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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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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
QC
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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
" Always on top"
is the judgment expressed
by those whose experience with
inferior shade rollers has conclu-
sively proven the supremacy of the
improved Hartshorn
4 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-
AVOID
IMITATIONS
er.
NO
TACKS
The
Murdock Press
C. A. Murdock & Co.
PRINTERS AND ENGRAVERS
532 Clay St., San Francisco, Cal.
206POV/ELL
SAN FRANCISCOjCAi
Books
MAGAZINES
AND
PAMPHLET
BOUGHT; AND So
A.A.DAUY.
HL.CURRAN.
w '-V^ .
SPECIAL ATTENTION
OlVth TO LITERATURE
FVjHLISHEO OH Mil)
RELATING TO THE
,PAC(FIC COAST.
Buswell Company
Bookbinders
Binding and Mailing Weekly Papers and Peri-
odicals of Every Description. Mail Lists
Corrected without Extra Cost than
Regular Weekly Charge
Newspaper and Catalogue Folding and Stitching M
Latest Improved Machinery
536 Clay Street Tel. Red 1461
San Joaquin Oil and
Development Co
CAPITAL STOCK, $100,000
JOHN A. BUNTING, President O. S. SCRIBNER, Vice-President
J. F. DAVIS, Secretary
OFFICES:
Bakersfield and Room 38 Crocker Bldg., San Francisco
OWNS FOUR HUNDRED ACRES OF PATENTED LAND.
LOCATED SECTION 5, T. 29, S. R. 28 E. IN THE HEART OF THE KERN RIVER
DISTRICT. IT POSSESSES TWENTY-THREE COMPLETE WELLS.
IT PRODUCES OVER ONE MILLION TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY THOU-
SAND BARRELS A YEAR. IT OWNS 50 OIL TANK CARS.
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Overland Monthly.
xix
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9
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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 :
IN ASSETS, . $3,167,819.96
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
I
9
I
W A WON A
The Beauty Spot of the Sierras Mariposa Big Tree Grove ', ',
Nearest Resort to the Yotemite
THIS HOTEL OFFER5 THE FINEST ACCOMMODATIONS
OF ANY MOUNTAIN RESORT IN CALIFORNIA
TERMS REASONABLE
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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
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Overland Monthly.
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Overland Monthly.
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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
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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
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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
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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-'
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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
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A New Discovery that Posi-
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ers from Those Dread Dis-
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FEVER.
NOTHING LIKE IT
UNDERTHE SUN
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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
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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
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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
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1901 Models S!2 $10 to $18
'00 & '99 Models t$7 to $12
500 Second Hand Wheels** A
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We ship any bicycle QN APPROVAL to
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DEP'T 32 P.,
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Gold Medal, Paris, 1900.
E. & S. CALIFORNIA.
Stands without a peer in point of purity
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Sold by all first-class druggists and grocers.
50c. and $1.00 a bottle,
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OROVILLE CALIFORNIA
TYPEWRITERS
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DEAFNESS
THE AURAPHONE is a new invention
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STBHDRl PflTTERNS
J. W. EVANS
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.Catalogues FrM
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xv
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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.
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Write H. M. PERNIN, Author. Detroit. Mich.
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VAN NESS SEMINARY,
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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
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moderate in price, thorough in practice
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Send for music and elocution catalogues.
FKABK W. HALE, General Manager, Boiton, MM.
Saint John's School ;
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COLLEGE PREPARATORY AND FINISHING
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The course prepares for eastern and western
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For particulars and for catalogues address
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WILLIAM CORBIN. Secretary.
Office 222 Sansome St., San Francisco, Cal.
California
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8"Also in stock 100 other subjects- among
them Big Trees, Yosemite, Chinese and other
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mail to friends.
DAILY STAGE LINE
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Stages leave Santa Maria for Guadalupe (and con-
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. m. and 10 p. m. (Stage drive of 50 minutes.)
R. D. COOK, Proprietor.
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xvii
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IMITATIONS
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box, or a wnite soap made to looR liRe
tne Ivory. If you want perfume and
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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 * ^
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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,
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risk, and carriage paid to New York.
* *
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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
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versal preference shown for the Rem-
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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
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SAN FRANCISCO: 211 Montgomery St. LOS ANGELES:
147 South Broadway. PORTLAND: 249 Stark St.
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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.
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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
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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
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A New Discovery that Posi-
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NOTHING LIKE IT
UNDERTHE SUN
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NEW YORK CITY.
Thousands have studied and experimented for years to
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and the reason for this is simply in the fact that we have
used in the formula new remedies that have never before
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tunity of testing the merits of our remedy, we will send
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Cure, to anyone who will write for it, and enclose two
two cent postage stamps for mailing. ..You can use the
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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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express order, P. O. money order, bank draft, or registered letter. Money sent in letters is at send-
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FREDERICK MARRIOTT. Publisher, 5% Kearny St.. San Francisco. Entered at San Francisco-
Postoffice as second-class matter.
Overland Monthly.
Eames Tricycles
An Ideal Machine that brings the pleasures
of cycling within the reach of all ; any one
that can walk can ride one of these wheels.
We have also Tricycles for those who re-
quire something to propel with the hands, and
easy Pneumatic-tired Rolling Chairs for In-
valids.
ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUE FREE
EAMES TRICYCLE CO
2100 Market Street
San Francisco . . .
-
bright housewives say
LECTRn
SILVER POLISH
SILICON
is best in every way-Grocers.
THE ELECTRO SILICON CO., NEW YORK.
Redington & Co., San Francisco, Cal.,
W olesale Agents for Pacific Coast.
* A SWELL AFFAIR *
DENTS
Toothache On in
STOPS TOOTHACHE INSTANTLY.
Not a Chewing Gum.
Don't take cheap substitutes. In-
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only reliable. All druggists, 15 cts.,
or sent by mail on receipt of price.
. DETROIT - MICH.
tor*
^TYPEWRITER
is not the
oldest but it
is the best
c s o o
II
iv
Overland Monthly.
A PROSPEROUS
AND PROGRESSIVE CO.
Subscribed Capital ........................................... $12,000,000
Paid-in Capital ............................................... 2,000,000
Profit and Reserve Fund .................................. 250 000
Monthly Income, over .......................... ........ 100*000
ITS PURPOSE IS
In 1 6 1 P *u memb rs to . build homes ' a'so to make loans on improved
property the members giving first liens on their real estate as security.
To help its stockholders to earn from 8 to 12 per cent per annum on their
stock, and to allow them to open deposit accounts bearing interest at the
rate of b per cent per annum.
HOME OFFICE: 222 Sansome St., San Francisco, Cal.
Wm. Corbin, Secretary and General Manager.
re
I
o
01
re
a.
6
o>
re
Q.
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
SUSPENDER
is superior to any suspender you
can wear. Constructed on a scien-
tific principle that gives comfort
under all conditions. Adjusts
itself to every bend of the body.
The genuine has "President" on
the buckles. Every pair guaran-
teed. Trimmings can not rust.
Sold everywhere, 50c., or by mail.
C. A. EDCARTON MFC. CO.
Box 242; Shirley, Mass.
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.
vi
Overland Monthly.
A REMARKABLE OFFER TO OVER LAND MONTHLY SUBSCRIBERS.
NEW 20TH
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IT CONTAINS
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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 ig
It
maps and plans.
12,000,000 More Words
than the largest English
dictionary extant.
has been prepared
at a cost of
about
$3,000,000
The
Brit-
annica
is a lib-
rary so com-
plete that it
covers the entire
range of human
knowledge and is
so reliable that it has
become the standard of
all English speaking coun-
tries. It means for you the
help of the world's greatest
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Can you afford to be without it?
Cut out the attached inquiry blank an
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Overland Monthly.
vii
CALIFORNIA S
COLOSSAL
GREAT MAJESTIC RANGE
McCabc-Johnson Co.. Spokane, Washington; Louis E.
Hdwe Co., Salt Lake City, Utah; Harper & Reynolds
Portland. Oregon; Frederick & Nelson. Seattle, Wash.;
MAJESTIC
MALLEABLE IRON AND STEEL
RANGE
Increasing Sales Each Day: Increasing
Satisfaction for Ambitious
Home Keepers.
WHY?
Works equally well with wood, hard or
soft coal. Heats all the water needed al-
most instantly- Saves one-half the cost
of fuel. Does not clog with ashes or clin-
kers nor allow smoke and dust to escape
into the kitchen. Made of the very best
grade of malleable iron, cannot crack or
break, saving: annoyance and expense-
Flues lined with asbestos board one-fourth
inch in thickness. Entire range riveted
(not bolted), air- tight and dust - tight.
Works well all the time, and lasts for gen-
erations-
Ask for the new booklet "All About
Majestic Ranges and Kitchen Arrange-
ment." Postal brings it.
ilajestic ilfg. Co ,
2014 Morgan St. St. Louis, U. S. A.
The booklet will be furnished and full
information gfven by the following deal-
ers, who carry a stock of MAJESTICS and
can nil orders promptly.
Spear Co., San Francisco, Cal.; Salt Lake
Co., Los Angeles, Cal ; Pier Hdwe Co.,
Coffin & Northrup Co., Boise City, Idaho.
viii
Overland Monthly.
California
GREATEST SUMMER
AND WINTER RE-
SORT IN THE WORLD
Best reached via the
VARIOUS ROUTES
of the
Southern Pacific
Many miles shortest many hours fastest finest
scenery choice of routes limited trains per-
sonally conducted tourist excursions.
ACROSS THE CONTINENT
Details at nearest office
Southern Pacific
Write to
4 Montgomery St., 349 Broadway,
San Francisco. New York.
238 Clark St., Chicago.
California limited
Rolling
Inn
Swift and splendid rolling on
the California Limited
San Francisco to Chicago
in 75 hours
Santa Fe
Ticket Office, 641 Market St.
[land Ferry Depot
PACIFIC ($|VST
^ J A P\J r ^s L- -^
AND
MAS THE
THE
BULLETIN
* 5
CENTS A MONT
ION I NCUJDED
SAMPLE COPIES MAI Ltd FREE
THE
BULLETI!
*.
ST. SAN FRANCISCO
Overland Monthly.
ix
To O\ir Readers:
Since the OVERLAND MONTHLY changed ownership one year ago, its
improvement has been continuous. Its circulation has steadily increased. Many
thousand new subscribers have been added to its lists.
The OVERLAND MONTHLY is practically the only illustrated magazine of
the West. We intend that this fact shall be thoroughly recognized and no
efforts will be spared to increase its popularity.
We want the friends of our subscribers as regular readers. We therefore ask
you to send to us on the accompanying blanks the names and addresses of your
friends and acquaintances. It will be a favor to us and to them, for the attrac-
tions of the OVERLAND MONTHLY will be at once placed before them. We
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FILL OUT THESE BLANKS WITH THE NAMES OF YOUR FRIENDS.
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viii
Overland Monthly.
California
GREATEST SUMMER
AND WINTER RE-
SORT IN THE WORLD
Best reached via the
VARIOUS ROUTES
of the
Southern Pacific
Manv miles shortest many hours fastest finest
scenery choice of routes limited trains per-
sonally conducted tourist excursions.
ACROSS THE CONTINENT
Details at nearest office
Southern Pacific
Write to
4 Montgomery St.,
San Francisco.
349 Broadway,
New York.
238 Clark St., Chicago.
rw.
California limited
Rolling
Inn
Swift and splendid rolling on
the California Limited
San Francisco to Chicago
in 75 hours
Santa Fe
Ticket Office, 641 Market St.
['.and Ferry Depot
PAC
/^ * *.t -^
( rtAS THE
tke
THE
BULLETIN
* 50 ,
CENTS A MONT
Si'Ni/\y EDITION I WCIUDED
SAMPLE COPIES MAI Ltd FREE
THE
BULLETI1
5r. SAN FRANCISCO
Overland Monthly.
ix
To Our Readers:
Since the OVERLAND MONTHLY changed ownership one year ago, its
improvement has been continuous. Its circulation has steadily increased. Many
thousand new subscribers have been added to its lists.
The OVERLAND MONTHLY is practically the only illustrated magazine of
the West. We intend that this fact shall be thoroughly recognized and no
efforts will be spared to increase its popularity.
We want the friends of our subscribers as regular readers. We therefore ask
you to send to us on the accompanying blanks the names and addresses of your
friends and acquaintances. It will be a favor to us and to them, for the attrac-
tions of the OVERLAND MONTHLY will be at once placed before them. We
thank you in advance.
F. MARRIOTT, Publisher.
FILL OUT THESE BLANKS WITH THE NAMES OF YOUR FRIENDS.
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OVERLAND MONTHLY, *V* KEARNY STREET, s. F.
Overland Monthly.
******
A scene on the MURPHY RANCH, near Sunnyvale.
II Grossman & Orvis, A g ents :l
42 E. SANTA CLARA ST., SAN JOSE, CAL.
Lands for sale in all parts of Santa Clara County. |
WRITE US FOR CATALOGUES OF OUR PROPERTIES \\
i*************************************************************
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 HcAllister St., Tel. Jessie 366. flAlN OFFICE: 222 Sansome St.
W. L. H. GELDERT. AGENT.
6 North 2nd St., San Jose, Cal.
SAN FRANCISCO,
xii
Overland Monthly.
1AKE DINTING <pLATE<
/E MAKE A SPECIALTY OF MAKING^
THEM FLIGHT. -
OUR PLANT is MODERN, OUR MACHINERY*
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
A5 WELL AS DUALITY.
I42-I44-I46
Overland Monthly.
xiii
^ -^ x^cS-re^-SS^v ^f- . . ^T
Devoted to the Leading Interests of California and the Pacific Coast.
You de/ire to re&ch
people <y \ve<K &r\d
refirxemarvt sr\ the a
Pacific cs^/t? *
TK^re i/ r\ nr\^r<a di-
rect m^r\r\er to do
T r\ 1 /* T r\ r\ T^V T r\ V 1 O \ J < r\
^1\1/ vlv o\ l \ Lj\r -^Xx^xiv
the calumny s/ 1 the
m 1856 it h^y ever
jsyed circul^tisn arzd if Ixi&nce
d,d wst ec?jucv(10.Gl by
pufolic^tiorx. Itr csaterxt/ 1
o/ &v cK^^d^c'ter which m&vke
certain tK&t every reader vril
peru/e ea^ch i/yuc carefully.
Get /as, Tuple cjapy b,r\d
v v
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
Sentences wrl 1 1 e n
in an hour by the
PERNIN. non-shad-
ing, nou - 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.
The Music of oar Churches
would be greatly improved if more
organists and singers knew the
methods of the
.
CONSERVATORY
OF MUSIC
We will send to any one inter-
ested an illustrated catalogue and
all particulars relating to our School
of Music and Elocution.
George W. Oiadiuick, Mus. Direc.
Address all correspondence to
FRANK W. HALE, Gen. Man., Boston, Mass.
-*,
\ Saint John's School ;
Santa Barbara, Cat*
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.
Gold Medal, Paris, 1900.
E. & 8. CALIFORNIA.
Olive Oil.
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
A. Zellerbach & Sons
OF ALL KINDS
4 J 6-426 Sansome St., S. F.
Los Angeles Branch 311 N. Main St.
BLAKE, MOFFIT
& TOWNE
TELEPHONE MAIN 199.
55-57-59-61 First St.. S F.
Blake, Moflitt & Towiie,
Los Angeles, Cal.
Blake. McFall & Co..
Portland, Or.
Dealers in
Paper
Bed Wetting Cured
MOTHERS should know NATURE'S treatment
that NEVER fails to CURE ANY case of involuntary
wetting the bed in children or old people. Strengthens
the body and mind, and A Positive Cure.
For information address,
DR. A. T. NOE, Klrksvllle, Mo.
T Qslip*c to do plain needlework for us at home.
L,auiC We f urn i s h materials and pay $7 to $10
per week. Send stamped envelope to STANDARD CO..
Desk. O M.. Indiana Ave.. Chicago, Illinois.
I PAINLESS AND PERMANENT HOME .CURE
A Trial Treatment Free^ Sent to anyone addicted to the use of
I Morphine, Opium or other drug- habit. Contains Vital Principle hereto-
I 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, 43 p. VanBuren St., CHICAGO, ILL.
BYRON MAUZY
308-3x2 POST ST., S. K.
Warranted for Ten Years SOHMER AGENCY
Overland Monthly.
D
A Skin of Beauty is a Joy Forever.
R. T. FELIX OOURAUD'S ORIENTAL
CREAn, OR MAGICAL BEAUTIFIER.
Removes Tan,
Pimples, Frec-
kles.Moth
Patches. Rash,
and Skin Dis-
cases, and
every blemish
on beauty, and
d e fl e s 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-
lar name. Dr. L-; A. Sayre said to a lady of the haut-ton
(a patient): "As you ladles 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.
FEKD 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 & Sansorm
San Francisco, Cal.
Telephone Main 614
Sand your Magazines to me
to have them Bound
The
Murdock Press
C. A. Murdock & Co.
PRINTERS AND ENGRAVERS
532 Clay St., San Francisco, Cal.
A.A.DALY.
HLCURRAN
SPECIAL ATTENTION
GIVEN TO LITERATURE
RjBLISHED OM MHO
RELATING TO THE .
PACIFIC COAST.
IMPROVED
The small tacks required to
attach shades to rollers some-
times develop a tendency to
wander from the straight line,
and the more aggravated you become the
worse they get. The
IMPROVED HARTSHORN
SHADE ROLLER
does away with all tacks and the time and
trouble incident to their use, because it has
patent holder for fastening the shade. If you
want your shade to run true, to wear well, and
to give entire satisfaction, be sure to get the
genuine Hartshorn Shade Roller, and look on
label for the autograph signature of
WOOD ROLLERS.
TIN ROLLERS.
A AB MwllHfc
3FtVERyD^RI?T
I?TIOH
xv i
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
$50AWEEK besides having a wheel to ride for yourself.
1901 Models SaSS $10 to $18
'00 & '99 Models S s $7 to $12
500 Second Hand Wheels** }n <co
taken in trade by our Chicago retail stores, 1/U 1U PO
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.
IIA UflT DIIV a wheel until you have written for our
UU IIUI DUI FACTORY PRICES and FREE TRIAL OFFER.
This liberal offer has never been equaled and is a guarantee of
the quality of our wheels.
___ ____ .. 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.
MEAD CYCLE 'CO.,
DEP'T 32 P.,
Chicago.
Dr. Lyon's
PERFECT
Tooth Powder
AN ELEGANT TOILET LUXURY.
Used by people of refinement
for over a quarter of a century.
ENNEN S SE3S
" TPILET
A Positive Relief for
PfirHXY III \T
CHAFIWO, nii't
, sr.MtrK.v r, mi nil
' afflictions of the skin. H A little
-f higher in price, perhaps, than
worthless substitutes, out a reason for
^ |V.'' RemnvemUodorof pcrspintion. Helii-iitfu.
| aftar BhaTl-f. Bold ererywhere, or mailed on receipt of 25e-
1 6t Mennm'l, th original. 8mplfre. GERHARD MKNNEN CO., NWAK, N.J.
.YOU
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. F. ITNLAY, 539
Ellis St., San ^ I I O im
Francisco. L/ U " t LJ
TYPEWRITERS
GREAT BARGAINS
We sell and rent better
machines for less money
than any house on the
Pacific Coast.
Send for Catalogue.
Supplies ol standard gual-
Ity always on hand.
The Typewriter Exchange
>36 California St., San Francisco. Tel. Main 2
Sewing Machines
OTHUDHRD PATTERNS
J. W. EVANS
1021 Market St., near 6th, South Sid*
Highest Perfection
Lowest Price
[Catalogues Fre
Overland Monthly.
xvii
HOTEL RAFAEL *
SAN RAFAEL, CALIFORNIA.
'The soceity resort, winter and summer,
of California; fifty minutes from San
Francisco; sixteen trains daily each way;
Otis passenger and baggage elevators;
electric lights; service, tables, and ap-
pointments not excelled by any hotel;
dark room for amateur and professional
photographers. Average thermometer in
the winter months 64 degrees, excelling
the temperature of Mentone, the famous
health resort of Southern France. Open
;.all the year. The climate will give im-
mediate relief to the worst case of
.asthma, and seldom fails to permanently
cure. There is no more handsome,
comfortable or desirable hotel in the
United States than the Hotel Rafael,
with its beautiful grounds, handsome cot-
tages, elegant drives, magnificent scen-
ery, and all forms of amusements. No
finer tennis courts, bowling alleys and
club house can be found.
Rates :
By the day $2.50 upward
(According to room.)
By the week $15.00 upward
Special rates by the month.
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.
POPULAR PAN-AMERICAN EXPOSITION LINE between New York and Buffalo, with
daily through cars between New York and Chicago, New York and St. Louis.
Tickets and reservations at 429 nd 1183 Broadway, New York; 289 Main Street, Buffalo;
1O3 Adams street, Chicago; Eighth and Olive Streets, St. Louis.
The Lackawanna Railroad presents unexcelled locations and opportunities for industries
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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
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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
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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 
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