Convention was held at 
San Antonio on the 19th of April and 
was attended by over 100 representatives 
of the principal cities of Texas. A 
Mexican supper followed by a banquet in 
their honor was celebrated in San Pedro 
Park Pavilion. The waiters on this oc- 
casion were beautiful senoritas, daugh- 
ters of our best Mexican citizens. Their 
services were complimentary and per- 
formed in such a graceful and charming 
manner that captivated many a heart in 
that municipal gathering. The "Battle 
of Flowers" parade celebrated the an- 
niversity of Texas independence, the bat- 
tle of San Jacinto. The beautiful 
natural floral decorations, representing 
historic events in Texas, were viewed by 
thousands of spectators. 

West End Lake, on the western bor- 
der of the city, has many beautiful homes 
surrounding its shores, and during the 
Winter many flocks of wild ducks are 
daily seen swimming on the lake. Of all 
the many interesting drives, with its fine 
gravel roadbed, none surpass Roosevelt 
avenue, named after the gallant Roose- 
velt, who here within the shade of the 
historic missions organized the famous 
Rough Riders' Regiment. Here many vol- 
unteers of the aristocratic, rich and pam- 
pered young men of New York found 
comrades in that rough product of the 
plains, the cowboy. 

San Antonio is in the center of a fine 
hunting and fishing region. It is also the 
headquarters of the live stock trade of 
Western Texas. The Union Stock Yards 
has a cold storage plant and is well 
patronized. The Southern Pacific, I. & 
G. N. R. R., S. A. & A. P. and Gulf Shore 
Railroads have their separate depots 
here and in May next the M. K. & T. 
Railroad completes its track to the city. 
The San Antonio Brewery, with a capital 
and improvements of $1,000,000, is one 
of the best paying institutions in the 
South. The Lone Star Brewery has hand- 
some improvements and a large trade. 

The San Antonio International Fair 
commences October 19th and closes Oc- 
tober 30th, 1901. Texas and Mexico will 
be represented by the many varied pro- 



246 



Overland Monthly. 



ducts on exhibition common to both coun- 
tries. 

Marshall Hicks, the present Mayor, is 
now serving his second term and is the 
most progressive executive that has ever 
graced the office. He is only 35 years of 
age and has performed wonders for the 
city's improvement in paved streets, 
beautiful drives and ornamental public 
buildings. His zeal in the pursuit of his 



the greatest State in the Union. 

Texas is only in her infancy. Her 
broad rich prairie lands are capable of 
sustaining a dense population. Her great 
hidden treasures are jealously guarded, 
and lately a miracle has been performed 
at Beaumont, Texas, where fifteen oil 
wells are now in operation, three of 
which furnishes a supply of fuel oil equal 
to one-half of the entire production of the 




Brackenndge Park. 

arduous municipal duties is guided by the 
highest principles. His temperate habits 
and the quiet and pure life of his home 
furnishes him with rest and recuperation. 
He has many qualifications as an execu- 
tive officer, as an orator, tireless energy, 
splendid intellect, and his popularity with 
the masses would be a credit as chief 
executive to the grandest and soon to be 



world supply, and furnishes a long felt 
want for Texas manufacturers. This is 
only the beginning of an era of pros- 
perity. These wonderful fields for invest- 
ment will attract the idle capital of the 
world and before many years the growth 
of Texas will be phenomenal, the extent 
of which will surpass the wildest dreams 
of her pioneers. 



Overland Monthly. 



In Principle 
Practice 
the 

PRESIDENT 

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is superior to any suspender you 
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under all conditions. Adjusts 
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The genuine has "President" on 
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Sold everywhere, 50c., or by mail. 

C. A. EDCARTON MFC. CO. 
Box 242; Shirley, Mass. 



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ROOT AND BRANCH 




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MISSES BELL 

A Trial Treatment Free 
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We have at last made the discovery which has baffled 
chemists and all others for centuries that of absolutely 
destroying superfluous hair, root and branch entirely and 
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neck, cheeks or arms, and that too without impairing In 
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..The Misses Bell have thoroughly tested its efficacy and 
are desirous that the full merits of their treatment, which 
they have given the descriptive name of "KILL-ALL-HAIR," 
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Please understand that a personal demonstration of our 
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which you can use yourself and prove our claims by sending 
two stamps for mailing. 

THE MISSES BELL, 

78 and 80 Fifth Avenue, New York. 



vi 



Overland Monthly. 



A REMARKABLE OFFER TO OVER LAND MONTHLY SUBSCRIBERS. 

NEW 20TH 

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maps and plans. 

12,000,000 More Words 
than the largest English 
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has been prepared 
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The 
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Overland Monthly. 



vii 



CALIFORNIA S 
COLOSSAL 





GREAT MAJESTIC RANGE 

McCabc-Johnson Co.. Spokane, Washington; Louis E. 
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Portland. Oregon; Frederick & Nelson. Seattle, Wash.; 



MAJESTIC 

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RANGE 

Increasing Sales Each Day: Increasing 

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Works well all the time, and lasts for gen- 
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Ask for the new booklet "All About 
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The booklet will be furnished and full 
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can nil orders promptly. 



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Co., Los Angeles, Cal ; Pier Hdwe Co., 
Coffin & Northrup Co., Boise City, Idaho. 



viii 



Overland Monthly. 



California 



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Overland Monthly. 



California 



GREATEST SUMMER 
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Best reached via the 

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To Our Readers: 



Since the OVERLAND MONTHLY changed ownership one year ago, its 
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The OVERLAND MONTHLY is practically the only illustrated magazine of 
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II Grossman & Orvis, A g ents :l 

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xii 



Overland Monthly. 



1AKE DINTING <pLATE< 
/E MAKE A SPECIALTY OF MAKING^ 
THEM FLIGHT. - 

OUR PLANT is MODERN, OUR MACHINERY* 

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Overland Monthly. 



xiii 



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xiv 



Overland Monthly. 



IRVING INSTITUTE 

Boarding and Day School for Young Ladies. 

2126 CALIFORNIA STREET 

Accredited to the Universities. Conservatory of Music, 

Art, and Elocution. 
For Catalogue address the Principal. Reopens Aug. 

REV. EDWARD CHURCH, A. M. 



SHORTHAND 



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Gold Medal, Paris, 1900. 
E. & 8. CALIFORNIA. 

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Overland Monthly. 



D 



A Skin of Beauty is a Joy Forever. 

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xv i 



Overland Monthly. 




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xvii 



HOTEL RAFAEL * 



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xviii 



Overland Monthly. 




Overland Monthly. 



lackawanna 

Railroad 



This letter was written on a Lackawanna Railroad tram traveling sixty miles an hour The regularity of the 
handwriting testifies to the wonderful smoothness of the road-bed. 

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C22K5 

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Overland Monthly. 




WHY? 

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Overl 
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AN ILLUSTRATED MAGAZINE OF THE WEST 




SAN FRANCISCO 

OCTOBER I9OI 



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VOL. XXXVIII NO. 4. 

Overland Monthly 

AN ILLUSTRATED MAGAZINE OF THE WEST 

OCTOBER, 1901 

CONTENTS: 

Frontispiece Ho Yow 

The Chinese Question Ho Yow 249 

Illustrated by Arnold Genthe. 
Pablo Gutierrez and the "Americanos." Mary Harding 259 

Story. Illustrated by William Lewis. 
As a Little Child . Helen E. Richardson 262 

Story. 

Recollections of Lincoln and Seward. .. .James Matlack Scovel 265 

San Francisco Diplomatic Corps W. J. Weymouth 272 

Illustrated from Photographs. 
The Man with the Cap Sol. N. Sheridan 278 

Story. Illustrated by William Lewis. 
The Triumph of Sena John G. Neihardt 282 

Story. 
The Days of Gold Jessie T. Aitken 285 

Story. 

The Constitution and the Territories. . . .N. P. Chipman 289 

The Banyan Tree at Avalon Benjamin K Field 305 

Poem. Illustrated by E. B. Brown. 
Beno Slim George D. Abbott 306 

Story. 
On the Firing Line George S. Evans 309 

Story. 
Two Privates and a Corporal Cecil M. Marrack 310 

Story. 
Aikali Plains Amy Dudley 312 

Poem. 
A Matter of Opinion 313 

Editorial. 
Current Books Grace Luce Irwin 314 



The OVERLAND MONTHLY will be sent postpaid for one year to any part of the United States. 
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FREDERICK MARRIOTT. Publisher, 5% Kearny '_8t., San Francisco. Entered at San Francisco 
Post-office as second-class matter. 

Subscribers not receiving the Overland Monthly regularly, will confer a favor 
on the publisher by notifying the office. 



Overland Monthly. 



1,1 



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Overland Monthly. 



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Overland Monthly. 



A PROSPEROUS 
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Subscribed Capital $12,000,000 

Paid-in Capital 2,000,000 

Profit and Reserve Fund 250 000 

Monthly Income, over ] ] 10o!oOO 

ITS PURPOSE IS 

To help its members to build homes, also to make loans on improved 
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HOME OFFICE: 222 Sansome St., San Francisco, Cal. 
Wm. Corbin, Secretary and General Manager. 




Ho Yow, Chinese Consul-General at San Francisco. 



Uverlarvd MoivtKly 

Vol.xxxvH, 0ctober ' 1901 - 




\ * / HE Labor Council of San Francisco 
J==(. has brought up the question of the 
exclusion of the Chinese from the 
United States, and I therefore deem 
it appropriate to say a few words on the 



ward by the labor unionists to the admis- 
sion of the Chinese are, I understand, 
upon the following grounds: 

First: That the Chinese work for 
cheaper wages than the whites, thereby 




subject, for we think by raising the bar 
against the Chinese and permitting them 
to come into tnis country, commerce as 
well as labor will be greatly benefited 
thereby. The main objections put for- 
16 



ruining the labor market. 

Second: That the Chinese send their 
money back to China. 

Third: That the Chinese are an un- 
cleanly class and will bring undesirable 



\ 



250 



Overland Monthly. 







diseases into this country to infect yor r 
homes. 

Fourth: That they take the work away 
from the American laboring classes. 

Fifth: That if the bars are raise J 
against the Chinese they will come in 
great numbers to swamp the country. 

I will answer them according to this 
list of reasons and in this order. 

As to the Chinese working for cheaper 
wages than the whites, it is now gener- 
ally known throughout the country that 
the Chinese demand higher wages than 
even the best of the white laboring class, 
notwithstanding which there is still a 
great demand for Chinese labor. 

While it is true, to a certain extent, that 
the Chinese send their savings to China, 
in our opinion this is beneficial to all, for 
by doing so their relatives and a certain 



class of Chinese in China become wealthy 
enough to consume or buy many of the 
luxuries and produces from this country 
which are now beyond their knowledge 
and reach. Money must circulate. If 
the Americans had not made their money, 
as many of them did, through the Euro- 
pean market, there would not be as much 
gold as there is at present in this country. 
As to the question of cleanliness, the 
Chinese laboring class is just as clean 
as the corresponding class of any other 
nationality. If a comparison could be 
instituted right here in San Francisco 
of the same classes in all nationalities, 
my statement would be verified. The 
Chinese in this country must be regarded, 
generally, as of the laboring class and 




The Chinese Question. 



253 




adjudged as sucn. It is unfair to compare 
the Chinese laboring classes with the 
white middle or higher classes. There 
is no reason why the Chinese are likely 
to introduce more dangerous diseases 
into this country than any similar classes 
from other countries. Were the Chinese 
responsible for the great historical plague 
of London? There were no Chinese in 
London then. The Chinese are laboring 
under many disadvantages, but there is 
no reason why they should be made into 
bacilli to suit the pleasure of the selfish 
and spiteful. 

That they take away the work of the 
Americans: In our opinion this has very 
little effect on the labor market. We con- 
tend that the Chinese do a different class 
of work than the true white laborers. 
The Chinese work at manual, unskilled 
occupations, doing a lower class of work 
than the great majority of the whites. 
The Americans are more skilled, requir- 
ing and possessing technical education 



and high manipulative and administrative 
ability, fitting them particularly for fore- 
men, engineers, draftsmen, high-grade 
mechanics, and the like, while the Chi- 
nese do more of fruit picking, truck gar- 
dening, and work of a lower type, and are 
not what would be considered skilled 
laborers. The Chinese, in a measure, 
do conflict with the imported paaper 
labor of Europe, which in no sense can 
be termed typical American white labor. 
As to the contention that if the bars 
against the Cnmese are raised they will 
come here in great numbers to swamp the 
country: It is not generally known, but it 
is nevertheless so, that the Chinese who 
come to this country are natives of the 
Province or State of Kwong Tung, in the 
south of China. The inhabitants of this 
province are limited in number. All the 
Chinese here are from this province of 
Kwong Tung, and they speak quite a dif- 




254 



Overland Monthly. 



ferent dialect or language from the Chin- 
ese of the other eighteen provinces of 
China. No Chinese from these other 
provinces will migrate to this country, 
nor have they ever done so. They have 
no friends here, and could not converse 
with the Chinese in America. Conse- 
quently, even were the bars raised, no 
Inducement could tempt these strange 
Chinese to come here. Even assuming 
that the Chinese from the provinces other 
than Kwong Tung should conclude to 
migrate to this country in after years, 
it would then be time to raise the ques- 
tion of restriction. In other countries 
where the Chinese can now go without re- 
straint or hindrance, no Chinese from any 
other province but this province of 
Kwong Tung, excepting, possibly a few 
from the province of Fukien, have ever 
gone in any number. We further submit 
that the exclusion of the Chinese will 
not do any good while the unskilled pau- 
per laborers of different countries are al- 
lowed to come here. It is just like shut- 
ting the back door to the Chinese and let- 
ting all the others come in at the front. 



We do not for a moment advocate the 
exclusion of all such classes, but simply 
point out the folly of Chinese exclusion. 
By admitting the Chinese, this country 
would gain many more advantages than 
it does from the admission of the same 
classes from other countries. You would 
get commercial and other beneficial re- 
turns from China in a large and profitable 
measure, while you would not get half as 
much from the others. Many countries 
whose emigrants you are admitting are 
manufacturers themselves, and keen com- 
mercial rivals of America; therefore you 
would not get much from that quarter, 
whereas the Chinese at present are non- 
manufacturers and but limited producers. 
They require, and will require, your 
manufactured goods and products as fast 
as you can supply them. Tnis is a very 
propitious time for America to profit in 
just such a way. The recent trouble in 
China has placed the Chinese confidence 
in the Americans through the noble stand 
that the United States has taken. By 
admitting the Chinese, they will, by con- 
stant intercourse with Americans, be- 




256 



Overland Monthly. 




come a good medium for the introduction 
of your goods and products into their 
country. The Chinese have hitherto de- 
veloped this State and built your rail- 
roads. Without them the far-reaching 
Central Pacific, Southern Pacific and Ca- 
nadian Pacific railway systems would 
never have been built. There are at this 
day many industries which could not 



have been started, nor would they have 
flourished, without the help of the Chin- 
ese. There are many branches of trade 
that cannot do without them. By employ- 
ing Chinese labor you get your money's 
worth of faithful, steady toil, and, at the 
same time, those admitted help to manu- 
facture goods for you to supply to China 
at a profit to yourself, thus using the 




The Chinese Question. 



257 



Chinese to doubly benefit your country. 
By excluding the Chinese, the truly 
American laboring class is not actually 
benefited; in reality, it is an advantage 
to the pauper labor of other countries. 
No country can trade exclusively among 
themselves, for trade is barter. By plac- 
ing a wall between China and the United 
States, the trade of the two countries 
must necessarily suffer. The demand in 
China for your products will, in time, be 
equivalent to about one-half of your total 
export trade to the world. 

As far as the moral nature of the Chin- 
ese is concerned, as compared with the 
whites, it is proven and universally ad- 
mitted that the Chinese are a sober, tem- 
perate, and industrious class; they are 
intelligent and easy to control, and their 
commercial integrity is second to none 
in the world, which is a very essential 
consideration in commercial as well as 
in social life. It is true that there are 



vices among the Chinese, just as there 
are among the whites. There is this dis- 
tinction, however; the vices of the Chin- 
ese have been forced prominently before 
the public. They have a way of regula- 
ting their vices; therefore, to the casual 
observer they are prominent, while 
among other races the vices are hidden 
under various masks. Therefore, it is un- 
fair to say that the Chinese bring their 
vices here, and that they affect the moral- 
ity of the white classes. If the Chinese 
gamble at all, they gamble among them- 
selves. Life itself is but a gamble. 

I take this opportunity of bringing this 
matter before the American people, trust- 
ing to their high sense of honor and fair- 
ness, and believing that they will allow 
the Chinese their just rights, in keeping 
with the Divine and common laws. For 
it is the Golden Rule to do unto others 
as you would that others would do unto 
you. 





Ho Yow's Card (Actual Size.) 



17 




X 

\ 




Pablo. 



Pablo Gutierrez and the "Americanos." 



BY MARY HARDING. 



\ I /HE day was warm and the out- 
J-M. look picturesque but discouraging. 
Vast stretches of undulating plains, 
marked here and there by a sage 
brush or a cactus by way of vegetation, 
rolled along in uncompromising lines to 
the low streak of foothills. The fierce 
heat beat down upon Pablo's head and 
made him glad to pause once in a while 
in his easy, ambling gait, to light a cigar- 
ette. This he would put between his 
glistening white teeth with a sigh of 
satisfaction, the while his eyes gazed far 
off on the undisturbed, placid scene; on 
the highest peak of the low outline, 
which to his fancy had always seemed 
to rise forth so it could be nearer the 
beautiful blue mist of sky that hovered 
over it. But although Pablo's eyes were 
resting upon the scene, he saw some- 
thing strangely different. Bits of yellow 
hair would toss before his eyes; a fair 
hand held his an instant; then two eyes 
as blue as the bluest tints of sky in Mex- 
ico, his own native land, would smile 
upon him then laugh at him. That was 
the trouble: they would laugh at him 
him and they were never anything but 
adorable when they looked upon that 
"gringo" brother of hers. 

The "Americanos" had only been in the 
small town two weeks, but during that 
short while Pablo had seen much of "la 
alma de su vida" (the soul of his life) as 
he had somewhat fantastically styled 
her. She hau informed him that her 
brother was busy surveying and away 
the greater part of the day. This speech 
she had followed by inviting him to drop 
in and while an hour away when he felt 
inclined. "Some morning," she had 
added, as she waved her hand and left 
him. They had never really been pre- 
sented to each other. The whole thing 
was desperately informal. It had hap- 
pened in this wise: One morning, the 
second day after the "Americanos" had 



arrived, Pablo had been doing an errand 
for a "compadre" of his who kept a 
"tienda"; suddenly his eyes had encoun- 
tered those wonderful blue ones, that 
had haunted him ever since. He stared 
a great while, and when he dared not 
look at them any longer his gaze wan- 
dered a little higher and he saw the 
mysterious gold hair, like mist, so fine 
and delicate; bit by bit he found perfec- 
tion, and when she had passed he stood 
staring stupidly into space. His reverie 
was broken by the sound of a slight 
outcry; turning he saw that she had 
evidently slipped and fallen. With an 
alert movement he was at her side; for 
an instant his strong arm was about her 
as he lifted her to her feet. He did 
not know that as she stood there she was 
thinking that he was one of the hand- 
somest man she had ever seen, a Velas- 
quez, or some old Spanish grandee come 
to life, nor that she had already decided 
within herself that she would see more 
of him. She was alone so much of the 
time, and there was nothing to see or do 
in a place of about four hundred inhabi- 
tants, and such inhabitants! He only 
knew that her beauty had created havoc 
in his soul; that he had felt the weight of 
her loveliness for an instant and that the 
memory of it all would stay with him 
forever. 

She thanked him in the charming way 
that was peculiarly her own, and after 
five minutes' conversation she had ex- 
tracted his life history. She knew that 
he was twenty-five; that his name was 
Pablo Gutierrez, and that he had come 
from the city of Mexico two years ago, 
and had started keeping a little store 
in the forsaken place he now lived in, 
with the hope of making money. She had 
laughingly asked him if he was hoarding 
his bank account with the ultimate object 
of matrimony, and before those clear 
angel blue eyes he had stammered the 




He found her alone. 



Pablo Gutierrez and the "Americanos." 



261 



truth, that he was. But she knew even 
then that he was hers and well, it was 
so exceedingly dull. At that time it had 
also seemed to her like the work 
of Providence, this bit of prospective 
diversion for the long dragging days, 
although somewhere in her thoughts 
there ran the old saying concerning the 
moth and the flame. 

After that Pablo had lived every morn- 
ing for an hour or two, and was dead all 
the rest of the while to all but his dreams. 
These glowed in his heart and set it 
aflame. Now he pictured her as he had 
first seen her, then each successive time: 
all she had said, the intonation of her 
voice, her graceful gestures. There were 
always presented to his view a thousand 
charms to love. In his greatest heights 
he imagined her as his wife, for he knew 
that sometime he must violate the bonds 
of friendship must ask her for herself. 
After this thought there always followed 
a dreaded blank, a dark abyss from 
which he could glean no answer. And 
yet come what might he knew that he 
must ask. 

One night when the mysterious beauty 
of twilight was enveloping the country 
in a dull gray mist, he broke the promise 
he had made, that he would never come 
at any time save in the morning unless 
she notified him. She had established 
that rule immediately, as she explained 
that her brother would never countenance 
a proceeding of such informal character. 

He found her alone in the small room 
that served as parlor and reading room 
to the only notel in town. She waved be- 
fore his eyes like a beautiiul flash of 
sunlight, and her gown fell about her in 
soft folds of palest blue. She frowned 



and waited for his apology at his intru- 
sion. She even imagined the low voice 
and brokenly worded English she knew 
so well, but he did not speak. Instead 
he walked over deliberately and held her 
closely to him and kissed her: kissed 
her with all the pent up longing and 
fire and faith of a lifetime, it seemed 
to him. For an instant she lay there 
unresisting, then struggled to free her- 
self, but her attempts were futile. He 
was blind; he held her in his arms; like 
an avalanche passionate words and kisses 
left his lips. Suddenly her words, her 
threats, everything seemed small and 
useless before the love she had inspired; 
she seemed in a dream. Through the win- 
dow she saw a horseman dismounting. 
"Pablo, let me go!" she almost shrieked. 
"He is coming! Pablo listen! I am 
married he is not my brother he is my 
husband!" Even then he was blind. 

"Pablo, he will kill me!" She re- 
peated it over and over again and sud- 
denly the arms about her fell aside. She 
was alone. 

The next morning Mrs. Jack Derrings- 
forth persuaded her husband that the 
heat was simply unbearable; that she 
would die if she staid in the musty old 
town another day, and from her tone he 
knew that it was useless to argue, so they 
left by the first train. 



In Mexico there is a dusky-haired girl 
whose heart throbs and whose eyes look 
love dreams at the name of Pablo. She 
does not know yet that he will never be 
hers, but some day, because of the ca- 
price of a fair lady, her heart will be 
broken. 




AS A LITTLE CHILD 



BY HELEN E. RICHARDSON. 



HE general manager was later than 
usual. It was a quarter after nine, 
and Barker, the book-keeper, was 
still the only one in the office. He 
sat, as he had sat for over an hour, bent 
closely over his trial balance, a green 
shade pulled down over his eyes; the com- 
ings and goings of others disturbed him 
not. He did not even hear the general 
manager enter his private office, which 
adjoined Barker's, and a sudden "bur-r-r 
bur-r-r" beside his desk acted like the 
sound of an alarm clock in the ears of 
a sleeping man. 

Barker slid off his stool instantly, and 
opened the door between tne two rooms. 

A slight, blonde man, not yet out of 
his thirties, sat at a desk nervously turn- 
ing over a pile of freshly-opened corre- 
spondence. 

"I gave Miss Whipple's call," he said, 
shortly, glancing up. 

"Miss Whipple's not here this morn- 
ing, Mr. Needham." 

"Not here?" and Needham looked up in- 
quiringly. 

"She sent a telephone message saying 
she was sick and wouldn't be down." 

The fair skin above the rather small 
blue eyes gathered into a frown. He gave 
an angry grunt of impatience and threw 
the letter opener onto his desk beside 
the pile of letters with a little sidewise 
twirl. 

"I'll be hanged if I can stand for this 
any longer," he said, jumping from his 
seat and walking down the room, his fin- 
ger tips thrust into his trousers pockets. 
"It's a confounded nuisance," he con- 
tinued, turning. "This is the second or 
third time that she has failed me lately 
when I had something particular I wanted 
done. I wish you would write out an ad- 
vertisement for an assistant book-keeper 
and stenographer and send it down to the 
office. Get a man; I won't take chances 
on another girl she might not be any 



more reliable than this one." 

Needham dropped into his chair and 
hitched it up to the desk witn a jerk that 
made the casters rattle and closed all 
argument in advance. 

Barker retired with reluctance to carry 
out the order. He glanced at the long 
rows of filing cases above his desk, care- 
fully labeled in a neat, round hand, and 
down at the small oaken desk beside his 
own, whereon lay a black sateen apron 
folded just as she had left it the night 
before. The typewriter still retained its 
black japanned casket, and possibly it 
was its funereal appearance that caused 
a lump to rise in his throat. He resumed 
his seat on the high stool, and reached 
mechanically for a piece of scratch paper. 

Arthur Needham took up a pen, and, 
jabbing it savagely into an inkwell, set 
about the tedious task of answering some 
of the most important of the numerous 
communications before him. The machin- 
ery in the factory outside rolled and thun- 
dered, but it disturbed him not so much 
as the twitter of a bird outside the win- 
dow would have done. As Miss Whipple 
had once remarked, with an unconscious 
Hibernianism, it was doubtful if he ever 
heard it except when it stopped. A silence 
in the factory was verily a call to arms in 
the office. 

Something like an hour had passed, 
when there came a sharp little rap at his 
hall door. 

Needham leaned back in his chair, his 
pen poised in the air, and called, "Come 
in." 

A stout little woman of about fifty en- 
tered. She had a round, beaming face, 
almost childish in its sweetness and sim- 
ple assurance. The brown, wavy hair, 
liberally sprinkled with white, was parted 
under a bonnet of the fashion of several 
seasons back, and Needham's critical eye 
noted at once the errors in fit of her 
home-made "tailor-made" gown. The face 



As a Little Child. 



263 



looked familiar, but before he could trace 
the resemblance to its source, she began: 

"Good morning! I suppose you're Mr. 
Needham. I'm looking for my daughter, 
but I guess I got into the wrong door. 
I can go right through here, though, 
can't I?" she added, advancing a step or 
two toward the inner door and then paus- 
ing. "I just came down this morning, an' 
she ain't expectin' me, so I thought I'd 
better come right here and let her Know." 
The last was said half-apologetically, half- 
inquiringly. 

"Miss Whipple is not here this morn- 
ing," he replied. 

The sunlight faded from the mother's 
face. 

"It is not unusual, and may not be 
serious," added Needham with doubtful 
assurance. 

Mrs. Whipple dropped her plump figure 
into the nearest chair. 

"Well, now, I just had an idea that she 
wasn't all right," she launched forth. "She 
always did get run down and kind of 
peaked at this time of the year. I just 
used to have the hardest time when she 
was at home tryin' to think of things to 
cook up that she would eat. She just 
naturally ain't strong. Why, do you 
know, Mr. Needham, I never thought I'd 
be able to raise her at all, up to the time 
she was about eleven. We moved out 
onto the ranch then, an' she did kind of 
pick up a little. She kept gettin' better 
every year, and after awhile I commenced 
to feel easier about her. But then we lost 
the place on the mortgage and she was 
bound and determined she'd come down 
here to work, and since then I haven't 
been able to find out how she was. l 
write an' write, but I can't get nothin' 
out of her about herself. But she's that 
way," and the mother shook her head 
and heaved a sigh that added breadth to 
last statement. 

There was a silence for a few moments. 
Arthur Needham sat looking down. The 
little woman's eyes shifted to a basket 
which she was balancing on her knee. 

"I'm glad I brought this put-up fruit," 
she continued. "She likes it, an' it's good 
for her. She says she don't git hardly 
any where she bo i-tls. I can't see what 
makes city folks i > n^aii an' stingy with 



their fruit, for my part. Oh, yes," and 
she straightened up with a sudden recol- 
lection and placed her hand on the basket- 
lid "I brought somethin' else, an' I'm 
almost glad Florence ain't here for one 
thing. I made a batch of pies yesterday 
to leave home for the men folks, and I 
just told my husband I was goin' to bring 
one along to you. I know men are all 
pretty much alike when it comes to mince 
pies. Of course I know you are able to 
buy most anything you want to eat, but 
Florence said you lived in a hotel, an' 
hotel things ain't like home. My son 
George he's about your age he's been 
boardin' that way a long time an' he 
lives pretty good, too: pays as much as 
fifty cents some times for his meals an' 
he says he gets awful tired of 'em. He 
seems just as pleased as a boy to sit 
down to one of my regular ordinary din- 
ners. 

"I expected some trouble with Florence 
about this," she continued, producing a 
flat package wrapped in newspaper, "be- 
cause I wanted her to bring you a glass 
uf some extry good strawberry jam I was 
makin' when she was up home last, but 
she just se,, her foot down; she wouldn't. 
Said you'd think she was toadyin' jes' 
doin' it to git favors, she meant, an' I told 
her she ought to be ashamed of herself 
to judge people that way, but I didn't in- 
sist on her bringin' it, for I thought after 
all it might be kind of dauby for you to 
have 'round here 'mongst your papers. 
An' then it's awful hard to get her to do 
anything when she don't want to, jes' like 
her father." 

Mrs. Whipple rose and placed the pie 
on the desk in front of Needham, expos- 
ing its flakey surface to view by lifting 
the corners of the paper. 

Arthur Needham was a man well ac- 
customed to making formal speeches. He 
had done the honors at many a banquet 
table, but words failed him at this mo- 
ment. At last he began falteringly: 

"Really, Mrs. Whipple, I 

But her hand was raised to check him. 

"Now, don't you bother to thank me, 
because really it wasn't any extry trouble 
at all, hardly. When you have the dough 
an' the meat all made one pie or less don't 
make hardly any difference. I'm going to 



264 



Overland Monthly. 



hurry and git right home to Florence 
now," she said, making a quick move 
toward the door and laying her hand on 
the door-knob. "I'll nurse her up good to- 
night, an' I guess she'll be able to git 
'round to-morrow. Good-mornin'," and 
she gave a little nod and a smile and 
moved through the doorway, partly clos- 
ing the door behind her and then re- 
opening it. Putting her head back she 
said: 

"I guess it's just as well not to say 
anything at all to her about the pie." 

Needham nodded and she withdrew her 
head, closing the door audibly after her. 

The general manager rested his el- 
bows on the desk, his head on his hands, 
and regarded the large white disk with 
its splashes of rich brown juice and its 
five-fingered fern design in crust perfora- 
tions. His thoughts were traveling away 
back and away off, almost to the Atlantic 
seaboard. The objects before his eyes 
grew dim and he saw a little woman, not 
unlike the one who had just left him, 
transporting just such a pie from an oven 
to a kitchen table, where already reposed 
half a dozen or more of its kind. A small 
boy was standing by the corner of the 
table, one bare foot lapped over the other, 
wondering how long it would be before 
a pie would be cool enough to cut, and 
idly tracing above the nearest, with a 
small brown finger, the wonderful design 
of the five-fingered fern. At last the 
man reached behind him, and drawing 
forth a large piece of freshly laundered 
linen made a little dash at each eye. 

With a sudden apprehension he arose 
and turned the catches on both doors. 
He walked slowly back to his desk and 
stood there a moment regarding the pie 
again, and then, with a quick impulse 
went down into his pocket and drew up 
a handsome pearl-handled jack-knife. De- 
liberately and accurately he cut the pie 
into quarters, and extricating a section on 
the blade of his knife, seated himself with 
his feet on the waste-basket, his chair 
tipped back to the limit of its capacity, 
and bit off a large piece with genuine 
anticipation. 

He sat long in the same position, af- 



ter he had swallowed the last mouthful, 
looking out through the dusty window- 
panes at the small patch of blue sky 
visible above the smoking chimneys of 
the neighboring factories. 

The book-keeper was in the act of 
inspecting a new pen-point when a sec- 
ond call came. He answered promptly. 
When he opened the door the general 
manager was sitting exactly as he had 
been sitting when Barker first saw him 
that morning. 

"Has that ad. gone to the paper?" he 
inquired. 

"Yes, sir." 

"Well, send down and have it changed. 
I have decided to keep Miss Whipple and 
get another girl to help out. She can 
assist you on the books and I will have 
her to fall back on for the correspondence 
in case Miss Whipple lays off occasion- 
ally. We will be getting busier from now 
on, and don't want to be short-handed," 
he added, in answer to a slight expres- 
sion of surprise on the book-keeper's face. 

"All right, sir," replied Barker, moving 
away. 

"And say, Barker " 

Barker turned. 

"As you go down town to-night I wish 
you'd stop in and get a new chair for 
Miss Whipple's desk. I think one of that 
kind they have in Bell Bros.' office with 
the spring back and the padded shoulder 
rest would be the best," he added with 
affected carelessness. 

Barker almost staggered back to his 
desk. 

A moment later the hall door of the 
private office closed and someone went 
whistling down the hallway. Barker 
could hardly believe his ears. There 
was an unwritten law in the place against 
whistling. He shifted around on his 
high stool and leaned out of the pay 
window. He saw only the retreating fig- 
ure of the general manager himself. 

"Behold! A new heaven and a new 
earth," murmured the wondering Barker, 
and then, as his eyes wandered back to 
the typewriter desk for the twentieth 
time that morning, he, too, began whist- 
ling softly to himself. 




Recollections of Lincoln and Seward 



JAMES MATLACK SCOVEL. 



JT was Seward's own famous saying, 
"Politics is the sum of all the scien- 
ces;" and in his entire career, eight 
years a Cabinet minister during the 
dark days of the second revolution, under 
two Presidents, Mr. Seward, as the sec- 
ond in command, proved himself a na- 
tional pilot of commanding genius and a 
consummate political philosopher as well. 
Recognized as the leader of his party, 
and joyfully accepting the odium heaped 
upon the advocates of the "higher law" 
at a period in our national history when 
human bondage "clasped the Bible with 
hand-cuffs and festooned the cross of 
Christ in chains," he found himself dis- 
carded in a Presidential period for the 
comparatively unknown statesman from 
Illinois, Abraham Lincoln, in the hour of 
his party's triumph. But he lived to admit 
that this man of humble origin was just 
what Wendell Phillips called him, "the 
bright consummate flower of the civil- 
ization of the nineteenth century," and 
to use Secretary Seward's own words 
"a man of destiny, with character made 
and moulded by Divine Power to save a 
nation from perdition." 

Never were men more unlike than these 
two; but the love of David ana Jonathan 
or of Damon and Pythias was not more 
close and tender and constant than the 
personal and political affection of the 
President and his minister. Seward rep- 
resented the culture of the East, Lincoln 
the backwoods logic of the yet undevel- 
oped West. 

The many-sided mind of the Western 
lawyer, his breadth of vision, and his far- 
reaching wisdom, were shown in the se- 
lection of his cabinet. Cameron, Bates 
of Missouri, Chase of Ohio, ana Seward of 
New York, had all been more or less 
prominent as Presidential candidates be- 
fore the same convention which had the 
good sense to select Abraham Lincoln 
as the Republican standard-bearer. 



The Presidential worm once developed 
in a politician's bonnet suffers change 
into a chrysalis that soon becomes a 
butterfly big with ambition. There was 
dissension in the cabinet when the war 
began. Chase, a conscious and cultivated 
intellect, who had been in the field as an 
anti-slavery leader long before Seward 
took an aggressive position on the ques- 
tions that divided the sections, never con- 
cealed his jealousy of both Mr. Lincoln 
and Mr. Seward. He became a red-hot 
candidate for President. But when dis- 
sension was rife the wily and diplomatic 
Seward, in one of his remarkable and 
oracular speeches delivered at Auburn, 
New York, and flashed by the midnight 
wires from St. Albans, Vermont, to where 
"the Oregon hears no sound save its own 
dashing," poured oil on the troubled 
political waters. This sweet-tempered op- 
timist spoke of the grim-visaged Stan- 
ton of the War Department, as the "divine 
Stanton," and complimented in graceful 
phrase the great but jealous Chase upon 
his marvelous financial banking system, 
which gave unlimited wealth to a nation 
struggling for its life. But while 
wearing a velvet glove, the gentle-man- 
nered head of the State Department wore 
beneath that glove an iron hand. 

That the Secretary of State who had 
foiled the reactionary power of Europe 
was justly proud of his achievements 
no one can deny. But he never claimed 
as his own the honor which the historian 
of the future will accord jointly to Lin- 
coln and Seward the honor of the deli- 
cate and difficult task which gave to lib- 
erty the rebel emissaries Mason and Sli- 
dell, captured by one of our own steam- 
ers in mid-ocean. 

In an elaborate address over the grave 
of Mr. Seward, Charles Francis Adams 
gave infinitely more credit to Seward 
than to Lincoln, as the master-mind which 
"sat pensive and alone above the hundred- 



266 



Overland Monthly. 



handed play of its own imagination," 
while the great work progressed. 

Mr. Adams, whose appointment abroad 
was due more to the influence of Seward 
than to the personal wish of Lincoln, 
did not hesitate to regard Seward as the 
master and Lincoln as the man. But 
Adams was in London, far away from the 
horrid front of war, and he never under- 
stood the rough, uncouth, and (to the 
cold and cultured mind of the Massachu- 
setts statesman seemingly unstatesman- 
like habits of thorght and expression in 
which Mr. Lincoln delighted to indulge. 
Mr. Adams grew up under influences, 
moral and social, such as those under 
which Seward's mind was moulded. 
While the Minister to the Court of St. 
James was watching blockade-runners, 
the plain, many-sided President was cor- 
sponding with the Queen of Great Brit- 
ain and trampling out the little side-bar 
rebellion of Napoleon and Maximilian in 
Mexico. 

To see these two men together was 
enough to decide who possessed the mas- 
ter-mind. It was the habit of the Secre- 
tary of State, during the progress of the 
Rebellion, to spend the morning hours, 
after a nine o'clock breakfast, with Mr. 
Lincoln at the White House. The Presi- 
dent's favorite apartment was the large 
East Room. Here he was wont to receive 
the general public and indulge in what, 
in his quaint phraseology, he called his 
"baths of public opinion." No matter 
what the claimant's cause was, he gener- 
ally got a hearing, though he might be 
laughingly bowed out of the room at the 
end of the seance, with a story that 
"pointed a moral," if it did not "adorn 
a tale"; but the casual visitor always 
went away in good humor with both the 
President and himself. 

But Sunday morning from ten to twelve 
o'clock was usually accorded to the Sec- 
retary of State and the Presidential bar- 
ber. Mr. Lincoln knew whom to trust, 
and many a solemn conclave has been 
held in this historical room between two 
men who held in their hands the fate 
of a nation. It was as good as a liberal 
education to hear two of the most im- 
portant men in the world, with the sim- 
plicity of children, discuss the events of 



the day, when half a million men stood 
fronting each other on the battle-field. 

Richard Vaux, of Philadelphia, met 
Seward in 1845 at the residence of Josiah 
Randall, a leader of the old Whigs. Mr. 
Seward was asked to meet half a dozen 
then famous Philadelphians, all now dead 
save Vaux, who says that Mr. Seward 
"charmed everybody at a dinner, which 
lasted five hours, with his gracious dic- 
tion, his good humor, and his copious 
and varied information on all questions 
of public interest." 

He showed to best advantage at his 
own dinner-table, where his sweetness 
and light charmed all comers, even Lin- 
coln, who often became a good listener 
when any question of statecraft occu- 
pied the mind of the Sage of Auburn. 
And when not talking himself, the quiet 
twinkle in the Secretary's eye gave ample 
evidence that he thoroughly enjoyed the 
abounding humor of the President. 

This trend of Lincoln's mind was 
amusing to Seward, but it always angered 
Stanton, who did not often try to sup- 
press his wrath. Lincoln once tried to 
read to Stanton and Seward a chapter 
from Artemus Ward's book. Stanton left 
the room in a pet, after declining to 
listen to the "chaff," as he called it, but 
giving the President a parting shot by 
asking him, "How do you like the chapter 
about yourself." Lincoln only laughed 
and answered, "Do you know, it may be 
queer, but I never could see the fun in 
that chapter." 

In conversation Seward was slow and 
methodical till warmed up, when he was 
one of the most voluminous and elo- 
quent of talkers. No statesman in the 
country had a vaster range of reading, 
or wider experience in the management 
of public affairs. He had been almost 
continuously in public life since he was 
thirty, and was educated in a State where 
adroitness and audacity are needed to 
make a successful politician, who must 
sometimes pretend "to see the things 
he sees not." 

The impression inevitably following an 
hour with Seward and Lincoln was sur- 
prise that two men seemingly so unlike 
in habit of thought and manner of speech 
could act in such absolute and perfect 



Recollections of Lincoln and Seward. 



267 



accord. I doubt much if they ever seri- 
ously disagreed, while the imperious 
Stanton often went out with his feathers 
ruffled considerably. 

When the cabal of Chase, Henry Win- 
ter Davis, Vice-President Hamlin, Ben 
Wade and a bare majority of the United 
States Senate, threatened to defeat Mr. 
Lincoln's renomination, then Seward's 
hand was seen in certain changes in the 
Cabinet. Both Chase and Montgomery 
Blair of Maryland, who had developed 
an eager ambition to be President, were 
told that "their time had come," and the 
wisdom of Seward's advice was seen 
in the sudden collapse of the respective 
Chase and Blair booms for the Presi- 
dency. The latter was snuffed out in- 
stantly, and the Secretary of the Treas- 
ury under Lincoln, though made Chief 
Justice, fed and fattened his Presidential 
bee till even his decisions during the im- 
peachment trial of Andrew Johnson were 
colored by the desire he still cherished 
to wear the Presidential purple. 

Lincoln was much disturbed by the 
committee on the conduct of the war. 
Bold Ben Wade, Senator from Ohio, al- 
ways had a quarrel on hand with the 
President. With half a dozen Senatorial 
friends, in the East Room of the White 
House during the dark days of the Re- 
bellion, Mr. Wade proceeded in his arro- 
gant way to interview Mr. Lincoln. 

"It is with you," he said, "all story, 
story. You are the father of every mili- 
tary blunder that has been made during 
the war. You are on the road to Hell, sir, 
with this Government, by your obstinacy, 
and you are not a mile off this minute." 

President Lincoln, with that wonder- 
fully good-natured twinkle in his eye, 
bubbling over with humor, looked 
straight at Senator Wade, and replied, 
"You think you are a mile away from 
Hell, Senator. That is just about the dis- 
tance from here to the Capitol, is it 
not?" 

Wade was a very hot-tempered man. 
He seized his hat and cane, and never 
entered the White House again. 

After the Senatorial cabal had gone, 
Lincoln said to Ward Lamon, whom he 
loved much, "If I had done as my Wash- 
ington friends, who fight battles only 



with their tongues at a safe distance from 
the enemy would have had me do, Grant, 
who proved himself so great a captain, 
would never have been heard of again." 

I had gone through the State of 
Pennsylvania from Indiana County to Del- 
aware preaching the gospel according to 
Abraham Lincoln, while the fate of the 
Government trembled in the balance. 
The night before the day of the election 
which was to decide whether Andrew 
G. Curtin was to be elected Governor, 
and whether Pennsylvania was still for 
the war, I walked up to the White House. 
The door opened, and I was ushered 
into the President's East Room, where 
he grasped me by both hands. 

"Boy," said he, eagerly, "what news 
from your pilgrimage from beyond tne 
Alleghanies?" 

Never had I seen that face light up 
with such a burst of gladness as when 
I answered, "Have no fear of Pennsyl- 
vania. The Methodist preachers are all 
on the stump .for .Lincoln and Curtin, 
and the young women are wearing ro- 
settes with their names entwined. The 
old Keystone is good for twenty thousand 
majority, and that means your renomina- 
tion as President." This was answered 
with a wild Western laugh which could 
have been heard over at the War Depart- 
ment. Lincoln for the moment was a 
boy again. He said, "Now we will go 
over and see Secretary Seward." 

As was his wont, he entered the Sew- 
ard mansion unannounced. The Secretary 
with slow, stately step, advanced to greet 
the President. Their greeting was warm, 
even affectionate, and the courtly Sew- 
ard, smoking a strong Havana, soon had 
his guests seated before a blazing hickory 
fire in his own open parlor grate. Both 
men were keen and eager to know the 
prospects of the next day's election, big 
with their own fate. They enjoyed my 
running account of the scenes and inci- 
dents of the hottest administration cam- 
paign ever waged in the Keystone State. 
"We've won the fight," said Lincoln, joy 
beaming in every lineament of his face. 

The wily and now well-pleased Secre- 
tary of State had a habit when things 
ran his way of softly rubbing his palms 
together. This he did, smiling blandly, as 



268 



Overland Monthly. 



he touched his little bell, the counterpart 
(a small silver bell) of the one he had 
in the State Department, whose light 
touch had, as Seward boasted, sent many 
a man to Fort Lafayette. His servant 
brought in brandy and cigars. Lincoln 
smiled, but touched nothing. He neither 
smoked nor drank. 

Soon after this I went abroad as bearer 
of despatches to Minister William L. 
Dayton at Paris and to Charles Francis 
Adams, in London, carrying also letters 
of introduction from Mr. Lincoln to Rich- 
ard Cobden and John Bright. I spent 
ten days at Rochdale at John Bright's 
home, and three days at the country 
house of Richard Cobden at Hazelmere, 
one hour's ride from London. Both men 
heartily sympathized with the Union 
cause and sent words of good cheer to 
President Lincoln. Cobden spoke in 
warm words of praise of the great pa- 
tience, courage and wisdom of Lincoln, 
and compared him with William the Si- 
lent of Holland. Of Secretary Seward he 
did not entertain the same lofty opin- 
ion, regarding his prophecy "that the war 
would last but ninety days," as belittling 
the great revolution. Cobden told me 
that he owned much valuable property 
in America in the State of Illinois, and 
at one time expected to move there and 
take an interest in the management of 
the Illinois Central Railway. But Cobden 
died before the war ended, and did not 
live to see his fellow-soldier in the fight 
for the liberation of humanity, John 
Bright, take his place in the Cabinet. 

I went to Europe in November, 1863, 
and returned in February, 1864. Again 
I met the President and his Secretary 
in the East Room of the White House, 
and gave an account of my experiences 
in Paris and London. Both were in deep 
perplexity at the efforts of tne Senator- 
ial cabal to defeat the President's renomi- 
nation. 

During the conversation which ensued 
the President rallied Mr. Seward on the 
particularly bitter attack made by a seg- 
ment of the New York press against the 
Secretary, presumably inspired by the 
Senatorial cabal, who believed that if 
they could bounce Seward they could 
control Lincoln or defeat his re-election. 



"Ah," Seward replied to this badinage, 
his face passionless, "I am sure if it 
pleases the newspapers it does not hurt 
me. These assaults on you and on me 
remind me of what the Prince de Conde 
said to the Cardinal de Retz in Paris when 
the latter expressed his surprise at a 
pile of abusive pamphlets lying on the 
French statesman's table. 'Don't these 
bitter and unjust assaults on your fair 
fame disturb your slumbers, Conde?' 'Not 
in the least, Cardinal,' said the Prince. 
'The wretches who write those diatribes 
know that if they were in our places 
they would be doing themselves just the 
base things they falsely endeavor to fas- 
ten on us.' " 

Lincoln paused a moment, smiling, and 
said, in his lawyer-like fashion, "Yes, Mr. 
Secretary, the Prince's point was well 
taken." 

The seance ended, and the good Presi- 
dent followed me to the head of the 
stairs, grasping both my hands with a 
parting "God bless you, my boy!" which 
lingers in my memory like a benison even 
to this day. 

Twice afterwards I saw Secretary Sew- 
ard once at his own house when Andrew 
Johnson was President. I recall to-day 
how his birds of bright plumage were 
chattering in the dining room, whither 
the charming optimist led us, while the 
same Scipio Africanus of another admin- 
istration brought out the brandy and 
water in the old Lincoln decanter. An- 
drew Johnson's Secretary of State had 
his crest "full high advanced." He intro- 
duced me to Provost Paradol, who repre- 
sented the "Man of December," Napoleon 
III, the same minister who the next 
summer shot himself to death at his 
Washington residence. After the French 
minister had taken his departure, he 
said, "This is the happiest day of my 
life, for I have this morning received 
official intelligence from the French am- 
bassador that France and Austria have 
finally abandoned the Tripartite Alliance, 
which boasted that it would place Maxi- 
milian on the Mexican throne and men- 
ace the United States with a foreign 
protectorate over Mexico." 

It cost Mr. Seward as Secretary of 
State just $15,000 to send his ultimatum 



Recollections of Lincoln and Seward. 



269 



to the "Man of December," Napoleon 
III, by telegraph, that the French must 
withdraw from Mexico eo instanti. Na- 
poleon vacated within a week, leaving 
Maximilian to be shot and the Austrian 
Queen, his wife, in a mad-house. 

Later I saw Mr. Seward for the last 
time. He had perceptibly aged with the 
cares and anxieties of office, but he was 
the same bright, happy, chirpy optimist 
and delightful talker. It was in his beau- 
tiful home in Auburn. Andrew Johnson 
had ceased to be President, but had re- 
turned to Congress as one of the Sena- 
tors from Tennessee. Horace Greeley, 
his ancient enemy, who later adopted 
Seward's policy of peace and reconcilia- 
tion in 1872, still lived, and still hated 
the man from whom he had snatched 
the nomination at Chicago. Mr. Seward 
had just returned from his journey 
around the world. His Presidential as- 
pirations, with all other worldly ambi- 
tions, were laid aside. Kings and Princes 
had done him honor abroad. When I sent 
him my card I received a summons to 
dine with him that day. He was in a rem- 
iniscent mooci, and some things he told 
me cannot here and now be repeated. 
In defense of his own policy under John- 
son he recalled to me the story of Conde 
and the Cardinal de Retz. He read me a 
letter from Alexander H. Stephens, of 
Georgia, in which this memorable phrase 
occurred: "When lenity and cruelty play 
for power, the gentler gamester is soon- 
est winner." 

We sat with post-prandial cigars be- 
neath a shade-tree, near the present mau- 
soleum of the great patriot, and the gentle 
philosopher said, "I have never had oc- 
casion to regret the policy of reconcilia- 
tion I sought to make acceptable to 
the country. I was pledged to it before 
Lincoln. I said in my last public utter- 
ance, 'Some pilots may be washed off 
the decks of the ship of State during the 
violence of the storm, but the ship will 
sail on to a safe harbor at last.' 

"No one man is needed to carry on this 
Government of ours. Others will be 
raised up to do our work when we have 
laid it down. Here under my own vine 
and fig-tree I live, waiting the end, se- 
rene and happy in the consciousness 



that I can wait the coming on of time 
for my vindication. I hope I can say, 
with Cicero in his old age, 'Sweet are the 
recollections of a well-spent life.' " 

Abraham Lincoln made no secret to 
his intimate friends of having written 
more than one personal letter at the 
time of the Slidell and Mason affair to 
Queen Victoria, to all of which prompt 
replies that were sent by that noble and 
good woman, whom the President called 
"The most womanly of queens and the 
most queenly of women." 

He read the first of these answers in 
the East Room of the White House before 
Mr. Seward and the writer of this. The 
President said, "I think the friendship 
of Queen Victoria will carry America 
safely across the dangerous quicksands 
of diplomacy tnreatening to involve the 
United States in war with England in 
regard to the capture of Slidell and 
Mason." History has bitterly censured 
Seward for his political fidelity to An- 
drew Johnson. I cannot. It was Mr. Sew- 
ard, with Thurlow Weed, who nominated 
Andrew Johnson for Vice-President 
against Lyman Tramaine of New York, 
who was Horace Greeley's candidate. The 
Secretary of State felt responsible for 
Andrew Johnson, and his wisdom, pos- 
sibly, saved the country from civil war 
during the storm and stress period of 
reconstruction. 

Mr. Lincoln's i-niladelphia speech on 
his first journey to Washington was a 
key to the unselfish and pathetic self- 
abnegation of his pure and lofty life. 
And he died in the battle for the liberation 
of humanity, as a common soldier dies, 
slain by a dastard, when the hottest of 
the fight had ended, in that immortal con- 
flict for the imperishable and imperscrip- 
tible rights of man. 

Bancroft speaks of Lincoln's "wanness 
of heart" a comprehensive expression 
for the underlying sadness and tender- 
ness of his nature. The President's man- 
ners came from the abounding sincerity 
and from the soul of gentleness and con- 
siderate goodness within the man. 

"Consideration like an angel came 
And whipped the offending Adam out of 
him." 



270 



Overland Monthly. 



When the brigadiers would come to 
the White House, as they often did, 
with complaints of each other, Lincoln 
would say, "General, you remind me of 
two good sound Methodist men, both 
friends of mine in Sangamon County, 
Illinois Farmer Jones and Fiddler Simp- 
kins, both big men in their way. Jones 
was proud of his acres and of his gifts 
in prayer, while Simpkins, a rollicking 
good fellow, semi-occasionally a Metho- 
dist, could always call the country side 
to rejoice anywhere at the sound of his 
violin, of which he was master. Simp- 
kins could play but he couldn't pray. One 
night at the Wednesday evening meeting 
Father Jones made a wonderful prayer 
which touched the spirit of the assembly. 
Simpkins thought it became him to say 
something. He said, "Brethring and sis- 
tring, I ain't gifted like Brother Jones 
I can't pray like nim but by the grace 
of God I can fiddle a shirt off him." 

Andrew G. Curtin was known to fame 
as a war Governor of Pennsylvania. A. 
K. McClure, the brilliant editor of the 
Times of Philadelphia, but a double- 
ender and a mugwump in politics, for a 
quarter of a century was always credited 
with being a power behind the throne 
while Curtin was Governor. If Mr. Mc- 
clure had been out of the game, when 
the North was looking for candidates 
for the Presidency among the war Gov- 
ernors, Curtin might have been President 
of the United States. Mr. McClure was 
so close to Curtin that he has been known 
t.o say, "that it was better to own a Gov- 
ernor than to be a Governor." Governor 
Curtin complained a great deal, and Ed- 
win M. Stanton, who was often irritable, 
would carry Curtin's ugly sounding des- 
patches to Lincoln and make his remon- 
strances. 

Governor Curtin was earnest, able and 
untiring in keeping up the war spirit 
of his State, but was, I admit, at times 
over-bearing and exacting in his inter- 
course with the general Government; on 
one occasion he complained and pro- 
tested more bitterly than usual, and 
warned those in authority that the execu- 
tion of their orders, in his State, would 
be beset with difficulties and dangers. 
The tone of his dispatches gave rise to 



an apprehension that he might not co- 
operate fully in the enterprise on hand. 
The Secretary of War, in great wrath, 
laid the despatches before the President 
for advice and instruction. They did not 
disturb Mr. Lincoln; he knew Governor 
Curtin, and his complaints only amused 
him. After carefully reading all the 
papers, he said, in a cheerful and reassur- 
ing tone: 

"Never mind, Mr. Stanton, these des- 
patches don't mean anything. Just go 
right ahead. Governor Curtin is like a 
boy I once saw at the launching of a 
ship. When everything was ready, they 
picked out the boy and sent him under 
the ship to knock away a trigger and 
let her go. At the critical moment every- 
thing depended on the boy. He was or- 
dered to do the job by one direct and vig- 
orous blow, and then lie flat and keep 
still, while the ship slid over him. The 
boy did everything right; but he yelled 
as if he was being murdered, from the 
time he got under the keel until he got 
out. I thought the skin was all scraped 
off his back, but he wasn't hurt at all. 
The master of the yard told me this boy 
was always chosen for that job, that he 
did his work well, that he never had been 
hurt, but that he always squealed in 
this way. That's just the way with Gov- 
ernor Curtin. Make up your mind he 
is not hurt, and that he is doing the 
work right, and pay no attention to his 
squealing. He only wants to make you 
understand how hard his task is, and that 
he is on hand performing it." 

After General Cameron came home 
from Russia, Mr. Lincoln s&nt Curtin 
as Minister to the Czar's dominions. 

After the battle of Antietam, which was 
fought September 17th, 1862, Ward 
Lamon tells how he sang for Mr. Lincoln 
on the battlefield a pathetic song, begin- 
ning: 

"I've wandered to the village, Tom, I've 

sat beneath the tree 
Upon the school-house playground that 

sheltered you and me. 
But none were left to greet me, Tom, 

and few were left to know 
Who played with us upon the green some 

twenty years ago." 



Recollections of Lincoln and Seward. 



271 



In speaking of suffrage to the black 
man the President said, "General James 
Wadsworth of New York, one of the 
grandest men of the war, was shot and 
killed while on horseback leading his 
brigade in the bloodiest day of the battle 
in the Wilderness. In General Wads- 
worth's pockets was found my own letter 
to him, stained with a soldier's blood. 
This letter said: 'We have clothed the 
black soldier in the uniform of the United 
States, we have made him a soldier. He 
has fought for his right to be a citizen; 
he has won it with his blood; it cannot 
be taken away from him.' " 

Had Lincoln lived and Thurlow Weed 
died before Mr. Seward, Anarew John- 
son's Secretary of State would never 
iave said what Hilary Herbert quotes in 
the Atlantic Monthly for April, 1901. 

Mr. Seward said in April, 1866: "The 
North has nothing to do with the negro; 
they are not of our race; they will find 
their place; they must take their level; 
the laws of political economy will deter- 
mine their position, and the relations of 
the two races; Congress cannot contra- 
vene this." 

Continues Mr. Herbert, sadly: "But 
Mr. Seward and his views were then in 
a woeful minority;" but God and Abra- 
ham Lincoln say this country has too 
much to do with the negro in every way. 
But that question is too vast for this 
paper; it will be settled in the coming on 
of time, for, as Napoleon said at St. Hel- 
ena: 

"There is no power without justice." 

To see and know Abraham Lincoln un- 
reservedly, in his daily official life, as I 



did, was to feel, 

"All Paradise could by the simple open- 
ing of a door 

Let itself in upon him." 

The last time I saw him was but a few 
days before the 14th of April, 1865. 

I went' to Washington to present the 
President with a pair of cuff buttons I 
had caused to be made for him in Phila- 
delphia. He was as joyous as a child 
(Lee had surrendered on the 9th of April) 
and neither of us then thought that the 
triumphant road of justice must forever 
be watered with human tears. He put the 
sleeve-buttons on in a playful mood, and 
wore them that awful night in April. I 
recall that interview as the happiest hour 
of my life. He had come back from Rich- 
mond with his little boy. Jefferson Davis 
had gone South in a hurry, and peace 
had come, and come to stay. His soul 
was full of joy, as he rose, six feet four 
in height, and bidding me good-bye in the 
White House, taking me by both hands, 
a habit he had when aroused, and with 
luminous face bade me again be seated. 
He said, "Young man, if I am permitted 
to rule this nation for four years more 
this Government will become what it 
ought to be, what its Divine Author in- 
tended it to be, no longer a vast plan- 
tation for breeding human beings, for 
purposes of lust and bondage, but it will 
become a new Valley of Jehosaphat, 
where all the glad nations of the earth 
will assemble together worshiping a com- 
mon God and celebrating the resurrec- 
tion of human freedom." 





Frarvcisco's 
DIPLOMATIC CORPS 




By \V.J.Weyn\o\itK 



EMOCRA'nC principles, no mat- 
ter how sincere, do not destroy a 
people's love for glittering uni- 
forms and for the trappings of 
royalty as displayed 
by its representa- 
tives. Gold lace, 
epaulets and decora- 
tions have a certain 
fascination, and the 
word "diplomat," 
"embassador," "min- 
ister," "envoy" or 
"consul" brings up 
mental visions of 
rich attire and court 
ly manners. Man- 
ners make or un- 
unmake diplomats, 
to a large extent a 
power to please with- 
out sacrificing the in- 
terests of those they 
represent is a neces- 
sary qualification. 
This, with the other 
attributes they are 
supposed to possess 
and generally do 
possess make en- 
voys, ministers, con- 
suls, and consul-gen- 
erals an interesting 




Very few San 
Franciscans realize 
how large a consular 
corps is quartered 

in this city. San Francisco's vast amount 
of commerce, her location, "and her cos- 
mopolitan population, make her of im- 
portance in the diplomatic world. The 



Consul-General Adolph Rosenthal. 
(Germany.) 



service here has increased much of late 
years, both as to the number and the 
rank of the men sent to the city. Thirty- 
four nations are represented, and on the 
occasions when 
these men get to- 
gether they make an 
imposing display. 
Many of them rep- 
resentatives of re- 
publics wear no 
uniform, but there 
are enough who do 
to add pomp and cir- 
cumstance to the 
meetings. 

" Consul " and 
"Consul-General" are 
two ranks held by 
the members of San 
Francisco's diplo- 
matic corps. Each 
has one or more as- 
sistants, ranking as 
vice-Consuls or Sec- 
retaries. Some of 
the diplomats are in 
business here, their 
consular duties not 
taking all their time. 
Most of them, 
though, have enough 
official duties to 
keep them fully oc- 
cupied. 

Consul-General is 
the higher rank, and 
in San Francisco 

there are several men bearing that title. 
Adolph Rosenthal, Consul-General of Ger- 
many, is the Dean of the Corps, chosen 
as such by his fellow Consuls on account 



San Francisco's Diplomatic Corps. 



273 




Consul-General George Hall. 
(Turkey and Armenia.) 

of the seniority of his appointment. The 
diplomatic body is governed by laws of 
its own making, and to the Dean is re- 
ferred all questions as to precedence, etc. 

While there is not much formal social 
life among the diplomats, what there is 
is governed by the strictest rules. 

The death of a sovereign brings out the 
entire diplomatic corps. It is the rule in 
such cases that all members of the corps 
must attend, in full uniform, services in 
commemoration of the dead, and flags 
are half-masted over each diplomat's 
headquarters. 

When a new Consul arrives he calls 
first on the civil and military authorities 
of the town, and then formally pays his 
respects to his fellow Consuls. There 
is much informal visiting back and forth, 
and a spirit of thorough good-fellowship 
prevails. 

Naturally, among such a body of men, 
there are many with interesting histories. 
18 



For instance, Mr. Alex Coney, Consul- 
General for Mexico, once saved the life 
of President Diaz, then a political refugee. 
He showed the greatest nerve and brav- 
ery, and risked his own life. This was in 
1872. That, even if republics are un- 
grateful, their rulers are not always so, 
is evidenced by the fact that Mr. Coney 
has been Consul or Consul-General to 
many cities. In 1877 he was made Mex- 
ico's private agent in St. Nazaire, France. 
He was made Consul to the same place 
in 1880, and was sent to Paris as Consul- 
General in 1884. In 1885 he was sent to 
San Francisco as Consul-General, and has 
remained here ever since. 

A very interesting personage is Kisa- 
buro Uyeno, Consul for Japan. He has 
spent ten years in diplomatic work, en- 
tering the service in 1891, the year after 
his graduation from the Commercial 
High School in Tokio. In the following 




Ex-Consul-Genera! Adolph de Frobriand 
(France.) 



274 



Overland Monthly. 



year he was appointed Chancellor of 
the Japanese Consulate at this port. In 
1895 he was transferred to the Japanese 
Legation at Berlin, Germany. In 1898 
he was promoted to the office of Consul 
at Hongkong, and in February of the 
present year he was made Consul at San 
Francisco. The large and increasing 
Japanese population makes his office a 
very important one, and he and his staff 
of able assistants find plenty of work to 
do. 
The Republic of France is well repre- 



of age, he has shown that he possesses 
remarkable aptitude as a diplomat. A 
statesman by both nature and training, a 
cosmopolitan through travel and educa- 
tion, he is eminently fitted for the posi- 
tion of Consul-General in San Francisco 
the most important diplomatic office in 
the service of the Chinese Government, 
except that of Minister to a national capi- 
tal, his jurisdiction extending over all the 
territory west of Chicago. It was only 
after he had been tried and found capable 
that the office he now fills was given to 




Consul-General How Yow and Legation Officers. (China.) 



sented here by M. Henry Dallemange, 
who was appointed in April of this year. 
Previously he was Consul at Bosna-Serai, 
and was Consul-General at New Orleans. 
M. Dellamange is a Chevalier of the Le- 
gion of Honor. He succeeded M. Adolphe 
de Trobriand, a descendant of General 
Trobriand, aide-de-camp to Marshal Da- 
vont, who served under Bonaparte. 

A man who is gaining fame as a diplo- 
mat is Ho Yow, Imperial Consul-General 
in San Francisco for the Chinese Gov- 
ernment. Though only thirty-one years 



Mr. Ho Yow. He began his diplomatic 
work in 1897, when he was sent to Wash- 
ington as a member of Minister Wu Ting- 
Fang's suite, going as Mr. Wu's private 
secretary. In 1898 the Chinese mer- 
chants of San Francisco became involved 
in trade disputes, which became so seri- 
ous in their nature that Mr. Ho Yow was 
sent here as Consul, with instructions 
to use his best efforts to bring about 
peace between the warring factions. He 
was thoroughly successful in harmoniz- 
ing conditions, and in 1899 he was ap- 



San Francisco's Diplomatic Corps. 



275 



pointed Consul-General, being now in his 
second term. He is the youngest Consul- 
General ever appointed by the Chinese 
Government. 

Mr. Ho Yow is a son of the late Dr. 
Ho Yeong, a scholarly man who held 
many high positions in China. He is one 
of a family of eight children, four sons 
and four daughters. One of his sisters 
is the wife of Minister Wu Ting-Fang, 
and was recently in San Francisco, where 
she was much entertained by leading peo- 
ple. Mr. Ho Yow received a good educa- 
tion in his native country, and then went 
to England, where he was educated at 
the University of London, graduating 
with high honors. He studied law, and 
was admitted to practice in the English 
Courts. All of his brothers received 
English educations. One of them, Dr. Ho, 
graduated from the University of Edin- 
burgh, receiving a gold medal and a fel- 
lowship in the Royal College of Surgeons. 
He afterward studied law, and was ad- 
mitted to the English bar before he 
reached his twenty-fourth year. He is 
now in China, where he holds an import- 
ant Government position. 

Mr. Ho Yow has, without losing his 
own identity, entered thoroughly into 
Western life. Knowing the class and 
race feeling that exists here against the 
Chinese, he has made its removal his 
principal object, co-operating in that line 
with his distinguished relative, Minister 
Wu Ting-Fang. He has striven in every 
way, laboring with both sides, to bring 
about a better feeling, and is succeeding 
remarkably well. He has lent valuable 
assistance to many public and quasi-pub- 
lic enterprises, setting an example which 
his fellow-countrymen in San Francisco 
are following. When the University of 
the Pacific was in a bad way financially 
a year ago, Mr. Ho Yow headed a sub- 
scription list which, through his efforts, 
assumed noble proportions. He also 
raised a large sum for the reception of 
the First California Volunteer Regiment 
on its return from the Philippines, and 
lent all the assistance in his power to 
provide funds for the entertainment of 
the Presidential party last spring. The 
sacred Chinese dragon, nearly one hun- 
dred feet long and gorgeous beyond de- 



cription, used before only in Chinatown 
celebrations, has been, at his suggestion, 
sent to several fiestas throughout the 
State, where it was received with wonder 
and enjoyment. This dragon is aston- 
ishing to behold, embodying all the rich 
Oriental ideas of color, and is a most 
artistic and ingenious piece of mechan- 
ism. 

One of Ho Yow's most noteworthy 
achievements for the good of his country- 
men here is the establishment in the 
heart of Chinatown of a medical 
dispensary, with white physicians in 
charge, where Chinese are treated, the 
poor ones free of charge, those who can 




Consul-General Henry Dellamange 
(l-nnce.) 



276 



Overland Monthly. 




Consul L. F. Lastreto 
(Ecuador and Nicaragua.) 

afford it paying what they feel able to 
for their treatment. It has proven a great 
benefit, and is being extensively patron- 
ized. 

Mr. Ho Yow speaks and writes English 
fluently, and is much in demand as a 
lecturer, having delivered many ad- 
dresses before prominent societies. He 
has also contributed largely to current 
magazines. He presents the Chinese 
question to the public in a new light, 
and has succeeded in removing much of 
the prejudice that has existed against 
his race. Mr. Ho Yow is married, and 
has a large establishment on Stockton 
street, where he and his family, his at- 
taches, and a large retinue of servants 
live. He has three children, the eldest 
of whom, a boy of ten years, is receiving 
both a Chinese and an English education. 
Madame Ho Yow is very prominent in 
the higher circles of local Chinese so- 
ciety, and entertains extensively. 

Mr. Ho Yow is a great lover of horses, 
owning several very speedy animals, and 
was very successful on the racing circuit 
this summer. He is often to be seen in 
the Park behind a fast trotter. 

Considering Mr. Ho Yow's youth and 
the mark he has already made in the 
world, there is a great future ahead of 
him, as the Chinese Government is quick 
to recognize merit in those in its service, 
and advances them rapidly. He is modern 
in every respect, and seems to have thor- 
oughly absorbed the go-ahead Western 
spirit One coming in contact with him 



receives new ideas of China and its peo- 
ple. Whatever their faults they also 
have virtues, and Mr. Ho Yow is doing 
more than any other man ever sent here 
by his Government to bring people to a 
realization of this fact. 

Prominent in the diplomatic corps is 
Mr. George E. Hall, Consul-general for 
Turkey and Persia. Mr. Hall was born 
in France of American parents. He has 
lived much abroad, and recently returned 
from a seven-months' sojourn in Europe. 
He was appointed Consul in 1891, and in 
1896 was advanced to the rank of Consul- 
General. His territory includes every- 
thing west of the Mississippi River. The 
Turkish and Armenian population of the 
United States is larger than is generally 
supposed. There are over six hundred 
natives of these two countries in San 
Francisco, and over three thousand five 
hundred in California. Mr. Hall is lo- 
cated in the Parrott Building, where he 
has luxurious quarters, fitted up in 
Oriental fashion, and filled with curios, 
souvenirs of travel, and works of art. 

Mr. H. H. Birkholm is Consul for 
Denmark, and was appointed to that po- 
sition in May, 1898. There is a large 







Consul Kisaburo Uyeno. 
(Japan.) 



San Francisco's Diplomatic Corps. 



277 



Danish population in San Francisco and 
vicinity, and there are many demands 
upon him. 

Mr. Leon Guislain was, up to the first 
of September, Consul for Belgium and 
the Netherlands, but is now in Manila, 
where he was sent in the same capacity. 
Mr. Wilfred B. Chapman is now Honor- 
ary and Acting Consul. 

Mr. L. Lastreto, a California pioneer, 
is Consul-General for Nicaragua and Con- 
sul for Ecuador. He was made Consul 
ad interim in February, 1899, and in 
January of the present year his promo- 
tion to Consul-General was cabled to 
him. He has been in the service of 
Ecuador since 1897, during which year 
he was Vice-Consul. In the following 
year he was made Consul. Mr. Carlos 
B. Lastreto is Vice-Consul and Acting 
Consul for Ecuador, a position he has 
occupied since August of last year. 

A death that caused much sorrow in 
diplomatic circles was that of Mr. 
William Clayton Pickersgill, C. B., Con- 
sul-General of Great Britain for the Paci- 
fic States and territories, who died on 
July 20th in a sanitarium at Alameda. 
He was in the service of the British Gov- 
ernment for many years, and in 1883 
he was gazetted a B. C. in the civil order 
for distinguished services. In 1892 he 
was appointed Consul to the Portuguese 
possessions in West Africa, and later 
Consul to the Independent State of Congo, 
where he remained until 1898, when he 
was made Consul-General for California, 
Nevada, and for the territories of Utah 
and Arizona. Mr. Pickersgill was ill 
during the whole of his stay here. He 
was buried with official honors, the Con- 
sular Corps attending in a body. Since 
his death Mr. Wellesley Moore, formerly 
Vice-Consul, has been Acting Consul. 

Mr. Paul Kosakevitch is Consul for 
Russia, having been appointed in June, 
1900. He has been in diplomatic service 
for years. Mr. Horace G. Platt, San Fran- 
cisco's well known lawyer and clubman, 
is Vice-Consul, a position he has held for 
twelve years. 

Austria and Hungary are represented 
in San Francisco by Consul Francis 
Korbel, he having held the office since 
1893. 




Consul Leon Guislain 
(Belgium.) 

The other countries are represented 
as follows: Argentine Republic, Consul 
W. Y. Loaiza; Guatemala, Felipa Galicia, 
Consul-General also for Bolivia; Brazil, 
Enrique de la Vega, also Acting Consul 
for Venezuela; Chili, Juan M. Astorga 
Pereira, Consul; Colombia, Escipion 
Canal, Consul; Costa Rica, W. E. Von 
Johannsen, Consul-General ; Greece, 
Henry S. Martin, Consul; Honduras, Es- 
torjio Calderon; Italy, Chevalier Carlo F. 
Serra, Consul; Paraguay, P. J. Loben 
Sels; Peru, Enrique Grau, Consul; Portu- 
gal, J. de Costa Duarte, Consul; Salva- 
dor, E. Mejia, Consul-General; Spain, D. 
J. del Ams, Consul; Sweden and Norway, 
Henry Lund; Switzerland, Antone Borel; 
Uruguay, Jose Costa; Germany, Adolph 
Rosenthal, Consul-General. 

The office of Consul dates back to the 
middle of the twelfth century. The Ital- 
ian Government, awaking to the neces- 
sity of having representatives in the 
ports of the world for the protection of 
its commerce, established the office, but 
it was not until the sixteenth century 
that the custom became universal 
throughout Europe. Since then the Con- 
sular has become one of the principal 
branches of Government service. 



THE MAN WITH THE CAP 



BY SOL N. SHERIDAN. 



good. 



HE evil that men ao makes news- 
papers." 

"And the good?" 
"My dear boy, men no longer do 
It is an obsolete notion. Where- 
fore, we are all striving now to get our 
names and our doings and our pictures 
in the newspapers. The man who does 
not succeed in this may be considered to 
have made ducks and drakes of his life." 

Fitz Stratton spoke with the cheerful 
cynicism of a man who has exhausted 
all the virtues at five and twenty. He 
stood in the doorway of his club, on Post 
street keen-eyed, alert, faultlessly 
dressed, the sun shining down upon him 
and the afternoon life of San Francisco 
on a bright day in winter rolling before 
him. His friend, Willard Fenton, equally 
faultless in dress and somewhat vacuous 
in expression, made a good foil to him. 

They had , ueen talking of the mishaps 
of a mutual friend, a bank cashier and 
former fellow clubman, who had married 
and gone in for the superintendency of 
a Sunday School and the heavy respect- 
able lay generally, and who had finally 
gone wrong in relaxation of the double 
strain of business and respectability 
and whose photograph, with a detailed ac- 
count of his peculations, had thereupon 
been used for the decoration of the first 
page of the leading local journal. 

"Willard, old man," Fitz said, irrele- 
vantly, looking across the street at the 
forlorn figures of the vagrants who sat 
on the benches that dot the green lawn of 
Union Square, and taking into his glance 
a small boy in a cap who passed them, 
whistling, "can you tell me why it is that 
a boy always looks well in a cap, whereas 
a man in a cap looks as though he had 
come to a lame and impotent conclusion?" 

"Possibly because a cap is boyish." 
Willard was of serious mind, rather. 

"May the boy, then, not be 'cappish'? 
Honestly, old man, I do not think you go 
deep enough. You are inclined to treat 



the subject with a certain levity. Now, 
I would not go so far as to say that there 
is always something wrong, morally 
speaking, with men who wear caps, be- 
cause I can conceive of cases in which 
the cap may be entirely extraneous. And 
there are always the bicycle fiends, who 
are not mentally responsible. But I will 
go to the length of saying that the man 
who wears a cap of his own free choice 
is at least open to suspicion. Even the 
army does not justify him. Look at the 
newspaper pictures of Dreyfus! Would 
the world have accepted the oaths of the 
whole French General Staff against him, 
if it were not for the plain moral obli- 
quity of his cap, contrasted with the por- 
traits of itself which the staff was wise 
enough to have taken bareheaded?" 

"But how about our friends who golf, 
and the like?" 

"Same rule, only substitute mental ob- 
liquity for moral. They are wrong in 
the head, dear boy, and put the wrong 
covering upon it, consequently, by a kind 
of irresistible impulse. Let me tell you 
a story, Willie." 

"Let us go up into the club first, 
then, and take a high-ball." 

Fitz agreed and they went. The smok- 
ing room caught them, and a couple of 
easy chairs, and presently the high ball. 
They were as much alone as if all the old 
fogies of that particular club had been 
still at their country houses and their 
money-making their making of money 
that young fellows like these two were to 
lavish in the coming time. And it was a 
wonderful club for rich old fogies. That 
was a part of its respectability. 

"And the story, Willie. It is about a 
man with a cap, and it will be brief. It 
was several years ago, when I was 
younger, of course, and committed the 
youthful indiscretion of living at home. 
The Stratton family residence, as you 
may or may not know, for I am a marvel 
of discretion about some things, is in 




'And the story, Willie- 



280 



Overland Monthly. 



Oakland. I used to spend my evenings 
on this side of the bay, but I always 
caught the last boat, and was at home, 
therefore, something after midnight. The 
cap was brought to my attention, not be- 
cause the man wore it, but because he 
held it in his hand, something after the 
manner of an organ grinder's monkey, 
and solicited an alms of me one cold 
night in November, just as I was about 
to enter the ferry station. It was a pecu- 
liar cap, of some heavy cloth, such as I 
used to wear in winter when I was a 
schoolboy, and possibly some old flash 
of memory led to a pause when the man 
held it in front of me. Now, the man who 
hesitates before a street beggar is lost. 
I never can pass one, anyhow, without 
a curious wobbling at the knees, which 
I wish some eminent professor of psy- 
chology would explain to me. I hesi- 
tated, and I dropped a quarter into the 
cap. Of course, I expected to see the beg- 
gar make a bee line for a water front 
bar. They always do in that neighbor- 
hood. And I stopped a moment to watch 
him. He made a bee line, instead, for 
the ticket office and bought a ticket to 
Oakland. 

"I felt for a moment as though I had 
been defrauded, and then I consoled my- 
self with the reflection that it was some 
tramp who wanted to get out of the city 
for the winter. Presently it occurred to 
me that a man on a newspaper had once 
told me that tramps do not get out of the 
city for the winter. They go into the 
country only in the summer months, 
when living in the open air is easy. So 
the feeling that I had been defrauded 
came back to me. The beggar had got 
his ticket by this time, and brushed by 
me through the open gate. He wore the 
hairy cap, and the unripe look common 
to men who wear caps. You will say 
that the cap might have been a necessity 
but that peculiar look is never to be 
mistaken. I had caught one glimpse of 
the face as he held the cap out to me, 
and I caught another now and the face 
drew me. There was a certain pitiful 
childishness about it, an appealing weak- 
ness, but whether it was in the eyes or 
in the quavering unsteadiness that 
seemed to be always moving in the lips 



and chin, half hidden by a straggling 
growth of pale, yellow beard, I could not 
then, and cannot now, tell. 

"At all events, I followed him on board 
and was not greatly shocked to see him 
go at once to the bar. You see, his ferry 
ticket had made him good as far as he 
might want to ride on the local train on 
the Oakland side, and the fifteen cents 
remaining of the quarter might as well be 
spent for whisky on the boat as any- 
where else. Besides, I felt that his visit 
to the bar contained my own justification. 
I followed him again. Ferry boat whisky 
is pretty bad, of course, but one must sac- 
rifice one's stomach if one is to study 
humanity. 

"He had the fifteen cents on the bar 
when I followed him in, and a large glass 
of red liquor before him. Will you order 
another high ball, Willie, or shall I? 
Thank you! 

"As I have said, he had his drink and 
his money before him. The barkeeper 
took the money, and my friend of the cap 
took the drink. Every man to his trade. 

" 'Will you have another, my friend?' 
I asked, as affably as I could. 

"He knew me at once, but it never 
feazed him. There was only the pitiful 
working of the muscles about the mouth 
a little more apparent, and I saw, now, 
that his eyes even were of pale blue, and 
that there were tears unshed in them. 
'Gimme the same,' he said, pushing back 
his glass. The same was good enough for 
me, in the cause of the study of humanity, 
and we drank with no further ceremony. 
He set down his glass and went out with- 
out a word, walking back toward the open 
deck at the stern of the ooat, where there 
was a kind of half darkness, and I fol- 
lowed him. I do not know why. He was 
standing by the rail, alone, and I began 
conversation with the easy assurance of 
youth. 

" 'You seem down on your luck, old 
man,' I said. 

"'Luck!'" he answered, and even in 
that light I could see the working of the 
muscles about his mouth. 'Lrack! What 
have such as me to do with luck?' 

" 'Not very much, I should say. from 
your appearance.' You see, Willie, youth 
at its best is impertinent. 



The Man With the Cap. 



281 



" 'Look you, young man! You have 
money to throw to the dogs. You never 
threw it to a more friendless, a more 
utterly abandoned dog than you did to- 
night. Pray to your God that drink and 
the devil or a woman, and that's the 
same thing may never drive you into the 
gutter with the dogs. I was young once, 
like you. I was rich once, like you. I 
spent my money, as you do. I threw it 
to the dogs of the street, as you do, and 
patted their heads, too, when they took 
it and licked my hand in their poor 
gratitude. It is an old story, and a short 
one. Keep your hand out of your pocket. 
I do not want any more of your money. 
You have already bought me all that 
I shall ever want in this world. Take that, 
if it is any payment. Take my poor story, 
too, if that is anything on account. It 
is little enough for the man who has done 
so much for me, even though he does not 
know what he had done, and meant to 
do no more than gratify his own momen- 
tary impulse.' 

"I give you my word, Willie, I was 
beginning to be impressed. 

" 'I do not know why else I tell you all 
this,' the man went on. 'A woman came 
into my life. I was married. I had little 
children, two of them, and then well, 
the serpent followed the woman. That 
is the old, old law, is it not? It drove me 
mad, mad. She left me, and the children, 
and although I sought her, I thank God 
that I did not find her, then. I took to 
drink, and my money went, and the 
children died. I think they starved to 
death, but I did not know it then. All my 



friends had deserted me.' riis voice had 
gone lower and lower, Willie, as he told 
me this, and the tears that had been in 
his weak blue eyes seemed to have got 
into it. 'It was better that they did die. 
I have been a beggar and a drunkard for 
three years now. To-night I saw her, my 
wife,' his voice had gone lower and lower. 
It was almost a whisper. 'I saw her, in a 
carriage, with the man for whom she 
left her home and her children left her 
children to starve to death. She was 
smiling, happy, and the man tossed me a 
coin as their carriage all but ran me 
down in the street. It fell at my feet and 
rolled in the gutter. I had not got low 
enough, low as I was, to search for it 
but I had almost reached the end. Then 
I came down to the ferry. The newspapers 
will have another story from me and she 
will read it, and know what she has done. 
That is my consolation. You have helped 
me to the last step, and I thank you. 
That is Goat Island, is it not, looming out 
there in the dark, and the water is deep- 
est just here. Will you shake hands? 
It is a dying man who asks you.' 

"And then he climbed upon the rail of 
the boat." 

"And did you permit him to jump over- 
board?" Willard Fenton asked, horror in 
his eyes. 

"I do not well see by what right I 
could have stopped him. The man had 
certainly played the string out. And, 
besides, there was the ultimate weakness 
of wanting the woman to know, and the 
whole natural sequence to the idiosyn- 
crasy that had led him to wear a cap." 






HEN Seha had grown to be a tall 
youth, he said to the old men: 
"Now I am almost a man, what 
shall I do?" for being a youth 
he dreamed of great things. And the 
old men answered: "That Wakunda 
knows; therefore take yourself to a high 
hill; there fast and pray until sleep comes 
and with it a vision." 

So Seha arose and laid aside his buffalo 
skins, and naked he went out on the 
prairies. When he had gone far, he 
climbed to the top of a lonely hill, bare of 
grass, strewn with flakes of stone, that 
made its summit white like the head of a 
warrior who had seen many battles. 

Then he knelt upon the flinty summit, 
and raising his palms to the heavens, he 
cried: "O Wakunda, here needy stands 
Seha!" Four times he uttered the cry; 
yet there was no sound save that of the 
crow overhead and the wind in the short 
grass of the hillside. Then he fell into 
an agony of weeping, and wetting his 
palms with his tears, he smeared his 
face with mud. Then he cast his stream- 
ing eyes to the skies and again raised 
his hands and voice in supplication. 

"O Wakunda, Seha is a young man; 
he would do great things like the old 
men; send him a vision." 

The night came down and still he held 
his eyes upon the darkening heavens, 
crying for a vision. But only the coyote 
answered him. The wan stars looked 
out of the East and steadily climbed up- 
ward, gazing upon his tearful, upturned 
face. But when the gray of age began to 
grow upon the forehead of the Night, he 



grew so weary and weak with hunger 
that he fell forward upon his face and 
slept. And lo! the vision came. It 
seemed that the skies were black and 
fierce as the face of a brave with anger; 
the lightning flashed like the eyes of a 
hungry wolf in the darkness; and the 
thunder shouted like a warrior in the 
front of the battle. Then the clouds split 
and through them rushed a mighty eagle 
with the lightning playing on its wings, 
and its cry was like the shriek of a dying 
foe, and its eyes were bright with the 
vision that sees far. Its wings hovered 
above him, and it spoke: 

"Seha shall be a seer of things far off; 
his thought shall be quick as the light- 
ning, and his voice shall be thunder in 
the ears of men!" 

Seha awoke, and he was shivering with 
the dews of morning. 

Then he arose and walked back to his 
village, slowly, for his thoughts were 
great. Four days he went about the 
village, speaking to no one; and the 
people whispered: "Seha has had a 
vision; do you not see that his eyes are 
big with a strange light?" 

One night when the four days had 
passed, Seha arose from his blankets and 
creeping stealthily out of his tepee, he 
went to the lodge of Ebahami, who was 
a great medicine man, for Seha wished 
to tell of his vision. 

Pulling back the buffalo robe that hung 
across the entrance, he saw the great 
man sleeping by a low fire. Entering, 
he touched the shoulder of the sleeper, 
who awoke with a start, and sitting up, 



The Triumph of Seha. 



283 



gazed at the young intruder. Then 
Ebahami spoke: 

"Seha has come to tell his vision; I 
knew he would come; speak." 

"You are a great man," began Seha, 
"and your eyes are like the sun's eyes to 
see into the shadow; hear me and teach 
me." Then he told of his vision on the 
lonely hill. 

As Ebahami listened to the wonderful 
thing that had befallen the youth, his 
heart grew cold with envy; for certainly 
Wakunda had great things in store for 
Seha, and might it not come to pass that 
the youth should grow to be even greater 
in power than Ebahami himself? So when 
the youth, breathless with the wonder of 
the thing he told, ceased speaking, the 
old man said coldly: "Wakunda will 
teach Seha; let him go learn of the wind 
and the growing things." 

Then the youth arose and left the 
lodge. But the big medicine man slept 
no more that night, for jealousy is sleep- 
less. 

At that time it happened that the winds 
were hot from the Southwest, and the 
maize grew yellow as the sun that smote 
it, and the rainless air curled its blades. 
And the old men cried to Wakunda for 
rain; but the skies smote back a baking 
glare for answer. Then a great moan 
went up before the lodge of the big 
medicine man: "Ebahami speaks with 
the thunder spirits; let him pray to them 
that we may have food for our children." 

And Ebahami shut himself in his tepee 
four days, fasting, crying to the thunder 
spirits and performing strange rites. But 
every morning the sun rose glaring like 
the eye of a strong man who dies of fever, 
and the hot wind sweltered up from the 
southwest, moaning hoarsely like one 
who moans with thirst, and the maize 
heard the moan and wilted. 

Then when the people grew clamorous 
before the lodge of Ebahami, he came 
forth and said: "The thunder spirits are 
sleeping; they are weary and drowsy with 
the heat." And the hooting of his people 
drove him back into his lodge. 

Then Seha raised his voice above the 
despairing murmur of the village, saying: 
"Seha is a young man; yet the thunder 
spirits will hear him, be they ever so 



drowsy. Seha will call down the rain." 

The murmur of the people ceased, for 
so strange a light was in the eye of the 
youth that they believed. "Let Seha give 
us rain," they cried, "and he shall be a 
great man among us." 

Then Seha strode out of the village and 
disappeared in the hills. His heart was 
loud within him as he walked, for would 
he not be a great man among his people? 
He believed in his power with that belief 
which is the power. All day he walked, 
and when the red sun glared across the 
western hills like an eye bloodshot with 
pain he came to a clump of pines that 
sang upon the summit of a bluff. 

The thunder spirits love the pines, for 
they rise sternly from the rocks, reaching 
their long hands into the clouds, and they 
cry back at the storm with a loud voice. 
Where the pine trees sing, there the 
thunder spirits sleep, and the thunder 
birds, the hawk and the eagle, watch with 
keen eyes. 

Under the trees Seha stood, and raising 
his hands and eyes to the heavens, he 
cried: "Hear Seha, for he is a thunder 
man; send the big clouds boiling before 
the wind; send the rains that my people 
may have food for their children ! " 

The pines only tossed their branches 
above him while they sang softly in the 
wind. 

"O Thunder Spirits," he cried again, 
"you are not asleep; I hear you whisper- 
ing together in the tree tops. Hear my 
cry, for am I not a thunder man?" 

Then a dead calm grew; the pines were 
still. Suddenly they groaned with a cool 
gust from the East. The groan was like 
a waking man's groan when he arises 
stretching and yawning from his couch. 

Then Seha lay down to sleep, for were 
not the thunder spirits awake? 

When the night was late he was awak- 
ened by the howl of the thunder. He saw 
the quick lightning pierce the boiling 
darkness in the East; then the rain drops 
danced on the dry hills with a noise like 
the patter of/many happy voices. 

Seha was glad, and the answered the 
shout of the thunder. His people in the 
village were glad, and their tongues were 
loud with the name of Seha. The maize 
was glad, and it looked up to the kind 



284 



Overland Monthly. 



skies, tossing its arms in exultation. 

When Sena returned to the village he 
was a great man among his people. 
And when they asked whence he had 
such strange power, he said: "I caught 
it from the growing of the maize; I heard 
it in the blowing of the wind." 

But there was one who did not greet 
the mysterious youth. Ebahami shut 
himself in his tepee, for had he not failed 
to awaken the spirits, when a youth had 
succeeded? 

Ebahami sat sullenly in his tepee, 
thinking great and fierce thoughts; and 
after many days of fasting his magic 
came back to him. Then he summoned to 
his lodge, one by one, the men of his 
band, and he said to each: "Behold, 
Seha speaks with evil spirits; may he not 
destroy his people? Then let us perform 
the rite of Wazhinade against him that 
he may be forsaken by man and animal, 
and so die." 

The men of his band believed Ebahami, 
for his magic was great, and he forced 
them to believe. 

So each man went to his tepee, and 
shutting himself in, fasted, thinking 
strongly against Seha. This is the 
manner of the rite of Wazhinade. 

Then after his enemies had thought 
strongly for many days against him, Seha 
was seized with a strange weakness; his 
eyes lost their brightness and he could 
not see far as before. All through the 
days and nights he went about the village 
crying for his lost power, and the people 
said: "The coyotes are barking in the 
hills;" they could not see him for the 



mist cast about him by the terrible rite. 

Then Seha wandered out on the prairies 
wailing as ever for his lost power; and 
after many days he lay himself down by a 
stream to die. But he did not die; he 
slept and the vision came again. When 
he awoke he was strong again, and his 
eyes could see far as before. Then he 
said. "I will cleanse myself in the stream 
and go back to my people, for I am strong 
again." 

But lo! as he leaned over the clear 
stream, he beheld the reflected image of 
an eagle soaring far above him. 

Now a medicine man can change him- 
self into any form that flies or walks or 
crawls or is still, and as Seha watched 
the image he knew that the eagle was 
Ebahami. So gliding into the stream, 
he quickly changed himself into a great 
fish, flounting himself temptingly upon 
the surface. The eagle, which was Eba- 
hami, being hungry, swooped down upon 
the fish with wide beak and open talons. 
But just before the eagle alignied on the 
prey, Seha changed himself into a huge 
bowlder, against which the swooping 
bird dashed furiously, crushing its beak 
and talons; then it arose and with bloody 
wings fluttered across the prairie. 

Seha stepped out of the rock and 
laughed a long laugh; and the eagle that 
was Ebahami heard and knew. 

So Seha returned to his people and was 
a great man among them. 

But Ebahiam hid himself in his tepee, 
and a rumor ran that his arms were 
broken and his face crushed. 

And all the people wondered! 




THE DAYS OF GOLD 



BY JESSIE T. AITKEN. 



11 



IDING along the dusty roads that 
wind in and out among the foot- 
hills on the western slope of the 
Sierra Nevada in Central Califor- 
nia, the traveler is reminded at every 
turn of the feverishly active, half-bar- 
baric, half-nomadic life of the early gold 
mining days. Hardly a hill or ravine 
can be found that does not bear testi- 
mony, in some form or other, to man's 
eager search for the shining, glittering 
particles that meant and still mean so 
much. Here is a half-decayed line of 
sluice-boxes, there an abandoned shaft, 
and everywhere rocky hillsides stripped 
of their soil by the play of the powerful 
streams shot at them by the mighty hose 
of the hydraulic miner. Here and there, 
too, is a half-fallen log-cabin, the aban- 
doned shelter of the gold-seeker. 

A summer's vacation spent in leisurely 
wandering through the gold country 
from Placerville through Jackson and 
San Andreas to the Calaveras "Big 
Trees," thence on to Sonora and south- 
ward and eastward to the Yosemite, 
made me familiar with many such a relic 
of by-gone days. But generally there 
was little about the dreary, forlorn spots 
to attract the traveler or hint at anything 
more romantic than the obvious story 
of hopes abandoned when the pay-dirt 
gave out. 

However, one day late in the after- 
noon, I came upon a ruin which promised 
more than the prosaic story of the ordin- 
ary deserted cabin. One side-wall was 
still standing and the heap of decaying 
logs beside it was almost hidden beneath 
a mass of nasturtiums whose brilliant, 
vari-colored blossoms glowed in the rays 
of the setting sun, and as the mountain 
breeze blew over them, seemed to nod and 
beckon me to come nearer and learn their 
story. 

A story I was sure they had, for nas- 
turtiums are not indigenous to Califor- 
nia and the typical pioneer paid but scant 
attention to such non-marketable pro- 



ducts as flowers. So I threw my horse's 
bridle over a convenient stump and 
scrambled up the hillside to the ruin. 

It was a most picturesque spot. The 
cabin had faced the sunset, and the view 
over canyon after canyon to the glowing 
western sky was beautiful beyond ex- 
pression. Back and above the cabin 
stretched the tree-covered hillside, and at 
one side towered three gigantic pines 
like sentinels guarding the little home 
that nestled quietly beneath. 

Just in front of the heap of flower- 
draped logs lay a great flat rock covered 
with moss and lichens, and here and 
there through this veil of Time I thought 
I discerned the marks of a stone-cutter's, 
chisel. 

Scraping the rock as clean as possible,. 
I made out the word "Welcome," and be- 
low it a date, of which only the figures 
"1855," were legible. On both sides of 
the rock, in front of what had apparently 
been a porch, were the remains of an old- 
fashioned flower garden. A few violets 
and daisies still survived, but the nastur- 
tiums had conquered everything else. 
Evidently this could be no ordinary 
miner's shanty, and great was my curi- 
osity about it. I could gain no informa- 
tion regarding it in the neighborhood, 
and the old farmer whose eggs and milk 
varied my usual camp-fare that night 
could only tell me, "Them 'sturtions kim 
up thar ev'ry spring, and folks du say the 
cabin's ha'nted." 

Some months later, in describing my 
summer's experiences to my grand-father, 
one of the old-timers, I mentioned this 
cabin. To my surprise he said, "That 
must be the cabin I helped to build for 
John Ramsey nearly fifty years ago. I 
am sure it is, for we planted a garden 
and laid the door-stone just as you de- 
scribe it." 

Of course we clamored for the story 
and it needed but little persuasion to 
induce grandfather to tell it to us. 

"Early in the fifties," he began, "the- 



286 



Overland Monthly. 



gold fever reached South Grove in Illi- 
nois, where your grandmother and I were 
living, and I caught it. I had it in just 
about its worst form, and so did nearly 
every other man in the town. After dis- 
cussing the matter for a couple of 
months, a party of fifty men was organ- 
ized to start for California. 

"We left in April and were joined 
all along the road by other parties bound 
on the same errand. It was the same 
old story of the pot of gold at the end 
of the rainbow, and the result to many 
and many a poor fellow was no better 
than that far-famed 'fairy gold.' 

"A number of the men who joined us 
were young fellows who looked upon the 
expedition as a sort of 'lark'; still more 
were gamblers and mere adventurers; 
but a goodly proportion of our fellow- 
travelers were earnest, honest men, anx- 
ious to gain a fortune for the help and 
comfort of families or friends. 

One of these last, in the party from 
Haynesville, a little town in Kansas, 
was John Ramsey, a tall, well-built fel- 
low, only twenty-five years old, bright, 
clear-eyed and intelligent. I liked him 
as soon as I saw him. He was so cheery 
and unselfish, so willing to help every 
one, that soon he was the favorite of the 
whole train; every man in it, villains and 
all, liked and respected John Ramsey. 

"Our trip across the plains was un- 
eventful. We passed through several In- 
dian scares, but the savages we actually 
saw were friendly, although all along 
the trail we came upon evidences that 
other travelers had not been so fortunate. 

"At last the long tedious journey of 
four months ended at Sacramento and 
the train disbanded, each man to take 
his luck and life into his own hands, 
and prospect for himself. 

"Long before this, John Ramsay and 
I had become fast friends and had agreed 
to cast our lot together. We were both 
anxious to finish our task of making a 
comfortable 'pile' and get home again, 
for I had left your grandmother and four 
little ones in the old home, and John's 
heart was in Kansas with his wife and 
year old baby girl. 

"After trying our luck In several camps 
we made our way up the Stanislaus river 



into the foot-hills, and settled at length 
at what is still known as Angel's Camp,' 
though in those days angels would 
hardly have found the place a congenial 
home. 

"We were, in mine parlance, 'pards,' 
sharing good luck and bad alike, and find- 
ing, as did many another, that fortunes 
were easier to dream about than to make. 

"The first year passed but slowly. We 
located claims and worked with pan, 
pick and shovel, washing out the tiny 
grains of gold and the occasional nugget 
hidden in the sand and gravel that formed 
the l>ed of the little mountain stream. 
But the 'pile' grew very slowly, and many 
and many a night we would go back to 
our little cabin, blue and discouraged. 
Sitting over the camp-fire, talking of the 
dear ones at home and all we hoped to 
do for them, cheered our hearts again, 
and sent us to our bunks to sleep the 
sound sleep of the tired out man, and we 
always waked with fresh courage. John, 
especially, had such an 'up again and 
take another' air about him that it would 
have almost put life into a skeleton. 

"With the second year came changes. 
Some men with capital to back them 
came out from the East. They bought up 
a number of claims along the creek, 
built sluices, and put to work a force 
of men who were paid regular wages. 
Ramsey was offered the position of 
superintendent and manager, and ac- 
cepted. He came into the cabin that 
night with a rush, tossing his hat in the 
air like a school-boy, and, 'Now, Wells,' 
he said, 'for Mary and Janet!' 

"That very night he wrote to his wife, 
asking her if she would be willing to 
come out and settle there; and then be- 
gan to plan for her comfort, so sure was 
he that she would come. 

"The camp was a pretty hard place to 
ask a young and well-bred woman to come 
to just a collection of rude cabins and 
a population of rough men. There were 
but two women in the camp. One was 
as good-hearted an old lady as ever 
lived, the mother of one of the men; the 
other was a half-breed Indian squaw, 
who did all sorts of odd jobs about the 
camp. John realized this fully, but said, 
'It is a rough place, I know, Wells, but 



The Days of Gold. 



287 



Mary often used to say 'A husband's 
heart is a true wife's home,' and I know 
she'll be happy and make us happy if 
she comes, and I know she'll come.' 

"The summer and fall went by, and the 
first cold days of winter brought the 
longed-for letter. She would be so happy 
to come, but it would be best not to start 
until Spring. In March, a party would 
leave Haynesville, and she and Janet 
would come with them; and she sent a lit- 
tle package of flower seeds to plant about 
their new home. It was a loving, woman- 
ly letter, and I did not wonder that the 
young fellow wanted her with him. 

"All winter John was busy. There was 
no furniture to be had nearer than Sac- 
ramento, and very little there; but Ram- 
sey was handy with his tools, and there 
was many an odd genius in the camp who 
was only too overjoyed to help in furnish- 
ing the home for Mary and the baby. 
,So through stormy days and long even- 
ings we worked, storing the things as 
fast as they were finished in an unused 
cabin. 

"John made one thing that might have 
seemed foolish to other people, but to us 
miners so far from home and dear ones 
it was a delight; and we all contributed 
toward the little doll-house for Janet. 
Old Swiss Louis, whom we regarded as 
'not all there,' put the crowning touch 
to the toy by carving a doll from wood; 
.and 'Jemima,' as we called the squaw, 
stained its face with berries and leaves, 
and Mrs. Watson, or 'Mother,' as the boys 
called her, made it a wardrobe. 

"At last spring came. The site was 
chosen, the logs were cut, and work on 
the house begun in earnest. Everybody 
helped, and when it was done, with its 
three rooms and front and back porches, 
it was by far the best cabin in camp. 
John brought a great flat rock down from 
the mountain-side and one of the miners, 
a stone-cutter by trade, cut on it the date 
and the word 'Welcome,' and we fitted 
it into the floor of the porch for a door- 
stone. The furniture, all made in camp, 
and rather rough, was arranged, but 
John, who was going to Sacramento to 
meet the train, hoped to find a few extra 
pieces there, and above all had set his 
heart on getting a rocking-chair for his 



Mary, and, if possible, a little one for 
Janet. 

"The flower seeds were planted, 
vines and ferns brought down from the 
mountain for the little garden, and after 
Mrs. Watson had added the finishing 
touches to the inside of the house there 
was nothing to be done but to wait. 

"John had received another letter say- 
ing that the train would probably reach 
Sacramento the last of July, and he 
began to count the days. As time went 
on every man in camp shared his impa- 
tience, for they were hungry for the 
sight of a little child. 

"The end of July came, but no news 
had been received from the train. A 
month went by, and then John said, 
'Wells, I am going to Sacramento. I 
can't stand this any longer. Come w?th 
me.' 

"In an hour we were on horse-back, 
and on our way through the mountains. 
We reached the city without delay, but 
nothing had been heard from the train. 
We waited a day or two, and John bought 
Mary's rocker and began the hunt for 
Janet's. There were only two stores 
in the place where furniture could be 
had and no little rocking-chair was to be 
found. At last, one of the stcre-keepers, 
seeing how much John wanted it, took 
the rockers off a large chair, cut them 
down, and fitted them to a small wood'. a 
chair, and John was content. It was a 
little red chair with impossible roses 
painted on tne back, but a mist came be- 
fore my eyes as I looked at it and thought 
of my wife and babies so far away. 

"A teamster was going to Angel's 
Camp with supplies and offered to take 
the chairs, so John sent them on ahead. 
A week went by and the poor fellow was 
almost frantic with anxiety and a name- 
less dread. Everybody tried to cheer 
and reassure him, but he could neither 
eat nor sleep. 

"At last, early one bright morning, 
away among the hills, we saw the white 
tops of wagons, and before long a 
man despatched from the train, dusty and 
tired, jumped off his horse at Ellwood's 
store. 

"A crowd had gathered around him, 
and the first question came eagerly from 



288 



Overland Monthly. 



John. 

"'Where are you from? Is Mrs. Ram- 
sey with the train?' 

" 'From Ohio,' came the answer. 'Mrs. 
Ramsey? No, she was with the train 
ahead of ours, but they were ambushed 
by the Indians, and all scalped but one 
man. We found him among the rocks, 
half dead, and brought him along.' 

"John's face turned livid beneath the 
tan and sunburn. 

"'Are you sure?' he said slowly. The 
crowd was silent as the grave. 

"The man hesitated a moment, and 
then in a pitying tone said, 'Yes, sure. 
We buried them. There was a child, too, 
Janet, so the man we saved called her, 
and when we found her she had a little 
rag doll fast in her hand. We picked 
up everything we could about the wreck 
and ' 

"But there was a sudden stiffening 
of the form before him, a murmur: 'God, 
my darlings!' and John Ramsey dropped 
as if shot. 

"I was beside him and caught him as 
he fell. Willing hands carried him into 
the store, and everything was done to 
revive him, but all in vain. He was with 
his darlings. 

"I had the whole story later from 
Mr. Ayres, the rescued man. It was not 
much. The train had been surprised, 
and though the men fought hard, they 
were overpowered. He had managed to 
escape, and had tried to take little Janet 



with him, but she would not leave her 
mother. He spoke of them with tears 
in his eyes. 'Everybody loved that sweet 
baby,' said he. 

"When we laid John in his rough pine 
coffin, against his heart was the little 
rag doll wrapped in a blood-stained hand- 
kerchief marked 'Mary Ramsey.' 

"The next day I got a team and started 
for the little cabin on the hillside. The 
miners had been expecting us ever since 
the arrival of the supply train. They 
had put the two chairs in the house and 
almost hidden the rough walls with 
greens and flowers. 

"As they gathered about the wagon I 
told them the story, and men whose 
eyes had long been unused to tears 
sobbed like children. 

"Loving hands carried John reverently 
into the little home he had made ready 
with such tender care, and that evening, 
just at sunset, we raised the door-stone, 
and in a fern-lined grave sorrowfully 
laid all that remained of one of the 
truest men that ever lived. Then we 
locked the cabin door and wrote a letter 
to Haynesville telling the sad story. 

"The cabin is a ruin now, you say, 
but as long as there remained in Angel's 
Camp a man who had known John Ram- 
sey it was kept in repair, and the garden 
carefully tended. For ten years the little 
home stood there, a monument, a silent 
witness to a man's love, waiting for the 
dear ones who never came." 




The Constitution and the Territories 



BY N. P. CHIPMAN, A COMMISSIONER OF THE SUPREME COURT CF CALIFORNIA. 



/^V INGE Scott vs. Sanford (The Dred 
\i^ Scott case, 19 How. 393) no decision 
|kj of the Supreme Court has elicited 
such widespread interest or world- 
wide comment as the adjudication of 
what the court terms the Insular Tariff 
Cases, involving the relation of our re- 
cently acquired possessions to the United 
States. The Dred Scott decision stirred 
the National conscience to its profound- 
est depths and aroused unrestrained in- 
dignation throughout all the free States 
and the then territories. It was not 
acquiesced in by the people; and, if in 
going further than was necessary in dis- 
posing of the case, the purpose was to 
allay the public feeling on the subject 
of slavery, the decision wholly failed of 
its object. The Civil war followed not 
long after and as one of its results slavery 
was abolished and was forever prohibited 
by Constitutional Amendment. The In- 
sular Tariff Cases make no such appeal 
to the passions of the people, and it is 
not at all likely that they will lead to an 
amendment of the Constitution. The 
doctrine of these cases addresses itself 
to the sober, thoughtful, dispassionate 
judgment of the entire nation regardless 
of section or political creed. It cannot 
be truthfully said that the decisions were 
tinged in the least by partisan politics, 
nor have the newspaper comments, com- 
mendatory or adverse, been confined to 
party or geographical lines. A fair ex- 
ample of Southern democratic expression 
is found in The Memphis Commercial- 
Appeal where it was said: "Constitutions 
are the work of human hands and brains, 
and as such cannot be literally and ser- 
vilely followed at all times, and espe- 
cially when they conflict with public in- 
terest and when they fail to meet the ex- 
igencies of those who are now alive. All 
the rhetoric in the world cannot change 
the supreme and adamantine fact that 
the people of our new possessions are not 
yet prepared for full American citizen- 
19 



ship, and are not yet capable of self- 
government, according to the American 
idea, and until they are educated up to 
the responsibilities and duties of citizen- 
ship, common sense and common pru- 
dence must dictate a withholding of the 
boon from them." 

Events bearing upon the discussion of 
the cases occurred as follows: In July, 
1898, General Miles invaded the island 
with a military force and on October 18th 
Porto Rico was evacuated by Spanish 
forces; December 10th, the treaty of 
peace was signed at Paris, Spain ceding 
the island to the United States; Feb- 
ruary 6th, 1899, the treaty was ratified 
by the President and the Senate; March 
19th, treaty was ratified by the Queen 
Regent of Spain; April llth, 1899, ratifi- 
cations were exchanged and treaty pro- 
claimed at Washington; April 12, 1900, 
the Foraker Act was passed providing 
temporary revenues and a government 
for Porto Rico. 

Let us at the outset understand pre- 
cisely what was before the court. First: 
De Lima v. Bidwell was an action against 
the Collector of the Port of New York 
to recover back certain duties paid upon 
certain importations of sugar from the 
island of Porto Rico, in the latter part 
of 1899, after the treaty was ratified but 
prior to the passage of the Foraker Act. 
At the time this sugar was imported from 
Porto Rico the tariff act of July 24, 1897, 
commonly known as the Dingley Act, 
provided that "there shall be levied, col- 
lected, and paid upon all articles imported 
from foreign countries" certain duties 
therein specified. The case involved the 
right to collect duty on this sugar, and 
this depended on the question whether 
the territory of Porto Rico acquired by 
cession from foreign power was a "for- 
eign country," not for all purposes, but 
within the meaning of the tariff law of 
1897. 

Second: Downes v. Bidwell, was an 



290 



Overland Monthly. 



action commenced against the same Col- 
lector to recover back certain duties paid 
upon certain oranges consigned to 
Downes and brought from the island of 
Porto Rico in November 1900, after the 
passage of the Foraker Act. This case 
involved the question whether merchan- 
dise thus brought into the Port of New 
York was exempt from duty notwithstand- 
ing the act required the payment of "15 
per centum of the duties which are re- 
quired to be levied, collected, and paid 
upon like articles of merchandise im- 
ported from foreign countries." The 
court has just held in the De Lima case 
that after the treaty cession of Porto 
Rico and prior to any legislation by Con- 
gress relating to revenues or for the gov- 
ernment of the territory thus ceded, the 
Dingley tariff act did not apply because 
Porto Rico was not a foreign country 
within the meaning of that act. The 
Foraker Act, in respect of its revenue 
provisions, was but a modification of the 
Dingley Act differing only in the rates 
of duty imposed on articles, and the ques- 
tion was: Could Congress thus discrim- 
inate against articles imported from Porto 
Rico, or in fact impose any duties at all 
thereon; and here again arose the rela- 
tions of the island to the United States. 
The Constitution, Art. 1, Sec. 8, declares 
that "all duties, imposts, and excises shall 
be uniform throughout the United States." 
Section 9 of the same Article provides 
that "vessels bound to or from one State" 
cannot "be obliged to enter, clear, or pay 
duties to another." If, therefore, these 
provisions of the Constitution applied 
to Porto Rico of their own force, it would 
follow necessarily that the Foraker Act 
which by its terms applies exclusively 
to Porto Rico, would be unconstitutional. 
The remarkable feature of the two de- 
cisions, which the lay mind cannot grasp 
and which the legal mind is much puz- 
zled over is this: How could the court 
in the De Lima case hold Porto Rico to be 
a part of the United States and not a 
"foreign country" within the meaning of 
the Dingley tariff law, and yet hold in the 
Downes case that Porto Rico was a 
"foreign country" within the meaning of 
the revenue clauses of the Constitution? 
If the Dingley law could not be enforced 



as to articles imported from Porto Rico 
because the island, after cession to the 
United States, was no longer foreign, how 
could the Foraker Act be enforced on the 
theory that although Porto Rico is a 
territory belonging to the United States, 
it is foreign territory within the meaning 
of the revenue clauses of the Constitu- 
tion? Dissenting in the Downes case, 
Mr. Justice Harlan perceived this seem- 
ing incongruity. He said: "I cannot 
agree that it is a domestic territory of 
the United States for the purpose of pre- 
venting the application of the tariff act 
imposing duties upon imports from for- 
eign countries, but not a part of the 
United States for the purpose of en- 
forcing the constitutional requirement 
that all duties, imports and excises im- 
posed by Congress shall be uniform 
throughout the United States." He said: 
"How Porto Rico can be domestic terri- 
tory of the United States, as distinctly 
held in De Lima v. Bidwell, and yet, as 
is now held, not embraced by the words 
'throughout the United States,' is more 
than I can understand." Dissenting in 
the De Lima case, Mr. Justice McKenna 
was met by the same difficulty. He said: 
"If at the time the duties which are com- 
plained of were levied, Porto Rico was 
as much a foreign country as it was be- 
fore the war with Spain; if it was as 
much domestic territory as New York 
now is, there would be no serious contro- 
versy in the case. If the former (i. e. if 
a foreign country) the terms and the in- 
tention of the Dingley Act would apply. 
If the latter (i. e. if domestic territory), 
whatever its words or intention it could 
not be applied." And the learned Justice 
suggests the following solution: "Be- 
tween these extremes there are other 
relations, and that Porto Rico occupied 
one of them, and its products hence were 
subject to duties under the Dingley 
Tariff Act, can be demonstrated." And 
he further points out that Mr. Justice 
Brown, one of the majority in the De 
Lima case, himself held with the majority 
in the Downes case, "that even if Porto 
Rico were domestic territory its products 
could be legally subjected to tariff 
duties." 
It is well known that judges sometimes 



The Constitution and the Territories. 



291 



reach the same goal by travelling differ- 
ent roads, but seldom where in doing so 
the roads are divergent and have no 
common meeting point. The judgment 
in the De Lima case was reached in 
this remarkable manner. Four judges 
held that the Constitution inhibited all 
tariff duties on products coming from 
Porto Rico, after cession of the island 
by treaty, and hence were able to unite 
with Mr. Justice Brown in giving judg- 
ment in the De Lima case; but, for the 
same reason, they were forced to dissent 
from his conclusions in the Downes case. 
In the latter case Mr. Justice Brown held 
that the Constitution did not inhibit the 
tariff duties levied under the Foraker Act 
and a judgment was entered accordingly 
by the concurrence of the four judges 
who had dissented from his conclusions 
in the De Lima case. With entire con- 
sistency the four concurring judges in 
the De Lima case dissented in the Downes 
case because the principle on which they 
proceeded led inevitably to the same re- 
sult in both cases. The principle was 
that the revenue clauses of the Consti- 
tution, by their own force, became opera- 
tive instantly in Porto Rico upon rati- 
fication of the treaty of cession and there- 
fore duties under the Dingley Act could 
no more be enforced on products coming 
from Porto Rico than on products coming 
from any State of the Union. For like 
reason duties were illegally exacted 
under the Foraker Act. The four judges 
who concurred in the Downes case with 
perfect consistency dissented in the De 
Lima case because the principle on which 
they proceeded led inevitably to the same 
result in both cases. The principle was 
as stated by Mr. Justice McKenna: "That 
Porto Rico occupied a relation to the 
United States between that of being a 
foreign country absolutely and of being 
domestic territory absolutely," and that 
the Constitution aid not of its own force 
go into effect for all purposes in Porto 
Rico. 

In explanation of their position Mr. 
Justice Gray, in a concurring opinion, 
tersely, in the Downes case, formulated 
the following propositions: "The cases 
now before the court do not touch the 
authority of the United States over the 



territories in the strict and technical sense 
(referring to the territories with which 
we are all familiar); but they relate to 
territory in tne broader sense, acquired 
by the United States by war with a for- 
eign state." He quoted from Chief Jus- 
tice Marshall as follows: "The Constitu- 
tion confers absolutely on the Govern- 
ment of the Union the powers of making 
war and of making treaties; consequently 
that Government possesses the power of 
acquiring territory, either by conquest or 
by treaty. The usage of the world is, if 
a nation be not entirely subdued, to con- 
sider the holding of conquered territory 
as a mere military occupation, until its 
fate shall be determined at the treaty of 
peace. If it be ceded by the treaty, the 
acquisition is confirmed, and the ceded 
territory becomes a part of the nation 
to which it is annexed, either on the 
terms stipulated in the treaty of cession 
or on such as its new masters shall im- 
pose." (American Ins. Co. v. 356 Bales 
of Cotton (1828) 1 Pet. 611.) Proceeding, 
Mr. Justice Gray said: "The civil Govern- 
ment of the United States cannot extend 
immediately, and of its own force, over 
territory acquired by war. Such terri- 
tory must necessarily, in the first in- 
stance, be governed by military power 
under the control of the President as 
Commander-in-Chief. Civil Government 
cannot take effect at once, as soon as 
possession is acquired under military au- 
thority, or even as soon as that posses- 
sion is confirmed by treaty. It can only 
be put in operation by the action of the 
appropriate political department of the 
Government, at such time and in such de- 
gree as that department may determine. 
There must of necessity be a transition 
period. In a conquered territory, civil 
Government must take effect either by 
the action of the treaty-making power, or 
by that of the Congress of the United 
States. The office of a treaty of cession is 
ordinarily to put an end to all authority 
of the foreign Government over the terri- 
tory, and to subject the territory to the 
disposition of the Government of the 
United States." He then points out cer- 
tain provisions of the treaty with Spain: 
for example, admitting certain articles 
coming from Spain to the ports of the 



292 



Overland Monthly. 



Philippines free of duty for ten years, 
which he said could not be carried out "if 
the Constitution required the customs 
regulations of the United States to apply 
in those territories." Continuing, he said: 
"In the absence of congressional legisla- 
tion, the regulation of the revenues of 
the conquered territory, even after the 
treaty of cession, remains with the execu- 
tive and military authority. So long as 
Congress has not incorporated the terri- 
tory into the United States, neither mili- 
tary occupation nor cession by treaty 
make the conquered territory domestic 
territory, in the sense of the revenue 
laws; but those laws concerning 'for- 
eign countries' remain applicable to the 
conquered territory until changed by Con- 
gress. Such, he asserts, was the unani- 
mous opinion of this court as declared 
by Chief Justice Taney in Fleming v. 
Page, 9 How. 603. "If Congress is not 
ready to construct a complete Govern- 
ment for the conquered territory, it may 
establish a temporary Government, which 
is not subject to all the restrictions of 
the Constitution. Such was the effect 
of the Act of Congress of April 12th, 1900, 
entitled 'An Act temporarily to provide 
revenues and a Civil Government for 
Porto Rico.' * * * The system of duties 
temporarily established by that act dur- 
ing the transition period was within the 
authority of Congress under the Consti- 
tion of the United States." 

Considering the opinions in their en- 
tirety, in these now famous cases, it is 
not, I think, placing too high an estimate 
on them to say that nowhere in all our 
judicial literature or treaties upon the 
Constitution can be found in the same 
compass so able, so searching and so ex- 
haustive a discussion of the frame-work 
of our Government, or a more vigorous 
exposition of the limitations intended 
to be placed upon the powers of Govern- 
ment. Obviously it would be impossible 
to present the views of all these eminent 
judges within the scope of a single arti- 
cle, for they embrace material for a large 
volume. First: I shall only endeavor to 
outline the ground on which the decisions 
rest, in order that we may judge of their 
merit. Second: I shall try to discover 
from what has been decided and has been 



said in the opinions, the probable status 
of the Philippines. If the questions be- 
fore the court were still under discus- 
sion both sides of the argument should be 
given; but as the law of these and all 
similar cases is finally determined, what 
concerns us most is to know the reasons 
which support the conclusion reached, not 
the reasons which were rejected as un- 
sound. 

A judgment in the De Lima case was 
arrived at under circumstances, as we 
have seen, such as to take from it much 
of its value. Four of the judges concur- 
red on grounds altogether antagonistic 
to the views of Mr. Justice Brown, who 
wrote the opinion of the court. His 
views as expressed in the Downes case, 
however, make it certain that he never 
can be brought to hold with Mr. Justice 
Harlan of the minority, for example, who 
said: "When the acquisition of territory 
becomes complete, by cession, the Con- 
stitution necessarily becomes the su- 
preme law of such new territory, and no 
power exists in any department of the 
Government to make 'concessions' that 
are inconsistent with its provisions. * * 
The Constitution is supreme over every 
foot of territory, wherever situated, un- 
der the jurisdiction of the United States, 
and its full operation cannot be stayed 
by any branch of our Government in or- 
der to meet what some may suppose to 
be extraordinary emergencies." The opin- 
ion of Mr. Justice Brown in the Downes 
case shows that his mind can never agree 
to the proposition that after cession by 
treaty or upon acquisition by purchase 
or conquest Congress may not enact laws 
for such territory relating to customs rev- 
enues discriminatory in their character. 
On the contrary, the Downes case pre- 
sented that very question, and on it Mr. 
Justice Brown held contrary to Mr. Jus- 
tice Harland and his associate dissent- 
ing Justices. A careful reading of the 
opinion in the De Lima case will show 
that his entire argument is constructed 
to demonstrate that upon ratification of 
the treaty Porto Rico ceased to be for- 
eign territory and became domestic terri- 
tory, but not necessarily incorporated as 
a part of the United States; that as it 
was not a foreign country the Dingley 



The Constitution and the Territories. 



293 



Act could not apply to it because by its 
terms it levied duties only on articles 
"imported from foreign countries." But 
it is perfectly plain that in thus holding 
he did not intend to express the opinion 
that Congress had not plenary power to 
legislate for the territory, unhampered 
by the clauses of the Constitution al- 
ready referred to. In speaking on this 
subject he said: "Whatever be the source 
of this power, its uninterrupted exer- 
cise by Congress for a century, and the 
repeated declarations of this court, have 
settled the law that the right to ac- 
quire territory involves the right to gov- 
ern and dispose of it." 

Much broader questions were involved 
in the Downes case, and it is to the opin- 
ions delivered in this case, together 
with the views expressed in the dis- 
senting opinion of Mr. Justice M<c- 
Kenna in the De Lima case, that we 
are to look for a full exposition of the 
views of the majority of the court upon 
the powers of Congress. Mr. Justice 
Brown thus states the momentous issue: 
"In the case of De Lima v. Bidwell we 
held that, upon the ratification of the 
treaty of peace with Spain, Porto Rico 
ceased to be a foreign country and be- 
came a territory of the United States, 
and that duties were no longer collect- 
able upon merchandise brought from 
that island. We are now asked to hold 
that it became a part of the United States 
within that provision of the Constitution 
which declares that all duties, imposts, 
and excises shall be uniform throughout 
the United States. Art. 1, Sec. 8. If Porto 
Rico be a part of the United States, the 
Foracker Act imposing duties upon its 
products is unconstitutional, not only by 
reason of a violation of the uniformity 
clause, but because by Sec. 9 'vessels 
bound to or from one State,' cannot be 
obliged 'to enter, clear or pay duties in 
another.' The case involves the broader 
question whether the revenue clauses of 
the Constitution extend of their own force 
to our newly acquired territories. The 
Constitution itself does not answer the 
question. Its solution must be found in 
the nature of the Government created 
by that instrument, in the opinion of its 
contemporaries, in the practical con- 



struction put upon it by Congress, and 
in the decisions of this court." 

Pursuing the four subdivisions of the 
argument above stated, each one is taken 
up and followed to its logical conclusion. 
I shall follow his reasoning closely, often 
using his own language, as I shall also 
do in dealing with the other opinions. In 
explanation of the nature of our Govern- 
ment and its origin we are reminded that 
the Federal Government was created in 
1777 by the union of thirteen colonies of 
Great Britain in "certain articles of con- 
federation and perpetual union," each 
member of which was denominated a 
State. Provision was made for represen- 
tation of each State, but no mention was 
made of territories or other lands, except 
that the admission of Canada was author- 
ized upon its "acceding to this confedera- 
tion," and other colonies if agreed to by 9 
States. Several States made claim to land 
in the unsettled west about which acri- 
monious disputes arose, which threatened 
to defeat the Confederacy before it was 
fairly in operation. The controversy was 
happily settled by relinquishment to the 
Confederacy, and the Confederate Con- 
gress, in 1787, created the first territorial 
Government northwest of the Ohio River 
by the famous Ordinance which estab- 
lished local self-government, a bill of 
rights, representation in Congress by a 
delegate without the right to debate or 
vote, and for the ultimate formation of 
States out of this territory, on an equal 
footing with the original States. The next 
step in the evolution of our Government 
brought out is the formation of the Con- 
stitution in 1787 by "the people of the 
United States," "for the United States 
of America." All legislative powers were 
vested in a Congress in which States 
alone were represented, and no provision 
was made for representation of the ter- 
ritories. The only reference to them 
was that Congress was empowered "to 
dispose of and make all needful rules 
and regulations respecting the territory 
or other property of the United States." 
At this time North Carolina and Georgia 
had not relinquished their claims. Men- 
tion is made in the opinion that Chief 
Justice Taney held in the Dred Scott case 
that the clause above quoted was not in- 



294 



Overland Monthly. 



tended to give the powers of sovereignty 
or to authorize the establishment of terri- 
torial government that the words were 
used in a proprietary and not in a politi- 
cal sense. But the opinion shows "that 
the power to establish territorial Govern- 
ments has been too long exercised 
by Congress and acquiesced in by this 
court to be deemed an unsettled ques- 
tion." Looking to these three fundamen- 
tal instruments, namely, the Article of 
Confederacy, The Ordinance of 1787, and 
the Constitution, it is argued that it can 
nowhere be inferred that the territories 
were considered a part of the United 
States; that the Constitution was created 
by the people of the United States, as 
a union of States to be governed solely 
by representatives of the States in 
short, the Constitution deals with States, 
their people, and their representatives. 
It is claimed that this view is strength- 
ened by reference to the 13th Amendment 
prohibiting slavery and involuntary ser- 
vitude "within the United States, or in 
any place subject to their jurisdiction," 
which implies that there may be places 
within the jurisdiction of the United 
States that are no part of the Union. 
The phraseology of the 14th Amendment 
is also referred to as reinforcing the con- 
clusion, for it declares that "all persons 
born or naturalized in the United States, 
and subject to the jurisdiction thereof are 
citizens of the United States, and of the 
State wherein they reside." And it is 
said that there is a limitation here to 
persons born or naturalized in the United 
States, which is not extended to persons 
born in any place "subject to their juris- 
diction." This branch of the discussion 
apparently would lead to the conclusion 
that the power of Congress over the ter- 
ritories has no limitation a view which 
we shall see later on is not shared by any 
other member of the court. 

Advancing in the argument to history, 
contemporaneous with the adoption of 
the Constitution, and the practical con- 
struction put upon it by Congress, the 
opinion comes to the Louisiana purchase 
in 1803. The intelligent reader has been 
made familiar with the details of this ac- 
quisition and the happy coincidence of 
pending war between France and Eng- 



land that made it possible. Mr. Jeffer- 
son, then President, as is well known, 
entertained grave doubts as to his power 
to annex the territory and make it a 
part of the United States, and he had in- 
structed Mr. Livingston, our Minister to 
France to make no agreement to that 
effect in the treaty. But the exigencies 
were such at the moment of action that 
Mr. Livingston, with whom Mr. Madison 
co-operated as one of our negotiators, 
took the responsibility of violating his 
instructions, and there was inserted in 
the 3d Article of the treaty the provision 
that "the inhabitants of the ceded terri- 
tory shall be incorporated in the union 
of the United States, and admitted as 
soon as possible, according to the prin- 
ciples of the Federal Constitution, to 
the enjoyment of all the rights, advan- 
tages, and immunities of citizens of the 
United States; and in the meantime they 
shall be maintained and protected in the 
free enjoyment of their liberty, property 
and the religion which they profess. 
This," continues the opinion, "evidently 
committed the Government to the ulti- 
mate, but not to the immediate, admis- 
sion of Louisiana as a State, and post- 
poned its incorporation into the Union 
to the pleasure of Congress." When the 
treaty was signed Congress was not in 
session, and by the time it convened Mr. 
Jefferson's well known scruples as to 
the constitutionality of his proceedings 
were apparently allayed, for when Con- 
gress assembled in October, 1803, he re- 
ferred the whole matter to that body, 
and in his message said: "With the wis- 
dom of Congress it will rest to take those 
ulterior measures which may be neces- 
sary for the immediate occupation and 
temporary Government of the country, 
for its incorporation into the Union." 
The discussion which arose in Congress 
in both houses at that cession and the 
laws which were enacted as the result 
of that discussion, possess the highest 
significance as contemporaneous expres- 
sions of statesmen who helped to frame 
our great Chart of Liberty. The treaty 
contained, as the recent treaty with Spain 
contains, provisions discriminating in fa- 
vor of ports in the ceded territory, ad- 
mitting the ships of Spain and France for 



The Constitution and the Territories. 



295 



twelve years "in the same manner as the 
ships of the United States coming directly 
from France or Spain, or any of their col- 
onies, without being subject to any other 
or greater duty on merchandise or other 
or greater tonnage than that paid by 
the citizens of the United States." The 
same question was then before Congress 
as was recently before the Supreme 
Court, and the same Article and Section 
of the Constitution was under discussion. 
The debate embraced the question also 
as to the constitutionality of the provis- 
tion for the ultimate incorporation of 
Louisiana into the Union. The conten- 
tion of the administration party was that 
under the constitutional power to make 
treaties, there was full power to acquire 
territory and to hold and govern it under 
laws to be passed by Congress; that as 
Louisiana was incorporated into the 
Union as a territory, and not as a State, 
a stipulation for citizenship became 
necessary; that as a State they would 
not have needed a stipulation for the 
safety of their liberty, property and re- 
ligion, but as a territory this stipulation 
would govern and restrain the undefined 
powers of Congress to "make rules and 
regulations" for territories. Replying to 
the objection that the treaty violated the 
Constitution in discriminating in favor of 
French and Spanish ships, Mr. Elliott of 
Vermont said: "The States, as such, were 
equal and intended to preserve their 
equality; and the provision of the Consti- 
tion alluded to was calculated to prevent 
Congress from making any odious dis- 
crimination or distinction between par- 
ticular States." Mr. Nicholson of Mary- 
land spoke of Louisiana "as in the nature 
of a colony whose commerce may be regu- 
lated without reference to the Constitu- 
tion." And he said, if "it had been Cuba 
which was ceded to us, under a similar 
condition of admitting French and Span- 
ish vessels for a limited time into Havana 
could it possibly have been contended 
that this would be giving a preference 
to ports of one State over those of an- 
other, or that the uniformity of duties, 
imposts and excises throughout the 
United States would have been des- 
troyed? And because Louisiana lies ad- 
jacent to our own territory, is it to be 



viewed in a different light?" Following 
the debate, Congress passed an Act, 
October 31st, 1803, authorizing the Presi- 
dent to take possession of the territory 
and to continue the existing government, 
and on November 10th, 1803, the act was 
passed making provision for the payment 
of the purchase price. These Acts con- 
tinued until March 26, 1804, when a new 
Act was passed providing a temporary 
Government for the territory. These Acts 
were the solemn declaration of Congress 
that territory may be lawfully acquired 
by treaty, with a provision for its ulti- 
mate incorporation into the Union; and 
that a discrimination in favor of certain 
foreign vessels trading with the ports of 
a newly acquired territory is not a vio- 
lation of the clause of the Constitution 
prohibiting any preference of the ports 
of one State over those of another. And 
it is shown that such discrimination was 
possible under the Constitution upon no 
theory except that ports of territories 
are not ports of a State within the mean- 
ing of the .Constitution. The same ques- 
tion arose in the treaty by which we ac- 
quired Florida in 1819, and the same con- 
struction was adhered to. Numerous laws 
passed by Congress from the earliest 
days down to the present time are cited 
as showing that "Congress has or has 
not applied the revenue laws to the ter- 
ritories as the circumstances of each 
case seemed to require and has speci- 
fically legislated for the territories 
whenever it was its intention to execute 
laws beyond the limits of the States." 
And it was said that however fluctuating 
judicial opinion has been, Congress has 
from the beginning to this day "been 
consistent in recognizing the difference 
between the States and territories under 
the Constitution." Mr. Justice McKenna 
in the De Lima case referred to the con- 
struction given by the Executive Depart- 
ment of Government which strongly sup- 
ports the decision reached in the Downes 
case, and he thought should have been 
given greater weight in the DeLima case. 
He shows that between December 20, 
1803, when possession was delivered to 
the United States, Louisiana was treated 
as a foreign country under the customs 
laws, and duties were levied and collected 



296 



Overland Monthly. 



upon its products and no one disputed 
the legality of it. 

Before coming to the earlier decisions 
of the Supreme Court a clear understand- 
ing of the points considered, as influen- 
cing the minds of the majority, requires 
that some attention be given to the 
very able concurring opinion of Mr. Jus- 
tice White, who spoke for himself and 
for Justices Shiras and McKenna, and, 
it is believed, also without the disap- 
proval of Mr. Justice Gray, a concise out- 
line of whose views I have already given. 
Mr. Justice Harlan quotes from the opin- 
ion of Mr. Justice Brown to the effect 
that the Constitution speaks "only to 
States, except in the territorial clause, 
which is absolute in its terms, and sug- 
gestive of no limitations upon the power 
of Congress in dealing with them;" that 
with the exceptions named, the Consti- 
tution was ordained by the States, and 
is addressed to and operates only on the 
the States. It is needless to say that 
Mr. Justice Harlan refused to accept this 
view. It is probable that Mr. Justice 
White was led to elaborate somewhat the 
views of the Justices for whom he spoke 
in order to remove any apprehension that 
they shared the extreme position appar- 
ently taken by Mr. Justice Brown, as 
interpreted by Mr. Justice Harlan. He 
prefaces his opinion by a statement of 
certain very important propositions 
which may be summarized as follows: 
1. That the Constitution is all control- 
ling and the source of all the powers of 
'government, and that no department of 
government can do any act or proceed in 
any matter unless authority can be found 
in the Constitution either in express 
terms or by lawful implication. 2. That 
there is an important distinction to be ob- 
served between the two characters of re- 
strictions found in the Constitution, 
namely, those which regulate a granted 
power and those which withdraw all au- 
thority on a particular subject. 3. That 
instrument is everywhere and at all 
times potential in so far as its provisions 
are applicable. 4. That the Constitution 
has conferred on Congress the right to 
create municipal organizations as it may 
deem best for all territories of the 
United States, but every applicable ex- 



press limitation of the Constitution is in 
force, and even where there is no express 
command which applies, there may never- 
theless be restrictions of so fundamental a 
nature that they cannot be transgressed, 
though not expressed in so many words; 
hence every provision of the Constitution 
that is applicable to the territories is 
controlling therein and all the limita- 
tions of the Constitution, applicable to 
Congress in governing the territories, 
necessarily limit its powers. 5. That 
where territory has been incorporated 
into and forms a part of the United 
States, Congress is restrained by the 
Constitution from laying and collecting 
duties on goods coming into the United 
States from such territory. 6. Whether 
a particular provision is applicable in- 
volves an inquiry into the situation of the 
territory and its relations to the United 
States, although if the Constitution has 
withheld all power over a given subject, 
it does not follow that such inquiry would 
be necessary. 

As an illustration of the plenitude of 
the power of Congress to create muni- 
cipal organizations for all the territor- 
ies, whether incorporated into the United 
States or not, which Congress has exer- 
cised from the earliest days, the pistrict 
of Columbia is instanced. There have 
been several different forms of Govern- 
ment given the District, some partially 
representative, some largely so, but fin- 
ally, as now, a Government totally devoid 
of local representation. Congress is the 
local legislative body, and the Govern- 
ment is administered by officers ap- 
pointed by the President, and not one citi- 
zen of a population of four hundred thou- 
sand has any independent voice in con- 
trolling its affairs. As illustrating that 
the situation of the territory and its re- 
lation to the United States must be taken 
into account in determining the applica- 
bility of a particular provision of the Con- 
stitution, cases are cited where it was 
held by the Supreme Court that the pro- 
visions relating to life tenure of the 
Judges of courts created by Congress 
were not applicable; while on the other 
hand the provisions as to common-law 
juries are applicable. Then again the ap- 
plication of the provision as to juries has 



The Constitution and the Territories. 



297 



been, under different conditions, consid- 
ered in a different aspect. For example, 
the Supreme Court has found power in 
the treaty making clause to create Con- 
sular Courts with authority to try Ameri- 
can citizens in foreign countries, without 
previous indictment by a grand jury or 
the summoning of a petty jury. Here 
the situation was controlling. The Court 
could try the offender by virtue of the 
treaty-making power, but the provision 
guaranteeing a trial by jury was held 
inapplicable. In re Ross, 140 U. S. 453. 
"Undoubtedly," said Mr. Justice White, 
"there are general prohibitions of the 
Constitution in favor of the liberty and 
property of the citizen, which are not 
mere regulations as to the form and 
manner in which a conceded power may 
be exercised, but which are an absolute 
denial of all authority under any cir- 
cumstances or conditions to do particu- 
lar acts. In the nature of things, limi- 
tations of this character cannot be trans- 
cribed, because of the complete absence 
of power." An interesting debate is 
called to mind in the U. S. Senate, in 
1849, when a proposition was made by 
way of amendment to a bill to extend 
the Constitution over California and New 
Mexico. Mr. Webster said: "Mr. Presi- 
dent * * * the thing is utterly impossi- 
ble. All the legislation in the world, in 
this general form, could not accomplish 
it. There is no cause for the operation 
of the legislative power in such a matter 
as that. The Constitution what is it? 
We extend the Constitution of the United 
States? What is the Constitution of the 
United States? Is not its very first prin- 
ciple that all within its influence and 
comprehension shall be represented in 
the legislature which it establishes, 
with not only the right of debate and the 
right to vote in both Houses of Congress, 
but to partake in the choice of the Presi- 
dent and Vice-President? And can we 
by law extend these rights, or any of 
them, to a territory of the United States? 
Everybody will see that it is altogether 
impracticable." Mr. Webster might have 
added that as Congress cannot put the 
Constitution into operation in a terri- 
tory the Constitution cannot automati- 
cally put itself in force in a territory. 



Being interrogated as to whether it is 
not obligatory upon territorial officers 
to administer the laws according to the 
principles of the Constitution, as well 
as upon Congress in legislating for the 
territories, Mr. Webster said: "I never 
said it was not obligatory upon them. 
What I said was, that in making laws for 
these territories it was the high duty of 
Congress to regard those great princi- 
ples in the Constitution intended for 
the security of personal liberty and for 
the security of property." "There is in 
reason, then," says Mr. Justice White, 
"no room in this case to contend that 
Congress can destroy the liberties of the 
people of Porto Rico by exercising in 
their regard powers against freedom and 
justice which the Constitution has abso- 
lutely denied." And he then states the 
sole and only issue to be, "not whether 
Congress has taxed Porto Rico without 
representation for whether the law was 
local or national, it could have been im- 
posed although Porto Rico had no repre- 
sentative local government and was not 
represented in Congress but whether 
the particular tax in question was levied 
in such form as to be repugnant to the 
Constitution. "This," he says, "is to be 
resolved by answering the inquiry, Had 
Porto Rico at the time of the passage of 
the act in question (the Foraker Act) 
been incorporated into and become an 
integral part of the United States?" The 
learned Justice then proceeds to exam- 
ine the subject from the Constitution 
itself, as a matter of first impression, 
from that instrument as illustrated by 
the history of the Government, and as 
construed by the decisions of the Su- 
preme Court. He then declares the fol- 
lowing principle of international law, 
which he supports by many high authori- 
ties, namely, that every Government 
which is sovereign within its sphere cf 
action, possesses as an inherent attri- 
bute the power to acquire territory by 
discovery, by agreement or treaty, and 
by conquest; and that as a general rule 
whenever a Government acquires terri- 
tory by any of the modes mentioned, 
the relation of the territory to the 
new Government is to be determined 
by the acquiring power in the ab- 



298 



Overland Monthly. 



sence of stipulations on the subject. He 
then shows that our Government has ac- 
quired territory by all the modes known 
to international law. In 1803 Louisiana 
was ceded by France; in 1819 Florida by 
Spain; Oregon by discovery, as is now 
claimed; Texas in 1845 by compact with 
Congress; California and New Mexico -in 
1848 by treaty at the close of a war; 
the Gadsden purchase from Mexico, 
1853; numerous islands under the Act 
of 1856, usually designated as the Guano 
Islands Act; Alaska ceded by Russia in 
1867; Medway Island, one of the Hawai- 
ian group in 1867; and Pearl Harbor in 
the same year; Hawaiian Islands in 1898 
came under our sovereignty, and in 1890 
by act of Congress they were given the 
status of an incorporated territory; joint 
administration of the Samoan Islands, 
with Great Britain and Germany, in 1890, 
and in 1900 all rights to certain of these 
islands were renounced to the United 
States; and finally the treaty with Spain, 
which terminated the recent war, was 
ratified. 

If it be conceded that the United States 
may acquire territory, but it be claimed 
that all such territory when acquired 
becomes absolutely incorporated into the 
United States and every provision of the 
Constitution which would apply becomes 
at once controlling, this, says the opinion, 
"is but to admit the power to acquire, 
and immediately to deny, its beneficial 
existence." But it is said: "To concede 
to the Government of the United States 
the right to acquire, and to strip it of 
all power to protect the birthright of 
its own citizens, and to provide for the 
well being of the acquired territory by 
such enactments as may in view of its 
conditions be essential, is, in effect, to 
say that the United States is helpless 
in the family of nations, and does not 
possess that authority which has at all 
times been treated as an incident of the 
right to acquire." Illustrations are given 
of the discovery of unknown islands, peo- 
pled by an uncivilized race, yet rich 
in soil and valuable to the United States 
for commercial or strategic reasons. By 
the law of nations the right to ratify 
such acquisition and thus to acquire the 
territory would pertain to the United 



States. Can it be said that the Govern- 
ment could not exercise its right in such 
a case without endowing the inhabitants 
with citizenship and subjecting them not 
only to local, but also to an equal propor- 
tion of national taxes "even although the 
consequence would be to entail ruin on 
the discovered territory and inflict grave 
detriment on the United States, to arise 
from the dislocation of its fiscal system 
and the immediate bestowal of citizen- 
ship on those absolutely unfit to receive 
it?" The Act of Congress of 1856, known 
as the Guano Islands Act, already re- 
ferred to, is instanced, by which islands 
discovered by American citizens, un- 
claimed by other countries, were taken 
into possession "as appertaining to the 
United States," of which there are now 
some seventy under occupation; and the 
power has been held by the Supreme 
Court to be lawfully exercised and treated 
as "appurtenant" to the United States. 
(Jones v. U. S., 137 U. S. 202.) 

The principle is equally applicable 
where ownership occurs from conquest. 
Illustrations are given. During a just 
war the enemy's territory is invaded and 
occupied. "Would not the war, even if 
waged successfully, be fraught with dan- 
ger if the effect of occupation was neces- 
sarily to incorporate an alien and hostile 
people into the United States?" Again, 
"suppose at the termination of the war, 
the hostile Government had been over- 
thrown and the entire territory was oc- 
cupied by the United States and there 
was no Government with which to treat 
or none willing to cede by treaty, and it 
thus became necessary to hold the con- 
quered country for an indefinite period, 
or at least until Congress deemed that 
it should be released or incorporated 
into the United States. If holding was 
to have the effect to make it an integral 
part of the United States with all attend- 
ant results, would not the retention be 
fraught with such danger to the Ameri- 
can people that the power could not be 
safely exercised?" But if there should 
be a hostile Government capable of en- 
tering into engagements at the close of 
a war, and the authority by treaty is 
limited as is claimed, it would be im- 
possible to terminate a successful war by 



The Constitution and the Territories. 



299 



acquiring territory through a treaty, 
without immediately incorporating such 
territory into the United States. 

Looking next at the nature of our 
Constitutional Government, it is shown 
that if the treaty-making power can ab- 
solutely, without the consent of Con- 
gress, incorporate territory, and if that 
power may not insert in the treaty condi- 
tions against incorporation, it must fol- 
low that the treaty-making power is en- 
dowed by the Constitution with the most 
unlimited right, susceptible of destroy- 
ing every other provision of the Consti- 
tion; "that is, it may wreck our insti- 
tutions." "If the proposition be true," 
continued the opinion, "then millions of 
inhabitants of alien territory, if acquired 
by treaty, can, without the desire or con- 
sent of the people of the United States, 
speaking through Congress, be immedi- 
ately and irrevocably incorporated into 
the United States, and the whole struc- 
ture of the Government be overthrown." 
And it is pointed out that such construc- 
tion of the powers of Government would 
be an enormous aggrandizement of the 
treaty-making power on the one hand, 
while minimizing it on the other, "in 
that it strips that authority of any right 
to acquire territory upon any condition 
which would guard the people of the 
United States from the evil of immediate 
incorporation. The treaty-making power, 
then, under this construction, instead of 
having the symmetrical functions which 
belong to it from its very nature, becomes 
distorted invested with the right to de- 
stroy on the one hand, and deprived of 
all power to protect the Government on 
the other." 

From another point of view the princi- 
ple asserted is shown to be antagonistic 
both to the express provisions and the 
spirit of the Constitution. If it be true 
that the treaty-making power is as great 
as is claimed, what becomes of the branch 
of Congress peculiarly representative of 
the people what is left of the functions 
of the House of Representatives? That 
body may be unwilling to consent to im- 
mediate incorporation, but if incorpora- 
tion follows inevitably upon cession by 
treaty then the consequences are beyond 
the hope of redress. And yet the Con- 



stitution confers upon Congress the 
power to regulate commerce, the right 
to raise revenue bills for which must 
originate in the House of Representatives 
the authority to prescribe uniform nat- 
uralization laws, all of which might be set 
at naught by the exercise of the treaty- 
making power. 

It has been suggested that the evil of 
immediate incorporation may be cor- 
rected by Congress exercising its power 
to dispose of the territory, i. e., by ceding 
it away to some other nation or abandon- 
ing it to its fate. Justice White meets 
this solution of the question by the bold, 
and what must commend itself as a high- 
ly patriotic view of the power of Con- 
gress over a territory once incorporated 
and become an integral part of the Union. 
He holds that relinquishment or cession 
of sovereignty would be a violation of 
our fundamental law and beyond the pow- 
ers of Government. It is shown that when 
Mr. Jefferson was Secretary of State un- 
der President Washington, in a report 
relating to certain proposed negotiations 
between this Government and Spain con- 
cerning our right to navigate the lower 
part of the Mississippi, he said to the 
President: "We have nothing else (than a 
relinquishment of certain claims on Spain) 
to give in exchange. For as to territory 
we have neither the right nor the dispo- 
sition to alienate an inch of what belongs 
to any member of our Union." Mr. Ham- 
ilton, then Secretary of the Treasury, sug- 
gested a possible distinction between the 
peopled and unpeopled portions of ter- 
ritory. But Mr. Jefferson said, "If we 
may go out of that instrument (the 
(the Constitution) and accommodate to 
exigencies which may arise by alienating 
the unpeopled territory of a State, we 
may accommodate ourselves a little more 
by alienating that which is peopled, and 
still a little more by selling the people 
themselves." And it is shown that these 
views met the approval of President 
Washington. It is conceded that from the 
exigency of a calamitous war or the set- 
tlement of boundaries, it may be that 
citizens of the United States may be ex- 
patriated by the action of the treaty-mak- 
ing power, impliedly or expressly ratified 
by Congress; but these conditions cannot 



300 



Overland Monthly. 



justify the general proposition that terri- 
tory which is an integral part of the 
United States may, as a mere act of sale, 
be disposed of. 

It is shown that there has not been 
a single cession made from the time of 
the Confederation up to the present day, 
excluding the recent treaty with Spain, 
which has not contained stipulations to 
the effect that the United States, through 
Congress, would either not disincorpor- 
ate or would incorporate the ceded 
territory into the United States. This 
is shown by a careful analysis of the 
steps taken by our Government through- 
out the period, both by the legis- 
lative and executive department, all 
leading to the conclusion already indi- 
cated. Following an exhaustive examin- 
ation of the action of our Government, 
including the acts of Congress relative 
to the Louisiana purchase, the opinion 
states as indubitably resulting: first, an 
agreement among all parties that the Gov- 
ernment had the undoubted right to ac- 
quire, hold, and govern the territory as a 
possession, and that incorporation into 
the United States could under no circum- 
stances arise solely from a treaty of 
cession; second, it was even strenuously 
denied by many eminent men that, in 
acquiring territory, citizenship could be 
conferred upon the inhabitants within 
the acquired territory; i. e., it was denied 
that territory could be incorporated with- 
out an amendment to the Constitution; 
and, third, that agreements by the treaty- 
making power were but promises depend- 
ing for their fulfillment on the future 
action of Congress. And it was in ac- 
cordance with this view that the territory 
acquired by the Louisiana purchase was 
governed as a mere dependency until, 
conformably with Mr. Jefferson's sugges- 
tion, it was incorporated as a territory 
into the United States by the action of 
Congress, and the same rights were con- 
ferred in the same mode by which other 
territories had previously been incor- 
porated. After referring to the principles 
of the law of nations, to the nature of 
our government, to the mode in which its 
powers have been executed from the 
beginning, and to an unbroken line of 
decisions of the Supreme Court (the 



latter of which I have not as yet stated 
in their sequence), the learned Justice 
concludes as firmly established: that the 
treaty-making power cannot incorporate 
territory into the United States without 
the implied or express assent of Con- 
gress; that it may insert in a treaty con- 
ditions against immediate incorporation, 
and on the other hand when it has ex- 
pressed conditions favorable to incorpor- 
ation they will, if the treaty be not repu- 
diated by Congress, have the force of 
law, and by the fulfillment of such con- 
ditions cause incorporation to result. 

The argument is thus brought at once 
to the treaty with Spain and the question 
is: Does the treaty contain a provision 
for incorporation, or does it, on the con- 
trary, stipulate that incorporation shall 
not take place from the mere effect of 
the treaty until Congress has so deter- 
mined? By Article II "Spain concedes 
to the United States the island of Porto 
Rico and other islands now under Spanish 
sovereignty, etc." Article IX provides 
that Spanish subjects may remain in the 
ceded territory retaining their rights of 
property, etc., the right to carry on busi- 
ness subject to such laws as are appli- 
cable to other foreigners; in case they 
remain in the territory they may retain 
their allegiance to Spain by making a 
declaration within one year of their in- 
tention, in default of which declaration 
they shall be held to have renounced 
allegiance to Spain and to have adopted 
the nationality of the territory in which 
they may reside. "The civil rights and 
political status of the native inhabitants 
of the territories hereby ceded to the 
United States shall be determined by 
the Congress." Article X secures to the 
inhabitants "the free exercise of their 
religion." It is concluded from the fore- 
going provisions that the treaty does not 
stipulate for incorporation, but, on the 
contrary, expressly provides that the 
"civil rights and political status of the 
native inhabitants of the territory hereby 
ceded" shall be determined by Congress; 
and furthermore that the Foraker Act 
taken as a whole plainly manifests an 
intention that for the present at least, 
Porto Rico is not to be incorporated 
into the United States. 



The Constitution and the Territories. 



301 



Finally the provisions of the treaty 
relating to Cuba are brought into view. 
Spain relinquished "all claim of sover- 
eignty over and title to Cuba'; and it 
was further provided as follows: "And 
as the island is upon the evacuation by 
Spain to be occupied by the United 
States, the United States will, so long as 
such occupation shall last, assume and 
discharge the obligations that may under 
international law result from the fact of 
its occupation and for the protection of 
life and property." Here was a complete 
relinquishment of sovereignty by Spain 
and complete assumption of sovereignty 
by the United States. And yet the Su- 
preme Court held unanimously in a recent 
case (Neely v. Henkel, 180 U. S. 109) 
that, partly in view of circumstances ex- 
traneous to the treaty, Cuba was not in- 
corporated into the United States, and 
was a foreign country. And the opinion 
is expressed that the period when the 
sovereignty of tne United States shall 
cease in Cuba is to be determined by fhe 
legislative branch of government. 

It remains to notice briefly some of the 
earlier adjudications of the Supreme 
Court, chiefly relied on in the argument. 
It is difficult to determine the precise 
value of these decisions as influencing 
the minds of the Court. As often happens 
among judges, differences of opinion 
arise as to what was decided in a par- 
ticular case; sometimes sound principles 
are set aside as dicta, and judges refuse 
to be governed by them because not 
necessary to the decision of the case in 
which they occur; again, cited cases are 
"distinguished" from the 'case in hand 
often on some fanciful difference in the 
facts involved; again, some members of 
the Court will hold the cited case to be 
exactly in point while others will deny 
its applicability altogether; often the 
opinion in a case may embrace questions 
which might be avoided but which can- 
not be said fo be entirely outside the 
issues, and judges sometimes take the 
liberty of holding under these circum- 
stances that the case might have been 
decided on a single question on which all 
would agree and that therefore the 
other questions may be ignored as 
precedents. Notably the Dred Scott 



case was of this character. It could 
have been disposed of on the ques- 
tion of jurisdiction alone and all the 
irritating doctrines enunciated might 
have been avoided. Unfortunately the 
earlier decisions of the Supreme Court 
on the subject before us fail as an un- 
erring and accepted guide to the present 
members of that great tribunal. It would 
serve no useful purpose to give the con- 
flicting interpretations put upon the cases 
to which I shall refer. I shall state 
them so far only as they were interpreted 
in support of the conclusion reached. 

The case of United States v. Rice. 4 
Wheat. 246, (1819) was an action upon a 
bond for duties on goods imported into 
Castine, in the district (now State) of 
Maine, during its temporary occupation 
by British troops in the war of 1812. It 
was held the action would not lie though 
Castine was subsequently evacuated by 
the enemy and restored to the United 
States; that during British occupation 
the sovereignty of the United States 
was suspended and its laws could no 
longer be enforced there and that during 
this period Castine was to be deemed a 
foreign port. Thus the accidental occu- 
pation by the armed forces of another 
country made a port in the State of 
Maine for the time being foreign terri- 
tory. 

The case of Fleming v. Page, 9 How. 
603, (1850) should be considered next, 
although in point of time the case of 
U. S. v. 356 Bales of Cotton; 1 Pet. 511, 
(1828) intervened. Tampico was a Mexi- 
can port temporarily occupied by our 
troops, "the exact condition," as remarked 
by Mr. Justice McKenna, "which, in the 
Rice case, made the port of one of the 
States of our Union English territory." 
Nevertheless Tampico was held to be a 
foreign country, within the meaning of 
our revenue laws and duties were col- 
lected on goods coming from Tampico 
to the port of Philadelphia. The two 
cases the Castine case and the Fleming 
case are apparently antagonistic. Chief 
Justice Taney delivered the opinion of the 
court in the Fleming case. He in effect 
said that the boundaries of our country 
could not be enlarged or diminished by 
the advance or retreat of armies and he 



302 



Overland Monthly. 



placed his decision partly on the fact 
that no custom house had been estab- 
lished at Tampico by Congress, and there 
were no officers there to enforce our 
customs laws; in short that the laws 
of Congress had not been put in force 
there. He said, among other things: 
"This construction of the revenue laws 
has been uniformly given by the admin- 
istrative department of the Government 
in every case that has come before it. 
And it has, indeed, been given in cases 
where there appears to have been 
stronger ground for regarding the place 
of shipment as a domestic port. For 
after Florida had been ceded to the 
United States and the forces of the 
United States had taken possession of 
Pensacola, it was decided by the Treas- 
ury Department that goods imported from 
Pensacola before an act of Congress was 
passed erecting it into a collection dis- 
trict and appointing a collector were 
liable to duty. That is, that although 
Florida had by cession actually become 
a part of the United States and was in 
our possession, yet under our revenue 
laws, its ports must be regarded as 
foreign until they were established as 
domestic by act of Congress." The Chief 
Justice then cited the instance of like 
rulings in the case of Louisiana, and he 
asserted that "in no instance since the 
establishment of the government has the 
department ever recognized a place in a 
newly acquired country as a domestic 
port, from which the coasting trade might 
be carried on, unless it had been pre- 
viously made so by Congress." 

These two cases illustrate what I 
me'ntioned a moment ago as to disagree- 
ment among Judges concerning decided 
cases. Mr. Justice Story in the Rice case 
said that Castine was a foreign country, 
within the meaning of our customs laws, 
as much as if "Castine had been a foreign 
territory ceded by treaty to the United 
States, and the goods had been previously 
imported there." And yet Castine was a 
port in a State of this Union temporarily 
occupied by the enemy; in other words 
was for the time English territory. In 
the Fleming case, however, it was held 
that our occupation of Tampico did not 
make that port American territory for the 



time but it remained a foreign country, 
and duties could be collected on goods 
coming thence to this country. Mr. Jus- 
tice McKenna reconciled the two cases 
by adopting the reasons given by Chief 
Justice Taney that duties were collect- 
able because our customs laws had not 
been extended to this Mexican territory 
by Congress. On the other hand, Mr. 
Justice Brown rejected the reasons of 
the Chief Justice as dicta and reconciled 
the two cases on entirely different 
grounds after having expunged the alleged 
dicta. He was forced to do this or over- 
rule the case altogether in reaching the 
conclusion he did in the De Lima case. 
Mr. Justice McKenna took the view that 
"both cases recognized inevitable con- 
ditions. At Castine the instrumentalities 
of the customs laws had been devested; 
at Tampico they had been invested, and 
hence the language of the Court: 'The 
department in no instance * * has ever 
recognized a place in a newly acquired 
country as a domestic port, from which 
the coasting trade might be carried on, 
unless it had previously been made so 
by Act of Congress.' " This doctrine had 
the sanction of great names and was prac- 
ticed by the founders of the Republic as 
consonant with our constitutional govern- 
ment. 

Returning to American Ins. Co. v. 356 
Bales of Cotton (1 Pet. 511,) (1828) 
sometimes called the Canter case. This 
cotton had been wrecked on the coast 
of Florida and abandoned to the insur- 
ance companies and subsequently brought 
to Charleston. Canter claimed the cotton 
as purchaser at a marshal's sale at Key 
West, by virtue of a decree of a terri- 
torial court consisting of a notary and 
five jurors, proceeding under an act of 
the Governor and legislative Council of 
the territory of Florida. The question 
was whether this sale devested the inter- 
est of the underwriters, and the case 
was brought in the United States district 
Court for South Carolina. This court 
held the proceedings in Florida to be a 
nullity, and both parties appealed to the 
United States Circuit Court. This latter 
Court held that the proceedings at Key 
West were legal, and transferred the 
property to Canter, the purchaser, and 



The Constitution and the Territories. 



303 



the underwriters appealed to the Supreme 
Court. Mr. Justice Johnson, of the Su- 
preme Court, sat at the Circuit to try 
the case, and his opinion at the Circuit 
was deemed of such importance that it 
was published in the report with the 
opinions of the Justices who heard the 
appeal with him in the Supreme Court. 
His decision at the Circuit was affirmed, 
Chief Justice Marshall presiding and de- 
livering the opinion. Mr. Webster was of 
counsel in the case and it was in the 
course of his argument he said: "What 
is Florida? It is no part of the United 
States. How can it be? How is it repre- 
sented? Do the laws of the United States 
reach Florida? Not unless by particular 
provisions." The contention of appellants 
was that the Constitution vested the 
admiralty jurisdiction exclusively in the 
general government, and that the legisla- 
ture of Florida had exercised an illegal 
power in organizing this court and that 
its decrees were void. On behalf of Can- 
ter, the purchaser, it was argued that 
the Constitution and laws of the United 
States were not per se in force in Florida, 
nor the inhabitants citizens of the United 
States; that if the Constitution were in 
force in Florida it was unnecessary to 
pass an act extending the laws of the 
United States to Florida. It was in the 
course of his opinion that Chief Justice 
Marshall said, in affirming the decree: 
that the Court "should take into view 
the relation in which Florida stands to 
the United States; that territory ceded 
by treaty becomes a part of the nation 
to which it is annexed, either on the 
terms stipulated in the treaty of cession, 
or on such as its new master shall im- 
pose." He held that the courts of Florida 
were not "Constitutional Courts in which 
the judicial power conferred by the Con- 
stitution on the general government can 
be deposited," but that "they are legis- 
lative courts, created in virtue of the 
territorial clause of the Constitution; 
and the act of the territorial legislature 
creating the court, which awarded the 
cotton to Canter, was held not to be "in- 
consistent with the laws and Constitu- 
tion of the United States." The import- 
ance of the case lies in the inference to 
which it gives rise, namely, that the Con- 



stitution and laws of the United States 
do not of their own force go into imme- 
diate operation in ceded territory; that 
if the clauses of the Constitution re- 
lating to the judiciary do not operate 
in a territory it is fair to assume that 
there may be other clauses, upon other 
subjects, which are not applicable. Mr. 
Justice Johnson made an important 
distinction between the territory acquired 
from the aborigines, within the acknowl- 
edged limits of the United States, as 
also that which was acquired by the 
establishment of a disputed line, and 
territory previously subject to the 
acknowledged jurisdiction of another 
sovereign, such as was Florida to the 
crown of Spain. And as to territory 
situated as was Florida he said: "We 
have the most explicit proof that the 
understanding of our public functionaries 
is that the government and laws of the 
United States do not extend to such 
territory by the mere act of cession." 

The case of Cross v. Harrison, 16 How. 
164 (1853) was relied on by all parties 
in the argument at bar, and there was 
radical difference as to its meaning as 
expressed by Mr. Justice Brown in the 
De Lima case and the view taken by the 
dissenting Justices. For this reason Mr. 
Justice McKjenna said: "It, therefore, 
challenges the application of the wise 
maxim expressed by Chief Justice Mar- 
shall, 'That general expressions in every 
opinion are to be taken in connection 
with the case in which these expressions 
are used.' " The case involved the legality 
of duties on imports into Dalifornia be- 
tween the 3rd day of February, 1848, and 
the 13th day of November, 1849. The 
first of these dates was that of the 
treaty of peace between tue United States 
and Mexico and the latter when Mr. 
Collier, who had been regularly appointed 
Collector at the port of San Francisco, 
had entered upon his duties. It was 
claimed by plaintiffs that during this en- 
tire period there existed no legal author- 
ity to receive or collect any duty what- 
ever accruing upon goods imported from 
foreign countries. The court held that 
duties were legally levied during the 
whole of the period from February 3, 
1848, until sometime in the following 



304 



Overland Monthly. 



fall under the war tariff instituted by 
Governor Mason, and after that under 
the Walker tariff Act of 1846. Harrison 
was collector of the port by appointment 
of the Military Governor, Colonel Mason, 
and he collected duties in question on 
goods imported into California from for- 
eign countries. If California was then 
a foreign country in the sense of the 
customs clause of the Constitution it was 
contended that the duties were not col- 
lectable. It will be observed that Mr. 
Justice Brown used this case to support 
his conclusion in the De Lima case, i. e., 
as showing that Porto Rico was not a 
foreign territory after cession; but he did 
not find that California case as standing 
in his way when he reached the Downes 
case, and the broader question of the 
power of Congress over the territories 
was to be determined. On this point 
I understand that all his concurring as- 
sociates in the Downes case agreed. It 
is, therefore, not important to show the 
peculiar circumstances and facts, in view 
of which Cross v. Harrison was decided. 
These facts were so unlike those appear- 
ing in any case that preceded it, that the 
case loses much of its value as a prece- 
dent. The fact that the treaty with 
Mexico brought in the new territory by 
a change of boundaries was thought to 
have influenced the decision; again, the 
military occupation of the country and 
the action of Colonel Mason, as Mili- 
tary Governor, in establishing a custom 
house, appointing a collector and pro- 
ceeding to enforce at first the tariff he 
had established and later the general 
tariff law of the United States, either 
with the previous approval or subsequent 
ratification of the Executive; these and 
other facts had more or less influence on 
the minds of the court in deciding the 
case. It may be dismissed as cutting but 
little figure in the main proposition. 

There were important side lights 
thrown upon the discussion of the main 
question before the court, by citations 
of other cases, but the foregoing were 
the principal of the earlier cases relied 
on. There were many illustrations and 
reasons advanced in support of the decis- 
ion in the Downes case, which could not 
in any reasonable limit be given here. 



It is believed, however, that enough has 
been shown to enable the intelligent 
reader to fully comprehend what was de- 
cided and the chief reasons on which the 
decision rests; and also to enable us to 
forecast with some degree of certainty 
the status of the Philippines. Mr. Jus- 
tice McKenna in concluding his opinion 
stated with truth that the demonstra- 
tion made in the two cases did more 
than declare the legality of the duties 
levied on the sugars and the oranges of 
the several plaintiffs. It aimed to reach 
a wise and sound construction of the 
Constitution made from that instrument 
itself, from the immediate and continued 
practice of the Government under it, and 
from judicial authority. In a fervent 
and dignified statement of the meaning 
and consequences of the decision the 
opinion concludes as follows: "It vindi- 
cates the Government from national and 
international weakness. It exhibits the 
Constitution as a charter of great and 
vital authorities, with limitations indeed, 
but with such limitations as serve and 
assist the Government, not destroy it. 
* * * All powers of government, placed 
in harmony under the Constitution, the 
rights and liberties of every citizen, put 
to no hazard or impairment; the power of 
the nation also secured in its great sta- 
tion, enabled to move with strength and 
dignity and effect among the other na- 
tions of the earth to such purpose as it 
may undertake or to such destiny as 
it may be called." 

The status of Porto Rico is determined 
and these decisions have in fact ceased 
to affect that island as to the immediate 
question before the court, for since its 
promulgation the legislature of Porto 
Rico has exercised the option given it 
by the Foraker Act and absolute free 
trade between the island and the United 
States is established. But what of the 
Philippines? Here are important and ex- 
tensive possessions containing ten mil- 
lions of people of alien races, only a small 
per cent, of whom are presently fitted 
to take upon themselves the duties and 
responsibilities of self-government. The 
islands are rich in varied resources, more 
or less developed, but capable of indefi- 
nite expansion. A large number of the 



The Constitution and the Territories. 




inhabitants, all agree, have capacities for 
agricultural and mechanical employ- 
ments. They can be put into the fields 
as producers of rice, sugar, tobacco and 
other products which may come into dan- 
gerous competition with like products 
grown in the States; the Filipinos are 
quick to learn the use of tools and ma- 
chinery and may be put into factories 
where, at low wages, their products 
might become a serious menace to our 
factories in the States where the scale 
of living and of wages is much higher 
than in the islands. Against competition 
in the direction above indicated the decis- 
ion in the Porto Rico cases has, I think, 
erected an impassable barrier and has 
left the whole subject with Congress. 
This is perhaps the question of prime 
importance to the people of the organ- 
ized States and territories. Other ques- 
tions concern more particularly the peo- 
ple of the islands themselves. How far 
they are to become endowed with com- 
plete citizenship, are to receive the pro- 
tection of the guarantees of the Consti- 
tution, in the future legislation of Con- 
gress, relating to personal liberty, the 
right of private property, of freedom of 
religious worship, of the right of contract, 
of trial by jury, and the provisions gen- 
erally of our bill of rights, may safely 
be entrusted to Congress. There is to 
be found in the history of congressional 
legislation concerning the territories no 
justification for apprehending unjust and 
oppressive action towards the inhabitants 
of our new possessions. Principles of 
natural justice are inherent in the very 
character of our people and will ever 
be a guarantee against legislation hos- 
tile to the best interests of the territories. 
When apprehensions of danger are ex- 
pressed that the natural rights of the in- 
habitants of the Philippines may become 
engulfed in a centralized despotism, it 
should be remembered that this is a 
Government of the people and by the 
people, and that Congress is but the 
instrumentality by which the people give 
expression to .their wishes and their 
policies. To impeach the justice and wis- 
dom of Congress is to deny those attri- 
butes to the people themselves. In one 



of the majority opinions it was said: 
"If those possessions are inhabited by 
alien races, differing from us in religion, 
customs, laws, methods of taxation, and 
modes of thought, the administration of 
Government and justice, according to 
Anglo-Saxon principles, may for a time 
be impossible; and the question arises 
whether large concessions ought not to 
be made for the time, that ultimately our 
own theories may be carried out, and the 
blessings of a free Government under 
the Constitution extended to them. We 
decline to hold that there is anything in 
the Constitution to forbid such action." 

It may be assumed, I think, that in pro- 
viding municipal Government for the 
people of the Philippines, Congress will 
be upheld by the Supreme Court in exer- 
cising its discretion subject only to such 
limitations as are plainly indicated by 
the opinions I have endeavored to 
analyze. It is to be doubted whether 
Congress could by any possibility devise 
a form of organization at the present time 
that could at once be made applicable 
alike to all the different islands and peo- 
ples of that archipelago as one territory. 
The people of this country are to be 
congratulated that the court of last re- 
sort has refused to usurp to itself political 
functions of Government, by denying to 
Congress the power to deal with the 
complex political relations of our new 
possessions to the United States. For 
the hundredth time that great judicial 
tribunal has with self-poise and a high 
sense of patriotic duty, left to the execu- 
tive and legislative department of Gov- 
ernment the momentous questions pecu- 
liarly committed by the Constitution to 
these departments, and has practically 
left with the people themselves, acting 
through their chosen servants and repre- 
sentatives, the ultimate determination of 
those great political problems of Govern- 
ment with which the judiciary has, in 
a spirit of the loftiest patriotism, ever 
refused to intermeddle. 

The treaty declared as follows: "The 
civil rights and political status pf the 
native inhabitants of the territories here- 
by ceded to the United States shjjll be 
determined by Congress." So let it be. 



20 




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STORIES FROM AFIELD. 



"BENO SLIM." 



BY GEORGE D. ABBOTT. 



(3 



RIVATE Jonas Strong, as he was 
known on the Roll of "G" Company, 
but "Beno Slim" as he was called 
by comrade and native alike, was 
certainly incorrigible. 

"Nothing can save that man from an 
untimely death but a term in Bilibid," 
remarked Captain Barnes, as he sat under 
the cool roof of his nipa quarters in the 
sleepy little Filipino pueblo of Santa 
Clara del Mar, one sunny afternoon. The 
sun was shining with its tropical inten- 
sity, and the plaza fronting the Captain's 
house was as destitute of life as were 
the two long, straggling palm-lined 
streets that crossed it at right angles. 
Even the green leaved banana drooped 
and took on a dusty shade; the earth 
itself was parched and crackling, for the 
hour of siesta is the drowsiest time of the 
oppressive Oriental day. The natives' 
presence could only be detected by an 
occasional pair of bare black feet resting 
on a window ledge, while the owner, 
stretched at full length on the floor, was 
gently dreaming perhaps of Filipino in- 
dependence. 

Presently the subject of the officer's 
remark came walking across the plaza, 
with a tired sentry close behind him. 
"Yes, Julia," the Captain continued, 
"that man, who, outside his unfortunate 
habit of vino drinking, is a thorough 
soldier, is fast approaching the stage 
whose finale is coffin transportation to 
the States; he, simply speaking, is drink- 
ing himself to death. Were it beer, or 
even bad American whisky, there would 
be hope, but, once acquired, this taste 
for vino holds a man as firmly as the 
opium habit." 

"But," interposed his wife, "can't you 
appeal to his manly qualities, and save 



him he looks like a well-bred, gentle- 
manly fellow?" 

"It is no use, for he has reached the 
state where manliness, self-control, and 
even honesty have all been obliterated 
by his unquenchable thirst for the native 
poison." 

A knock at the door, a piteous, half 
maudlin appeal for release by the soldier, 
a curt reply of refusal on the officer's 
part, and "Beno Slim" once more went 
back to his usual resting place the 
guard-house vowing that he would get 
even with Barnes yet. 

To the surprise of both soldiers and 
natives, for he was something of a town 
character, "Slim" drank no more, and a 
few days later was doing company duty 
again. A letter reposing in the pocket 
of his faded blue shirt was the cause of 
it. His mother was dead the mother 
who had trusted him so, and but a few 
months before had said a half tearful, 
half proud, farewell as the transport had 
steamed away from the wharf, out 
through the Golden Gate, bearing that 
son for whom she had planned, as 
mothers alone will, such a future. And 
now he had come to this a disgrace to 
his company and himself, the butt even 
of the Filipinos' ridicule. So he stopped 
drinking, and while his comrades chaffed 
he went about his duty with a heart of 
lead, saying nothing. 

Then came an order for all Volunteer 
officers' wives to leave the islands by a 
certain date, if they desired free trans- 
portation to the United States, and in 
compliance with it the Captain's wife 
made her preparations to go. One morn- 
ing, just as the east took on its glow that 
betokens the coming of the tropic sun, 
Mrs. Barnes bid her husband adios, and 



308 



Overland Monthly. 



started for the railroad in a carrometta, 
having for an escort a detail of eight of 
"G" Company's sun-burned and ever 
weary privates under the command of an 
equally tired Corporal. (For despite the 
easy time our boys are supposed to have 
in the Orient, "the urgency of the situa- 
tion" keeps the men overworked and 
wearied, while the officers sit in the 
shade and smoite choice cigars, and like 
great spiders, weave a web of drills, 
fatigue duty, and useless marches for 
their commands.) 

The highway from Santa Clara to the 
railway station, a distance of sixteen 
miles, is a typical Filipino trail. Narrow 
and ever winding it seemed ten times 
sixteen to the dusty men who tramped 
beside the carriage. Mrs. Barnes, well 
protected from the sun, looked with inter- 
est upon this familiar picture, which 
now for the last time was passing be- 
fore her vision. 

Green stately mangos, loaded with 
their yellow fruit, lined either side, the 
breaks between disclosing brown rice 
fields, filled with busy natives stacking 
the newly cut rice. Every nipa hut was 
a center of industry. Outside one mem- 
ber of the family was pounding palay 
for the next meai, in a bowl cut in the 
top of a huge log, swinging a great sledge 
that struck with a monotonous thump, 
thump, thump. Inside others were busily 
platting hats of bamboo, or weaving the 
curious cigarette cases of rattan. All 
was peaceful activity; and as she passed 
along M!rs. Barnes thought how much 
better was all this, than the struggle 
these same toilers had been making 
against authority. 

About half of the journey was done, 
and a rest was being enjoyed by the 
perspiring guards under the scant shade 
of a clump of bamboo, and there among 
them sat "Be