Full text of "The Pacific monthly"

jpmw

LV iqot

Price IO

IS UMBERS

Making the Dirt Fly

While Uncle Sam is making the
dirt fly, at\ Panama, Sapolio
it fly at home

The Pacific Monthly

VOLUME XVIII

JULY-DECEMBER
1907

"The Magazine of the West"

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY PUBLISHING COMPANY

PORTLAND, OREGON

1907

'Til

All Rights Riserved

Contents

About Wlllapa Hay .....

An Idyll of tha Trout Streams

An Bsaplra in the Making:

An Inside Light on Kipling

An Inventive Irrlgatlonlst

Aa Philosopher I'nto I'hlloaopher

At Last, A Summer Resort ....

Autumn ( Verne I ....

■ rse)
Unitle of the Big Horn. The
Beulah I-and. The Land of Promise

Bolae. The Beautiful

Captain Tubble'* Debut (Story)

Carmellta (Story)

I 'rawing* by_ Maynard Dlzon.
Claim Jumpers. *The .....

Urawlnga by H. W. Armstrong.
Copper, the Slogan of Southeastern Alaska
Crucifixion Yucca. The (Verse)

With a Volcano. A
Defense of Style. A .... .

Drama In New York .....
Dramatic Season In New York. The
Deserter, The (Verse) .....
End of Change. The (Story)
Engagement of Allen Somers. The (Storj

Drawings by Eleanor Walla Plaw.
Fight on the Little Muddy. The
Forest Festivals of Bohemia, The
Found ......

«;ift. The (Story)

Drawings by Xavler Martinez
Glories of Valdez

From Photographs by George C. Cantwell.
Ion. The (Verse) .....
"liuy MuniuTlrig" (Story)

eat. The (Verse)
Helmsman, The .....

I 'rawing by A. Uurr.
Hermit of San Nicholas, The

Photographs by J. C. Hrewst, i
Hlflory. Fiction and the Point of View
House of Dreams, The (Verse)

Drawings by Xavler Martinez.
Idle Days or the New York Stage; A Glance Backward

: Forward
Importance of the Unimportant
Impressions .....

Faith Begins Where Reason Ends; but Who Shall
Say Where Reason Ends?

If you Would Not Be Betrayed Put Neither Your
Life, Liberty Nor Property Into the Power of
Another

Every Privilege Has Been Regarded by the Prlv
iltged Class as a Right

The Moving Power In Men, as Well aa Animals,
la instinct and Impulse. .Not Reason

■ 'hrlstmas ....
In Exile (Verse) ....
in Old Bohemia ....
ketchup'
■ Hon in Southern California
Justice and the Theatrical Syndicate
KiiiKtlshers .....

Photographs by Herman T. Bohlmu
Klamath Country, The .....
Last Stand of the Argonauts, The (Serial)
Lighter Sido .

Los Angeles Savings Banks
Man Who Wax Not Wulte Sure, The (Story)
■ t to Nature .....
Mediterranean of North America. The
Midwinter Playground of America. Tha

Glen Egbert

Jules Verna des Votgnes

uerlte Stabler

Elizabeth \
J. W. wine: est-r
L. M. Ma Athur
Charles 11 Clark, Jr.
Fred A. Hunt

Van Van OMnda
Jarr.es Hopi er

Herman Whltaker

Don Steffa

In Wllpon
Arthur Mill' head Burns
Porter Own ett
William Winter
William Winter
Mary Madison Lee
Margaret Adelilde Wilson
Agnes Foster Buchanan

Fred A. Hunt
Porter Garn.tt

James Ho|>p r

Min

SJ'.m
5(0

Mia

71
3»1'
(21
241
700
610
«2I
577

(SI

SOI

247

»S

451

621

240

6»S
1(5

SI2

051

i (iarnett ,

Morris Wells
Charles E.mer Jenney
J. H. Walsh

W. A. Tenney

Porter Harnett
Pori. r Garnet!

2o»-:ie

570
317
452
551

2St
7(»

William Wli.t.-r

Portar Garnatt

i h.ir.es Erskme Scott W

26..
434

l Broks
i harles Warren Stoddard
Robert Mclntyre

William Winter
William L. Flnley

£0*

62.,
741
4j3
t>3*

iJie
IM
217

£12
IZ!-4)M

John Fleming Wilson
Hiik'h llenlm.in

141b. 271a. 392r, 521s, (35q 747

141a

II. Austin Adams I S3

51 .

• H. Yandell 141

An Exiled California n 711

CONTENTS— Continued

Mix-Up in Souls, A (Story)
Money Mirage. The (Story) .
Most Beautiful Girls on Earth, The .

Photograph by Major Lee Mo^rhou^e.
Motor Boating on Puget Soun:l
New York Theater, The
October (Verse) .....
Old Letters (Verse) ....
Old Trailer, The (Verse) .
On the Hurricane Deck of a Comb'ne .
Opportunity and a Swede
Opportunity in Kittitas County
"O te Quiero" (Story)

Drawing by MacM. Pease.
Out of Doors in California

Photographs by Graham Photograph Company.
Our Strategic Position in the Pacific .
Pair of Cousins, A

Photographs by Herman T. Bohlman.
Passing Stranger, The (Verse)
Persistency of Wu Lung Wouey, The (Story)
— Poetics, Bierce and Sterling
Praise With Paint Damns
Progress of Irrigon, The
Reclaiming an Empire ....
Reverie, A (Verse) ....

Drawings by Eloise J. Roorbach.
Rod on the Pacific Coast, The
Rover's Toast, The

Security (Verse) .....
Settler, The (Serial) ....

Some Views of the Clackamas River .

From Photographs by O. Preytag.
Song of the Road (Verse)

Drawings by Eloise J. Roorbach.
Song of the Saddle, The (Verse)
Soul of a City, The (Verse) .
Southwest From Bullfrog (Story in Verse)

Drawings by Maynard Dixon.
Stage Affairs in New York
Stage and the Pulpit, The
Stake, The (Verse)
Stand Still (Verse)

Drawings by Eloise J. Roorbach.
Struggle, The (Verse) ...
Summer Playground of America, The
"Them White Faces" (Story)
To Protea (Verse)
Trail From Town, The (Verse)
Transformation of a Desert, The
Trapping in the Golden North
Trip to Moses Coulee, A
Triumph of Ah Joy

Drawings by Colista M. Murray.
Undomesticated Indian, The .

From Photographs by Mrs. Fanny Van Duyn.
Unspoken (Verse) ....
"TJp-Lift" in San Francisco, The
Upper Snake River Valley. The
Valleyford .....
Victoria. The Remembered
Vigilantes, The (Verse)
Washington's Vale of Plenty
Waterloo of King Jedediah I, The (Story)
Way of the Land Transgressor, The

The West and the President's Land Policies

Gifford Pinchot and the National Forests .

Ethan Allen Hitchcock and the Lieu-Land Operators

Some Queer Operations in tlfe Rocky Mountain
States ........

The Coal-Land Gang ......

Western Affairs at Washington .....

Robert Whitaker
E. D. Biggers
Joaquin Miller

Daniel L Pratt

William ■Winter

John S. Reed

Mary Ogden Vaughan

Charles B. Clark, Jr.

Fred Lockley

Marguerite Stabler

George Wharton James

Arthur H. Dutton
William L. Finley

Edith Campbell Babbitt
W. A. Scott
Porter Garnett
Porter Garnett

F. H. Newell
William Winter

46
201
725

113

688
439
388
13
29^
276
535a
427

101

587
603

738
341
553
739
520
471
681

Charles F. Holden 1

Charles B. Clark. Jr. 637

Elizabeth Lambert Wood 455
Herman Whitaker

52, 177, 325, 440. 563
73

Charlton Lawrence Edholm

Charles B. Clark,
Harley R. Wiley
Rufus Steele

Jr.

William Winter
William Winter
Charles B. Clark, Jr.
Elizabeth M. Redfern

Sinclair Lewis
Frank Carleton Teck
Frederick E. Scotford
Porter Garnett
Charles B. Clark, Jr.
Fred R. Reed
Percival Nash

J. D. Hassenfurther

Ralph L Harmon
Arno Dosch

John Fleming Wilson
Margaret Ashmun
C. J. Blanchard
John Fleming Wilson
Lute Pease

Western Scenes ........

From Photographs. Reproduced in Color.
What Irrigation Is Doing for Spokane
What Irrigation in California Has to Offer Immigrants
Where Mud Is Minted .......

Whine of the Wheels, The (Story) ....

Drawings by the Author.
Wonder-Worker in Southern Idaho ....

Yucaipa Valley, The .......

Ira E. Bennett

165, 283, 415,

610,

Fred Lockley
Clarence Edwords

Jack Jungmeyer

650

620
271
465

110

456

593

609

128
388
109
281
272
225
518
757

51
373
508
509
237
208
393

145
345
485

447
727

666
457

134

407

636o

307

521c

519

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY ADVERTISING SECTION.

AS YOU KNOW

Tin- famous Marshall &i Stearns Patented Wall Beds and Fixtures have com
plrtclv solved the Apartment Bonn problem, for tlie hoankwper M well as for the
architect ami builder. And

YOU ALSO KNOW

That these ip— 1 1 living', comfort-affording and income-increasing Patented
Wall Beds and Fixtures arc new universally recognized as a "Standard" and are
rapidly being adopted all over the country in Apartment Houses, Hotel- and private
homes. But

YOU MAY MOT KNOW

That the demand for the Marshall iSc Stearic goods is so tremendous that the
Company is called upon to do a business during 1907 which necessitates the selling

• lie of it.- 1'refericd Stock, thus increasing its working capital to meet this un-
precedented demand. And

YOU WILL BE GLAD TO KNOW

That evexjf cent received from the sale of the 10,000 shares of 6 jier cent Pre-

■ I Stock offered for public subscripticm will be turned into the treasury of the
Corporation and used IMMEDIATELY to increase its earning capacity; and that to
make the investment doubly attractive, one share of Common Stock will be given

\> A BONU8 with each share of Preferred Stock sold. And

OF COURSE, YOU KNOW

That such an investment opportunity rarely comes but once in a lifetime, and
that VOC should take advantage of it before this small block of stock is sold.
Finally, here are a few additional facts

YOU SHOULD KNOW

About the Marshall & Stearns Company and this 6 per cent Preferred Stock -
ill The Company is incorporated under the laws of California with an authorized
capital stock of $1,000,000, of which $250,000 is 6 per cent Pretend and *7.'>0,000
Common Stock, each having a par value of $10 per share, FULLY PAID; (2) the
Company has hitherto been a close corporation with not a share of Mock owned

■ ' by its founders and present exclusive owners; (3) the prolits from the un-
lilled orders now on the books are suflicient to pay a 6 per cent dividend on the en-
tire Preferred Stock and a substantial dividend on the Common Stock; (4) not

cent in dividends can be paid to the present owners, represented by the Common
Stock, until the full dividend of 6 per cent per annum, payable quarterly, has been
paiil on all the Preferred Stock; (5) after the payment of the 6 per cent dividend- on
the I'naJVrrod and Common Stock, additional earnings will be divided equally, share
and fchare alike.

This stock will he sold in large or small blocks to the LARGK or SM MI.
INVESTOR

Th* "Boom Id— I," showing how the saving of space Mar-

shall & Stearns patents, m.iihd FREE upon request

For further information, write or call at the I^os Angeles office.

NO
FISCAL
AGENTS

Marshall & Stearns Co. (**i

436-444 So. Broadway, Los Angolos, Oat.

NO
FISCAL
AGENTS

SAM FRAMCISCO. 004 Eddy Slrmml SEATTLE, 507-0 Bmllmy Building

t'mirr. A4~.it., Iai Ang*U%

Do not forfet to mention Tbe Pacific Month!/ when deallns with adT*rtia«ra. It will be anpr+ctatt-d.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY— ADVERTISING SECTION.

Insure Your Life

and you will feel a better man than before. You can look
the world in the face knowing that whatever may happen,
your home — your wife— your family — will be cared for.

When you are insured — if you have capital and want to
invest it in your business, you can do it with the assurance
that there will be the Life Insurance money left to your
family, if you should not live.

When you see a Prudential agent, hear his story, sign
the application and thus

Demonstrate to Your Family That
Your Love for Them Is Sincere

The Prudentiai issues desirable plans of Life Insurance to suit every income.

Write to-day for information showing what One Dollar
a week invested in Life Insurance will do. Dept. 23

THE PRUDENTIAL

Insurance Company of America

Incorporated a* a Stock Company by the State of New Jersey

JOHN F. DRYDEN, President Home Office: NEWARK, N. J.

Do not forget to mention The Pacific Monthly when dealing with advertisers. It will be appreciated.

UNI . < 1

'The Pacific Montnly

'Hi* entire contents of Mita Ukii.iw an- rorersd by the nenersl cupjrrl(bt and »nl.-k- nn»i mm i« reprinted

without special |ierml>slon.

Contents for July, 1907

THE

a glrl or the west

! uid Photographed by F II Klser
THE HOD OH THE PACIFIC COAST

lllu-i
THE OLD TRAILER < Vers.- > ...
CARMELITA I Story I

Drawing by Maynard Dixon.

DESERTER I Write) ....

HERMIT Or SAH HICHOLAB

Illustrated from Photographs 1>> J C Mrewster

STAOE AHS THE PULPIT
THE UNDOMESTICATED INDIAN

He; ■ In Color of Seven Photographs by

WATERLOO Or XZHO JEDEDIAH I (StOrj '

CUP IN SOULS < Story) ....
• rae) ......

SETTLER, i 'hapten XVI-XIX
AS PHILOSOPHER UNTO PHILOSOPHER 'Story)
SOME VIEWS OP THE CLACKAMAS RIVER

Reproductions In Color of Sevan 1'! "tographs by
AH IDYLL Or THE TROUT STREAMS

Illii-tnited by Photographs by the Author.
A DAT WITH A VOLCANO ....

llhiMiuted from Photographs.
OUT-Or-DOORS IN CALIFORNIA

Illustrated by the Graham Photo Co.

TO PROTEA | \Vrse)

STAOE AFFAIRS IN HEW YORK
MOTOR BOATING OH PUQET SOUND

Illustrated from Photographs.

A DEFENSE Or STYLE

A SUMMER PLAYOROUND Or AMERICA

Illustrated from Photographs.
WHAT IRRIGATION IS DOIHO FOR SPOKANE
THE MEDITERRANEAN Or NORTH AMERICA
THE LOS AHOELES SAVINGS BANKS

Co\. i

Charles P. Holder

Charles B. Clark, Jr.
James Hopi*r

Mary Madison Lee
w. A. Tenney

William Winter

Mrs. Fanny Van Duyn.

John Fleming Wilson
Robert Whltak.r
Ralph 1- Harmon
Herman Whllaker
Elisabeth Vore

Kreytag.

Jules Vergne des Voignes

Arthur Mulrheud Burns

Oeorge Wharton James

Porter Oarnett
William Winter
Daniel U Pratt

Porter Oarnett
Frank Carleton Teck

Fred Lockley
.' I! Ysndell

Design

IS
II

r.i

71
HI

101
10»

no
in

131
141
III

TERMS: 11.00 a rear In advance: 10c a ropr. Canadian subscript tana, II.M per year lu advanr*.

foreign, 1X00 a year In adranrr. Subscribers should remit to as la P. O. or express monr>

orders, or In bank checks, drafta or rcglalcrcd letters.
CHAN0E8 OP ADDRESS: When a chance of addresa la ordered, hotb tbe sew and tbe old ad.lr.-~

most be given, and notice sent tbree weeks before tbe change la desired.
If tbe mngaslne !a not received eTery month, yon will eonfer a favor by ao a.lrlainx n«.
. oUIU:>r.'\[.) \>'K should always be address-d to Tbe PsruV M.ulhlr. Lafayette llulldlns. I'..rtlan.|.
con.

The Pacific Montkly Publishing Co.

Lafayette Building

313 !<? Washington Street. Portland, Oretfon

as second-class matter.

at tbe Pootomce at Portland. Oregon.

THE PACIFIC M0NTHLY—ADVEKT1SING SECTION

EDUCATE YOUR
DAUGHTER

ST. MARY'S

ACADEMY

AND COLLEGE
PORTLAND
OREGON

HER future success as a cultured, true hearted woman of the
highest intelligence and usefulness depends on her edu-
cation and environment during these early impressionable years.

St. Mary's Academy and College now in its 49th year, offers every pos-
sible advantage; the very best mental, moral and physical development, ideal
home life, refined associates, the highest grade training [in music and art,
a splendidly equipped gymnasium — basket ball and tennis — a magnificent
campus, and every opportunity for laudable enjoyment in the way of daily
walks, excursions to nearby parks, and trips to the seashore ; also, with
the parents' consent, the best singers and musicians are heard, and
libraries and art museums visited. In short, students receive, care-
fully chaperoned, every advantage of life in a metropolitan city.

St. Mary' s has a national reputation ; its students come
from many states including Wisconsin, Montana,
Nebraska, Idaho, Alaska and Oregon. There are the
two distinct departments — academic and collegiate-
each equipment for the most thorough work. Both
day and resident students are received, 440
having been enrolled the past year— chiefly
young ladies. — Term opens in Sep-
tember; write at once for booklet y^/^*
giving further information.

Do not forget to mention The Pacific Monthly when dealing with advertisers. It will he appreciated.

THE l'ACIFH' MONTHLY -ADVERTISING SECTION.

EDUCATIONAL

EMERSON College of Oratory

WU. J. IOUI. t. M., LIIL B., h nH i l t

The largest eeuool of Oratory, IJteratnre

and Pedagogy <» America. Ilalmatode-

eeiop In Um student a knowledge of his

empower* In expression, whether aa

a .-rraiivethinkrr or a-i Interpreter. A

m beautiful new bonding. Svauucf ete-

lt*t eiuns. liraduatcear* agoctat to teach

^f nralory. Physical Collar*, Dramatic

h Art, Literature. Pedagogy* TTth year

' open* Tuesday, Kept. mitt. Address

"IlKMtY 1 VV. Kl >< t -Mil I II WICK lie.*
I kl.l. r rl»« 11.11. II«>1I>«MI. *«■«, H.-I..H, Maaa.

Abbot Academy A & d .°.Y. r '

111! I. mitl, rrinapjl. TTtkt'sr. (.redualr. rtcrtii e sn<] college
reaaratory coene*. Crnincitr admits to Smith, Vucar. Weilcsicy. Ml
illliita Pie* gess**ts, raodcra bu:Muig». Crmnuam. Tennis,
Hhal hell. I..II. Address \i.i...i Aradeiiiy.

Edgeworlh Boarding and Day School

For Girls »»■ •>•'►■ *s»* ■■«■■• asrrauesa ... .**>

122 l

Mil. II. P. LF.FF.BVRF. |

Mini. I>. HINTLKY I

1 24 W. f ranllin Street. ■

Ptincipala

JiAaaACHi-aima, Box J, Wnt Newton.

Allen School

A school for whnlraome boye. College preparation. Orrtifl-
ca'.r* given. Small Junior Department, Athletic Director.
Illoatraled catalogue Qeacr ibea ape clal feature*.

Our students are
employed by the
Covermnent. Good salaries paid to those
appointed. J.et us train you for an examin-
ation. Tuition low, information free. Write

PACIFIC STATES SCHOOLS

MCKAY BUILDING. PORTLAND. OREGON

YOUNG MEN

HILL

MILITARY
ACADEMY

A Hoardi n g and Day School for Buy*. **■***! Training.
Military Discipline. College Prryarsrlon. Boys of aay age ad-
mmed at ur time. Write lor llluaraled Caralognr.

Dr. J. W. HILL, Proprietor and Principal
PORTLAND, OREGON

Walker

inessCollcde
.-•rye)/.* y**»

Safeguard Your Future

By Business Preparation

In the Bchnkr- Walker Buaineaa College. We are In
cloec touch with all the important North wrat buaineaa
houaea, and place our atudentain good poaitiona when
competent. This isthedcaring house for busincae men.
Enroll for day or evening claaaea,— achool open the
year round. Send for handsomely illustrated catalog

ELKS BUILDING, PORTLAND, OREGON

Q tosf/ye/ej
)Wb\f\\L

i i n ii vn:t:i:i in i hi -r \i:k

I.oa Angelea, California KataMi-li.il lHH'i

PACIFIC

TEEILEGRARH

School ^otnmercuU. K. R. and Press Work. Poamoaa. tta year.
417 \V. Fifth Street. Log Angeles, California.

J? O Tt T L JL IS I> J±. O Jk. r> E in y

The nineteenth year opena September 16. 1907.

The Academy proper fits boy* and girls for Kaatera and Western college.

A primary and graramcr school receives boys and girls as early aa the age of 6, and fits them for the
Academy.

A gymnasium in charge of a skilled director. Track and field alheletica.

The Academy haa a boarding hall for girls, well appointed and under excellent care and supervision.

For catalogue or further information addreaa PORTLAND ACADEMY, PORTLAND, OREGON

f tZ§E$%g# FOR STUDENTS

DURING VACATION MONTHS

WK HAVK an exceptionally attractive proposition
to offer to those young men and women who desire
employment during the vacation months. 1 It is a
strictly high grade proposition. 1 We want live represen-
tatives in every section of the U. S. 1 The time to make
your contract is now, before the best territory is taken.

1 Our representatives make money; the lowest average

is $5.00 per day, the highest $12.50. 1 "It's up to
you" as to what your mark will be. 1 Write today,
stating territory you prefer, and give references. Address

l>«>(M«rt merit

Pacific Monthly Pi blismim; Co., Portland, Omgon

Da not forget to mention The I'ariSe Monthly when dealing wllb advertiser* It will be appreciated.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY— ADVERTISING SECTION.

ATLANTIC CITY

TKe Wiltshire

Ocean End or V lrgima Ave.

Convenient to all Piers, Attractions, Amusements
and Bathing Grounds.
The Cuisine is Unsurpassed.
Wide Porches, Large Public Rooms, Ladies* Writ-
ing Room, Ladies' Parlor. New
Cafe, Barber Shop.
AN UP-TO-DATE HOTEL.
Local and Long-Distance Telephone in Rooms.
American and European Flan.
Our Motto — " Service and Comfort."
Send for Booklet and Rates

S. S. PHOEBUS, Prop.

HOTEL
MARTINIQUE

Broadway, 32nd and 33rd Sts.

TNDER the same management
**J as the famous Hotel St. Denis.
The same prompt, quiet service,
and the same splendid cooking that
have made the "St. Denis" famous
among the older of New York
Hotels can now be obtained at the
magnificent new Hotel Martinique.

HEasy walking distance of theatres
and the up-town shops. Convenient
toallferries and every railway station

WE TAYLOR & SON

PROPRIETORS

PITTSBURG, PCNN.

HOTEL SCHENLEY

Surrounded by three acres of lawn and gardens,
away from the noise and smoke.
Absolutely Fireproof

The Leading Hotel in Pittsburg

Opposite the Six Million Dollar Carnegie Insti-
tute and Library, also the Carnegie Technical
Schools. Wire or write and Automobile will meet
you at Union Station and take you to Hotel in
ten minutes. The most attractive Hotel in Penn-
sylvania. Send for Booklet

JAMES RILEY,

Proprietor and Manager-

THE NEW KENMORE

Albany, N. Y.

Strictly Flee Safe

ONE OF THE BEST HOTELS IN THE CITY

EUROPEAN PLAN

$30,000 SPENT IN IMPROVEMENTS

SI-GO and upwards. 100 Booms and Bath. 175 Rooms
with Hot and Cold Running Water. Special attention

C' \ to Tourists. Long Distance Telephone in every
m. Ouisine and Service Unexcelled. Five minutes'
walk to Onpitol Building and all Theaters. Two
minutes from Union Depot.

BUSSES MEET ALL TRAINS AND BOATS

OAKS
J. A,

HOTEL CO.
OAKS, Prop.

Don't "forget to mention The Pacific Monthly when dealing with advertisers. It will be appreciated.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY ADVERTISING SECTION.

THE

HOTEL LANKERSMIM

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

roruLAi

PIKtS

j 6

Pn.jtf Mk

EVERY ROOM AN OUTSIDE ONE

COOPER & DAVIS

I.KSSKI S

CORNER SEVINTH STREET AND BROADWAY

The PORTLAND

M. C. BOWERS. Manager

The Leading Hotel of the
Pacific Coast

European Plan Only • Rooms
$1.00 per Day and Upwards
Handsome Restaurant — Music
Every Evening 8.00 to 12.00

Headquarters for Tourists and
Commercial Travelers

PORTLAND, ORE.

Americas Most Beautiful Resort

ALL

GOLF OUTDOOR AMUSEMENTS BOATING

TENNIS 4 FISHING

Thousand .^land Ho^f& Alexandria Bay, N.Y

onthest.l|.v^rence river.

M0^N*JIU« J" J 1 » y- 3 * 1 ' £'_ WtSSILllL.|yJO-ST

APPOINTMENT ^"*™>* booklets and rates PICTURESQUE

O.G. STAPLES Proprietor

RIGGS HOUSE! WASHINGTON D.C. O.G. STAPLES PROP.

rg«r to mention Tb» l'«rl«c Monthly wbn <tralinr with «dr»Tlt»r». Il will h» apprwlated.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY— ADVEKTISING SECTION.

The August Pacific Monthly

Every now and then a person likes to go
somewhere for dinner and leave the menu to
the chef. It is a great relief at times not to
know what you are to have to eat, just so there
is assurance that all will be well-dressed, well-
cooked and well-served.

The Editors have prepared a great variety
of excellent dishes for the epicure who likes to
dine at The Pacific Monthly table. We shall
not inform you what the dishes are.

We have kept in mind the season, the de-
light of all gourmands in delicately flavored
and rare entremets, in substantial and savory
meats and in luscious dressings.

Pictorially and from a literary standpoint
The August Pacific Monthly will be charming.
It will begin two new features of surpassing
interest to all Western Americans. It will
mark a departure---a further step in the pro-
gress of the only Western magazine.

We shall ofFer all our readers the best that
the market affords; and because we feel that
this issue must speak for itself, because we are
confident that nothing we could say would
half bespeak the gratification that the number
itself will evoke, we are silent.

Do not forget to mention The Pacific Monthly when dealing with advertiser*. It will be appreciated.

THK PACIFIC MONTH!. V ADVERTISING SECTION.

LOST STORIES

FV»r every story fashion. 'd by th' 1 hand of the fiction writer out of lift*.
■ dozen never gel beyond the ear of some casual hearer. The finest *t

never are finished.

How often have you heard a sentence in a crowd that awakened your
curiosity.' IIow many times have you felt that no price would be too great
to paj) for the completion of the story of which you heard only :i little.'
Mtists affirm that, given a fish scale, they can reconstruct the tish :
"firen the hone found in a heap of ruins in Montana, the geologic ami
bioloL'ist together can deserihc the animal it belonged to and tell its history.

Tin- first of American short -story writers held it as an article of faith

thai from the lirst chapter of a novel be could deduce the whole plot to

its climax.

On this Pacific Coast all the best stories in the world have their de-
nouement. Hut we h.ar only a word here, a sentence there, an exclama-
tion yonder.

Can the story-writer reconstruct the human drama from a word
The editon of The Pacific Monthly are going to make the experiment
We L'ive bohlll an actual transcription of an incident and a conversation
heard amid the throng. For the Deal storv. working out this to a beginning
and an end. we shall pay not less than TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS.

Scene : A street car. A woman is in one of the seats, her hand luggage by her side
bearing various foreign labels. She is young, evidently a stranger. She gases tranquilly
out of the opposite window till a young man gets on the ear and takes his seat ofposite
her. A third man jumps on the ear, addressing the eonduetor:

Third Man — Say. conductor, what 's the time of day?

Conductor (pulling at his wateh) — It V about —

The Girl (to herself, putting her hand to the wateh at her hell, but withdrawing it
hastily) — I wonder — could it be? 0-oh !

The Man (doing the same thimg and suddenly eatehing himself) — What if it should
be that hour? (He listens for the conductor's answer.)

Conductor — It 's twenty minutes to three. My watch is slow just —

The Girl (looks at the man and lowers her eyes. He returns her glance and
flushes. She murmurs, softly) — Kven now I'm not sure — it might be that his watch is
wrong and it is that time. But I dare n't look!

The Man — I knew it would come!

The Girl (looking oirr at him) — Jim!

The Man— Edith!

The Girl — And I haven't been »blc to look at my watch in the afternoon smcr yon
counted those secouds — before he — {breaks off , sobbing.)

The Man — I sold that watch. But every afternoon about — this time— I wonder. It
was two years ago !

The GtRL — And we never saw each other — till now. And he —

The Man (suddenly leaning forward)— He— he never knew the time.

The Girl — Jim!

The Conductor — Washington Street!

There are no restrictions on writers except that they shall, to the best
of their skill, logically work out the elms L'iven in these actual episodes
into good short storiea Solutions will he received until Oetobpt 1. 1907.

Do not foriet to mention The Pacific Monthly when dealing with advertiaera. It will be appreciated.

THE PACIFfC MONTHLY— ADVERTISING SECTION.

SEASHORE AND COUNTRY COMBINED

Our own Automobiles to Rent. Public Garage and Auto Supplies

SEND FOR ILLUSTRATED BOOKLET

Season June 27th to September 12th.
Until June 25th Address, Hotel Wadsworth, Boston, Mass.

Cape Trinity

NIAGARA TO THE SEA

The grandest trip in America for health and pleasure. The Thousand Islands, Rapids, Montreal, Quebec,
and the famed Saguenay River, with its stupendous Capes "Trinity" and "Eternity."

Send be. postage for illustrated guide to THOS HENRY, Traffic Manager, Montreal. Can.
Don't forget to mention The Pacific Monthly when dealing with advertisers. It will be appreciated.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY ADVERTISING SECTION.

HOLLADAYS ADDITION

TKe feotfr-phical CENTER of Portland.

Tktt moat DESIRABLE and only exclusive re.i-
dencc district in th« City.

A level plateau well drained, 150fect above river.

Command- a fine view of tKe City, tke river, Mt.
Hood, Mt. St. Helena, Mt. Adam* and aurroundin^
country.

I* very accessible and witKin eaay walking dis-
tance of the buaineaa district.

Haa one Hour more SUNLIGHT than over the
river.

Haa improved street*, fa*, electric lights, water
mains, trolley lines and acwer*.

Lots sold on advantageous terms to home-builders.

Seeing ia believing. Locate your home where it
will be a comfort and a joy and an investment that
is certain to enhance in value.

THE OREGON REAL ESTATE CO.,
88# THIRD STREET. Room 4. PORTLAND, OREGON

ARIZONA CORPORATION LA WS

the molt liberal in the I'nltrd
States. No franchise lax. B
holder, exempt from all corporate debu. No public statement! required. Capitalisation doeanrt t fleet o at.
Fie very small. Charter* cannot be repealed by s beequent legislation. Hold stockholder, and directors
meetings, keep bookaand transact business anywhere. Any kiid of stuck can be issued and paid up in cash,
services or property and made nonassessable. T rritorial officials prohibited from serving companies. Book
of forms for corporate instruments and procedure, by-lisrs, minutes, proxies, notice,, etc., gratis with each
incorporation, write or wire for free copy of laws, b'anka ani fuM particulars.

SOUTHWESTERN SECURITIES X INVESTMENT COMPANY
P. O. Box S 3BB Phomnlx, Arizona

THE HOTEL HAMILTON

is a delightful place in the

ARE YOU GOING TO ST. LOUIS?

Best Residence Section and away from the noise and smoke, yet within easy access.
Transient rates, $1.00 to $3.00 per day, European plan. SPECIAL RATES
BY THE WEEK. Write for booklet, Address, W. F. WILLIAMSON, Manager.

TRIAL CAN FREE

The Kind
That
Don't

Wsar Ott

"fLOORSHIKf
ENAMELS

For Floors. Furniture. Wood-
work: Oak. Cherrf. Mahogany,
Walnut, Etc.

fpoMiqr

ENAMELS FOR OLD OR NEW WOODWORK

Wears like Cement — Dries over night with
Brilliant Gloss. Contains no Japan or
Shellac. Write at once for Free Booklet,
Color Card and List of Dealers.

-parent "Floor-Shine" for Hardwood
Floors, Linoleums and Furniture. Sample
can by mail free; send ioc (to pay postage);
enough for a table, chair or a kitchen cabi-
net.

Address FLOOR-SHINE CO., St. Louis, Mo.

"// you art a dta.hr writ* for tkt aotney

SEND

for 250 Cactus
Paper Clips

Mr. B usi es— Man — Don't an pins

fasten joor letters, etc.. with. It mu-

tilate, jroor papers and
us I j to handle— the -

makes them
points often
woandlne the Borers. The "Cartas''
I'sner Clip Is simple. effeetlre end Ines

Coslee— Made 1 to GO sheets firmly.
nd lor with roar name and address
snd we'll mall 700. box of SM
"Cactus" Clips, pastas, paid. Write to-
day.

Cunningham, Curtiss
and Welch Company

252 South Spring Street

Los Angeles, California

Do not forget to mention The Pacific Monthly when dealing with advertisers. It will be appreciated.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY— ADVERTISING SECTION.

138 Million Circulation

The Department of Commerce and
Labor reports that the aggregate circulation
per issue of newspapers and periodicals pub-
lished in this country is as follows:

Daily newspapers 21,042,294

Weekly, Semi-weekly and Tri-weekly 39,965,695

Monthlies of all classes 62,776,155

Quarterlies 11,709,655

All other classes 2,878,594

A total of .138,372,594

It seems almost incredible that so much periodical litera-
ture should be absorbed by the people of this country. This is
surely a nation of readers— no family so isolated but that it may
have its daily or weekly paper and monthly magazine.

The average American is thus kept alive to the progress of
the world—he is keen, alert and well informed and he comes to
rely upon his favorite publication for information and mental
stimulus.

Here is where the advertiser comes in and this is why he
finds so receptive an audience— millions of readers who are ready
to hear what he has to say. But bear this in mind— the one thing
that gives value to a medium is the influence it exerts in the
community.

In making a choice the first question to be askea ana answered
in regard to any publication is WHO reads it?

Ask that question about Scribner's Magazine— and then
advertise in it.

RATE #250.00 PER PAGE.

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, Publishers

153-157 Fifth Avenue, New York.

Western Office — 153 Wabash Avenue, Chicago, 111.
Don't forget to mention The Pacific Monthly when dealing with advertisers. It will be appreciated.

TIIK PACIFIC MONTHLY— ADVERTISING SECTION.

FICTION FOR SUMMER READING

A WOMAN'S WAR. By Warwick Deeping.

A story of the rivalry of two women, whose husbands arc rival doctors in the
little English town of Roxton. The story is strongly and finely wrought; it is
rich in interesting events and character -.unlit--, both grave and humorous, and
throughout there is the delightful environment of charming English people and
English homes.

Post 8vo. Price, $1.50.
BUD. By Neil Munro.

Bud is a little Chicago girl, who comes to live in an old-fashioned Scottish
village. Her unexpected depths both of ignorance and precocious knowledge, her
breezy ways and Chicago slang are all in delightful and diverting contrast to the
slow conservatism of the little town, and her staid Scotch "aunties." There is no
pause in the delicate humor and captivating simplicity of the tale. It is charming
from cover to cover, and absolutely new.

With Frontispiece. Price, $1.50.

THROUGH THE EYE OF THE NEEDLE. By W. D. Howell..

Done in this great master's most delightful style, this novel tells the w1iiihmc.i1
story of how a certain kind of what might be called socialism really works. A
charming love story of an American woman in Altruria — a country which ha- DO
money, and where cooks and lords, farmers and poets are all alike.

Price, $1.50.

THE CRUISE OF THE SHINING LIGHT. By Norman Duncan.

"The people who move through the story arc wholly new acquaintances, the
like of whom we have never met before. Nothing better has been drawn since
Dickens, and it is an open question whether Dickens himself ever eclipsed Nick
Top— a compound of the pulpit and the foremast." —San Francisco Chronicle.

Price, $1.50.
THE MYSTICS. By Katherine Cecil Thurston.

A new novel — a story of romance and mystery in London by the author of
The Masquerader. Scene follows scene with the same persistent excitement and
breathless fascination.

Illustrated. Price. $1.25.
THE INVADER. By Margaret L. Woods.

The astounding, bewildering story of a woman with a dual personality. "A
situation almost as piquant as The Masquerader," say- the Chicago Record-Herald,
"and it may be depended upon to keep people up nights." "The dazzling changes,
the bewildering transmutations of the heroine, are not only plausible but al>
ingly interesting." — London Telegraph.

Price. $1.50.

THE PRINCESS AND THE PLOUGHMAN. By Florence Morse Kingsley.

A charming idyll of American life, embodying a sweet and novel love tale.
"The princess" is an American girl, with whom "the ploughman" falls in love and.
later becomes her knight-errant in a most romantic manner.

Price, $1.85.

TO THE CREDIT OF THE SEA. By Lawrence Mott.

A book full of the salt and savor of the sea. -i.irtlingly real in the dramatic
scenes in the life of the brave fishermen off the "Banks" and Labrador coast. The
heroism, daring, and self-sacrifice which make up so large a part of their careers
are vividly displayed.

Illustrated. Price. $1.50.

THE LONG TRAIL. By Hamlin Garland.

le of adventure, which, like Treasure Island, will please older readers even

more than young folks. It is* rich in outdoor adventures, perils and bravery — a

thoroughly enjoyable hook, describing a lad's overland trip to the Klondike gold

fields.

Illustrated. Price, $1.25.

HARPER y BROTHERS. Publisher.

NEW YORK

Don't forfet to mention Th* firlnc Monthly wh*n itrattnc with xtmrtlam. It wffl b*

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY— ADVERTISING SECTION.

THE LAND WHERE THINGS GROW

There are homes for thousands in the
Klamath Basin where the United States Re-
clamation Service is building an irrigation
system to furnish water to 250,000 acres of
land adapted to extensive farming.

It is land that will produce the most pro-
fitable class of crops, including sugar beets,
celery, asparagus, potatoes, wheat, oats, bar-
ley, rye, alfalfa, timothy, vegetables and fruits.
Several thousand acres under irrigation de-
monstrate its adaptability.

The largest body of standing soft pine
timber on the Pacific Coast is the basis for
great lumber industries, insuring home market
for products.

Lines of railroad under construction will
soon link this region with both Portland and
San Francisco, and through these ports of the
Pacific to markets of the world.

There is very little agricultural land open
to homestead entry, but choice land can be
bought at reasonable price in tracts of 160 acres
or less.

An ideal section for the poultry grower,
gardener, dairyman, stockman or feeder, with
rare business openings.

KLAMATH HAS SOMETHING GOOD POR YOU

For Further Information, write to

Klamath Dev. Co. frank Ira White Klamath Co. Abstract Co. or to

Hot Springs Imp. Co. Mason & Slough Wilbur White, C. H. McKendree

J. W. Siemens Klamath Com. Agency of Klamath falls. Ore. Chas. B. Pattee,

Klamath Co. Bank first National Bank Bonanza, Ore.

Do not forget to mention The Pacific Monthly when dealing with advertisers. It will be appreciated.

TIIK PACIFIC MONTHLY ADVERTISING shVTIOV.

. M

MANUffimjREO-
J3YTHE- '

>OKANE RrTLSH I
COTCHUPCO,;

DOLLARS FOR YOU

It in not a question of what you can do with your hands. It is a question
of how shrewd a business man or woman you are, how much foresight you
have — those are the qualities that make fortune*.

Just so surely as there was money for the stockholders in the H. J. Heinz
Co., in the Grape Nuts Co., in the Royal Baking Powder Co., and countless
others just so surely is there money in the Spokane Relish & Catchup
Company for you. Share in the profits of the business with us.

Stock Now Sells for $1.26 per Share
A Advances are in Sight.

T<f» We have unlimited quantities of fruits and vegetables, nothing

\± \^/ has to be shipped in, thereby losing flavor and freshness.!

We have excellent railroad facilities, and a local

demand alone sufficient to consume all this

output. No competition in the

West. These are a few of our telling

points. *XfV7VREi{

You as a thinking man wantbot
torn facts. Right now while you ^\lnD£raiPL.
think of it sit down and fill in
the coupon below and we
will send you full data
by return mail.

Do noi for»*t t.i uirnilm. TJi« l-icioc Munfblf wbm i)r«Uns with idrtrtlam. It will be apprrcuied.

Vol. XVIII

Jl'LY, l'.)()7

No. 1

The Rod on the Pacific Coast

By Charles F. Holder

Author of "The Log of a Sea Angler," "Life in the Open," etc.

?c»x

\2/

,T has become somewhat of a
by-word, especially in the
bit, thai California or the
Pacific Slope claims all the
big things of the continent,
and investigation will show
that then is bohm juatilhulii n for the asser-
tkm; the most Iw ulifiil aaanery, the highest
mniinlains. the lajrg— ( trees, most extensive
parks, fruits and flowers of extraordinary
mould; and last, and bj no means least in
the estimation of the angler, the came lishes
of the adjacent waters are of seemini:!
loasal size and found in e u T i e ep ond'ngrj
numbers. This is true more or less from
S;iii 1 >!«>■_'< i tn Victoria, the entire coast line
himlllin big gSBM fishes of some kind from
l"\vtail to the bit; salmon which tills
the Columbia and other streams, affording
spurt with the BpoOD and rod.

In Southern California, or from San Diego

to Monterey, the big fish angling ia at its

•id. when narrowed down to the very

heat, is confined to the region south of Point

Conception, ns here are found habitually a

variety of large fishes more or less peculiar,
as the black sea bass, yellowtail, tuna and
albacore.

The shores of the Pacific are in the south
mainly sandy beaches, as Coronado. Santa
Monica. Long Beach, liedondo and others,
upon which the sea rolls in heavily and with
endless roar. These condition! do not favor
the approach of large fishes as the tuna.
albacore, yellowtail and others, hence the best
lairing is usually found where rocks are in
evidence, or offshore. Thus the Coronado
Islands are famous fishing grounds and fur-
ther north a hundred miles we come to the
islands of San Clemente and Santa Catalina,
the former tiovernment land, and both
affording, without any reservation, the finest
sea angling known.

Vou may catch yellowtail and other fishes
off San Diego or Bedondo and Portu
Bend from launches, but you are opposed to
the prevailing wind and often, though not
always, in a sea which is a d e ci ded detriment
to successful light-tackle rod fishing; but at
the two islands mentioned the angler has the

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

Along the Fishing Grounds, Santa Catalina.

perfect conditions which have made tuna
fishing with a light rod possible. These loca-
tions seem to have been designed by nature to
afford the very best facilities. The islands
lie northwest and southeast ; their greatest
length opposed to the prevailing winds, thus
giving what is practically from ten to twenty
miles of perfectly smooth water, which is in-
dispensable for real rod fishing.

Santa Catalina is about twenty-two miles
long and San Clemente a little less. They
are mountain ranges at sea; the many
canons as they reach down forming the only
harbors or coves ; and along shore, not twenty
or more feet from it, the angler finds water
as clear and smooth as some inland lake,
where he can play the largest fish with ease
and comfort.

This is to a certain sense true of the islands
off Santa Barbara, but conditions are not so
good as at t he places mentioned or at Santa
Catalina, as at the latter there is a town of

5,000 or 6,000 people, three daily boats in
Summer and a boatman contingent of one
hundred or more skilled men with boats de-
signed for the purpose, the result of experi-
ence among the big fishes. At Monterey Bay
and at Santa Cruz very similar conditions
prevail, but the former places mentioned are
ideal for the fishes taken there on account of
the perfectly smooth water.

The season in Southern California begins
in April, sometimes earlier, when the first
run of yellowtail is expected; though I have
taken them every month in the year; this fish
weighs from fifteen to forty pounds and is
a type of all that is gamey and hard-fighting.

The yellowtail comes in myriads, it is the
game-fish of the people, a hard-fighting
swash-buckler of the sea, that requires no
skill to take on a hard line, but upon the
nine-ounce rod of the Light Tackle Club the
fish becomes a game indeed, well calculated
to demoralize the tyro, often giving him the

UNIVI

Th* Author, Charle, F Holder. Bringing a Big Fi»h to Uaff. Captain Harry Dot, Gaffer.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

Avalon From the Top of Sugar Loaf.

fight of his life. I have seen a thirty-pound
yellowtail jerk a full-grown man from a
dock, and once saw a woman weighing at
least 200 pounds brace back screaming at
the top of her voice ; the yellowtail line was
fast about her waist and a big fish was threat-
ening to haul her over.

Fishing in Southern Cal : fornia is a delight-
ful diversion. We may imagine ourselves
starting out some Summer morning in May;
the sea is perfectly calm, and one by one
the boats are stealing out of the little bay of
Avalon, heading south for seal rocks. The
boat is a launch sixteen or twenty feet long,
with a six or eight-horsepower engine amid-
ships, and two comfortable seats for you
and your companion facing the stern, the
boatman behind you acting as gaffer and en-
gineer. Once in the open water, near the en-
circling kelp beds, you unreel about fifty feet
and with the sardine baited rods to right and
left the launch moves slowly along.

If you fail in the fishing, the v'ew is de-
lightful, the air is soft and balmy, the lofty
stone cliffs sublime, but you are not to fail,
as suddenly z-e-e-e-e goes the reel. Some re-
markable force jerks down the rod, tears off
the line, and has 100 feet of it before you
come to and press the thumb upon the leather
brake, and then comes a series, a volley of

plunges, down, down, down, z-e-e-e-e, pecul-
iar to the yellowtail, taking fifty feet more.
And then you stop him, and, seizing the reel
handle, begin to reel and then to pump, an
operation accomplished by lowering the rod
tip to the surface, lifting three feet, then
dropping rapidly and reeling quickly as you
drop, thus making eight or ten feet of line;
in this way sulking yellowtails must be lifted.

Up he comes, and after awhile you see a
glistening silver spot against the vivid blue
far below, the fish resplendent in tints of
silver, gold and green is swimming around
in a great circle, head down, bearing against
the line with all its force, coming slowly up,
until you have it at the surface, when it
breaks away with irresistible runs, snatching
the rod down to the water, gaining all you
have made, and so the moments slip away
until twenty are gone and you have the splen-
did creature at the quarter, a vision of
beauty, glistening, scintillating; then the
gaffer seizes his steel, drops the hook beneath
the white throat and with a jerk impales it.
and in a cloud of spume tossed into the a'r
by the fish, hauls it in.

Your companion is also in the toils, but
the play is entirely different, on the surface
and away, stealing line, tearing it from the
rebellious reel, making a vigorous resistance,

tiik rod ON Till-: PACIFIC COAST.

it breaks water 200 feet away, swings
md and makes a splendid circle, the
angler taking advantage of the move and
i-i-.-lniLT for liis life, the big multiplier eating
up tin- line, brings in the game, until it is
seen racing along over the smooth sea, a
radiant. Ug eyed creature that soon comes
;itT. an.l proves to be an oceanic bonito
that tips tin- scale at ten pounds, a lusty

fellow that « les in with due protest. We

have run into a school of bonitos of two

kinds, the MOD i Summer fish of the

waters— the so-called Skip Jack plays on
the tight rod and line like the oceanic form
on the surface, and comes in a sparkling
i iridescent peaeock of the sea, a blaze of
dazzling colors.

\V. bait again and are soon speeding
■long the edge of the kelp, the launch hav-
ing SOBM to a standstill at the galling. There
m ...asional strikes of rock bass, an at-
tractive tish having a close resemblance to
the ordinary blnck bass of fresh water, but
it is now a nuisance and the several catches
up to rive or six pounds do not count.

The end of the island is the line of de-
markation between perfect calm and a fresh
west wind, and rounding it the loud bark of
sea lions is heard, and the rookery is in
sight, covered by the big glistening creatures.
Then z-e-e-e-e goes the shrill alarm of the
reel, the boatman seizes his lever, throws off
the power and the rod is bending, leaping as
though a living thing. Another yellowtailt
Hut the gaffer watching the line shakes his
head. There is other game, but it is too
near inshore for albacore or sword fish, and
may he a white sea bass. There is certainly
a change in the style of playing. There are
no volleys or rushes downward, but a ter-
rific strain, occasionally a rush off, if not
on the surface, very near it. indicating a
large flsh of some kind, a stubborn resister.
Slowly you make line, reeling inch by inch.
now giving a foot or twenty, when the fish
rut i.l.lenly the boatman seizes his

gafT, and a huge grey-colored tish. seemingly
long and slender, rushes into the 1 ne of
vision and makes a splendid circle of the
boat while you start to your feet excited by
the spectacle.

"White sea bass and a rouser." cries the
gaffer, lingering his weapon. "Sixty pound-
ire, sir."
11. w all this makes the blood tingle in

A Big Yelloictail, Weighing 19 H I'oundt, Caught
b v Mr. C. ft. Duffy.

your veins! It is the supreme moment, just

the gaff, the big fish coming ID
and nearer, and as you sweep the rod to the
left an.l round him up. the gaffer lifts quick
ly. surely, and holds up the splendid game, a
fifty-pound Kastern weak tish. known here
as the white sea bass, a gorge. .us fellow.
i|uivering with hlaz.ing colors of the tonnna
line, altogether too gorgeous to kill. 1
splendid lishes (ogMMfe») often sail ma-
jestically into the little canon ha\« ..I Santa
Catalan and lie there for days, affording
sport of a remarkable character.

I have taken Ave or six averaging fifty
pounds in three or four hours, and others
equally large, with the nine, eighteen and
twenty one thread lines as experiments. I
have drifted over the kelp beds in a glass-

Ix.t i boat, looking down upon a school of

scores of these fishes of large size, all OUt
four feet in length, an exhilarating spectacle
to the angler. Hut the most extraordinary
view of these fishes I have ever had was in
August in Monterey Bay at Capitate, an
attractive little town at the mouth of the
Soquel River, which reaches away up into
the Santa Cruz range. A number of Italian
tishennen make their headquarters there and
set nets alongshore, and in the morning they

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

Typical Aval

Boat Used in Tuna-Fishing.

come in loaded deep with white sea bass, or
sea trout as they call them, ranging from
thirty to nearly one hundred pounds.

I found it almost impossible to hook sal-
mon in these waters at times, as the white
sea bass were so numerous that they seized
the bait first, and for once in my life I did
not want to catch them, but could not help
it. One complacent fellow I remember was
poised in the center of a school of anchovies
which formed a perfect ring about him four
or five feet across, a gorged monarch of all
he surveyed.

One of the charms of angling in Southern
California lies in the varied catch. It is the
unexpected which is always happening, and
two or three years ago a totally new fish
came in, which has in the months of August,
September and October afforded anglers a
vast amount of novel sport. The fish was a
small edition of the tuna in appearance,
ranging in weight from forty to eighty
pounds and averaging fifty. I have been
familiar with the fishes of the Southern Cali-
fornia islands for twenty years and know

boatmen who have fished there for forty, and
this fish, which was the Japanese Hirenaga,
was never seen there before.

It resembled a typical tuna, all but the
side fins, which approximated those of the
albacore, but were not so long; and the fin-
lets, instead of being a pale yellow, were of a
vivid lemon yellow hue. The upper portion
of the fish was green, the lower blazing sil-
ver, altogether an attractive fish. Th'S tuna,
as the boatmen call it, really a species of
albacore, has none of the appearance or fight-
ing characteristics of the latter, and is a
game fish in every sense.

It appeared to lie deeper than all the rest,
but to be in the same great school with them.
and when large numbers were present —
albacores, tunas and bonitos — it required
some skill to hook them before the lesser of
the rapacious throng carried off the lure.
Some anglers found it convenient to take
them by luring them about the boat with
"chum," the new fish rising suddenly out of
t lie deep blue water to seize the bait if the
attentions of the other fishes could be eluded.

Tin: hod on Tin: pacific i OASl

The liirenaga plays entirely differently from
any of its kin or allies. Sometimes it sounds,
like the king of the tunas, but according to
Mr. L P. Streeter, the well known expert
sea angler, this fish almost invariably, in
some period of the battle, rushes nwn n
the surface after the fashion of some of the
bonitos, affording tine sport, as even with the
mighty tau pumping becomes wearisome.

The liirenaga, when it strikes, often

plunges to the bottom, taking 300 or 400

feet of the line, and often breaking it in a

lions manner near the hook; again,

when well hooked, it will rise to the mrfaM

Haul

*na Up the Beach.

and race away, when, according to Mr.
Streeter. the best method is to put on full
speed and send the launch after it. a chase
often of several hours ensuing before the
hard fighter is b rough t to gaff with the deli-
cate thread-like line used, known as nuinlK>r
nine. Vast numbers of these beautiful fishes
were taken in 1904-6-6, and anglers are an-
ticipating a royal season with them in the
Fall of this year.

The tuna is one of the most interesting
of all game fishes, and s nee attention, in
1887, was called to it by me and my capture
of the first very large tuna, in 1S99 (183

Bonlto.

pounds), interest has not lagged. I have
found great masses of tuna bones in the In-
dian mounds of Santa Catalina Islands, dat-
ing back, possibly, a thousand years, and the
tuna is found in almost even- part of the
world, known in Norway as the thun fish, at
Cape Cod as the horse mackerel, at New-
foundland as the albacore, in the Mediter-
ranean as tunno. The French know it as
\e than and the Germans as der thun Fitch.
It is very emit V. Boom years it appears on
all these coasts in vast numbers, then it will
almost disappear for a few years, to reap-
pear again, playing havoc with small fry
all along shore.

A very singular feature bearing upon these
fishes is, that nowhere in the world except
on the coast of California at Santa Catalina
have anglers succeeded in taking the leaping
tuna with rod and reel. This is not on ac-
count of lack of attempts, or the lack of
tunas elsewhere, as the big game is found in
many seas.

One of the greatest of English sea anglers,
Mr. F. Q. Aflalo, author of numerous books
on angling, gave me an interesting account
of his attempt to take the fish with rod at
the Madeira Islands, an ex|iensive trip result
bog in failure. I have repeatedly, at
request, given Nova Scotia and Newfound-
land anglers data regarding our Pacific Coast
tuna and the methods of procedure followed

Japan ft Mbarnrr. the Sew flame Fl*h In

Southern California. Five Hundred Were

Caught With Rod and l.iie In 1»0«.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

Street in Angling City of Avalon.

on this coast, and have been assured that the
fish were there. Anglers have repeatedly at-
tempted to take them in the Mediterranean,
but everywhere failure has been the result.
At Madeira Mr. Aflalo found the sea too
heavy. In the Mediterranean the tunas would
not bite, although they were there in thou-
sands. On the North Atlantic and around
Cape Cod the fishes run up to 1,000 pounds,
and a Canadian angler wrote me that it was
dangerous work even with a handline. Men
had been jerked overboard and killed by them ;
indeed, in every location where the gigantic
fishs have been habitually seen there is some
fatal obstacle to their capture with rod and
reel, and a number twenty-one line, and to
date a tuna over 100 pounds has never been
caught with rod and reel outside of the waters
of California.

I have fished for the large ones off
Oganquit, on the Maine coast, and although
my boatman told me he had seen "a 900-
pound tuna take a dogfish from a boy's
hand," I did not succeed in getting a strike.
I also investigated the prospects at Province-
town in 1905, but the fish were too large and
uncertain, and 1 concluded that while a stray
tuna may be picked up with a rod and
twenty-one-thread line in some part of the
world, it will never take on the importance
of a full fledged sport.

The reason why Santa Catalina has a mo-
nopoly of the sport is, that the majority of
the tunas seen here are just the right size,
ranging from seventy to 300 pounds, 250
pounds being the rod record of Colonel C. P.
Morehouse. Again, the configuration of the
island having a length of twenty-two miles
running northwest and southeast is such that
it forms a perfect lee thirty miles out at sea.

The tuna is a sea rover, a fish rarely, at
least on this coast, approaching the mainland
shores or beaches, but the island of Santa
Catalina is twenty or more miles out in the
Pacific, a mountain range rising out of water
that not far away is a mile deep, hence is a
favorable spot for wandering fishes, as the
albacore, oceanic bonito and others. They
come to its shores or vicinity to either spawn
or follow their prey, the flying fish, the big
tunas chasing them into the open but smooth
bays between Avalon and Long Point; and
here in a range of but four miles of shore
almost all the tuna fishing has been done,
and a series of battles conducted which have
aroused the attention of the anglers of the
world, and of laymen, too, so graphic and
sensational were they, and if the mere inci-
dents of these various contests could be col-
lected, it would make one of the most re-
markable stories of angling ever told, com-
parable only to the contests between men

T1IK 1,'uli ON THE PACIFIC COA81

Hmnttnp a Bio Ban* In Br Photographed at Santa fntnltna.

and the big game of land, Indeed, if com-
porinwi were not od i on s, I should toy that

tiger-hunting and tnk ng I big tuna with n
rod anil reel were spurts in t lie same elans,
yet I once related to a friend, who hnd shot
in India from the safe hack of a tall
elephant, my experience in playing a
183-pound tuna for four hours without a mo-
ment** cessation, ami he decided that he had
the best of it. as for five hours he sat in the
liowclah smoking cigars and being fanned by
an attendant while wailing for the tiger to
be lira ten up. and then shot the animal as
it ran across a clearing thirty yards away.

Such an ex|>erience is a species of ely-ium
compared to the pitched battles the anglers
who have tr'cd conclusions with the leaping
tunas can tell, of tight from start to finish.
which had no let-up, and was continued for
'i"iii>. tights which laid many strong men
low. battles in which the fish sometimes wore
out several men. at the end of which the
tuna was as fresh as ever, to all intent
purposes.

I have killed with rod line or grains almost
even- large fish — the big ray twelve feet
across, saw fish, black grouper. Itahamian
barracouda. tarjx'n n Texas and Florida.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

Albacore Caught With Rod and Line at Santa
Catalina.

Florida jew-fish, black sea bass, sword fish,
and almost all kinds of sharks from the ham-
mer head to the great grouper shark of Cali-
fornia, but for hard fighting and persistency
I award the palm to the big leaping tuna at
his best, not the tuna exhausted during the
spawning season or debilitated from various
causes, but the sturdy well-conditioned nor-
mal fish.

To illustrate the power and vitality of this
game, I may be pardoned for introducing my
own experience. I first observed tuna of
what I assumed to be a catchable size with
the rod in 1886 at Santa Catalina Island,
and I went on record in the Cosmopolitan
Magazine as stating that they could be
caught; but it was not until 1898 that I took
the first very large one, a fish weighing 183
pounds, and which I believed at the time to
be very near the limit of angling possibilities.

At this time, 1899, and for many years
previous, the large tunas were seen yearly
about the islands in vast schools, and anglers,
having caught the infection, were flocking to
the grounds, even coming from Europe to try
conclusions with a seemingly impossible game,
as the regulations of the Tuna Club only
allowed a twenty-four line and the twenty-
one was invariably used, and I have taken
tunas with a number eighteen.

Mr. Heverin of New York was my fellow-
angler, the boatman was "Jim" Gardner of
Avalon. Gardner's boat was a wide-beamed
yawl and we sat side by side on a board, with
rods to port and starboard. It was a beau-
tiful morning when we pushed out of Avalon
Bay, and as we paid out the big flying fish I

knew that I might have a strike at any mo-
ment, as the morning before the tunas had
surrounded us as we left the bay and sent the
flying fishes over us in schools.

We had reached the outer point of the bay
and the sun was just breaking through a
bank of crimson clouds when I saw two
mimic waves racing up astern, then two reels
screamed z-e-e-e. My companion groaned,
and I alone was in the toils of the tuna. They
had taken both baits, and Mr. Heverin's line
had doubtless been cut by the dorsal fin of
my fish, so he retired from the contest, went
aboard the consort, a big launch, and watched
the biggest game fish, up to that time ever
caught, play with me. At the first run the
tuna had taken 300 or 400 feet of line, taken
it so quickly that I could no more than play
with the leather brake, and 100 feet more
went after it. All this time my boatman
was backing water as fast as he could to get
sternway on the boat, ready for the vital mo-
ment when the strain came on the line. The
tuna took 550 feet before I felt that I had
stopped him, and he was far down the deep
blue channel when I saw that he was towing
the heavy boat by a mere thread, one of the
real marvels in sea angling.

This fish towed us a mile out to sea, then
a mile in, then four miles up the coast to
near Long Point, then a mile inshore, so
near the kelp that I feared the end would
come, and all the time I was pumping, lift-
ing, reeling, stopping tremendous thefts of
fifty or one hundred feet, which I had gained
only after the greatest d'fflculty, and when
near shore it suddenly seemed to go mad,
running around at the surface, then suddenly
starting south, and, it should be remembered
that all this time my boatman was rowing
against the fish, trying to wear it out in
fruitless efforts.

Three hours passed in this way without a
moment's respite, and I began to feel numb
all over. I had, many years before, been
well hardened by fencing, broadsword, foot-
ball, single sculls, and other lusty sports, and
I had put in some strenuous times behind
racing game which I had speared in Florida,
but this was different. I was holding the
rod on my left side every second, the strain
never letting up, and the unseen steed towing
the heavy boat by my arm and the thread
that would break at the slightest overstrain.
I knew that my line would stand a dead

/ ito

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

weight of forty-two pounds, and the angling
proposition was to avoid the over-pressure,
but how?

The frantic lunges of the fish were demor-
alizing, and now it began a series of actions
I had never seen or heard of in any tuna,
which convinces me that this fish was one of
the hardest fighters ever taken. It would
dash away, taking my hard reeled l'ne by
yards until there was little left, then rise to
the surface and come at me as straight as
an arrow, its big dorsal cutting the water,
sending a wave ahead, a sensational spec-
tacle that brought me to my feet to watch it
while I reeled for my life in the attempt to
take up the line it was making for me.
When it reached within ten or fifteen feet of
the boat it turned and dashed away with a
velocity that made the reel hum and groan, to
bore down into the deep channel and ham-
mer on the line. This peculiar movement,
of a nerve-racking nature, the fish repeated
several times, and then, as I turned it, the
tuna headed for the south and towed me four
miles, reaching at the end of four hours of

constant fighting with reel, rod and oars, the
almost identical position at which it was
hooked, having in the meantime towed the
boat four miles up the coast and four miles
down, and several more in and out; in all,
ten or twelve miles, and there, at the entrance
to the little Bay of Avalon, in the presence
of a launch load of spectators, who had been
following the fish, I brought the game to
gaff, almost on the verge of a collapse, due
to the extraordinary physical and nervous
strain, as there was constant fear that the
thread-like line would chafe off at the swivel.
As I brought the splendid fish to the
quarter after a heart-breaking spurt, Gardner
gaffed it. The tuna, which we now saw was
a monster, gave a conclusive leap and shiv-
ered the big gaff and ga'ned fifty feet of line
before I could stop it again. I reeled it in,
and once more Gardner gaffed it, and, step-
ping on the side of the boat to bring the rail
down to the water's edge we held her while he
cleverly slid the big fish in. We raised a cheer
as the biggest tuna ever taken leaped about,
threatening to hammer the boat to pieces.

The Old Trailer

By Charles B. Clark, Jr.

Far across the sunny ranges,

Up the foothills, through the pass,
Winds the trail we used to travel,

Rainwashed, now, and dim with grass.
It is hard to trace, old pardner;

Only we know where it lies —
We that learned its lonely reaches

With the sunset in our eyes.

You can trace it down the ridges

And along the canon rim.
But a steel bridge leaps the river

Where our horses used to swim.
Our old lord i.-. full of quicksand,

And the old, blazed trees are down:
Gone to feed the hungry engines

In some smoky minin' town.

Do you mind that stretch of prairie

Where we fought the reds away?
Hi! old pard. do you remember

How the bullets hummed that day?
Now it 's farms and green alfalfa

'Stead of open, grassy plain.
And our wild, old trail is sobered

To a sleepy, country lane.

Further on you 'd hardly know it.

All the old landmarks an- changed;
There are gardens, now. and orchards

Where OUT saddle horses ranged ;
And the trail is cut to pieces,

Crossed with road and fence and lawn.
Till at last you eMM to asphalt.

And the dim. old track is gone.

Gone — the years fly on, old pardner,

And the last, taint wheeltracks fade:
We are scattered like the ashes

Of the camplires that we made.
Our old trail is nigh fotgottaa;

Fields are green and cities rise
Where we camped and fought and journeyed

With the sunset in our eyes.

He Had Brought Him to the Woman That Loved Him at the End of His Rawhide Rope" — See

page 21.

Carmelita

By James Hopper

Author of "Caybigan," etc.

- inday out of every live
or six, the priest of Monte-
comes to Cannel and
celebrates the mass. It is a
psMaing thing to see. Sud-
denly the old mission palpi-
tates with a ghost of the life that has long
departed from it. The crooked old beadle
tugs at the iron gates; nodding like palsied
ancients they advance creakingly out into the
sunshine. Into a hole of the heavy petrified-
wood portals he inserts a ponderous key;
there is a whine of recalcitrant metal, a
groan as of sore bones disturbed, a clang,
and the portals rasp upon their massive
hinges. In the dark interior, damply smell-
ing of earth, candles begin to flare one by
one, sending blue wisps of smoke straight
up into the vaulted obscurity above; their
flames fall in round yellow halos upon the
tlaked adobe walls, and in the profundity
behind the altar vague saints begin to glit-
ter. An invisible billow of incense rolls
•~l:.wlv the length of the nave, spreading
searchingly in comer and recess. Then.
overhead, there sounds out over the land the
cooing call of a sweet-toned bell.

Hut, already, along the road, along the
paths, there are faint heralding rumors —
champings, cliekings. voice murmurs, hoof-
beats, soft whinnies— and they MOM riding
in leisurely, the vaqueros of the ranches,
swarthy men with faces that, somberly sm-
when at rest, tight np in liqnid caress
of eye and tenderness of mouth when they
smile. Furry chaparejos descend from
fheir lithe waists to the tips of their small
boots; their sombreros, soft flap to the
breeze, rear back cavalierly, and red ban-
danas, knotted loose about their bronzed
necks, enllame their costumes with a note
lor. They sit their deep saddles as if
they had been poured molten into them,
their waists giving elastienlly to the swing
of the fox trot 'H"> come, spurs tinkling,
tapadero chain click-clicking, curb bits rasp-

ing and ringing, ■long the roads, along the
paths, or simply down the field where four
teen Governors of California, with com-
mandantes, capitans, tenientes. alcaldes, the
best blood of Aragon and Castile, lie buried,
their stubborn pride replaced by that after-
life affability which leads to a cheerful of-
fering-up of one's bones to the success of a
potato crop. The horses champ, throw back
their heads, fleck foam into the air, and
their masters, as they come into view, raise
their right hands in courteous and lazy sa-
lute, their low-pitched voices carrying with-
out effort their soft, negligent greetings
across the sun-warmed distance. Arrived.
they slowly dismount, loosen the cinches and.
dropping the long reins to the ground, leave
their horses to stand behind the crumbled
adobe huts, once busy human hives in the
care of the padres; a little stiffly, they walk
to a low hummock before the church and sit
side by side, the blue spirals of their cigar-
ettes rising in the tranquil air.

It is a pleasant moment. The yellow sun,
striking the yellow facade of the holy cdt
flee, rebounds in a pinkish halo; its heat re-
bounds upon the men, who stretch their limbs
to it. eyes closed to slits, like purring cats.
They talk, in that tongue of theirs, at once
sonorous as a cataract and liquid as the gurg
ling of a bottle, of simple things the barbe-
cue at Seargent's. the rodeo at Blair'
their horses, the feed, of the chances for
rain, of the ' <n/< in the new hnrn. And then
sometimes they are silent, the poignant
charm of the land heavy on their s>ul«.
which understand not.

It is a gold and -il\er land. The sun
pours down yellow, but in the di-tance there
trail diaphanous \eils of silver haze. The
earth, crackling with the balsamic dryness of
Summer, is I color symphony that runs from
argentine velvet to copper lacquer. It rises
toward the east in tawny swell-, along the
arched backs of which the downy brown hues
vacillate as with the shudder of a long

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

caress, till, as far as the eye can see, it is
assaulting; heaven in purple surf. To the
north, there are russet stretches, bound by
the dark plush of a pine forest. To the
south lies the Carmel, the gnarled cen-
tenarian pear trees of the departed padres
standing in the black soil of its overflowings,
and between them, like plashes of color
dropped from an impressionistic palette,
rotund pumpkins shine; the valley streams
off to the west in a streak of light verdure,
the pears giving way gradually to willows
and aspens and other feathery, shimmering-
barked plants; then comes the lagoon, jade
green, the beach — a bar of gold — and then
a cove of the Western Ocean, blue with a
blueness that astounds the soul. And there
is a warm buzz of bees, a cooing of doves,
the soft tongue-snapping of quail; a hawk
circles free high overhead, swallows streak
across the sky in long diagonals, and, per-
haps, his beak like a rapier in the bosom of
a swooning rose, a humming-bird palpitates
iridescently.

Meanwhile others are coming — two or
three rattling surries, drawn by shaggy
horses, each holding an astonishing number
of children all akimbo with starch, herded
by worn women overcareful of their pitiiui
finery; some servant girl from the Inn, two
miles away, trudges in, her plain nose red,
her blue eyes bulging patiently, her skirts
raised from the dust which covers to the
ankle her crooked-heeled shoes, leaving to
view a bit of striped and wrinkled stocking —
and, perhaps, from the aristocratic hotel at
Del Monte there sweeps in, with a great
self-announcing blare of horns, a yellow
tally-ho, top-heavy with buzzing and colored
femininity which avalanches down the
wheels, flutters over the ground, like a bevy
of butterflies, and finally is engulfed by the
dark portals from within which, for a mo-
ment, come a few last little cries with their
false intonations of unfelt emotions. And
the dark men outside look at each other and
smile an indulgent smile which has in it a
sense of superiority.

Finally the bell rings again, and simul-
taneously, through the vaulted portals, comes
the sonorous murmur of the padre's voice.
The men on the hummock throw away their
cigarettes, rise, a little reluctantly, take a
last deep breath of the scented air, pass the
threshold, dragging their sombreros off their

heads, dip their fingers in the onyx fount,
and then mass themselves on both sides of
the door, where they remain standing, proud
even before God. Over in front, banked like
flowers, is the tally-ho party, fluttering and
derisive, out of harmony, as it is the fate of
the Anglo-Saxon to be, nearly always,
throughout the world. Behind are the dark
women of the surries, with their over-colored
bonnets, encumbered with sticky babies and
starched children. Upon the steps of the
chancel kneels the humble servant girl of
the Inn, bent over the railing in an ecstacy
of prostration. The priest, his shimmering
back to the people, his glowing eyes upon
the tabernacle, descends and reascends, opens
and closes the holy book, with wide gesture
cleaves the air in signs of the cross; his
resonant words vibrate along the walls.

But beneath the stone pulpit which hangs
from the right wall, a round bulge of it,
entered only through a mysterious little door
which nowadays seems always sealed, there
sits a woman who, after a time, draws all
your attention. She is beautiful. From the
side you see her profile, firm and pure as the
crest of the Sierra against a sunset sky, and
long, ascending lashes beneath which violet
shadows deepen; and if she turn, you lose
yourself in her eyes, big and dark, with a
lurking golden light in their black pro-
fundity.

For the first part of the service she is
submerged in a devotion which is not calm,
which is passionate almost to agony. When
she kneels it is with outspread arms that al-
most embrace the beaten earth; when she
crosses herself, her fingers, at each station,
stab her flesh; when she rises, it is with a
violent upspringing that threatens to take
her oft' the earth, illumined, into celestial
heights. And then at times she places both
forearms over her head in a warding ges-
ture, and she cowers beneath the stone pul-
pit as beneath a malediction.

But, little by little, as you watch her and
the mass sweeps on toward the end, a
change comes over her, a new preoccupation,
altogether different, takes possession of her.
It is a worldly one; at first it shocks you.
She sits upon her bench, and slowly an olive
flush rises to her cheeks; she turns, often,
with a wistful look toward the blue sky and
golden land framed by the open portals; her
lips part, her breath quickens, a tremulous

• AKMKL1TA.

impatience vibrates through her slender
body, an ecstatic expectancy glows in the
depths of her eyes. At first shocked with a
disillusion at this fall from divine piety to
earthy care, little by little you become rec-
onciled, you are carried away by the inten-
sity of the new emotion, the flaming beauty
of it : and finally with sacred awe you say to
jrotrrwtf:

"She will meet someone, there, at the door;
she Ibh i P

The priest, from the height of the altar
steps, turns to the people; with an ample
gesture he draws before their eyes an im-
palpable cross; there is a subdued rasp of
pushed benches, a flapping of skirts, the
faithful '.rather in groups and stream toward
the door.

The woman you have been observing rises
to her feet with a gasp, alm< 'litem.

But a singular movement takes place. As
she goes down the aisle, an old white-
bearded man — her father, he seems — takes
bar by the elbow; three swarthy young fel-
lows — her brothers, they seem — are them-
selves behind her; and the priest himself.
slipping off his stole, hurries after the
group. She glides toward the doors, her
lips parted, her breath coming a little fast,
her eyes very liquid; she reaches it, she
stands before the streaming gold of the land.

And then, suddenly. l>oth her hands go to
her heart, clutching the fit— -li ; I gFMrf cry
- her mouth, rounded with horror; she
bends, her arms outspread, she is on the
point of throwing herself down u|w>n the
flagging, there, at her feet.

But the father, passing an arm about her
. the brothers, closing tight about her,
urge her on down the slope toward the little
red-tiled house among the pear trees; the
. from behind, with loose hand throws
after her the peace of a benediction. And
as, surrounded and tenderly forced on by the
four men. she sweeps on down, there conies
to the curios -roup still at the portals a loin;.
palpitating aob, full-banked and dolorous,
with nothing in its tone that promise
of isolation.

It is from I>on Jose Jesus that I obtained
interpretation of this scene. Don Jos£ Jesus
has an old white nag (all that remains of the
20.000 horses. .".0.000 cattle and 100,000
sheep owned three generations ago by the

Almavodars), and a tig tree in a little adobe-
walled garden (this being all that is lett of
the grant made to his great-grandfather, and
which read, in words of magnificent careless-
ness, "from the ocean to the top of the
mountains"). Upon the horse, pacing slow,
lie rides along the roads, stopping here, stop-
ping there, a sort of universal father to the
people of his race who now, in this laud, are
the disinherited: beneath the tig tree he sits
of warm evenings, reflecting upon what he
has seen the day, and his brown eyes grow
mminous, and his mouth takes mi a whimsical
smile, which has in it Mime humor, and much
tenderness — the tenderness that inevitably
eomes to him who is full of understanding.

He (old me this story, one Sunday morn-
ing, in the rebounding warmth of the mission
walls, as the priest, within, murmured the
sacrifice, and the bees, about us outside,
hummed in harmony.

"When Carmclita was born, senor, she waa
the first daughter and came after sis sons.
So her father. Manuel Molvino. who is now
sitting inside the church, his gray beard upon
his knees, mounted his pony and sprang
down the rond with the news to his old com-
padre, Juan Kspcm. It was nearly sun
down; Kspero was sitting on the bench below
the window of his cabin, and upon his knee
he was tossing the two-year-old Juanito, first
son and only child. There and then, bis leg
thrown lazily across the saddle, his right
hand stretching out a glass that glimmered
red to meet that held high by Kspero, Man
uel pledged the little daughter to the little
son. '.I la noria de fstrd; to your betrothed.'
he said, nodding gravely over the trembling
contents, to .luanito, who sal perched ii|m>ii
hi- father's shoulders — and Juanito. Hid
denly seized with a strange sadness, ojiened
his mouth in a tremulous wail. The men
laughed. -He'll think better of it lat-
ehT said Molvino; 'Ah, yes, it will be dif-
ferent — say eighteen years from now — very
different.' chimed fapOTO. Ami for a mo-
ment the two stood there silent, looking for
ward with some melancholy at the future
thus suddenly evoked. 'Kighteen years.'
murmured Molvino .and shook his bead. 'A
lot noi-iiif" he shouted, again raising his
glass till it shone ruby against the crimson
sun; '.I tat H'.ri.,." repeated Ks|>cro— and
they parted, a whimsical satisfaction in their

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

souls at this arrangement of the affair. But
as in the horizontal rays of the darkening
sun Molvino rode away, there came to him,
fainter and fainter, but plaintively persist-
ent, the wail of Juanito; and when he ar-
rived at his own house, over there among
the pear trees, Carmelita, from the depths of
her crib, was sending forth a bitter little
cry.

"Senor, from the first there was a differ-
ence in the manner in which the children met
the purpose of their elders. Juanito ac-
cepted it stolidly. Nearly every Sunday he
would be taken to Carmelita and be told to
kiss her. I was often present, for I like to
pry into homes and hearts, not out of malice,
senor, but because I wish to understand. I
want to understand; for I have found that
the more you understand, the less is there
motive for shocked exclamation, for condem-
nation, the more mellow is your outlook to-
ward man — and I want to ride mellow-
hearted along the roads till I die. So I was
often there, at this inter-familial ceremony.
At first Carmelita was always in a crib, a
warm palpitating thing that at times smiled
vaguely at the ceiling, at times cried softly
with as little cause. Espero would hold his
son up over the side of the crib, and then
Juanito, very seriously, picking the place
with great precision, deposited a humid
smack upon the rosebud beneath him — after
which he stamped off with an air of con-
scious rectitude, while she, upon her pillow,
squirmed with dissatisfaction. By the time
that Carmelita was toddling the operation
had become a more complicated one. When
the customary command came, the two chil-
dren stood a moment, legs apart, staring
fixedly at each other. Then, when with lips
thrust forward, he advanced, she suddenly
dodged, her face against her right shoulder.
At his next attempt, swiftly the little face
circled to the left shoulder; and finally she
turned and ran, hiding her head in her
mother's skirts. Juanito kept up the attack,
with a sort of sad resolution, but it was only
when he had given up that, very imperiously,
she placed her lips upon his.

"The years went by; they were no longer
babes, and she began to impose upon him
the feminine absolutism. I saw them often
together — in the orchard by the mission, on
the hills, in the pine woods. He climbed
trees for her, he scrambled over rocks, he

tormented his body for her approbation.
Once he broke his arm — for her; another
time he was nearly drowned in the lagoon —
for her. Sefior, there is something infinitely
sweet in the tyranny of the one you love, is
there not? The little boy was happy, ob-
scurely but poignantly happy, I think. She
was but a child, but already, senor, she was
wonderful, wonderful with a beauty that
penetrated. I can 't describe it. This only 1
know; that I, a man, that day I saw
Juanito, thin-lipped with repression, making
his way back home with his right arm
dangling along his side, envied him, envied
him his suffering, the wound vouchsafed him
in the service of her — and remember, senor,
she was but a child. I envied him.

"And yet, hers was a terrible despotism.
It was, senor, as if by some secret instinct
she had divined the disposition made of her
by her elders, and as if, in detestation at the
tyranny of it, she were taking out of Jua-
nito a subtle vengeance. She delighted to
make him ridiculous. She heaped upon him
task after task, puerile and absorbing; she
made him stand upon his head, she made him
hop on one foot — and he always obeyed,
grave while she laughed.

"One day I came upon them walking to-
gether along the Lobos road. She had
pointed out an oak tree some distance ahead
and had set him the task of hopping to it
on one foot. I watched him from my horse.
I wanted to see if he would keep it up
while I looked. He did. His fealty was
something above self-consciousness. He
hopped along as if I did not exist — with
that queer seriousness which contrasted to
her amusement with the ridicule of the deed.

"Suddenly, however, he stopped short. 'No
mas' he said; 'No more.'

"She turned upon him in angry astonish-
ment. 'Hop to that tree,' she said, her eyes
flaming. But he said only, 'No mas,' and
stood still.

"I waited, greatly interested. There was a
rumble of wheels along the road, and I
thought that I knew the reason of his re-
volt. The cart neared; in it was Roy Glea-
son, the young son of the Gleason who owns
all the land from Monterey to Salinas — yes,
the lands of my grandfather, of her grand-
father, of all our grandfathers, I suspect.

"He pulled up his Shetland and looked at
the group with curiosity. Carmelita smiled

CARMELITA.

up at him. •What's the matter with him?'
he asked. [Mfjnting to Juanito. whose eyes
were fixed u|>on the ground.

'"I want him to hop to that tree, and he
wont do it,' said t'armelita suavely.

"The hlond boy looked down noon the lit-
tle 'greaser.' "Want to ride ho .'' lie asked

Carmelita, with unconscious disdain ig no r in g
at once the quarrel and Juanito.

"Td like to,' said Carmelita.

"lint as she was stepping into the cart.
Juanito sprang toward her. 'You can 't go
with him,' he said, in a colorless voice — and
his fingers sank deep into her ami.

"i.et me go; let me go,' said Carmelita,
very low. showing no pain, but tense with
cold rage.

•■You can't go,' repeated Juanito, be-
tween his teeth, and his fingers npon her ami
tightened.

"The young Saxon had been watching the
scene with the detachment of the superiority
(rained into him from boyhood. Suddenly
the whip with which he was toying rose into
the air; it whistled down across Juanito's
face. At the same time Carmelita sprang in ;
the whip came down upon the pony, and the
(•art rattled down the road.

"Juanito watched I hem disappear down
the curve. After a while he passed his hand
across his forehead, where lay a red welt, and
began to walk.

"For a moment I had been paralyzed by
the suddenness and cruelty of the thing.
Now 1 tried to comfort him. He gave me no
attention, but walked on, in the direction of
the cart, stolid and sad-eyed.

"The next day. when he met her, he said.
• iday ynii rode with Boy lileason when
I did not want you to. You will never do it
again.'

" 'I will.' she said, her cheeks aflame.

"They stood before each other a long mo-
ment, he calm, a melancholic inflexibility in
his eyes; she flushed, luminous and vibrant.
He was fourteen, and she was twelve; they
were children: and yet a wind of tragedy
blew upon them. and. without knowing it.
they both trembled.

"But the matter came to no issue. A
few days later Ks|>ero, the father, was given
a foremanship "ii a Wg eattle ranch of the
South, and. with all his family, including,
of course, Juanito, left the country.

"When Juanito returned, six years later.

senor. he was Juan and a man; and Carme-
lita was a woman.

•lie was a tall, lean fellow who sat his
horse as if his spine were made of spiral
springs. Though he brought from the
southern cattle ranges a reputation for iron-
like endurunce and ureal skill with the nata.
a languor was in his movements, and his eyes,
black-circled and heavy lidded like a wo-
man's, had in them that sadness— that sad-
ness mixed with inflexible stolidity which
had so drawn me when he was a boy.

"And Carmelita— Carmelita, senor, had
merely bloomed : and it was a magnificent
bloom. It may be that the Ave years spent
in the convent at San Francisco had some-
thing to do with the finite jierfection — you
were vaguely aware of a certain repression
of manner which made only more evident the
flaming life beneath; you were aware of an
art in dress which, uniting with her native
love o! color, gave picturesque results;
vaguely you knew that her voice was a
golden contralto, like the resonance of «
bell after the clapper has stilled. I say
'vaguely,' because, senor, you had no chance
ever to analyze these things — the eyes drew
all; the eyes drew your brain, your heart,
your soul, your eternal soul, within then
mysterious depths, Senor, after gazing a
moment into those eyes — and they tugged
like whirlpools — after seeking to catch for a
few seconds the golden tints elusive within,
one woke up with a great sigh to the ugli-
ness of the sunshine and the flowers and the
sky. and they— the sun, the sky, and the
flowers — were forever spoiled for you; they
were spoiled to you forever, senor.

"She was not happy. Her mother was
dead. Her father, what with the caretaking
of the church and the freezing of his veins
with age, had become a black bigot; he half-
sequestrated her and a deep and true in-
stinct within her commanded her, senor. to
let the rays of her beauty flow along the
land, just as it is the irresistible impulse of
the moon to shine, of the sun to pour life,
of water to quench thirst. And so, there
were unhappy moments— moments when, up
in her little garret room after sundown, as
with lifted curtain she watched the young
people rattle to haile* at t'annel or Monterey
in wagons freighted with laughter and song,
a surge of longing pressed up to her throat,
hurting: or when, at the mere sight of a

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

youth and maid sauntering off ingenuously
together after mass, a sadness descended
upon her, a sadness that was indefinite, but
that clung like a net, and was heavy as lead.

"Juan returned, and old Molvino, remem-
bering his plan, let them be together. And
so, the first night, they met here, senor, at
the church. You see the steps that rise along
the wall, there, to the belfry? They went
up these steps, and they stopped there, at
the angle ; and it was a moonlight night, and
the scene like at theater. And I, senor,
was in the belfry, right up against the bell;
and I was watching, as I watch now, not out
of malice, but because I wish to have good-
will toward men. I would not have stayed,
senor, had anything sacred come to pass ; but
nothing sacred passed, although they de-
ceived themselves into thinking so.

"They stood there in the little angle half
way up, and about them the whole world
shimmered to the moon. Within them, senor,
I think the old relation of their childhoort
days still obtained. He showed it outwardly,
in his very posture, in his grave and secure
manner, which at once promised protection
and took for granted possession. But with
her, the true feeling within, of negation, I
think, of revolt against a fate forced upon
her by men, came not to light. You see,
she had been too unhappy. Instead, she
placed both her hands upon his right shoul-
der and, bending her brow upon them, began
to weep softly.

"I heard his low voice vibrate once or
twice in short words of tenderness; his right
arm rose and clasped her, and she, leaning
closer, wept in long free flow her grief and
self-pity. Then between sobs she began to
beg him not to leave her — and she called him
'Juanito,' and her little child-lover. And so,
insensibly, she plighted her troth to him
again, plighted of her own will the troth
plighted for her years before as she wailed
in the cradle. You see, senor, how things
work out? It was all natural ,and inevitable,
and well-meaning — all natural and inevitable
and pure; it had to be; dont you see, seiior?
And yet, what was to come of it, what was
to come of it !

"Senor, you should have seen Juan ride
away that night. His happiness, pulsing
within, stretched his being; when he turned
upon his big black horse and raised his right
arm in farewell gesture, his fingers seemed to

touch the stars. But she, senor, stood a long
time, there on the moonlit steps; a wind of
doubt blew upon her — and she shivered. And
when at last she walked slowly back to her
little house under the pears, both her hands
were tight up against her heart, and her head
was bowed very low.

"And now, seiior, see how things are ar-
ranged. The next day Juan left for the
upper Sergeant ranges, where he was to be
line rider for three months. A week later
old Molvino was called south by a dying
brother. And a few days later Roy Gleason
began again to loiter over the lands of his
father.

"For several years he had been on the
Atlantic Coast — at Harvard, I think; and
often we saw in the local papers of Monterey
and Salinas proud clippings from Eastern
sheets in which he was mentioned for some
athletic prowess or other. He was their
prime footballer, at Harvard, I think. And
the first thing that he did when he returned
was to win the tennis tournament at Del
Monte. Then he took a liking for the coun-
try of his youth. He would head tally-ho
parties to the old Mission, or buzz along the
coast in a big red automobile; but most of
all would he ride. He rode a sleek bay with
cropped mane and docked tail, very fine of
legs, and of astonishing speed, which he sat
English fashion, with little hornless saddle
and short stirrups. We 'd see him all the
time, along the roads, across the fields, jump-
ing fences. He went coatless, usually, with
a soft white shirt turned down at the neck,
turned up to the elbows, his feet encased in
small yellow boots, each with a toy-size silver
spur, his head bare, with the light brown hair
parted at the side — and he was a handsome
boy, senor, beautiful with a sort of clean,
sane, sunny beauty. Once I heard him laugh
as his hunter, urged at too high a fence,
scraped over with all four hoofs — and the
joy of it was like rippling silver.

"Of course, senor, it was inevitable, that
they should meet; that they should meet and
that the blue eyes should lose themselves in
the black; that the black should hold within
them some of the blue, just as the sea holds
the blue of the sky. Passing one day the
cottage in the pear trees, I saw him upon
his horse, stopped before the gate, and, lean-
ing upon the gate, was she. A few days later
I again saw them there; but he had dis-

CARMELITA.

mounted and. the bridle over Ids arm. was
also UanfasJ mi the gate. Then lie took t>>
bringing an extra hoiM with liiin. and they
rool the country together, tumultuous and
joyous, like children. And after a while,
senor, this also changed; their fresh young
voices rang DO longer tree; their laugh was
lii-aid now hnt seldom rippling over the stub-
ble. They began to seek the woods, shaded al-
leys; often, forgetting, they let their horses
walk slow side by side, and it was only when
their stirrup*, swinging idly, brushed against
eaeh other as in caress that Cannelita. lean-
ing forward, urged her horse to one of the
former mad prankish dashes that day by
day came less often, ended sooner, came back
more irresistibly to the dreamy loitering
side by side with their taste of sweet melan-
choly.

"And then, senor, there came the day when
they no longer rode, when they left their
horses behind ; and, sefior, when maid and
man with horses prefer to wander a-foot —
it is very serious. It was the Fall of the
year, an arid, golden Fall, and they wan-
dered in a golden land, and their dreams were
as the silver hazes. Up on the slopes of
the round mountain yonder, you can see the
sun set behind the rocks of Lobos; it be-
came a daily adventure to them, to see the
sun set behind Lobos. But little by little
they came to arrive earlier and earlier at
their station to see the sun set; and, before
it sets, the sun beats down very warm on the
golden arid slopes. They would lie there
upon their backs, side by side, without touch-
ing each other, hour after hour; the sun beat
upon them; it beat upon the land till there
rebounded from it a hot sweetness like in-
. and, senor, one day, beneath this tor-
rential pouring of heat and life, senor

or. it was the eve of San Carlos, pa-
tron saint of the Mission, and the next day,
from all over the country the people thronged
to the mass. And as the bell there above rang,
senor, she came across the ground from the
little house in the pears. Senor, a new

beauty was upon her, a beauty more u-

plex, palpitant with new ami contradictory

emotions. There was shame, shame coming
upon her at sudden intervals, before she
could guard herself, and which mantled red
her cheeks and bowed her head; ami there
was tenderness, a brooding tenderness that
made her eyes luminous with n liedewed light.

■ light tillered. M it wen-, puritieil. through
a tilm of tears ready to well; and above all,
surging through |,er in waves that swept
aside all other foaling and left her tense and
vibrant, there was pride, a great singing
pride — the pride of the woman who has
given nil, who has given herself, sefior. for

lava.

"Sefior, .lunn had come down from the
range and was waiting there at the doom;
and by that deep instinct. 1 suppose, vouch
safed to him who loves, he saw the transfor-
mation and mysteriously he understood. I
saw him pale as his eyes fell ii|hiii her. I
heard the quick intake of breath; and as
she neared, and confirmation poured into him
in a black tide, slowly his right arm was
stiltly rising to the horizontal, till as she stood
before him, it stretched straight with in. lex
finger pointing, pointing her out to the peo-
ple and to God.

"She stood before him, still, a moment,
staring without comprehension at the tinker
pointing, at the eyes behind, glowing with
accusation; a wave of shame whelmed her.
she bent her head. She raised it again ; the
brooding tenderness was in her ey<
brimmed in tears as she looked upon Juan;
her hands went up. with a little shrug of the
shoulders, then came down swiftly, slapping
her thighs, in a gesture that expressed the
inevitable. Fate, the irrevocable all the
fatality that weighs upon the race — and then
in a great surge there rose through her the
Pride — and like a goddess she went by him
and into the scented obscurity of the church.

"\\ hen she came out again, senor, ahead
of the people at the end of the mass, vibrant
with a holy impatience, .lunn was at the
doon up. 'ii his big black horse, rearing with
clanging hoofs upon the Bagging. From his
pommel his riata stretched in a taut diagonal
to the ground, and there, at the loop end of
it. in the center of the portal- and almost
within the sacred edilice. was a nameless Ion
thing which had been human.

".lunn. armed with his terrible instinct.
had ridden up the road, and meeting there,
as he felt he would, his rival *"™*"g toward
the church, he had brought him to the
woman that loved him at the end of his raw-
hide ro|M-."

Don Jose! stopped: the index finger of his
right hand went up in a gesture commanding

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

attention. Inside, the drone of the priest
had ceased; there was a vague rumble of
moved benches, a hissing of feet — and in the
full glare of the sun, she suddenly appeared,
her eyes aglow with expectancy. She stood
there a moment, her lips parted, her breath
coming a little fast; then suddenly both her
hands went to her heart, clutching the flesh;
she bent down and, her eyes fixed upon a
spot of the flagging where they was nothing,
she screamed.

But her father, her brothers, immediately

closing about her, urged her down the slope
toward the little house in the pear trees; and
as she went down, the eyes of Don Jose fol-
lowed her with a light in them that as-
tounded me.

"God guard you, Don Jose," I said; "you
love her."

He gave me a look full of a strange, wist-
ful desolation.

"I love her," he said; "1 loved her — ah,
far better than did the others — may there
be mercy for their souls."

The Deserter

By Mary Madison Lee

Who dares go forth unsummoned from the feast
Of life, too eager for the dark unknown,
Who waits not for the word to be released,
But braves the night, unbidden and alone,

Him we call coward, we that stand and wait,
Lacking the will to follow, though we deem
That better things are there beyond the gate,
Higher than hope, and deeper than our dream.

Yet in the grasp of each there lies some key,
That we might fit into the fast-closed door,
That shuts us from the one great mystery,
Barrier between the After and Before.
He that hath courage thither let him flee,
But we must call him coward evermore.

m f

f/i*' Only Entrance. It la Very Shallow.

The Hermit of San Nicholas

By W. A. Tenney

Illustrated from Photographs taken by J. C. Brewster

0\V lew readers have ever
seen in print any ac-
count of San Nicholas Is-
land. The name, even, is
visible only on the recent
maps of ( 'alifornia. The
pioneer settlers of Ventura and Santa Bar-
bara Counties, together with the survivors
of the old Mexican race, relate an enter-
taining tradition of what occurred on this
terra incognita at a modern date; but tradi-
tion, though a convenient foundation for a
romance, is not recognized as credible his-
tory. Some of the pioneer hunters, how-
ever, left in writing a t hrill ntr narrative of
what they personally witnessed on the island.
This written account of thoroughly reliable
eye -witnesses was published in the local his-
tory of Ventura County while the witnesses
were still living. In addition to the uniform
recital of a generation not yet extinct, we
have a corrohoratini; report in public docu-

ments of what (ioveniment explorers found
on Sau Nicholas at a recent date. The
photographer, who accompanied the olli
rials, has furnished us with the nronos taken
by his camera. With this accumulation of
cl ^connected material, accessible to very few
readers, because long out of print, we ven-
ture to compile a connected story in every
way historically true.

San Nicholas Island is eighty miles due
south from Buena Ventura, and belongs
to Ventura County. It is remote from all
lines of ocean travel, situated in a storm
center, with no sheltered harbor for large
sea-going vessels, and with a roadstead un-
safe for anchorage by reason of sudden and
violent changes of winds. The pounding of
the waves on the west side has opened a
narrow gateway through the rock into a
shallow bay. where small boats can comfort-
ably land. The situation of the island is
such that it is difficult to find an experi-

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

IP;- 3

I I

A Part of the Stone Forest of San Nicholas.

enced navigator who is w lling to take tour-
ists to the place, especially if expected to
tarry for many days in the exposed offing.

For half a century this spot of earth has
been unpeopled except for the last few years
by a lone shepherd of a flock of sheep.

By Government survey the island is found
to be nine miles long- and four miles wide,
with an area of thirty-two square m'les.
Some fourteen thousand acres are compara-
tively level, with a seemingly rich soil. A
few stunted thorn bushes comprise all the
present timber, though excavations reveal
the existence of an extinct forest. Indeed,
the early fur hunters reported that more
than fifty years ago they found a part of
the tract covered with trees and shrubbery.
Modern fires have denuded the whole ter-
ritory.

Vast quantities of land shells are found
in the sand and in mounds, but not a living
specimen can now be found of that par-
ticular species, though they are still extant

on other islands and the mainland. That
these land mollusks were used for food by
the primitive natives is self-evident from
the segregated mounds of this species.

Numerous circular depressions are found
everywhere, indicating the location of pre-
historic human dwellings. Dr. Bowers, the
scientific expert of the Government survey,
counted forty of these depressions near the
boat landing, like the basements of a com-
pact village. The mounds of sea shells of
all existing species are immense.

One of the most beautiful varieties of the
haliotis (abalone) family is numerous on
the mounds, but so far as known it is now
extinct on the whole California coast. These
shell mounds are a matter of surprise to
every beholder. It is doubtful if the world
has an equal. They extend over the most
of the island, one be ng about six miles long,
a mile in width and twenty-five feet deep.

In some places beautifully polished peb-
bles are constructed into pyramids of unique
art. In the mounds of shells are inter-
spersed bones of fowls, fish, seals and
whales. Manifestly these artificial hills are
composed of the refuse separated from the
food of the extinct race. These s lent re-
mains bear unmistakable evidence of the
numbers of people who here made their
homes for probably thousands of years.

Wherever one turns his eye, broken mor-
tars, pestles, bone implements and ingenious
ornaments are seen.

What little has been published about San
Nicholas has long been out of print, and is
now inaccessible to the reading public.

There are shadowy traditions that San
Nicholas was densely populated by an inter-
esting people when modern history began
to draw upon their barbarian shores. The
discovery was much later than that of the
other islands in the Channel group. Ex-
actly where and under whom the first civil-
ized visitors landed on this isolated spot we
have no record to inform us. It is known
that the Russian fur-traders, not long before
the landing of the California gold-seekers,
learned that San Nicholas was one of the
most prolific resorts for the sea otter, and
they took the earliest steps to bag the rich-
est game. They accordingly shipped down
a strong crew of experienced native Alaskan
hunters, with all needed appliances and pro-
visions, and the most improved rifles. The

TI1K HKUMIT OK SAN M< 11M KB

One of the Immrnar .Mounds of Abuloiir shrlla (*ftlMIWJ

ship sailed away and left the imparted
northern savages to do their work until the
end of the fur season. Tradition reports
that the Kadiaks MOB, by Com of arms,
made themselves criminally free with the
wives and daughters of the natives. Of
course tin- strongest elements in humanity
rose in resistance; but what could an un-
warliko people do with no weapons hut stone
Hsh spears and stone knives against a much
smaller number with rifles and steel daggerst

There were no civilized spectators to the
horrible massacre that followed. Later a
report IMobed the mainland that the only
survivors left were women and little girls;
every male had been slaughtered. Recent
explorers find corroborating evidence of vio-
lence. Shallow graves where heaps of
skeletons are found in disorder are not in
accord with the regulation Boda of sepulture
where the single body was pla 1 face down-
ward with the feet drawn up beneath, and
some personal haWfflgfagl or ornaments were
deposited with the remains.

One of an exploring party for the Smith
sonian Institution states that many of the
skulls of the exposed skeletons show a break
in the temporal bone or in the eye soeket, as
if the owners had been killed by some blunt
instrument. The remains confirm the report
of a general violence.

Si range to relate, the most reliable printed
report of the massacre first appeared in a
Boston paper. At that early date the
Yankees were partners with the Russians in
the fur trade on the California eoa-t. Here
is the Boston item :

A ship (.uur, | by Boardman and Pope of
BoatOB, commnnded by Captain Whitemore,
trailing on the const, took from the port of
Sitka, Russian American, about thirty
Kadiak Indians, n part of the hardy tribe
inhabiting the Island of Kadiak, to the
islands of the Santa Barbara Channel, for
the purpose of killing sea otter, which were
then very numerous. Captain Whitemore.
after landing the Indians on these islands
and placing in their hands firearms and other
-iry implements of the chase, sailed
away to the lower coast of California and
South America. In the absence of the ship
a dispute arose between the Kadiaks and
the natives of the islands, originating in
the seizure of the female* bv the former.
Tbo Kadiaks possessing superior weapons,
slaughtered the males without mercy, old and
young. On the Island of San Nicholas not a
male old or young was spared. At the end
of the year Captnin Whitemore returned to
the islands, took the Kadiaks on board and
returned to Sitka.— (History of Santa Bar-
bara and Ventura Counties, page 255.)

N'ot long after the northern hunters left,
tidings in some way reached the mainland of

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

the painful situation on San Nicholas. Deep
sympathy was awakened at the missions and
elsewhere for the forlorn women and chil-
dren. A purse was easily raised to charter
a ship to bring the unfortunates to the
mainland, where they could receive aid and
sympathy.

It was in 1835 that Isaac Williams, once
Collector of the Port of San Pedro, super
intended a rescue party. The schooner Peor
es Nada, Captain Hubbard, was chartered.
While the schooner was anchored in the
offing, the crew had little trouble or delay
in "rounding up" the whole remainder of
the race at the landing. As the last boat-
load was pushing out through the surf, one
woman, noticing that something had been
left, supposed to have been one of her chil-
dren, leaped overboard and rushed up the
bank in pursuit. The situation of the surf
forbade any delay of the boat with its
human cargo. The officer intended, when he
had put his passengers on board the schoon-
er, to return with the empty boat for the
straggler, but on reaching the ship, a rising
gale admonished the captain that any delay
would imperil the vessel and the lives of all
on board; so he gave orders to weigh anchor
and stand for San Pedro under close reef.
It was a terrible head wind, and the vessel
was buffeted for eight days before the coast
could be reached. The capta'n intended,
when the storm abated, to return for the
one lost woman. On reaching San Pedro,
however, he found an order from the owner
of the ship at Monterey to sail at once for
that port. There was no alternative left for
his private plans. At Monterey a cargo of
lumber was taken aboard for San Francisco.
As she approached the Golden Gate a tem-
pest was raging, and attempting to cross
the bar the Peor es Nada capsized, and all
on board perished. The hulk was seen no
more. At that date this was the only vessel
on the California coast sufficiently large to
make a safe voyage to San Nicholas.

It must be remembered that about the only
traffic on the California coast less than sev-
enty-five years ago was carried on by a few
Eastern ships trading for hides and tallow.

The woman had nothing to fear from
wild animals, for the largest was a native
fox about the size of a small cat. There
was no danger of starvation, for in addi-
tion to seals and fish, wlrch she knew how

to capture and manage, there was an inex-
haustible stock of all kinds of mollusks only
waiting to be picked U p, and eggs by the
millions deposited in the crannies of the
rocks by pelicans, cormorants and pigeons.

The land, too, afforded esculent roots and
native fruits. The old dwellings were left,
and on the beach was landed an unlimited
store of driftwood for a renewed cabin and
fuel. Acquired skill in finding the material
and the manufacture of clothing supplied
that demand. A few domestic dogs left be-
hind were glad to aid in the chase. What
an amount of freedom there is in having
all the world to yourself alone ! Nobody to
steal or cheat, to fight or scold. How broad
the feeling when there is no mortal in your
world that can possibly touch you or any-
thing that you possess or want. Hermitage
may have compensations.

The next report from the forlorn island
was in 1850. This was fifteen years after
the Peor es Nada made her last voyage.
Meantime Mexico had ceded California to
the United States, and a semi-barbarism was
fast giving place to an urbane civilization.
Gold had been discovered and the Sierras
were swarming with miners. Just fifteen
years after the lone woman had been left on
San Nicholas, Captain Nidever, a worthy
citizen of Santa Barbara, ventured to make
a voyage in search of otter. He was con-
nected with the American Fur Company.
As they were passing around the island to
find the best point for game, Brown of the
crew discovered in the wet sand the fresh
tracks of a small human foot. He followed
the trail from the beach until the tracks
disappeared in the moss on the upland. He
reported to the others, but the day was too
far spent to continue the search. The next
day the hunting trip was cut short by a ris-
ing gale. The captain was compelled to
scud away for home. The next year Cap-
tain Nidever made a second voyage. While
his men were moving around a different part
of the island they came to some stakes of
driftwood on which were hung strips of seal
blubber to dry, out of the reach of wild
dogs. Here was the work of human hands.
Where to look for the invisible agent no one
could tell. Again the party was here to
hunt otter, not for a woman. The weather
signals were dubious, and the business re-
quired haste. A fair catch of otter in those

» '

The Mode of

'ace Down and the Feet Drawn Up Behind the Body.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

days was more lucrative than an average
gold mine. Every moment of daylight must
be economized. A violent storm soon drove
the hunters to shelter. When they related
on shore what they had discovered, the older
residents and the dwellers about the mis-
sions said : "The lost woman must be still
alive." A general interest was awakened in
the involuntary hermit, and the Mission
Fathers offered a prize of $200.00 to any
party that would bring her to Santa Bar-
bara.

It was in 1853 that Captain Nidever de-
termined to take another cruise to San Nich-
olas, and engage in a woman hunt. The
prize would pay to make one systematic
sweep of the island. On landing he led his
crew to one end of the island, where signs
had before been seen, and marshalled them
in line, as far apart as possible and yet
maintain communication. Their united
vision covered the whole breadth of terri-
tory. In time as they climbed the hill,
Brown saw in the distant brush a dark ob-
ject that seemed to move. At first he
thought it was a bird, but as he no selessly
drew near, it assumed the appearance of the
back of a human head. It was the woman
in a low brush tent without a roof. She did
not see Brown, but her attention was fixed
upon the other men at a greater distance.
He gave a signal by raising his hat up and
down on the ramrod of his gun. A few
dogs near the woman gave a warning growl,
but at a fierce yell from her they disap-
peared. She was busy peeling the blub-
ber from a seal skin with an iron hoop.
Her mass of matted hair was of a
yellowish brown color. Her dress was of
cormorant skins (shags) cut in squares, ex-
tending from the shoulders to the ankles.
There was no cover for head or feet. When
all chance of escape was cut off, Brown
stealthily moved around in front and let
himself be seen. The woman made no at-
tempt to flee, but on the contrary she re-
ceived him with a bow and smile — with as
much grace as he could have been welcomed
in a civilized parlor. She greeted all her
visitors in the same way. True etiquette is
not a mere formality in highly cultured cir-
cles, it is an innate instinct of untutored hu-
manity. As the men sat down around her
she constantly talked, but not a word was in-
telligible. A few Indians of the crew spoke

several d.alects, but they understood not a
word. She was the only one left who could
speak the language of the island, and she
knew no other.

The savage was endowed with the grace
of hospitality. In a few minutes she took
from a grass sack two varieties of roots,
placing them in the smoldering ashes. When
cooked she placed them before her guests;
she gave the best and about all her larder
contained. Taking a drinking dish, she went
to a nearby spring and brought some water.

When the men made signs for her to go
with them to the landing and the schooner,
at first she failed to comprehend their mean-
ing, but when they made signs for her to
gather up her possessions, she caught the
idea and began to pack her baskets and sacks
with great dispatch. The dried blubber, and
all else that could be used for food, was
gathered up, meager clothing, bone needles,
sinew and ornaments were packed. The men
relieved her from the most of the luggage;
and last of all the woman selected a glow-
ing brand from the fire as an essential for
warmth and cooking. It is much easier for
Indians to transport fire than it is for them
by any process they know to start it de novo.

When all was in readiness, she led the
way down her trail, coming soon to a pure
spring of drinking water, where seal blub-
ber was hanging to dry; further down the
grade she led to a fountain for bathing,
where she paused to wash her hands and
face. On reaching the landing, they mo-
tioned for her to enter the boat, which she
cheerfully did. Aboard the schooner she
sought a place near the cook stove. When
food was offered, she ate with great relish
victuals such as she had never tasted before.
Indeed, from that time on she preferred the
bacon and bread to blubber and shell fish.
Brown at once found a piece of bed-ticking
and set about making a skirt. This with a
sailor's shirt and a discarded vest made her
quite comfortable.

The weather signals indicated a prolonged
season for hunting, so arrangements were
made to camp on shore. Poles were leaned
against a rock and an old sail spread over
them for a tent. A short d'stance away a
smaller shelter was arranged for the woman.
She went about talking to herself and sing-
ing as if content and happy. She aided in
the work, bringing wood and water. She

THK HKK.MIT <>K SAN NICHOLAS.

A Vast Mound of Small Sheila and a Fete of the Exposed Skeleton*.

then finished a water bucket which was
unique. Into a nicely braided grass basket
she placed some pieces of asphalttun. picked
up on the beach ; on these she placed hot
stones, and when in a liquid state the
asphaltum was carefully spread in a uni-
form thickness over the inside. When com-
pleted the basket was impervious to water
as a tin pail and not much heavier. Small
drinking dishes were made in the same way.
In these vessels water could In: bottled or
food cooked by tilling the basket with rata
and inimers ng a succession of hot rocks.

Among the otters that were brought into
camp for skinning was one on t he eve of
parturition. The hunter removed the fetus,
and stuffed the beautiful skin. By gestures
t'lie woman solicited the care of the toy. Tak-
ing it into her tent, she suspended it to a
pole, and by the hour she would swing it
back and forth, singing to it as to an in-
fant. Eighteen yam of hermit life had not
abolished the maternal instinct.
She pressed it to her tiosotn and rocke.1 it

to and fro.
In memory of the little one she lost so long
ago.

This time Captain Nidever was allowed a
month of successful hunting, then the rigH

of sky and bm admonished him that it was
time to leave. On the voyage homeward-
bound, however, a fearful gale met him.
The force of the wind, the boiling and break-
ing of the sea, the rolling and pitching of
the creaking vessel seemed fearful to one
not accustomed to ocean life. The great
anxiety of the woman seemed to increase
until she fell upon her knees on deck, raising
her hands and open eyes to the heavens, as
if invoking aid from an unseen |>ower above.
The dramatic scene was short. Soon the
smiling face of the sun appeared from be-
neath the retreating clouds, the gale was
abated and the seas assuaged. Then the
woman in pantomime conveyed to Captain
Nidever the view that it was her intercession
with the unseen which mitigated the tempest.
When the crew with the hermit were land-
ing, the tirst object of interest to attract her
attention was a two-wheeled cart drawn by
o yoke of oxen. She had never seen before
any domestic animal except the small Indian
dogs. She made apt pastures of her sur-
prise at the yoke, the docile oxen, the re-
volving wheels, at the same time talking and
laughing. Soon a horseman came riding
down the beach. This seemed still more
strange and ludicrous to her. Placing two

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

fingers of her right hand astr'de of her left
thumb, she gesticulated the galloping rider
with shouts of laughter. She was in a new
world, though less than a hundred miles
from where she had spent her whole life.
Every view awakened surprise and hilarity.
Captain Nidever took the hermit to his
own home and placed her in care of his
efficient wife. The Mission Fathers, too,
assumed an indirect supervision over the
new arrival. Visitors from near and far
came to see the human curiosity, and many
donations were left for her comfort. She
seemed willing to attire herself for exhibi-
tion in her suit of birdskins with feather
points downward. She had a keen relish
for all the varieties of the white man's food,
and was extremely fond of fruit. From
lack of critical oversight she ate to excess
and brought on a serious malady. It was
supposed that a return to her native diet
would furnish a remedy, but she spurned
clams, fish and seal blubbers. In a few
weeks the sickness proved fatal, and the last
remnant of a once numerous race passed
away without being able by words to com-
municate anything about her people. The
tale of personal sorrow and suffering for
eighteen years, and the tradition of the ex-
tinct race must always remain a blank to the
civilized world. At the end of the hermit's
life she was given an appreciative burial by
the Fathers. The two unique dresses, one

worn by herself and a little one supposed to
belong to a deceased child, together with a
basket of spear heads, abalone fishhooks,
bone needles, sinew-thread and miscellaneous
ornaments were packed up by the Fathers
and sent to Rome. They were deposited in
th cabinet of curiosities in the Vatican,
where, doubtless, visitors may still inspect
them. A carefully prepared account of the
hermit went with her effects to the Vatican.
And what can now be said about the mod-
ern San Nicholas? The island is still there,
but for half a century it has virtually been
unpopulated. The otters were soon exter-
minated, so hunters had no motive to visit
the storm-lashed isle. There are some
twenty thousand acres of manifestly rich
soil, but no homesteaders care to take it.
Food and water are abundant. Some ad-
venturer has placed on the island a large
flock of sheep. Periodically the sheep-
shearers make a voyage to ply their voca-
tion for a week or two, and at intervals a
nomadic shepherd makes a tour to look after
the lambs. The larger part of the year,
however, San Nicholas entertains no man.
The bleating of the sheep, the cry of the
lambs, the barking of the inoffensive foxes,
the scream of sea fowls chime in with hoarse
growl of sea lions. The roar of the billows
among the cliffs and the muffled tones of the
ever-beating surf. Nature's desolation reigns
supreme.

The Stage and the Pulpit

Bv William Winter

1.1 'IT Inhumations against
the theater are neither so nu-
merous nor so violent as they
were in former years, but
they continue to be ejaculated
and do doubt they will be
audible as long as bigoted clergymen nour-
ish, and as long as religion which ought to
make its votaries just and gentle — makes
some of them intolerant. The theatre, as is
well known, was originally, in Catholic coun-
tries of Europe, a sort of auxiliary of the
church- which sanctioned and used "Miracle
I'lavs" but. gradually, it took an inde-
pendent form and grew into a separate and,
finally, a powerful institution; whereupon the
church became savagely antagonistic to its
offspring, and practically signified its enmity
by persecution. It is an ancient <|iiarrel, and
it ought not to endure. The theatre is essen-
tial to the public welfare and it should not
he, and cannot be, suppressed. Vanity and
-••liishness, however, are strong foes to recon-
ciliation. The actual reason, as distinguished
from the alleged one, for clerical opposition
to the stage is jealousy on the part of pulpit
perforata, combined with anxious apprehen-
sion lest the influence of the theatre should
1 that of the church. The extent of
injustice to which intolerance is capable of
proceeding was recently exemplified by a
clergyman of Atlanta, Oa., Kev. Dr. Brough-
ton by name, who actually went so far as to
represent that great actor and manager, the
late Henry Irving, as an opponent of the
stage, and a disparager and assailant of his
own vocation. That preacher seems to have
been uncommonly acidulous in his remarks,
delivering several tremendous, because self-
convincing, reasons why the theatre should
be suppressed everywhere as well as in At-
lanta, Ga., and he concluded his phillippie by
quoting a statement, attributed to Henry
Irving, to the effect that ''the playhouse is
a dangerous place for men and women of
weak | towers and characters."

That statement is true of many places be-
sides the playhouse; for example, it is true
of the church; but an attempt to represent
Henry Irving as, in any way, at any time, or
on any ground, an enemy of the theatre or

of the art of acting could < ie only of

ignorance or malice. Irving often made
opportunities — and he never lost one — of de-
fending his profession, lis \iews of the
stage are recorded in his many public ad-
dresses, and those addresses are easily acces-
sible; and if the Kev. Dr. Broughton, or any
other clergyman, were really desirous of ac-
quainting the religious community with the
opinions and convictions of that noble actor.
who lived and died in the service of the
drama, it would be easy to accomplish that
desire by reading some of those addresses
from the pulpit. They are as good as most
sermons, and belter than many. They con-
tain much information, and the spirit of them
is pure, earnest, thoughtful, liberal and sweet.
In one of them, delivered at Harvard 1'ni-
versity. in 1885, Henry Irving said:

* • • • We do not claim to be any bet-
ter than our fellows in other walks of life.

* * * It is impossible to point to any
vocation which is not attended by tempta-
tions that prove fatal to many. • • •
The immortal part of the stage is its nobler
part. • * * I have been an actor for
nearly thirty years, and what I have told
you is the fruit of my ex|>erience, and of an
earnest and conscientious belief that the call-
ing to which I am proud to belong is worthy
of the sympathy and support of all intelli-
gent people." (He remained an actor
twenty years longer.)

Some years ago a significant incident, in
which Henry Irving was concerned, occurred
at a country - mansion in England, an inci-
dent which lie afterward related to the pres-
ent writer, who, therefore, can vouch for its
truth. It chanced that Henry Irving was
dining with a group of distinguished per-
sons, among whom was the Primate of Kng-

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

land — the late Archbishop of Canterbury.
That venerable Prince of the Church spoke,
in terms of disapproval, as to the employ-
ment of children, by Irving, in the London
Lyceum Theatre. To those remarks Irving
replied :

"Sir, I cannot admit the justice of your
opinion, nor can I refrain from assuring you
that it is absolutely groundless. The chil-
dren who are employed in my theatre are
carefully guarded, and are as well cared for
as they could be in any home; better, in
some cases, than they are by their parents.
I require that their conduct and manners
should be above reproach, and I will add that
such is not the case with the choir boys who
sing in your lordship's cathedral — for, within
this week, I, personally, was obliged to call
to order a number of those choir boys, who
were creating a disturbance during the serv-
ice, a thing that never could happen in any
first-class theatre."

The Archbishop made no immediate re-
sponse, but, after the party had retired for
the night, he went to Irving's room, sat by
his bedside — the actor having gone to bed —
and there and then expressed regret for his
error, and thanks that he had been set right.

It is much to be wished that the clergy in
general would emulate such a good example
of justice and liberal feeling. The people of
the stage are like other people — neither worse
nor better. The theatre cannot with any-
more propriety be held responsible for the
immorality of some of its members than the
church can be held responsible for the wick-
edness, not infrequently made known, of
some of its votaries — even of clergymen
themselves. If there actually be a difference,
in point of morals, between the two institu-
tions (and there does not seem to be any), it
probably is in favor of the theatre — for the
theatre does not assume, as the church does,
to be the custodian of all the virtues; and,
moreover, the theatre, behind its scenes, and
without any of that glamour, altogether fic-
titious, with which it has been invested by
an ignorant public fancy, is as hard, stern
and exacting as a machine shop. For those
persons who are in earnest (and there are as
many earnest persons on the stage as there
are in the pulpit), the continuous, strenuous

toil requisite for the attainment of success in
acting leaves but scant time even for need-
ful rest. The stage is an excellent thing,
when it is rightly conducted, and that it
should be rightly conducted is the heartfelt
desire of every worthy member of it, man
or woman. The profession of acting has
done great good to thousands of people ; and,
if the clergy must occupy itself with the
theatre, it would be well employed, not in
condemnation of it, but in condemnation of a
vulgar, commercial misuse of it, that is made
by unworthy persons who, wh'le making loud
professions of racial integrity and religious
motive, conduct it as a mere bazar. Pulpit
denunciation of the actor is powerless to stay
the dramatic movement or to affect the trend
of educated public opinion. Bigotry, shoot-
ing from behind a hedge, causes only dislike
and contempt. The church, like every other
social institution, must maintain itself, not
by denouncing contemporary educational
forces, but by making and keeping its own
force potent and interesting. When the
country clergyman, complaining to Henry
Ward Beecher that his congregation often
went to sleep while he was preaching, asked
what he should do "to wake them up," the
famous preacher replied : "If my hearers
should go to sleep, I should ask the deacon
to come 'round and 'wake me up' !" The acrid
ebullition of the Atlanta parson, tending
to stigmatize Henry Irving, by misapplying
words attributed to him so as to make him
seem to decry the profession that he loved,
honored, and devoutly served all the days of
his life, exemplifies an ecclesiastical pose,
either ignorant or disingenuous, which is not
only unjust to the theatre, but injurious to
the church and detrimental to the welfare of
the public. A cynical observer might re-
mark upon the singularity, that testimony
of actors against the stage is always quoted
either from actors who have turned preachers,
or from actors who are dead and cannot
reply. It would be interesting to note the
result, if some ecclesiastical crank would
select, and apply to condemnation of the dra-
matic calling, remarks by Eichard Mansfield,
or E. S. Willard, or Robert Mantell, or John
Hare, or Mrs. Fiske, or Edward Terry. The
answer would have no uncertain sound.

The

Undomesticated Indian

as seen on the

Warm Springs Reservation

From photograph* taken by

Mrs. Fanny van Duyn

Tygh Valley, Orcjr<.n

Tbt Pacific Monthly, July, 1907

Tat-toon-my and Her Indian Doll.

Syad, an Indian Maiden in a Beaded Buckskin Dress.

Ticee-men-f. a Warm Spring* Buck.

A Young Squaw and Her Baby.

Ho-ta*h-a. Hrr Pappoo**. and T'iiim Vo»"

I UN

The Waterloo of King Jedediah I

By John Fleming Wilson

UK HE is — or was — in the
city of Honolulu on Fort
street, just above Queen
street and its intricacies, a
certain low-ceilinged, dimly-
l;_-lited coffee house. A sign
informs the wayfarer that it is specially
fitted up for the refreshment of the hungry
who are also epicurean. It is the resort of

The history of the dynasties of the South
Seas is yet to be written. Certain greater
princes that have exploited the coral-fringed
islands, eaten of the bounty of their gardens
and waged their wars of blood and commerce
upon the warm reaches of the Pacific have
attained to paragraphs in the newspapers
and mention in the dispatches of The Powers.
Rut of the kings themselves, those vagrant
and ofttimes drunken potentates ruling from
thrones built amid the palms and mangoes of
a thousand isles, there has never been a vera-
cious and complete record. Down-Easter,
Scot, Irishman and full-bellied German, they
have gone their boisterous ways, wielded
their tinsel scepters and drunk their trade
irin and sweet champagne with no scribe to
indite their memoirs and preserve their fame.

But in Andrew's coffee bouse bat a year
ago you might meet them. Kin<» Max of
Laysan would have banded you the Adver-
tiser, designating with thick finger the item
that spelled his glory; King Ole of Tahula's
thumbed Bund was at your disposal and
minor royalties would nod and bellow in
subdued thunder over the going of the Morn-
ing Star to the Low Archipelago. Here was
the clearing-house of the princes of the South
Seas. Here they who spoke on far-off, surf-
ringed domains with the voice of authority
might easily be enticed into amicable and
even confidential chat about shell and copra
and cane and the politics of the great deep.

The arrival of a schooner in the offing
meant much in Andrew's coffee house. Let
Kaheamanu, the waiter, fling open the door

that gave on the hot street and cry "Some-
body coming!" The kings rose and reached
for white jackets and limp hats with excla-
mations of anticipation or disgust, as it
meant the arrival of some brother lord or the
imminent departure of one already of the
company. A little later you misht see them
on Wilder's wharf, straddled on huge legs,
smoking prodigious pipes, all gazing out
toward the entrance in the reef beyond
which a schooner jockeyed for her straight
course in.

One such day I had been in Andrew's with
the Nestor of all South Sea journalists, the
friend and celebrator of half the notables
along the Equator. He had been devouring
(he had a true Atlantic taste though he had
not seen "home" in thirty years) a huge
portion of bacon and eggs with a ponderous
eup of coffee to savor it, between mouthful*
telling me the inside of the latest coup d'itat
in the vexed territory of Hawaii. The drone
of conversation, the steaming air that
breathed in from the torrid town, had put
me almost to sleep and I fear I had caught
but little of his tale when I yielded entirely
to the drowsy influences of the place and
dozed.

When I awoke Kaheamanu's cry still rang
in my ears and my companion was wiping
his beard with his handkerchief preparatory
to going forth with the rest "You *d better
along," he remarked. "A little fresh
air will do yon good."

The remark was so commonplace - that I
nearly dozed again. But I heard a well-
known voice — the voice of the Lord of Nua—
saying, "It 's Jedediah's Bet* of Bath. Jede-
diah aint been up from Enid Island in ten
vears, I'll bet."

"Who's Jedediah T" I demanded of the
journalist.

"Jedediah the First is the King of Enid,"
he responded sententiously.

And where's EnidT" I pursued.

"Due south," was the reply. "Next to

THK PACIFIC MONTHLY.

Christmas Island it 's about as far out of the
world as you can get. Jedediah ought to
have come up long before now."

We followed the kings at a respectful dis-
tance down Fort street and along the coral
strewn waterfront till we reached the wharf,
whence the harbor lay in full view, sparkling
in the afternoon sun out to the dancing surf
on the reef, hemmed in with delicate white
arms of dazzling sand, like a bowl outheld
by some fair woman.

Beyond the reef I saw the schooner whose
arrival had made all this stir. She leant
against the Trades gently, a gossamer curl
of white water at her prow, a slender thread
of green traversing the azure sea behind her,
marking her path. As she heeled over to the
scented gale that bore to her the heavy odors
of the flowery valleys of Oahu I saw that she
was very old. Her antique topsail was
patched and stained, and the very timbers of
her bow, as she rose streaming from the
surge, seemed worn and thin. The long
stretch of green, that traced her wake for the
eye, one of the kings explained : "She 's foul
with weeds. The Bess of Bath aint been on
a dock or on a beach to be scraped this
twenty years."

And his judgment was confirmed when the
ancient vessel found her position to enter
between the foaming reef -heads and bore up
into the wind. It seemed that it was with the
utmost difficulty that her master made her
understand the direction he indicated, for
there were two opinions as to whether she
would not pile up on the reef. But the top-
sail filled again and the Bess of Bath forged
in and headed for the buoy that marks the
turn in the channel. Here, again, she seemed
on the verge of destruction ; it was only after
a full minute's time that she recovered and
drew into the harbor, the song of the Ka-
nakas of her crew coming softly to our ears.

As a. boat pulled away vigorously from the
schooner's side the oldest journalist in the
South Seas nodded his head and told me to
look out for an item. "That 's Jedediah,"
he informed me. "You 'd better get a talk
with him now, for he '11 be pretty busy when
lie gets close to American whiskey and cigars.
I'll introduce you."

The boat swung up alongside a bark dis-
charging prosaic coal for the mail boats and
Jedediah came up on the wharf with a flour-
ish of arms and a kick that sent the sailor

on whose shoulder he mounted howling into
the bottom of the boat. Once on the planks
and firm on his feet he pulled his cap hard
down over his eyes, scowled at the unfortu-
nate Kanaka now giggling among his com-
panions, and peered out under the sun at his
schooner. Satisfied, apparently, that this
ancient craft was secure, the King of Enid
advanced towards us. The King of Kohula
was the first to greet him : "Hello, Jedediah,"
he said hoarsely. "Thought you 'd quit this
part of the world and gone to the Colonies."

They shook hands solemnly, without fur-
ther words, and my companion adroitly
thrust me in among those present. Royalty
squeezed my hand in an immense paw and
immediately turned up and away from the
wharf. The rest of us followed, a taciturn
procession stringing out over the coral like
men following a boss to work, each of us
stumping along industriously in the rear of
this determined figure.

It was not to Andrew's that we went this
time. We did not even pass the place; in-
stead we turned at Queen Street, shuffled
down an alley bordered with lean palms and
into the cool court of Cunha's, quencher of
Equatorial thirsts, blender of savory concoc-
tions fit for throats parched through long
seasons.

It is not for a scribbler of paragraphs to
depict the solemn, almost melancholy gusto
with which the kings drank, nor the ameliora-
tion of their manners as the strong waters
had their effect, nor the expansion of Jede-
diah I.

In due time the ceremony was over. A
dozen questions had been propounded and
answered and the Press advanced and made
its queries in the name of the anxious and
expectant public, while the kings departed
with retreating cries and ejaculations till the
last vanished out into the afternoon and the
bartender returned to his nook by the re-
frigerator.

"Nothing to say much," said the king.
"Enid is still there, or was fifty-four days
ago when we sailed. I'm here and you 're
here and Hawaii has gone over to Uncle Sam
and I want another drink and a cigar and a
piece of pie."

"Pie !" I exclaimed, as we drank ; "that 's
a funny thing to ask" for."

"Is it?" the king returned simply. "I
have n't had a piece of pie in eleven years.

THE WATERLOO OF KING JEDEDIAH I.

I was brought up on it. They dont make
pie down in my district. Where can we get
some T"

We went eompanionably to George's and
sat down under a fan. The king looked at
it and thci looked at me. "Queer sort of
punkah, that. Run by clock workt"

" Elect ricity," I informed him.

re enough," he said readily. "I got a
paper a year ago from Sidney that told
about what electricity was doing. But I want
pie."

He got it, and as he went into it I men-
tioned again the fact that I desired to know
the purpose of his visit and the news of
Enid, that the public might be informed of
its prince's arrival in due form.

He stopped politely and gave me briefly
what I thought I desired. I thanked him
and he resumed his pie as I left. I looked
back when I reached the street. The king
was ordering more pie.

In the evening, when the lights blaze on
King street and creep out of the foliage of
Punchbowl, when the breeze that has roared
all the hot day becomes only a perfumed sigh,
Honolulu wakes to her varied life and en-
joys her kings. On this occasion they strolled
up and down the thoroughfares, dividing the
polyglot, laughing, singing throng with vast
shoulders, calling over the garlanded heads
in deep-sea tones, scattering the largess of
their treasuries with lavish hands. But the
King of Enid was not among them. From
the river to the quiet reaches of the palace
grounds he was not visible and I, being a
seeker after the wisdom of crowned heads as
expounded by the lords of the sea-girt isles,
sought him elsewhere.

I found him in one corner of Cunha'a, a
bottle and a glass at his hand, his face to the
ceiling, his eyes fixed upon a nymph that dis-
ported herself in the fashion of half a world
away with immutable posture and eternal
smile.

King Jedediah pushed the bottle towards
me and withdrew his thoughtful glance from
the painted divinity. When I had helped my-
self he poured him out a glass and drank it
slowly.

"How does it seem to get backf" I in-
quired with banal civility.

"It 's the very devil," he added soberly.
"The very devil." I'm not back yet."

"How do too meant" I demanded.

"It 's the darned Germans." he exploded.

"Seized your island t" I suggested, think-
ing of Samoa cud Pago-Pago.

''The Germans and ambition," answered
the king. "I was after too much and 1
got it."

"I dont understand," I said. "Have thev
taken EnidT"

"Not by a darn sight !" he exclaimed. "But
they 're welcome to it, now. I dont know
what to do."

To advise kings is a hardy matter. I
ehose silence.

"You see," the king went on presently, "it
was all because of a little German band."

This was his proem. His tale, the tale of
the Waterloo of King Jedediah, related by
himself, was as follows:

I took up Enid about fifteen years ago.
I was mate of the old bark Hesper in those
days and she had a hard name. So did I.
The crew was as tough a set of Auckland
galley-boys as ever I drove. Thurfore, I
was set ashore on Enid one fine night and
the Hesper went on up to the States with
the crew running the ship.

I did n't like being marooned that way, at
first. But Enid was a nice little island.
Plenty of cocoanut and mangoes and sour-
sops and pears and kalo and as decent a lot
of natives as I ever did see. Out of the way,
that was the only matter with the place. But
I fixed that all right. I bought the Bet* of
Bath three years later off a trader and that
way I got a trip to the Colonies once in a
while and a way of getting my copra and
shell to market.

Any of the boys will tell you I did pretty
well by Enid. I married the chiefs daugh-
ter and taught 'em a lot of things about
trading. I put Enid on the map. I tell you
right now I turned over a lot of money and
put it right back into the island. Why, five
years ago I had a bandstand put up, besides
a big treasury building, and passed a law
that every man should drill once a week in
my army. Tou could have come to Enid
and found the most up-to-date kingdom in
the South Seas. I had a lot of improvements
and this year I was going to go to San Fran-
cisco and get a full outfit of these electric fix-
ings. I was going to have a waterworks, a lot
of street lights and a town clock. I would
have, if I had n't got ambitious snd run
afoul of little German band.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

You see it was this way. There 's mighty
little wind down Enid way and it gets so
darned lonesome and slow that a man wants
something doing. I went in for more white
folks. "Gimme somebody that knows what
I say when I swear," is my principles.

What I wanted was Americans. I'm an
American and a good up-to-date island needs
'em. They're the people to make things
hum. But I could n't get 'em. I had to take
what I could pick up and I got me Himmel-
fritz from 'Tonga, a German; Lavang, a
French skipper that lost his ship and his
papers at the same time down Tahiti way;
and a big, devil-may-care remittance Brit-
isher from Sidney. I reckon nobody
but Jedediah could have handled that crowd.
But I handled 'em, all right. I made Him-
melfritz treasurer and Boggs, the Britisher,
chief engineer, and Lavang, head of the cus-
toms. Darn 'em, they worked, you bet. Let
'em swear all they want, was my principles,
but make 'em work.

You had ought to have seen the army I
got together. And the way the natives
hustled. I tell you I was worth a good round
hundred thousand a year ago. Then I got
ambitious. A man does, thinking nights
when the stars are particular bright and the
blossoms are thick in the hills.

"Himmelfritz," says I one day, "We've
got an army and a treasury building and a
park and bandstand. What we need is a
band."

"Music," says Himmelfritz, pawing his
beard, "is foolishness. It 's something I dont
want. The natives are bad enough."

The Dutchman was correct. But I never
give in when my men dont like a thing. La-
vang was dead against it, too, and Boggs
laughed in his nasty way and told me I was
getting soft.

"Soft?" I inquires. "Did you ever hear
of an army without a band? Or a band-
stand without somebody to play on it?"

So I sat down and wrote a letter to the
American consul in Sidney and the Bess took
it up to Papeete and six months later I got
an answer. The consul said he 'd received
my order and would deliver in time, though
bands were hard to get.

About six months after I'd got the letter a
bark hauled to off Enid and sent a boat
ashore with a band and an invoice from the
consul. It did me good to see 'em come

ashore, all with their caps on and their horns
about their necks. There were six of 'em
and it was n't till the bark had swung her
mainsail and got under way that I discovered
that not one of the band spoke American.
Himmelfritz was up in the hills after nuts
and I had to wait three days till he came
back before I could tell the beggars to put
down their horns and have something to eat.

Then was the beginning of my troubles.
They were mad. They said they had been
buncoed. Would n't play a tune for any-
body for love or money or kicks.

Imagine me. King of Enid for nigh fif-
teen years, with a town with streets and an
army with guns, and a little German band
mutinying while my three white men snick-
ered and the army marched and counter-
marched to a shark-skin drum. Was n't it
enough to put a man crazy? I tell you
I sat on the beach those nights and thought
over all I'd done for a lot of European
thieves and a pack of heathen natives and I
swore I'd teach 'em King Jedediah was the
man to keep their eye on.

The German band got pretty wise to the
sort of shark Jedediah is, and the third morn-
ing after they 'd landed they disappeared up
into the valley. I went to Himmelfritz, he
being of the same breed, and I says, "Him-
melfritz, you better go up and explain to
those Dutch cousins of yours that I aint the
man to fool with. If they dont come round
and play music, they 're liable not to have
necks to blow through."

So Himmel went up the valley and from
what the natives told me, there was quite a
session up there. Himmel came back. But
without the band. "No good," says he.
"They 're . scared and they 're Dutch. You
might as well let 'em alone. After a while
they '11 come down and maybe see your side
of it."

"What 's the matter with 'em?" I demands.

"Homesick," says Himmelfritz.

So I drilled the army and locked the treas-
ury every night and we played casino on the
lanai of the palace till the town went to bed
and the night wind brought the sound of the
surf clear and sharp to us. Never a sound
from the band.

But one night, after Himmelfritz and La-
vang and Boggs had gone off to their quar-
ters and the moon was shining through the
palms, I was sitting with my pipe in my

THE WATERLOO OF KING JEDEDIAH I.

hand, thinking of n lot of things, when from
far up the mountain I heard a sort of long-
drawn cry. I fell to listening and pretty
it again, a riling strain, by
! of some tune. Then the sen breeze
died away and I heard it plainer. It was
the band, playing up there in the moonlit
valley some tune or other that I remembered.

All nijiht l"n<r they kept it up and I heard
Himmelfritz and Boggs c. I out of their
house and shuffle along the boards to the edge
of the porch. Later Lavang came out on his
porch and lit his pipe. I was mad clear
through. It was bad enough to have im-
ported a band and have them go back on the
bargain. But to have the whole settlement
kept awake by their darned playing was
- too far.

I'm here in Honolulu because King Jede-
iliah was euchred by that little German band.
■■nly that night, but every night for a
month I never saw them, nor could I get a
glimpse of them ; only I could hear them
begin to piny along towards midnight when
tin' surf trot low and the sea breeze didn't
come in. And every night those three white
thieves, men that I'd saved from the gallows
and worse, crept out on their porches and
li.-tened.

I know when I'm beat. At the end of
that month the Kingdom of Enid was de-
moralized. The army would n't take heart in
their drill and Himmelfritz and Lavang and
Boggs were worse than mutinous. How 're
you going to deal with a man that doesn't
hear what you say half the time and spends
the other half mooning in his quarters f I
tell you it 11 put the livest sort of kingdom
strictly on the blink.

it the end of the month I sent Himmel-
fritz up the mountain with my ultimatum.
"Tell 'em to quit playing and come down and
I'll ship 'em out right away," was my words.

"Do you mean that T" asks Himmel.

"You dont think I'm going to have those
Dutch nightingales singing in my kingdom,
do youf You tell 'em they can 't get out of
here fast enough."

"Howl you get them outf" he co m e t
back at me.

"By Heck! I'll send 'em to Samoa by the
Bess of Bath," I says. "Anything to get rid
of them."

So Himmelfritz departs as envoy extra-
ordinary to the little German band and

brings 'em down. By Heck, I laughed when
I saw 'em, mad as I was.

Imagine at sundown a half-dozen of
bearded Dutchmen, each with his horn or his
flute, parading down q lane a hot evening
with blue uniform and heavy cap on, all
blowing a tune as solemn as I'm sitting here!
The Bess was lying in the lagoon, nil ready
for them, and they went on past the palace.
blowing away at their instruments, the Ka-
naka*, marching liehind and humming the
song. I came out on the lanai and watched
'em go by, quite like any king reviewing his
army. And they tootled and blew along, step,
step, step, hup, hup, hup, their cheeks puffed
out, their bodies swinging to the music.

Somehow I bated to see that band go; I
sort of stood up straight and waved my hand.
The leader looked over at me and they
stopped. The tune stopped. Everything
stopped. And then the leader waved his horn
and they stepped off again, playing an old
'Frisco dancehall tune. I did n't know just
what it was, but as they passed out of
I remembered.

(The king forgot his glass and threw his
head back. His eyes rested on the nymph on
the ceiling. He seemed lost in thought. He
awakened to say : )

That was the old tune they nlaved. The
last tune played in the Kingdom of Enid. 1
forget the words. They went down the
white road under the dark palms. I saw
them come out on the beach and then, by-
Heck, I saw the end of my ambitions. Be-
hand them, leading the ruck of Kanakas, was
Himmelfritz, with his white clothes on and
his bag in his hand. There was Boggs, tool-
ing along with his head on his breast, and
Lavang, too, with his cap on the back of his
head.

I tell you I was hurt Had n't I picked all
three of 'em out of the gutter and made m«-i.
of themf Hadn't I put money in
pockets and given them the run of my
island f And they left me, left me cold to
follow a little German band. They got int.'
the boat with them and went out to the Bess.
I heard Lavang's voice ordering the crew
about when they set the topsail and Boggs
singing at the halliards.

It 's lonely to be a king. I stood there and
the Bess lifted her anchor and warped out to
the reef. They hoisted the foresail and she
slipped through out upon the open sea. . The

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

moon lit her up. I saw them all on her decks.
The band played and the Bess took the long
swells and I never said a word. I never
called to them. They never said good-bye,
damn them !

"But why did you leave?" I demanded.

"They sent the schooner back," he said
simply. "Enid is for sale, treasury, band-
stand and palace. I'm done with it. My
wife is dead and the children are well fixed."

I looked at him, a man in the prime of life,
giving up a kingdom. "What are you going
to do?" I asked.

King Jedediah's face was turned toward
the eternally posturing siren of half a world
away. "I'm going home," he said mildly.
"I've had my day and I've come to the end of
the fun of it. I knew it that night when
the band went by — going home — playing that
tune. Himmelfritz, Boggs and Lavang went.
By Heck ! the King 's going, too !"

I went back to the office and wrote mv

paragraph about the King of Enid. The
Oldest Journalist in the South Seas was
putting on his coat as I finished. "What
did Jedediah have to say?" he inquired.

"He said he was put out of business by a
little German band," I replied.

"Any story in it?" he pursued.

"A stickful," I responded.

But later, in San Francisco, I watched a
parade of the city's workingmen. They
passed up Market street to the blare of
trumpet and the beat of drum, with banners
waving and legends flaunting in the breeze.
Behind an immense pennant bearing the
words, "Stevedores Local, No. 16," stepping
along with his eyes fixed on some invisible
guidon, I saw King Jedediah. He did not
see me, for he was following the band. Prob-
ably the kings still gather in Andrew's
waiting for Kaheamanu's cry, "Somebody
coming !" But Jedediah, no longer king, will
never come again. He has gone home.

A Mix-up in Souls

By Robert Whitaker

the words.

F the remark had come a
minute later it would have
been meaningless to me, for I
know I was on the verge of
a dead faint. As it was I
caught the idea rather than
Yet feeble as was my mental
grasp, it was like the clutch of desperate
fingers when one has fallen overboard. I
was going down in a horror of thick dark-
ness, a rushing, roaring noise in my ears,
and a choking in my throat. Then of a sud-
den something touched me, something strong
but elusive, and as the last words of the
sentence went whirling by me I reached out
and seized their meaning as one might lay
hold of a rope, and was drawn rapidly to
the surface again. I thought for how long
I know not that it was night, and that I was
dragging in the wake of some vessel. I

could see the lights on the stern of the
ship, and was dimly conscious that some
hand was reaching out for me. Then I
knew that the lights were the wide staring
eyes of Mrs. Bentley, who sat next to me
in the pew, and her hand it was that was
extended toward me.

I do not think that I had any definite in-
tention at the moment our hands met. I
was simply relieved to get the mastery of
myself once more. I took her hand gladly,
for it was a large, motherly hand, and I felt
like being mothered just then. She smiled
and turned toward the preacher as if wholly
assured that my momentary faintness was
entirely of the past, but she left her hand
lying in mine as if she would still give me
of her strength. My eyes ' followed hers,
but I did not hear what the preacher was
saying, for the reason that the sight of him,

A MIX IT IN SOI I.S

ami the feeling of Mrs. Bentley's band in
mine, brought vividly before me the startling
though! which had shocked me into self-
control just as consciousness was slipping
away.

I wondered now if I had heard Dr. Wolf-
endon aright. He was always a bold and
progressive thinker, yet I had never heard
him broach such an idea before, though
something like it had often passed through
■ wn mind. But for* Mrs. Bentley's
warm, living hand, I might have thought
i still dreaming. It was her very real
and very human touch which not only re-
assured me, but suddenly suggested to me
to prove the almost incredible proposition
then and there. Our hands were both un-
gloved, perhaps because the day waa warm,
though I did not remember removing my
own. We were both in meditative mood, and
peculiarly sympathetic by reason of help
given and received. And the idea possessed
me, so that 1 knew if it were ever possible
it could never be more possible than at that
very moment.

If I thought at all of her right to be con-
sulted before the experiment was made, my
longing to know just a few minutes of per-
fect health and strength thrust such consid-
eration aside. I did not figure on the length
of time the exchange should be continued,
nor as to how, and whether if the transfer-
ence were once accomplished a retransfer
could be made. I felt only with feverish
eagerness the marvelous possibility, the sug-
gestion of which had mastered me when
nearly lost to consciousness, and the singular
opportunity to test it which that very ex-
perience had brought me.

I low soon Mrs. Bentley felt the power of
my purpose I do not know. I had exerted
: almost to the point of fainting again,
when she turned and looked at me with curi-
ous eyes. The wonder in her eyes grew and
deepened into profound jierplexity not un-
mixed with fear as I held her with my gaze.
She is a very unimaginative woman, but
either her imagination awoke before we
passed or else the transfer was accomplished
before I had full consciousness of it. The
transition was so sudden at the last I cannot
be certain about the sensations which just
immediately preceded it. I know that one
moment I was looking intently into Mrs.
Bentley's eyes and the next I wss looking

out of them at the semblance of my former
self sitting just where I had sat at the end
of the pew, while Mr. Bentley drowsed se-
renely beside me on the other side.

For a full minute, I should judge, the
thing that dominated my consciousness was
the riot of good health which coursed through
my veins. Though never an invalid for any
length of time, I have never been robust.
Besides being at least twenty years younger
than Mrs. Bentley, I am as compared with
her a mere child in size snd strength. Imag-
ine my feelings now as I looked at her. sit-
ting there in the guise of ray former self, a
slight, frail woman of less than thirty years,
whom I felt as if I could take into my arms
and caress into comfort and calm. I was as
intoxicated with joy as she was dazed with
wonder. I could have shouted from shear
sense of overflowing life. It was this very
exuberance of spirit which wakened me to
the embarrassments of my position. For-
getful for the moment of where I was, I
opened my mouth wide to take one deep, full
breath, and expand my ample breast. Some-
thing in my mouth dropped. My ungloved
tiand went up just in time to save me from
the confusion of losing my teeth into my lap.

The surprise of it brought me bolt up-
right with a suddenness that shook the pew.
Perhaps it is fortunate that Mrs. Bentley's
movements are usually more deliberate than
mine, in view of the ordinary difference in
our weight. But it was unfortunate that I
had forgotten that with all her excellent
health, Mrs. Bentley, by reason of an acci-
dent, had lately lost three front teeth, which
had been replaced more recently with a par-
tial plate. It was evident that as yet some
conscious effort on her part was required to
hold them in place.

The jar of my surprise awoke Mr. Bent-
ley so abruptly that his spectacles fell off.
He picked them up confusedly, and looked at
me with some alarm. Then, seeing my hand
at my mouth, a quiet twinkle came to his
eyes, followed by s mock reproof, which in-
stantly overwhelmed me with the realization
that in my p r es en t situation I was Mr. Bent-
ley's wife.

Now, Mr. Bentley is twelve years older
than Mrs. Bentley, and therefore more than
thirty years my senior. He is reckoned s
good man, but besides certain habits which I
could not easily endure in sny rosn, Mr.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

Bentley has a face not very likely to attract
any girl as sensitive to good looks as I am.
Besides there was a much younger and hand-
somer man no farther off than the pulpit for
whom I — but never mind my feeling toward
him. At that time I had hardly confessed
the sentiment to myself. The mild reproof
in Mr. Bentley's eyes compelled me to face
possibilities in my rash and hasty experi-
ment which made my heart stand still, gen-
erous and vigorous as that newly acquired
organ was. Perhaps my face paled, for Mr.
Bentley's eyes changed to a tenderness which
did not in the least relieve my distress.

I turned from him to the little woman at
the end of the pew whose body I had called
my own for nearly thirty years, and grasped
her hand in no motherly way, pressing it
almost fiercely as I strove with all my mind
to reverse the wonderful and now terrible
transference of a few minutes before. The
soft brown eyes I had heard so often
praised stared back at me helplessly, as if
half-comprehending my purpose, but press
and strive as I would, my consciouness cluDg
stubbornly to its new habitation.

"You must help me; you must think your-
self back again," I said, intensely, for the
audience now stood and was singing, and we
two stood with them, hand in hand. Yet
verse after verse they sang, and all our
efforts were in vain. Once I thought wildly
of grasping Mr. Bentley's hand and trans-
ferring with him in the hope that somehow I
could get back indirectly to my former place.
But I refused the suggestion, lest I should
make matters worse. The service had ceased,
and Mr. Bentley had hold of my arm and
was actually leading me out of the pew,
when, with a desperate resignation to my
fate, I turned for a farewell handclasp with
the even more helpless Mrs. Bentley. And
lo, I was myself again, and Mrs. Bentley, in
her accustomed buxom body which I had
just quitted, with a strange, terror-stricken
glance at me, dropped my hand hastily and
with her husband hurried down the aisle.

That last moment when I gave myself up
for lost and submitted to be led away as Mrs.
Bentley ought to have been sufficient to deter
me from ever repeating my extraordinary
experiment. For weeks afterwards Mrs.
Bentley was unmistakably shy of me, and I
shall have to confess that the near approach
of Mr. Bentley brought back the unspeakable

sensations which had all but paralyzed me
into consenting to be his wife the rest of my
day?. For my own sake as well as Mrs.
Bentley's, therefore, I was glad to avail my-
self of some slight excuse and change my
seat to another quite on the opposite side of
the church.

I had occupied the new seat but a short
while when I fancied a difference in the
occasional glances of the minister my way.
He had looked me frankly in the eyes before,
too frankly I feared, if he knew what
thoughts I entertained of him. I suppose I
did not allow sufficiently at the time for the
fact that the gossip which connected our
names was much more likely to come to me
than it was to reach him. I had grown up in
the church, while Dr. Wolfendon had been
there less than a year. Besides I was the
only child of one of the most prominent fam-
ilies in the church, and had an independent
fortune in my own right. Add to this that I
am reckoned more than ordinaraily good
looking despite my delicate health, have usu-
ally been credited with an amiable disposi-
tion, and to the extent of my ability have
always been active in the church as well as a
generous supporter of all its work, and it
can hardly be accounted strange that many
members, among the women particularly, had
ventured certain hints and surmises, both
serious and facetious, which had awakened
interesting imaginations in my own mind.
Dr. Wolfendon, though not exactly hand-
some, is a man of impressive appearance,
and a very popular preacher. And even be-
fore he came I had been told .more than once
that I was destined to be a minister's wife.

Since my changed position, Dr. Wolfendon
looked at me less frequently, and, I was sure,
with far more self-consciousness in his gaze.
Sometimes I fancied he blushed ever so
faintly, and with quick diffidence diverted
his eyes. I was correspondingly elated, I
admit, and possibly my own eyes- showed a
degree of sympathy and tenderness which
heightened the effect in him. I ought to have
discovered the facts in the case before, and
it is only fair to myself to say that when I
saw the situation as it really was, my shame
and chagrin were due as much to disgust
with myself as to disappointment on account
of the minister. I felt it to lose him, but I
felt it more that I had come so near to
making a fool of myself.

A MIX-UP IN SOULS.

I wonder yet bow I could have been so un-
utterly stupid as to ignore the fact that
Mabel Hawkins sat close beside me in the
new pew. She is four years younger than I,
and better looking, though there is one man
who will not admit that last count. But she
certainly is an exceedingly pretty girl, and
as loveable in her ways as she is beautiful
in feature and fonu. I have never blamed
Dr. Wolfendon for falling in love with ber,
although I was terribly cut up the Sunday I
stumbled on the fact that his diffident eager-
nan when he looked our way was all on her
account. The revelation came in a moment,
and I think both of them knew that I bad
caught them. Fortunately neither of them
knows to this day that I ever fancied him, or
supposed that he fancied me. I wish I had
been as sure of that then as I am now.

They were a good deal confused, but their
confusion was nothing to the tumult in me.
I was angry and amused, ashamed and
offended, teased and triumphant all at the
same time. All of this I remember, and 1
remember also that I did not mean to do
Mabel Hawkins any wrong, or to steal in dis-
guise the affection which I had honestly cov-
eted and which she had quite as honestly and
entry won. I do not know how it hap-
pened. I really think that I meant something
like congratulation, though of course I could
not say it outright yet, when I took her hand.
My excitement may have bad something to
do with it, or again the heat of the day. I
did not know that it had happened till I saw
ber suddenly drop in the seat, at the end
of the pew where I had sat, and then cover
her face with her hands, and start for the
doot. I was after her at once, oblivious of
the curious, half-sympathetic glances of the
eongregat ; on as we hurried out.

"Mabel," I cried, as we passed through
the door, quite forgetful of her appearance,
•■wait n minute, dear."

She turned and looked at me, and then
with a pitiful cry threw her hands to her
eyes again, and sank into a chair just be-
side the vestry door. At the same moment
a handsome looking fellow, with eyes so
much like Mabel Hawkins's that I ought to
have recognized bim at once, bounded up the
steps two or three at a time, and before I
knew what his intentions were, had gathered
me into his arms, and kissed me repeatedly
upon the lips.

Of course I screamed a little, and drew
back, only to find myself held tight, and
looking straight into a pair of loving, laugh-
ing eyes that thrilled me through and
through. "What 's the matter, Queen Mab,"
he said. "Dont you know your big brother?
Of course I ought to have sent you word.
but I did n't know I was going to get here
today."

At the sound of his voice Mabel Hawkins,
as I can but call her though she wore my
body then, leaped wildly to her feet and cry-
ing out, "Oh, Tom, Tom, I'm so glad you 've
come. Take me home, Tom; there's some-
thing the matter with me," threw herself into
his arms before I could fairly get myself
away.

Tom Hawkins's fine eyes looked dazed
enough then. The girl in his arms had her
own anus so tightly about his neck that be
could not disengage them at once. I think
he was not more perplexed by her words and
her behavior than he was by my manner,
however, for be regarded me with a ques-
tioning surprise that forced me to say some-
thing, though I hardly knew what it was I
said.

"She isn't herself, and I'm not myself.
Perhaps it is the heat. Carry her into the
vestry, Mr. Hawkins — Tom. I' mean," and I
blushed, and stumbled awkwardly as I
turned toward the door which led into the
side room.

There was genuine alarm in his eyes now,
but the people were beginning to come out,
and he followed me quickly, still carrying
the fainting girl in his arms.

"Get me some water, Tom," I said, forcing
myself to smile upon him as I imagined his
sister would, but thrilling inwardly at such
familiar use of his name. "The faucet 's
in the kitchen ; it 's over there." and I
pointed to another door.

He laid the girl down gently enough on a
settee, releasing himself with difficulty, and
went to do as I had bidden. I seized her
hand as soon as he was gone, and tried to
force myself back, but could not. Just as
he returned she opened ber eyes and moaned,
"Ob, Tom, Tom!" and seeing me, snatched
her hand away and cried out as if I had
struck her. "Take her away, take ber
away I" she said.

"Yon 'd better stand out of ber sight, sis,"
he said to me, giving me a look that filled ma

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

with unutterable thoughts. "She seems
somehow upset about you, and a little mixed
up with you," and he smiled at me quiz-
zically.

Whether it was the manner in which she
bad greeted him, or whether it was her really
touching distress, or whether it was some-
thing better than either of these, it was evi-
dent to me immediately that Tom was greatly
taken with the prostrate girl. And when I
looked at her and realized who she was in
physical form, and looking into my own
consciousness confessed to myself the in-
stantaneous passion which Tom Hawkins had
stirred in me, I could have fainted too in
the agony of my desire to get back to myself
again. I dared not think yet how this epi-
sode could be explained or my standing se-
cured with Tom Hawkins if the retransfer
were made, or if the query did disturb me
for an instant, I put it away with the re-
flection that Tom Hawkins would put the
whole incident down to the heat of the day
and sympathetic excitement upon my part,
or rather upon his sister's part, for as such
of course he regarded me.

In the midst of this tumult of desire and
conjecture the door opened and the Bentleys
and Dr. Wolfendon came in, followed closely
by Mr. and Mrs. Wattles, the latter carrying
a young child in her arms. I knew them all,
but whether Mabel Hawkins did or not, I
could not say. Happily Tom Hawkins did
not wait for introductions, nor did any of
the newcomers seem to expect anything of
the kind.

Dr. Wolfendon looked at me with a solici-
tude and tenderness in his eyes which ought
to have moved me to a great gladness had I
really felt toward him as I had imagined I
felt. I think he was disappointed at my
response, for I was simply more confused
and distressed. The Bentleys paid no atten-
tion to me, but with an unselfishness and
courage which I did not appreciate till aft-
erward, gave themselves to ministering to the
girl with whom Tom was chiefly concerned.
Then, in my anxiety and excitement, I lost
all self-control. "Oh, Mrs. Bentley," I cried,
"let me help," and clasped her hand. In-
stantly I had transferred with her. And
almost as quickly she had collapsed, though
it seemed to everybody but me that it was
Tom Hawkins's sister who went dow« in a
dead faint.

It was the minister who sprang to her
help, and I knew a moment afterwards that
in some marvelous way they had unwittingly
and unintentionally exchanged. His m nd
must have been the stronger of the two, for
the supposed Mabel Hawkins stood up, albeit
somewhat dazed, and to all appearances the
minister fainted away. The rest of the com-
pany looked as if they were on the point of
either fainting or making for the door.

The minister was Mabel Hawkins, Mrs.
Bentley was the minister, I was Mrs. Bent-
ley, and Mabel Hawkins was I. Fortunately,
Tom Hawkins, and Mr. Bentley, and the
Wattles, including the baby, were still them-
selves. Yet this lasted only for a moment,
for Mr. Bentley, supposing me to be his
wife, grabbed my hand to draw me away,
and instantly had taken possession of his
wife's buxom body, while I, very unwillingly,
had possession of his.

After that I could no longer follow the
transitions. I only know that Tom Hawkins
spoke rather gruffly to me, "Here, help me
lift this girl," and that we had no sooner
touched hands than he was Mr. Bentley and
I was Tom. He was so surprised that he
let go, and our burden rolled heavily on the
floor. Then I think that Tom and the minis-
ter must have passed somehow, so that the
minister was Mr. Bentley and Tom was his
own sister. Mrs. Wattles handed the baby
to Mr. Wattles and tried to do something for
Mrs. Bentley, who was lying unconscious as
the minister. Mrs. Bentley waked, but got
mixed up with Mrs. Wattles. I saw the
minister try to take the baby, and then go
sprawling' to the floor, where he broke forth
in the most perfect imitation of baby bawl-
ing I ever heard. It took me a full minute
to comprehend that he was the baby, but I
could not tell whether the baby was the min-
ister, or Mrs. Bentley, or its own mother.
Mr. Wattles was the only one who had es-
caped, and I knew that he was going to get
mixed up, too, for he had just reached out
toward the baby, which looked at him in a
strangely mature, though somewhat be-
wildered manner, when I somehow got hold
of the hand that had formerly been mine,
and lo, I was myself again. And in the same
instant Mabel Hawkins was Tom.

"She 's coming to," I heard a deep voice
say, as I nearly strangled with the water
somebody was trying to force between my

UNSPOKEN.

lil ' — - 1 looked uj) into Turn Hawkins's face,
hut with the horrible consciousness that be
was really Mabel.

"Oh," 1 said, "I'm all right now, hut I've
• iu awfully mixed up. Everybody's
somebody else, and I dont see how I'm ever
going to get you back into your own place.
If I ever get you straightened out, Tin
never going to be anybody but myself again."

Then Tom Hawkins laughed in my face,
such a kindly, rollicking, wonderful laugh,
and he and Mabel had me between them,
and the minister and the rest of them were
following us to the carriage outside, into
which they got me and took me home. It
took Tom, who sat beside me, all the time
that we were driving home to convince me
that I had been myself all the time, and that
I had fainted away as I sat in the pew be-
side Mrs. Bentley, and had been carried out
into the vestry, where he had been called to
doctor me as soon as he came on the scene.

It took uie a good deal longer to hud out
that just as I fainted away, the m nutter bad
actually made some remark about spiritual
exchange, though he did n't mean it quite as
I took it, of course. It was Mabel who told
me this, after she and Dr. Wolfendon were
engaged. But it wasn't until after another
engagement which interested me a good deal
more was announced that Tom confessed to
me the sweet surprise with which he heard
me call out his name when I was dead to
everybody else, and before he knew that I
had so much as heard of him.

"But did you really kiss me then and
there f" I asked, thrilling anew at the mem-
ory of my dream.

"Or did you throw your arms about my
neck, and ask me to take you on sight f" he
answered, teasingly.

"Oh, I did n't, Tom," I said.

"Perhaps I dreamed, too," he replied.
And then I hid my face in his arms.

Unspoken

By Ralph I.. Han

So small upon this lonely hill I lie,
O'erwhelmed beneath a bursting storm of stars!
And long for poet's strength to break the bars
That doom the soul's expression to a cry;
For lyre, winged words to match the
A skill to paint the glory weakness mars,
A touch to 'wake the music that declares
The cherished thought is destined not to die.
So might I dip my pen in midnight blue,
And write upon some future ancient scroll
The stru-^ling verse that tries to tell anew
The same eternal burden of the soul —
That inward-stirring dun.', response to bird,
And sky, and stream, that sings, although unheard.

The Settler

By Herman Whitaker

SUMMARY OF PRECEDING CHAPTERS.
The storj opens In the "Park Lands of the Fertile Belt" in Northern Manitoba with a scene between
Carter, "The Settler," a young American of the Middle States, and one nines, a low-caste Canadian, who is
trespassing on unpatented hay lands that belong, by settler custom, to Morrill, a young American lawyer,
who is dying of consumption. Calling on Morrill after disposing of Hlnes, Carter learns that his sister.
Helen, has been left homeless by the death of their father, and will be at Lone Tree Station, sixty miles
away, the following day. Goes to meet her, and while waiting for her train acts as spokesman for a
deputation with a petition for a branch line, and much impresses the general manager of the road by
his knowledge and address. So is laid the foundation for the historic railway struggle in future chapters. At
first sight, Helen Morrill classifies Carter with her tradesmen at home, and is much disconcerted at the end
of a reckless drive to find that he has been trying her out by his own peculiar standards. Discovering that
Hines has incited Bender, a brutal giant of the lumber woods, to trespass on Morrill's hay rights. Carter
outwits the pair by calling the neighbors in for a mowing "bee." Angered, thereafter, by a taunt from
Hines, Bender -cuts on him Instead, and, afraid to venture out himself, Hlnes sends Jenny, his orphan child,
a thin, overworked girl of seventeen, to rake hay that is spoiling in the sun. Relenting, Bender cocks her
hay, but not until, at midnight a month later, he picks her up on the prairie, turned outdoors by her father,
does he realize the real cause of the sick misery in her eyes. Confined in his cabin, he. his chum, the
Cougar, Carter and the Morrills, silence Hines and conspire successfully to keep the wronged child within
their rough social pale; ind the delicacy which all display in the matter gives Helen a new viewpoint and
mightily raises Carter in her estimation. Determined to win her, he makes himself necessary to her by his
kindness, consideration and helpfulness through Morrill's long sickness and death; is true to her under
temptation from Mrs. Leslie, a stylish Englishwoman, and wins her away from Molyneux, a retired captain
of English cavalry and exploiter of "farm pupils." This forms the first climax. The second section opens
one year after the Carters' marriage. Everything has gone wrong. The promised branch was not built, the
frost destroys their grain, Helen's clothing is grown more than shabby, she is aware of a coarsening of
body, feels herself being dragged down, down, down to the low level of the gaunt settler women. At a
picnic she Is humiliated by the rough badinage of neighboring women until rescued by Mrs. Leslie and
Molyneux, and goes thence in a condition of active rebellion against her lot. In the eleventh chapter her
humiliation Is crowned by a visit from wealthy and cultured Eastern friends; and, knowing that they are
coming, she Is influenced by pique, chance and Mrs. Leslie's temptation, and so allows her husband to go
away for a week's Jaunt to the lumber woods without informing him of the proposed visit. Carter, how-
ever, turns up unexpectedly. The outcome of the misunderstanding is that Helen is left to herself while
Carter goes to logging in a grim determination to forget the sorrow of his married life.

CHAPTER XVI.

A House Party.

^NE morning some three weeks
after Molyneux's departure,
Helen sat in her doorway,
reading, as certain an indica-
tion of Spring as the honk
of the wild geese speeding
northward on the back of the amorous south
wind. As yet the prairie sloughs wore mail
of ice, but from dizzy heights those keen-
eyed voyageurs discerned tricklings and wee
pools under sheltered forest banks, sufficient
till the laggard sun should smite the snows
and fill the air with tinklings and gurglings,
loose the strange sound of running waters
on the frozen silence. Another month would
do it. Already the drifts were packing and
the hard trails traversed the sinking snows
like mountain chains on a relief map. In
Helen's dooryard, stratas of yellow chips,
debris of the Winter's furious firing, were
beginning to appear — with them lost articles ;
indoed, Nels was gobbling joyously over the

retrieval of an axe when Leslie's team and
cutter came swinging into the yard.

Mrs. Leslie was driving and, seeing Helen,
screamed from a hundred yards, "They are
coming! All of 'em!"

"Who?" Helen asked, when the ponies
stopped at the door.

"Why Edith Newton, Mrs. Jack Charters,
Sinclair Rhodes — you remember? I told you
that I should givea house party for the
Regis folks when the frosts let up. Hurry
and pack up your war paint ! They '11 be
here tomorrow and I need your help. No
refusal ! Fred is going in to Lone Tree to-
morrow and Jenny can go down with him;
Nels will cook for himself, wont you, Nels?"

"I tank I can cook, yes." Nels ceased his
jubilations over the axe long enough to sea-
son his assent with a bleached grin.

"There! it's all fixed." Bustling inside,
she talked volubly while assisting in Helen's
selections. "Yes, take that, you look your
sweetest in it, and I imported Captain Chap-
man especially for you. That also, you '11
need it evenings. No, Captain Charters is n't

Harper and Brothers

THK SKTTLER.

coming. Some Indian trouble called him
west. Oh, Mrs. Jack wont care — I'm the
loser, for he was always my cavalier."

Driving home, she rattled steadily, enter-
taining Helen with descriptions of her ex-
pected guests, giving their pedigrees, aristo-
cratic connections, while she spiced her dis-
course with malicious fact. Sinclair K
had secured his appointment as land agent at
Regis through distant cousinship to the Gov-
ernor-General. And why notT The offices
ought to go to well-bred people! He had
money, must have, for his salary and ex-
penses were out of all proportion — so much
so as to cause comment by malicious people,
envious souls! What if he did make a little.
as they said, on the sidef The government
could afford it and everyone knew what Ca-
nadians were in office! People who live in
glass houses, and so forth! It was simply
racial envy ! She was also becomingly in-
dignant over the action of certain Canadians
who had made trouble for Captain Chapman
in the matter of Mounted Police supplies.
What figure did a few tons of provisions cut
in a gentleman's accounts T These commer-
cial intellects with their mathematical exact-
ness were horrid! Newton f He was an ap-
pointee of Rhodes! No! no relation — she
waived further description of the Newtons.
omitted the pregnant fact that Charles New-
ton's presence cut as little figure in his wife's
social calculations as Captain Charters' ab-
sence did in those of Mrs. Jack.

Caution, doubtless, counseled the omission.
The quail is not flushed till the net be spread.
Yet the reservation was hardly necessary in
ttio light of Helen's condition. Judgment of
another's action is colored by one's own
mental state, and she was not so likely to be
shocked by one who had defied the conven-
tions against which she herself was in open
mutiny. Anyway, she liked Mrs. Jack at
first sight, despite the scandalous manner in
which she flirted with Charles Newton the
first night at table. Big, tall, and fair, large
eyes expressed her saving grace, an unpar-
alleled frankness that seemed to sterilize her
flirtations and rob them of impropriety.
Twice during the meal she retailed Newton's
tender asides to his wife, asking, laughingly,
if the recognized the vintage.

However, being, as yet, in happy ignorance
of many things that would soon cause her
serious disquiet. Helen thoroughly enjoyed

that first evening. The well-appointed table
with its sparkling glass, silver, snowy napery,
the well-groomed people and their correct
speech alike fed her starved aesthetic senses
while they aroused dormant social qualities.
She laughed, chattered, capped Mrs. Jack's
sallies, displaying animation and wit that
simply astonished Mrs. Leslie. Her wonder,
indeed, caused Edith Newton to whisper in
Mrs. Jack's ear:

"Elinor looks as though she had imported
a swan in mistake for a duckling. Look at
Sinclair — positively smitten. Giving her all
his attention, though he took Elinor in. The
girl seems to like him, too."

Mrs. Jack's big eyes rested on the laugh-
ing face turned up to Rhodes. "Dont be-
lieve a word he says, my dear," she suddenly
called across the table. "And look out for
him. He 's dangerous."

Though she laughed, as she spoke, Rhodes
must have sensed a serious motive behind Iter
hilarity, for he glanced up with quick annoy-
ance. "Do I look itf" he asked, turning
again to Helen.

Nature does not lie. His narrowly spaced
eyes, salient facial angles, dull skin, heavy
lips, carried his certificate of degeneracy. A
physiognomist would have pronounced him
dangerous to innocence as a wild beast on
less evidence, but to Helen's inexperience he
appeared as a man unusually -handsome, pro-
file or front face. The significant angles did
not alter the good modelling of his nose and
chin or affect the regularity of his features.
Tall, slim, irreproachable in manner and
dress, there was no scratch to reveal the base
metal beneath his electroplate refinement.

"You certainly dont," she answered,
laughing.

"Then," he said, with mock gravity, "I
can patiently suffer the sting of calumny."

"Calumnyt" Mrs. Jack echoed, teasingly.
"Calumny t What's that T"

"Synonym for conscience," Edith New-
ton put in, with a spice of malice. For
though the conquest of Rhodes — to which
Regis gossip wickedly laid her husband's ap-
pointment in the land office — was now stale
with age and tiresome to herself, she was
selfish enough to resent his defection.

Her husband joined in the badinage. "Sin-
clair found it while rummaging Fred's coat
for matches."

Now Leslie's simplicity was as much of a

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

joke to them as it was with the Canadian set-
tlers, and under cover of the laugh Captain
Chapman, a big blonde of the moustached
dragoon type — the type which wins Eng-
land's cricket matches while losing all her
wars — leaned over and whispered in New-
ton's ear. "Leslie will lose more than his
conscience if he does n't look out. La belle
Elinor is badly smitten." Aloud, he said,
"Sinclair would n't know what to do with it,
Mrs. Newton, I assure you."

"I might pass it on to you," Rhodes re-
torted, then, turning to Helen, he said,
"Hearken not to the tongue of envy, Mrs.
Carter. I'm a very sober person."

Believing it all pleasant fooling, she
laughed at his mock seriousness, and there-
after gave him so much of her attention that
it became a subject of comment. "Rhodes is
making heavy running there," Newton said,
toward the close of the evening; and, con-
ceitedly stroking his yellow mustache, Chap-
man answered, "Wait till I get my innings."

"After me," Newton answered. "I'm next
at the bat."

The early days of the party Helen found
equally enjoyable. On the frontier, amuse-
ment is a home product and shares the su-
periority of domestic jams and jellies over
the commercial article. They caught the
fickle damsel, Pleasure, coming and going,
reaping the satisfaction of spectator and en-
tertainer. By day they skated, drove, or
curled on a rink which Leslie had laid out;
nights, they sang, danced, played games,
romped like children.

Apart from a certain freedom in their in-
tercourse — which she attributed to long ac-
quaintance — Helen found nothing objection-
able in the demeanor of her new friends dur-
ing those first few days. On the contrary,
she thought them a trifle dull. Their pre-
glacial and ponderous humor excited her
risibility; she laughed as often at as with
them. At other times she could not but feel
that they regarded her as alien, a pretty
pagan without their social pale, and she
would revolt against their enormous egotism,
insolent national conceit. She broke many
a lance on that impregnable shield.

"You English," she flashed back when,
one evening, Newton reflected on American
pronunciation of certain English family
names, "you Engl ; sh remind me of the Jews
with their Sibboleth and Shibboleth. Is vour

aristocracy so doubtful of its own identity
that it was compelled to hedge itself against
intrusion by the use of passwords? You may
call Cholmondeley 'Chumley' if you choose,
but we commit no crime in pronouncing it as
spelled."

Again when Edith Newton rallied her on
some crude custom which she maintained was
peculiarly American, Helen delivered a sharp
riposte. "No, I never saw it done at home,
but I have heard that it is quite common
among English emigrants on trans-Atlantic
liners." Such tiffs were, however, rare, and,
to do them justice, men and women hastened
to sacrifice national conceit on the altars of
her wounded susceptibilities.

Offense came later, on quite another score.
At first she liked the attention paid her; the
gallantry of the men put her on better terms
with herself, renewed the confidence which
had diminished to the vanishing point dur-
ing her months of loneliness. But when
constant association thawed the reserve nat-
ural to first acquaintance and freedom
evolved into familiarity, her instincts took
alarm. Distressed, she observed the other
women to see if she had been singled out.
But no, they seemed quite comfortable under
similar attentions, and they rallied her when
she unfolded her misgivings at afternoon
tea.

"You should n't be so pretty, my dear,"
Mrs. Jack said, lai)gb::ig. "What can the
poor men do?" Then they made fun of her
scruples, satirising conventions and institu-
tions which she had always regarded as nec-
essary if not God-ordained.

"Marriage," Edith Newton once cynically
exclaimed, "is merely a badge of respecta-
bility; useful as a shield from the slings
and arrows." And from the depths of her
own degeneracy she evolved the utterance,
"Men are all beasts beneath the skin. Wise
women use them for pleasure or profit."

Helen revolted at that; it transcended her
mutiny. But few people are made of martyr
stuff — perhaps fortunately so; martyrs are
uncomfortable folk and, wise in her eternal
generation, Nature sprinkles them lightly
over the mass of common clay. The average
person easily takes the color of environment,
so why not Helen? Thinking that, perhaps,
she was a little prudish, she stifled her fears,
tried to imitate the nonchalance of the
others. She even made a few tentative at-

THE BETTLEH.

tempts at daring — alas! as well expect a
rabbit to ruffle it with wolves. Such immedi-
ate and unwelcome results followed that she
retired precipitously behind ramparts of
blushing reserve. But the damage was done.
Thereafter Chapman, Newton, Rhodes, one
or another was constantly at her elbow; she
was unpleasantly conscious that, having
taken down her fences, they looked upon her
as free game.

The thought stirred her to fight. Chap-
man, big man of the yellow mustache cav-
alry type, she disposed of with a single re-
buff that sent him back to Mr>. Jack's
side. But Newton proved unmanageable.
Impervious to snubs, his manner conveyed
his idea that her modesty was simply a blind.
His familiarities bordered on license. A
good singer, he always asked her to play his
accompaniments of evenings, and she would
sicken as he used the pretense of turnini; a
leaf to lean against her shoulder. At other
times he made occasion to touch her; would
pick threads from her jacket; lean across
her to speak to her neighbor at table.

By such tactics, he brought her. one morn-
ing, to great confusion. A Cree Indian had
driven in from the Assinaboine reserve with
beadwork, moccasins and badger skin mit-
tens, which he wished to trade for flour or
bacon. With the other women, Helen was
bending over to examine his wares, when
Newton softly entered the kitchen. Stepping
quietly up from behind, he laid a hand on
Helen's hair. Taking him for one of the
other women, she suffered it till Mrs. Leslie,
who knew he was there, asked his opinion
on a tobacco pouch. Then, before she could
move, speak, cast off his hand, he pressed
her head against h's wife's dark curls.

"Just look at the contrast!" he admiringly
exclaimed, and so robbed her anger.

Yet so evident was the intent behind the
excuse that even the Cree detected the sham.
From Helen his brown glance traveled to
Newton and back again. "He your mant"
he asked.

Vexed to the point of tears, she shook her
head and bent over the beadwork to hide her
embarrassment. But the Cree's rude notions
of etiquette had .been jarred. Touching her
shoulder, he sa*id, "He touch your hair."

So simple, his comment yet pierced to the
heart of the matter. Newton had fondled
her hair, crown and svmbol of her woman-

hood, a privilege of marriage. In an Indian
tribe the offense would have loosed the
slipping knife; a settler would have resented
it with gnarled fist; but here the women tit-
tered, while Chapman, who had also saun-
tered in, laughed.

Emboldened, perhaps, by immunity, the
man's offensiveness developed into actual in-
sult the evening of that same day. They
had all been pulling taffy in the kitchen and,
passing through a dark passage to the living-
room, Helen felt an arm slip about her waist.
Newton's face was still tingling from a vi-..r
ous slap when she confronted him before
them all in the living-room. Even bis hardi-
hood quailed before her flushed and con-
temptuous anger; he was not quite so ready
with his excuse.

"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Carter! Really,
I mistook you for my wife."

It was a lie on the face of it and, barbed
with stinging truth, her retort drew a peal
of laughter from the others. "Indeed? Your
excuse is more remarkable than your mis-
take."

Offended as much by the laugh as the in-
sult, she seated herself on a lounge by
Leslie, the one man with whom she always
felt safe. In him the stigma of degeneracy
took another form ; the tired blood expressed
itself in a prodigious simplicity. He lacked
even the elements of vice. As his wife put
it, "Fred is too stupid to be wicked." Yet
withal he was very much of a man as far as
his chuckleheadedness permitted, and now he
offered real sympathy.

"It was a caddish trick, Mrs. Carter, and 1
mean to tell him so."

"Oh, no!" she pleaded. "It wouldn't im
prove matters to make a scene and he 's not
likely to offend again. Please dont. Slav
here — with me."

"But I'm your host. Really, he deserves
a thrashing."

"No, no! Stay here! I dont feel equal
to the otli>

"I never do." Sitting again, he turned on
her a look of beaming fellowship. "The girls
all yawn and look terribly bored when I try
to amuse them — except you. They dont seem
to care for horses and dogs, the things that
interest me."

If, as a conversationalist, he did not shine,
he at least brought her the first easy moments
she had known that dav. and she turned a

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

sympathetic ear to some of his prattle. In-
dicating Rhodes, who was leaning over Mrs.
Leslie, he said, "You know I dont like that
sort of thing. Elinor says I'm old-fashioned
and I suppose she knows. Of course, she
wouldn't do anything that wasn't proper,
but a fellow has his feelings, and it does n't
take a crime to hurt them, does it? She's
up on the conventions, but it does seem to me
that if a fellow has anything to say to an-
other fellow's wife, he ought to say it aloud."

Astonished that his dullness should have
sensed the pervading sensualism, she studied
him while he watched his wife, in his eyes
something of that pitiful pleading one sees in
a beaten dog. His words, moreover, banished
her doubts as to whether her own misgivings
did not root in hypercritical standards; re-
stored her viewpoint. All week the atmos-
phere had thickened as constant association
banished reserve, and today freedom had at-
tained its meridian. It was not the matter,
but the manner of conversation that filled her
with a great uneasiness — the whispers, asides,
smiling stares, conscious laughter. The
vitiated atmosphere caused her a feeling akin
to suffocation, and in the midst of her sick
revulsion Leslie dropped a remark that came
like a breath of ozone.

"I was awfully sorry to hear of the trou-
ble between you and Carter. I always
thought him such a fine fellow. He hadn't
much use for me — any of us — still I liked
him. He was a bit in the rough, of course,
but I tell you character counts more than cul-
ture, strength than refinement."

Character counts more than culture,
strength than refinement! To his simplicity
had been vouched wisdom worthy of a phil-
osopher. The phrase stabbed her. Up rose
a vision of her husband as she had seen
him that last miserable night, cold, stern, in-
exorable, in the loom of the moonlight. In
view of that colossal memory the Englishmen
about her dwarfed to effeminate insignifi-
cance. Vividly her own doubting recurred.
And she had traded him — for this! The
thought brought wretchedness too great for
concealment. Her uneasiness was so mani-
fest as to form the theme of a bedroom con-
versation.

Though comfortable — the one frame house
in the settlements, a palace to Canadian
eyes — Leslie's house boasted only two bed-
rooms; so while the men made shift on

shakedowns, Helen shared Mrs. Leslie's room,
Edith Newton and Mrs. Jack the other.

As she braided her hair for the night, the
latter lady opened the conversation. "Did
you notice how uncomfortable little Carter
was this evening? She is a nice little thing,
but she does n't mix. I dont see why Elinor
invited her."

"You dont, eh?" Edith Newton mumbled a
mouthful of pins. "You are slow, Maud."

"No — only lazy. Why should I puzzle
over things when you are here? I'll bet you
have pumped everybody dry long ago. Now —
dispense."

"I dont go round with my eyes shut," the
other calmly answered. "To begin: Calvert
Molyneux is completely gone on little Carter,
whose husband, it seems left her because of
some slight."

"Hum!" Mrs. Jack elevated straight
brows. "Foolish man to leave her to Calvert.
So that is why he went home. Exits till the
tarnished pearl be regulped by the conjugal
oyster ! Clever !"

"On the contrary" — she curled a full red
lip — "he contemplates honorable marriage —
dalliance, Dakota, divorce, everything that
begins with D — down to eventual desertion
if I know anything of Calvert. But fancv —
HE?"

" 'The devil in love, the devil a husband
would be,' " Mrs. Jack misquoted.

" 'The devil married, the devil a husband
was he,' " Edith Newton finished. "But he is
not married yet. She holds him off — foolish-
ly. For you know Calvert — good in streaks,
but ruled by his emotions and ruthless when
they command. If she turns him down — "

" — she '11 need to keep him at longer dis-
tance than this house affords. But Elinor?
This does n't explain her. She 's beastly sel-
fish under her jolly little skin. Why is she
posing as aid and advocate of love ?"

"In love with Carter hubby — or 'was' would
be more correct in view of her carryings-on
with Sinclair. But the Carter attack, I
understand, was very severe while it lasted.
Think of it, Maud — Elinor to fall in love
with a settler!"

Mrs. Jack elevated naked shoulders. "Not
at all surprising. Just the itching of her
rotten blood for a few sound corpuscles. I've
felt it myself at times. Dont look so
shocked — you know we are rotten."

"Maud! Maud!"

THE SETTLEK.

I Jack regarded her companion through nar-
rowed lids. "I believe, Edith, yon keep up
appearances with yourself. Why not be nat-
ural for a change? But as you say. Elinor
jMiin to have made a complete conval-
escence. Did you ever see a woman make a
projectile of herself like she doesf Positive-
ly hurls herself at Sinclair. But tell me more
•boot the Carter man. How did he treat her
rabies T"

"Cold water cure. Turned her down —
flat."

"So, in revenge she 's trying to besmirch
the wifeT The little devil! I call that pretty
raw, Edith !"

The other shrugged. "Oh, well, it is her
pie, and if she prefers it uncooked it is
none of our business. Better keep your
fingers out of it, Maud. Struggle with your
good intentions."

Mrs. Jaek smiled sweetly. "My dear, am
I in the habit of messing alien piesf"
' unless yon covet the meat."

"Well, I'm not hankering after either Cal-
vert or Carter hubby — though I must say
that I like his specifications. Showed aw-
fully good taste both in selecting his wife
ami rejecting Elinor. Fancy! a virtuous
man — in this day I"

By this time Edith Newton was disposed
in bed. A sleepy answer came from under
the clothing. "Proves he had n't the honor
•ur acquaintance."

"Nor yours," Mrs. Jack retorted.

Her flippancy masked a disquiet so grave
as to drive away the desire for sleep. Clad
only in her bed-gown, she drew a chair up
to the stove which returned her thoughtful
gaze through two red monocles of isinglass.
In her. fair play was associated with its
companion virtue, frankness, and in no wise
could she read a mite of the former quality
into Elinor I^eslie's intent toward Helen.
After many uneasy shruggings, she rose,
[■•"k the lamp, and walked into the other bed-
room.

"Misplaced my comb," she answered Mrs.
Leslie's sleepy inquiry. "Lend me yours."
Then she paused at the foot of the bed.

Helen had coiled her hair for the night, but
its unruly masses had loosened and ran, a
perfect cataract of gold, over her pillow.
Atrainst that auriferous background lay her
head and face with its delicate creams and

pinks sinking into the plumpness of one
white arm. The other was folded over the
softness of her bosom. Mrs. Jack thought
her asleep till her eyes opened, then, return-
ing the girl's smile, she tiptoed back to her
tire.

'It 's a d — shame," she told herself, pro-
fanely, but truly, and with such vigor that
Edith Newton asked, sleepily, "What's the
matter t Aren't you ever coming to bedf"

"Saying my prayers. Go to sleep."

"Put in a word for me," the other mur-
mured.

"The Lord knows that you need it."
Jack glanced at the bed, then returned to her
musings. "Of course she 's a little fool. If
she goes back to her husband she will have to
settle down to the humdrum of settler life,
raise calves, chickens, pigs and children in
the fear of the Lord, with only a church
picnic or some such wild dissipation to break
the deadly monotony. A pleasing prospect.
I must say. But if it suits her — well, I'm
not going to see her delivered, bound and
bleating into the hands of the devil, alia*
Calvert Molyneux. It seems a shame, either'
way, but she undoubtedly loves her settler
hubby and she 's just the kind to eat out her
heart through remorse and shame. And
here is Elinor, blackening her reputation
with the pi? settlers to whom she must look
for a living, making reconciliation impos-
sible. Well, I'm going to speak to the little
fool tomorrow."

This she did, making her opportunity by
carrying Helen off to her bedroom, where,
having disposed her victim in a comfortable
chair, she herself snuggled down upon the
bed and went with customary frankness
straight to the heart of her subject. "I want
to know, Helen Carter, why you are heret"

Puzzled, Helen stared, then interpreting
by the smile, she answered, "I— really, I —
dont know."

"A — pretty — poor — reason !" She shook
her finger in affected anger. "Dont you
know that you dont belong? Now dont fire
np! If I were Edith Newton or Elinor, the
cat, you might suspect a reflection. It isn't
that you are below grade — just the opposite.
Frankly, my dear, we are a rotten lot; a
sweet girl with conscience and morality has
no business among us. We could n't scrape
up enough of either article to outfit a re-
spectable cat. Dont blush — I'm not envying

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

you your conscience. It is a most uncom-
fortable asset and, given choice of two evils,
I'd take a hare lip. But as you have one —
well, you'd better mizzle, go home, you
know."

Having eased herself of this delivery, Mrs.
Jack sighed, sat up, rolled herself a cigarette,
and went on, after a contented puff, "Dont
(ell on me, my dear. Not that I care a
whoop — that 's American, is n't it ? I love
your slang; it is so expressive and comfort-
able to the feelings. But you see rakishness
has no attraction for the fool male of our
species. He resents any infringement of his
monopoly. Even such a degenerate ass as
Charlie Newton prefers schoolgirl simplicity.
So one must needs simulate virgin inno-
cence — however painful. That 's more of
your delightful slang. Now — when are you
going?"

The question anticipated the conclusion of
Helen's midnight tossings, but if unchanged
in substance this had nevertheless been modi-
fied by cooler morning reflections. She stated
the qualifications — Jenny was visiting in
Lone Tree and would not return till Satur-
day! Only two more days. Her visit would
then come to a natural end, so why offend by
abrupt departure?

Mrs. Jack laughed. "I dont think Elinor
would be so very dreadfully offended. Why?
Well— it is ungracious to criticise one's hos-
tess, but — you have trapped her rabbit."

"Her— rabbit?"

"Yes — Sinclair Rhodes."

"Why — he paid me less attention than any
of the others ; was less — you '11 pardon me —
offensive. I even thought he tried to keep
them away."

"As the lion drives the jackals from his
prey. Avoid him, my dear. Well, I sup-
pose that a couple more days wont hurt. We
are to stay a week longer, and if Elinor asks
you to stay — which she wont — you must re-
fuse. Now we must go out before they begin
to suspect a conspiracy."

"But first let me thank you— I have been
so miserable and you have done me so much
good."

Mrs. Jack gently patted the hand that
caught her arm ; an action totally at variance
with her answer. "Self-interest, I assure
you. Elinor is not the only sufferer. You
have depleted the entire preserve. Not a
man has looked at me the last three davs.

There, there! Dont look so shocked. You
need n't believe it if you dont want to."

Could Mrs. Jack's frank eyes have pierced
the immediate future she would have made
her warning against Rhodes more specific.
On Thursday of that week Leslie drove his
heavy team and bobs into Lone Tree for sup-
plies and, what of the thawing trails, could
not possibly be back till all hours Saturday
night. Not knowing this, Mrs. Jack made no
objection when, Saturday morning, Danvers
drove over with Molyneux's double cutter
and carried off herself and the Newtons to
visit a friend west of the Assinaboine. You
wont go home till after supper," she said to
Helen, leaving. "So I wont say good-bye."

But she miscalculated both the warmth of
the friend's welcome and the heavy sledding.
When she returned, long after dark, she
found Mrs. Leslie reading a novel by her
bedroom stove. In a loose wrapper, crossed
feet comfortably propped on the plated stove
rail, a plate of red apples at her elbow, and
the light comfortably adjusted on the table
behind her, she was the picture of comfort.
"Having a jolly good time all by myself,"
she explained. "Fred 's not home yet, and
Captain Chapman went over to win a little
from Ernest Poole at poker. Helen? Just
gone. She waited and waited and waited,
but you were so late that we both thought
you had concluded to stay the night. Did n't
you pass her at the Forks, or hear the bells?
That double string of Fred's can be heard
to heaven on a still night."

"Oh, was that her? Hired man came for
her, I suppose?" Mrs. Jack indifferently in-
quired as she laid off her furs.

"No, Sinclair drove her with our ponies.
What's the matter?"

Eyes dark and dilated with fear, Mrs. Jack
faced her. "Do you mean to tell me — "
Breaking hastily off, she ran. through bed
and living-rooms, almost upsetting Newton
on her way to the outer door. "Mr. Dan-
vers ! Oh, Mr. Danvers ! Mr. Danvers ! Mr. —
Danvers !" she called.

But the night returned only the clash of
his bells.

Sweeping back in, she faced Mrs. Leslie,
flushed with the one righteous emotion of her
fast life. "You let her go out — alone — with
that — " Choking, she ran into her own room
and slammed the door, leaving the other two
women staring.

TilK SETTLER.

lift
of

of the
Maud's

eyebrows. "Avther
raves."

CHAPTER XVII.

> — and Its Finale.

UT for the bells and groan
of runners — which drowned
sound for them even as it did
for Danvers — Helen and
Rhodes were near enough to
have heard Mrs. Jack's call.
Interpreting the latter's warning morally,
Helen had accepted Rhodes' escort as leaser
of two evils, or if she had speculated on
tentative attempts at flirtation, had not
doubted her own ability to snub them.

A sodden frost. Winter's last desperate
clutch at the throat of Spring, had hardened
the sun-rotted trails, and as the cutter sped
swiftly over the first mile, she chatted freely
without thought of danger. Of the three
male guests, Rhodes had, as aforeseen, pes-
tered her least, so, ignorant of the pitiless
brutality masked by his reserve, she was
paralyzed, almost fainted when his arm sud-
denly dropped from the cutter rail to her

•vering, she spoke sharply, "Take it

.r.vav

"ad, he drew her tighter. She could
not see his face, hut as she struck, madly,
blindly, at its dim whiteness, his laugh, heart-
less, cynical, came out of the dusk. "Kick,
bite, scratch all you want, my little beauty,"
he said, forcing his face against hers. "Your
struggles are sweet as caresses."

Yet withal his boast, he found it difficult
to hold her. Twice she broke his grip and
almost leaped from the sleigh, and as she
fought his face away, her hand suddenly
touched the reins looped over his arm.

In the black confusion, he was unable to
specify just what happened thereafter. He
knew that, alarmed by the scuffling, the
ponies had hurst into a gallop. But though
he felt her relax, he could not see her throw
all of her weight into a sudden jerk on the
left rein. Ensued a heaving, tumultuous mo-
ment. Pulled from the trail, the ponies
plunged in deep drift. The cutter bucked
like a live thing, and as it dropped from
the high trail a runner cracked with a
pistol report; simultaneously, they were
thrown out into deep, cold snow.

They fell clear of each other, and Helen
heard Rhodes swearing as he ran to the
ponies' heads. The sound spurred her to
action. She could only count on a minute.
and, rising, she ran, stumbling, falling head-
long in drifts, to rise and plunge on, in her
heart the terror of the hunted thing. Each
second she expected to hear his pom ng
foot. But he had to tie the ponies to a
prairie poplar, and by that time she had
gained a bluff two hundred yards away, and
was crouched like a chased hare in its heart.

That poor covert would not have suflieed
against a frontiersman. Tracking by the
fainter whiteness of broken snow, he would
soon have flushed the trembling game, but it
was ample protection from Rhodes' inelli-
ciency. Alarmed when he saw that she was
gone, he ran back and forth, shouting,
coupling her name with promises of good
behavior. As her line of flight had angled
but slightly from the trail, she heard him
plainly.

"My God! You'll freeze! Mrs. Carter!
Oh, Mrs. Carter! Do come out ! I was only
joking !"

She did not require his assurance as to
the freezing. Already her l'mbs were numb,
her teeth chattered so loudly she was afraid
he would hear. But she preferred the I
mercy to his, and so lay, shivering, until in
despair, be got the ponies back to the trail
and drove rapidly away. Then she came out
and headed homeward like a bolting rabbit.
Twice she was scared back into the snow.
Once when Rhodes turned about and dashed
down and back the trail. Again just before
she picked Leslie's voice from passing bells.
He was merely talking to his horses, but
never before had his voice fallen so sweetly
on pretty ears.

As at some wan ghost, he stared at the
dim draggled figure that came up to him out
of the snow: indeed, half-frozen and wholly
frightened, she was little more than the ghost
of herself. "The cad !" he stormed, hearing
her story. "I'll punch his head tomorrow!"
And he maintained that rude intention up
to the moment that he dropped her at her
own door.

"Dont!" she called after him. "Elinor
wont like it!" But the caution was for Us
own good, and she was not so very much east
down when he persisted.

"Then she can lump it !" he shouted b«»k.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

The proverb gives the Trampled Worm
rather more than due credit when one remem-
bers that a barrel hoop can out-turn the very
fiercest worm, but it should be remembered
in Leslie's favor that he mutinied in the
cause of another. Having all of the ob-
stinacy of his dullness, he went straighter to
his end, because it was allied with that nar-
row bulldog vision which excludes all but one
object from the field of sight. Meeting
Rhodes, Chapman and Newton, with lanterns,
at the point where the sleigh had capsized,
he rushed the former and was living in the
strict letter of his intention when the others
pulled him away. They could not, however,
dam his indignant speech. On that vast dark
stage, with the lanterns shedding a golden
aureole about Rhodes and his bleeding
mouth, he gave them the undiluted truth as
it is said to flow from the mouths of babes
and sucklings.

Arrived home, moreover, he staggered his
wife by his stubborn opposition. "It is no
use talking, Elinor," he said, closing a bitter
argument. "Tomorrow I go to the bush for
a load of wood, and if that cad is here when
I return, I'll break a whip on his back."
Then, ignoring her bitten lips, clenched
hands, the bitter fury that was to produce
such woeful consequences, he went oft to bed.

Of all this, however, Helen remained in
ignorance until after the denouement that
came a few days later along with a scatter-
ing of new snow. Those were days of misery
for her — of remorseful brooding, self-re-
proach, hot shame that set her at bitter in-
trospection that she might find and root out
the germs of wickedness that had brought
these successive insults. As hundreds of
good girls before her, as thousands will after
her, she wondered if she were really the
possessor of some unsuspected sensuousness.
Comparisons, too, were forced upon her.
Revolting from the rough settler life, she had
turned to the English set, only to find that
their polished ease was but the veneer of
their degeneracy, analagous to the phos-
phorescence given off in the dark by a
poisoned fish and equally indicative of decay.
She could not fail to contrast her husband's
sterling worth with their moral and intellec-
tual leprosy.

The nights were still more trying. She
would sit, evenings, and stare at the lamp as
though it were the veritable flame of life,

while her spirit quested after the Cause of
things and the root of many enigmas. Why,
for instance, is it that pitilessness, ferocity,
ruth, which were Good in the youth of the
World, should cause such Evil in its old age?
For what reason the Cause of the Lily willed
also its blight? Why conditions make fish
of one woman, flesh of another, and fowl of
a third, and wherefore any one of them
should be damned for doing what she
could n't help in following the dictates of her
nature? In fact, from the duration of her
reveries she may have entertained all of the
hundred and odd questions with which the
Atom pelts the Infinite, and judging from
her dissatisfaction, she received the usual an-
swer — Why? It is Nature's wont to deliver
her lessons in parables — from which each
must extract his or her own meanings — and a
momentous page was turned in Helen's les-
son the day that she rode over to Leslie's
to verify a rumor which Nels had brought
from the postoffice.

As sleighing was practically over and
wheeling not yet begun, she went horseback.
As aforesaid, a scattering of new snow cov-
ered the prairies and she rode through a bit-
ter prospect. Everywhere yellow grass tus-
socks or tall brown weeds thrust through the
scant whiteness to wave in the chill wind. Un-
der the sky's enormous gray, scrub and bluff
and blackened drifts stood out, harsh studies
in black and white. Nature was in the blues
and all sentient things shared her dull humor.
Winging north in V or harrow formations,
the wild ducks quacked their discontent.
Peevish snipe cursed the weather as they
dipped from slough to slough. A lone coyote
complained that the season transcended his
experience, then broke off his plaint to chase
a rabbit — of whose red death Helen was
shuddering witness.

The settlement was even less cheerful ; such
houses as she passed rose like dirty smudges
from the frozen mud of their dooryards.
Moreover, the looks of the few settlers she
met were not conducive of better spirits.
McCloud, a bigoted Presbyterian of the old
Scotch-Canadian school, gave her a malig-
nant grin in return for her nod. Three
Shinn boys, big louts, burst into, a
loud guffaw as their wagon rattled by
her at the forks of Leslie's trail. Their
comment : "Guess she hain't heard !" increased
her apprehension.

THK SKTTLER.

She could now see the house, smokeless,
apparently lifeless, downing down from a
snow-clad ridge. But when, a minute later,
she knocked, Leslie answered, and she en-
tered. The living room with its associations
of gaiety was dank, cold, cheerless. Ash
littered the tireless stove; the floor was un-
swept ; the air gave back her breath in a
steamy cloud. Through the bedroom door
she saw drawers and boxes wide open, their
contents tossed and tumbled as though some-
one had rummaged them for valuable con-
And amid these ruins of a home
a sat, head bowed in his hands,
i poor man!" she cried. "You poor
mat.

He turned up his face and its sick misery
reminded her of a worm raising its mangled
head from under a passing wheel, as though
tig a reason for its sudden taking off.
Hi-; words strengthened the impression. "I
could n't seem to satisfy her, and she was
because I took your part against bim.
Of course she isn't so much to blame. I
did as well as I could, but I'm neither clever
nor ornamental — like Rhodes. But I tried
to treat her well, didn't It You shall
judge."

i did — of course you did, poor man!"
she sobbed.

"Then why did she leave met"

Somehow his blind questioning raised the
prairie tragedy in her mind. The rabbit's
death scream was equally sincere in its pro-
test against inscrutable fate in the coyote's
green eyes. Its innocence was blameless as
this, yet — how could she answer problems as
unsolvable as her ownT

"I have been a fool," he went on, and his
next words helped to lessen the astonish-
ment, though not the pain, which his calam-
ity had brought her. "A blind fool | When
we used to drive out to Regis last Summer
it was going on — I can see it now. They
did their billing and cooing under my ven-
eres. Yet they were not so clever after all.
were theyT I trusted her — with my honor,
expecting her to protect it as I would have
defended her virtue. Was I at fault t If a
man can't trust his wife, what can he dot
Surely not lock her up. What could I dot"

Puzzled, she stood and looked down upon
him. But under its delicate complexities the
feminine mind is ever practical, and her at-
tention quickly turned to his physical wel-

fare. He must be taken away! Weaned
from his sick brooding, blind questioning'
"Have you eaten today t" she asked,
for three days I Qo out and harness your
ponies at once and come home with me to
supper." Anticipating objection, she added.
"Really, you must, for I am too tired to
ride back again."

Her little fiction was hardly necessary;
he found it so easy to let her do his think-
ing. He obeyed as one in a trance, and not
till they drove away, leading her pony be-
hind, did action dissipate his lethargy. Then
he began to display some animation.

It was a silent and uncomfortable drive.
Instead of the usual lively jingle, pole and
harness rattled dully; the light snow hushed
the merry song of the wheels to a slushy
dirge. The raw air, bleak sky, slaty gray*
of the dull prospect were eminently oppres-
sive. Nature had shed her illusions and.
fronting her cold materialism, there was no
dodging issues. Pacts thrust themselves too
rudely upon consciousness. Leslie spoke but
once, and the remark proved that the chill
realities had set him again at life's riddle.

"I shall sell out," he said, as the ponies
swung in on Carter's trail. "Go to South
Africa. My brother is a mining superin-
tendent on the Rand."

She sighed. "I ean 't go to South
Africa."

He roused from bis own trouble with
ready sympathy. "You dont need to.
You '11 see. Carter will come home one of
these days." And during the short time that
he abode with her, he extended the same
brotherly sympathy, forgetting his trouble
in hers. She was sincerely sorry when —
having placed Danvers in charge of the sale
of his farm and effects — he followed his
faithless wife out of her life and this book.

CHAPTER XVIII.

The Persistence of the Established.

iVE for a few dirty drifts
in the shadow of the bluffs,
snow was all gone when, one
morning a week or so after
Leslie's departure, Helen
went south under convoy of
Jimmy Olaves to open school. The day was
beautiful. Once more the prairies wore
the burned browns of Autumn, but to eyes

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

that had grown to the vast snowscape dur-
ing a half-year of Winter, the huge mon-
ochrome rioted in color. In fact it had its
values. There a passing cloud threw a patch
of black. Bowing to the soft breeze, last
year's grass sent sunlit waves chasing each
other down to the far horizon. Here and
there a green stain on the edge of cropped
hay sloughs bespoke the miracle of resur-
rection, eternal wonder of Spring, the young
life bubbling forth from the decay and
death of parent plants. Also the prospect
was chequered with the rich black of plowed
fields. On these slow ox teams crawled, and
the shouts of the drivers, snapping crack
of long whips, alternated as they drove
along with the cheep of running gophers,
the "pee wee" of snipe, song of small birds.
Noise was luxury after six months' frozen
silence. The warm damp air, the feel of
balmy Spring, sunlight on the grasses, were
delightfully relaxing. Helen gave herself
up to it; permitted sensation to rule and
banish for the moment her tire and trouble.
She chatted quite happily with the trustee
who, however, seemed gloomy and pre-
occupied.

A philosopher coined a phrase, the per-
sistence of the established, to explain the
survival of phenomena after their original
cause lies dead in the past. It admirably
defines the trustee's mental condition, which
was a product of causes set up by Helen
these last months. Ignorant of the change
in her feeling toward her English friends,
he was vividly aware of the prejudice which
her dealings with them had aroused in the
settlers. In the beginning he and Flynn
had earned severe criticism by giving her
the school. Since the Leslie scandal, he
doubted their ability to keep her in it. At
meeting, "bees", on trail, her name was be-
ing coupled with grins or gloomy reproba-
tion according to the years and character
of the critics. The women had plucked her
character clean as a chicken, and were scat-
tering their findings to the four winds. Just
now, of course, the heavy work of seeding
sadly interfered with these activities and di-
versions, but Jimmy looked for trouble in
the slack season. If, in the meantime, she
could be weaned from her liking for the
English Ishmael, they might be able to
weather the prejudice. To which end he
steered the conversation to the greenness,

credulity and execrable agriculture of the
remittance people.

"I kain't see," he said, among other
things, "what a fine gal Ike you kin see in
'em. They 're dying stock, an' one o' these
days the Fool-Killer will come along an'
brain the hull biling. Brain, did I say?
The Lord forgive me ! Ked n't scratch up
the makings of one outen the hull bunch."

Had she known his mind, she might easily
have laid his misgivings. Instead she tried
to modify his bitter opinion. "They are cer-
tainly inefficient as farmers. But as re-
gards their credulity, dont you think it is
largely due to a higher standard of business
honor? Now when a Canadian trades horses
he expects to be cheated, while they are
only looking for a fair exchange."

Jimmy's face wrinkled in contemptuous
disparagement. "Hain't that jes' what I
said? A man that expects to get his own
outen a hoss trade kain't be killed too quick.
It's tempting Providence to leave him loose;
as well expect a nigger to leave a fat
rooster as a Canadian to keep his hands off
sech easy meat. 'T aint human natur'. As
for their honor," he sniffed, "pity it did n't
extend to their morals."

"It is indeed."

Afterward they had many a tilt on this
same subject. Smoking in his doorway of
evenings, Jimmy would emit sarcasms from
the midst of furious clouds, while she, as
much for fun as from natural feminine per-
versity, took the opposite side. And neither
knew the other's mind — until too late. But,
placated by her low answer, he now let the
subject rest.

Three feet of green water was slipping
over the river ice when they forded Silver
Creek, and they had to dodge odd logs, van-
guard of Carter's drive. "Another week,"
the trustee remarked, "an' we could n't have
crossed."

He was right. That week a warm rain ran
the last of the snows off several thousand
square miles of watershed, feeding the stream
till it waxed fat and kicked like the scrip-
tural ox against the load Carter had saddled
upon it. Snarling viciously, it would whirl
a timber across a bend, then rush on with
mad roar, leaving a mile of logs backed up
behind. But such triumph never endured.
With axes, peavies, canthooks, Bender and
his men broke the jams; whereupon, as

THK SETTLER.

though peevish at its failure, the river swept
out over the level bottoms and stranded um-
bers in backwater or in dense scrub.

To see this, the first log drive n Silver
Creek, the children who lived near the val-
ley, scuttled every day from school, and they
would gaze, wide-eyed, at Michigan Red rid-
ing a log that spun like a i>p under In*
nimble feet; or watch the Cougar, shoulder
deep in snow water, shoving logs at some
ticklish point. Then they would hang about
the cook's tent while that functionary jug-
gled with beans and bacon or made lumber-
man'* cake by the cubic yard. Also there
peeps into the sleeping tents where
men lay and snored in boots and wet red
shirts just as they had come out of the
river. Of all of which they would prattle
to Helen next day at school, reciting many
tales, chief among them the Homeric narra-
tive of the cutting of a jam — in which she
had a special interest and which proved,
among other things, that Michigan Red was
again at his old tricks.

It was Susie Flynn who brought this tale.
Dipping down, one end of a bridge timber
had stuck at an acute angle into the river
bed. A second timber swung broadside on
against its end; then, in a trice, the tap
had backed up, grinding bark to a pulp mi
der their enormous pressure. "Mr. Bender."
Susie said, "he was for throwing a rope
across from bank to bank so 's th' y ked cut
it from above. Dut one was n'i handy, an'
while they was waiting a big red man comes
up an' hands Mr. Carter the dare.

" 'If you 're scairt, gimme the axe an' I 'II
show yon how we trim a jam in Michigan.'

"But Mr. Carter wouldn't give it.

" 'N'o,' he says, awful quiet yet sorter
tunny, for all the men laughed. 'No, they 'II
need you to show 'em again.' Then he walks
out on the jam an' goes to chopping, with
Mr. Render railing for him to come back
an' not make a dam fool of himself."

The scene had so impressed the child that
she reproduced every del ail for her pale
audience of one — Carter astride of the key
ins men, timing their breath with the
"huh" - i his stroke; Bender's distress; the
cynical grin of Michigan Red. Once, she
said, a floating chip deflected the axe and
be swore, easily, naturally, turning a smile
of annoyance up to the bank. It drew no re-
sponse from eyes that were glued to the log.

now quiverim; under tons of pressure. \
huge baulk, it broke with a thunderous re-
port when cut a quarter through and loosed
a mile of grinding death upon the chopper.

Then came his progress through the
welter. As the jam bore down stream, tim-
bers would dip, somersault, and thrash down
on a log that still quivered under the spurn
of his leap. Young trees raised an end and
swept like battering rams along the log he
rode. Yet, jumping from log to log, he
came up from Death out of the turmoil in
safety to the bank.

•'I'.idii'jlit his axe erlong, too!" Susie tri-
umphantly finished. "An' you should have
jes' seen that red man — he looked that sick
an' '.rreen through his wishy-washy smiling.
But Mr. Carter, aint he a brave onet You
must be awful proud of him, aint you, Miss
Helen T"

What could she answer but "yes", though
the trembling adm ssion covered only a small
portion of her psychology. Misery, fear, re-
gret, made up the rest. The remainder of
that day dragged wearily by to a distant
drone of lessons. She, who had tried to
eject her husband from her life, shuddered
as she thought how nearly her wish had
come to accomplishment. Death's cold breath
chilled resentment; expunged the memory of
her months of weary waiting. It would re-
turn, but in the meantime she could think of
nothing but his danger. Hurrying home, she
asked Olaves to saddle her a horse, saying
she wanted to gallop away from a headache.

Heartache would have been more correct,
but she certainly galloped ; rode westward,
then swung around north on a wide circle
that brought her, at dusk of the short Spring
day. out on a bald headland that si
down to the river. Beneath her lay the camp
with its cooking fires flickering like wind-
blown roses athwart the velvet pall of dusk;
and in either direction from that effulgent
bouquet, a crimson garland of sentinel fires
laiil its miles of length along the valley.

M.r: moved about the nearer fires, appear-
inir to her distant eyes as dim dark shapes.
But what sight refused hearing supplied.
She heard the cook, cursing his kettles with
a volubility that would have brought shame
on the witches in Macbeth; the imprecations
of some lumberjack at war with a threatened
jam. Above all rose the voice of a violin,
quivering its infinite travail, expressing the

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

throbbing pain of the world; then, from far
up the valley, a lonely tenor floated down
the night.

He went to cut a key-log an' the jam he

went below,
He was the d — est man that ever I did know.

Some lumberman was relieving his watch
by chanting the deeds of a hero of the
camps; and as, like a dove of night, the
voice floated high over the river's growl
through a score of verses, it helped to drive
home upon Helen a sense of the imminent
jeopardy Carter had passed through that
day. While her horse pawed its impatience,
she sat for an hour trying to pick his voice
from the hum of the camp. It was easy to
distinguish Bender's. His bass growl formed
the substratum of sound. She caught, once,
the Cougar's strident tones. Then just as
she was beginning to despair, a command,
stern and clear, rose from the void.

"Lay on there with that peavey! Quick,
or you '11 have 'em piled to heaven ! Here — ■
Bender, Cougar, lend a hand ; this fellow 's
letting them jam on him !"

She started, as under a lash. All that
day she had lived in a whirl of feeling, and
just as a resolvent precipitates a chemical
mixture, the stern voice reduced her feeling
to thought. Unfortunately the tone was not
in harmony with her soft misery. If it had
been — well, it was not. Rather it recalled
his contempt under the moonlight; her own
solitary shame. Whirling her bronco, she
cut him over the flank and galloped at immi-
nent risk of her neck over the dark prairies
in vain attempt to escape the galling recur-
rence of injured pride, the stings of dis-
appointment.

"He does n't care for me ! He does n't
care for me!" It rang in her brain. Then
when she was able to think, she added, in
obedience to the sex instinct which will not
admit Love's mortality, "He never did —
otherwise he could n't have left me !" Her
conclusion, delivered that night into a wet
pillow, revealed the secret hope at the root
of her disappointment. "I wont ride that
way again."

But she did, and her changed purpose is
best explained by a conversation between
Carter and Bender as they stood, drying
themselves at the cook's fire, after averting
the threatened jam.

Carter began : "I reckon you can get along
well enough without me. Of course, I'd
have liked to seen the drive down to the
Assinaboine, but in another week the frost
will be out enough to start prairie grading.
I'll have to go. Let me see. * * * One
week more on the Creek, two on the Assina-
boine — three weeks will put the last timber
into Brandon. In less than a month you '11
join me at the Prairie Portage."

Turning to bring another area of soaked
clothing next to the fire, his face came under
strong light. Those seven months of thought
and calculation had left their mark upon it;
thinned and refined its lines, tooled the fea-
tures into an almost intellectual cast. His
mouth, perhaps, evidenced the greatest
change; showed less humor, because, per-
haps, self-repression and the habit of com-
mand had drawn the lips in tighter lines.
Deeper set, his eyes seemed darker, while a
straight look into their depths revealed an
underlying sadness. Sternness and sadness,
indeed, governed the face without, however,
banishing a certain grave courtesy that
found expression in pleasant thanks when,
presently, the cook brought them a steam-
ing jug of coffee. Lastly, determination
stamped it so positively that only its lively
intelligence saved it from obstinacy. One
glance explained Bender's answer to Jenny :
"He's stiffer'n all h— 1"; his attitude to
Helen. In him will dominated the emotions.
Summed, the face with its power, dogged
resolution, imperturbable confidence, mir-
rored his past struggles, gave earnest for
his future battles.

A hint of these last inhered in a remark
that Bender slid in between two guJps of
coffee. "They 're saying as the C. P. will
never let you cross their tracks."

Carter smiled. "Yes, who 's saying it 1"

"Oh, everybody, an' the Winnipeg paper
said yesterday as Old Brass-Bowels"— -he
gave the traffic manager his sobriquet — "will
enjoin you an' carry the case through the
Dominion courts to the British Privy Coun-
cil. The newspaper sharp allowed that
would take about two years, during which
the monopoly would either buy out or bust
your crowd by building a competing line."

This time Carter laughed, heartily, the
confident laugh of one sure of himself. "So
that 's what the paper said. Well, well,
well ! that scribe person must be something

THE SETTLER.

of a psychic. What's thatT Oh, a fellow
who tells you a whole lot of things he Stoat
know himself. Now listen" — in view of
what occurred six months Inter, his words
are worth remembering — "courts or no
courts, Privy Council to the contrary, we'll
run trains across Brass-Bowel's tracks be-
fore next freeze-up."

•Hope you do," Bender grinned. "Bnt
the old man aint so very slow."

They talked more of construction, tools,
supply, sng neering difficulties, the hundred
problems inherent in railroad building. Mid-
night still found them by the fire that
twinkled, a lone red star under the enormous
vault of night. But though interesting and
important in that the success of the enter-
prise involved the economic freedom of a
province, the conversation — with one excep-
tion — is not germane to this story which
goes on from the moment that, two days
later, a Pengelly boy carried the news of
Carter's departure to Helen at school.

The exception was delivered by the mouth
of Bender as he rose, stretching with a
mighty yawn to go to his tent. "Of course
it 's none of my damn business, but do you
allow to call at the school as you go down
tomorrow t"

Carter's brows drew into swift lines, but
resentment faded before the big fellow's con-
cern. "I did n't reckon to," he said, irently.
vet added the hint, " — since you 're so press-
.„,'."

Bnt Bender would not down. "Oh, shore T"
he pleaded. "Shore! Shore t"

Carter looked his impatience, yet yielded
another point to the other's distress. "If
Mrs. Carter wished to see me. I allow
she 'd send."

"Then she never will! She never will!"
Bender cried, hitting the crux of their prob-
lem. "For she is jes' as proud as you are."

With that he plunged into the environing
darkness, leaving Carter still at the fire.
From its glow his face presently raised to
the valley's rim, dim and ghostly under a
new moon, ridged with shadowy trees. It
was only six miles to Glaves' place, a hop,
skip and jump in that country of distances.
For some minutes he stood like a stag on
i.'are. then with a slow shake of the head he
followed Bender.

"An' he aint coming back till Winter,"

the small boy informed Helen, "he '11 be that
busy with his railroadii-

After two days of embittered brooding,
Helen had come to consider herself as being
in the selfsame mood that ruled her the Jan-
nary morning when Mrs. I.olie broke in on
her months of loneliness. But this startling
news explained certain contradictions in her
l»sychology, for instance, her startings and
tlushings whenever her north window had
shown a moving dot on the valley tntil
these last two days. Moreover her pallor
was hardly consistent with the assertion
thrice repeated within the hour- — that Bret)
if he did come she would never, NEVER.
\l\F.R forgive him NOW ! Not that she
conceded said contradictions. On the con-
trary, she put up a gorgeous bluff with her-
self; affected indifference; and — borrowed
•limmy's pony that evening and rode down
to the ford.

Bender had built a rough bridge to serve
traffic till the drive should clear the ford.
Reining in at the nearer end, Helen looked
down on the pool, the famous pool where n
her betrothal had received baptism by
immersion — at least she looked on the place
where the pool had been, for shallows and
sandbar were merged in one swirl of yellow
water. But the clay bank with its bordering
willows was still there and shone ruddily
under the westering sun just as on that
memorable evening. Here on the straight
reach the logs floated under care of an
occasional patrol. A rough fellow in blue
jeans and red jerkin gave her a curious stare
as he passed, whereafter there was no wit-
ness to her wet eyes, her rain of tears, con-
vulsive sobbing, the break-up of her as-
sumed indifference — that is, none but her
pony. Reaching curiously around, the beast
investigated the grief huddled upon his neck
with soft muzzle, rubbing and sniffinir
."cheer up," and she had just straightened
to return his mute sympathy, when a voice
broke in on the bitter and sweet of her
reverie.

"Well met, lady fair!"

Turning, startled, she came face to face
with Molyneux. The heavy mud of the
bottoms bad silenced his wheels, and now
be sat, smiling at the sudden fires that dried
up and hid her tears. "Not there yet," he
answered her question as to his return home
"Do you imagine I could go by without call-

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

ing? The school was closed, but a kid — a
Flynn by his upper lip — told me that you
had ridden this way, and as it was Friday
evening, I judged you were going north to
Leslie's and so drove like Jehu on the trail
of Ahab. Better turn your horse loose and
get in with me. He '11 go home all right.
Why not?"

Again she shook her head. "Did n't Mr.
Danvers write you" — remembering that a
letter would have crossed him on the At-
lantic, she stopped.

"What's the matter? No one dead?
Worse?" He laughed in her serious face
when she had told. "Oh, well — that 's not
so bad. After all, Leslie was an awful
chump. If a man is n't strong enough to
hold a woman's love he should n't expect
to keep her."

He was yet, of course, in ignorance of all
that had transpired in his absence — the
house party and the complete revulsion it
had wrought in Helen's feeling. He knew
nothing of her shame, vivid remorse, passion
of thankfulness for her escape. To him she
was still the women, desperate in her
loneliness, who had challenged his love a
short two months ago. Withal, what pos-
sessed him to afford that glimpse of his old
nature? It coupled him instantly in her
mind with her late unpleasant experience.

Not understanding her silence, he ran
gaily on. "I can now testify to the truth of
the saying, 'Absence makes the heart grow
fonder.' How is it with you? Have I lost
or gained?"

Laughing nervously, she answered,
"Neither, we are still the same good friends."

He shook his head, frown : ng. "Not
enough. I want love — must, will have it."

Any lingering misapprehension of the
state of her feelings which she may have en-
tertained now instantly vanished. How she
regretted the weakness which entitled him to
speak thus! She knew now. Never under
any conditions could she have married him,
but warned by dearly boughten experience
she dared not so inform him. Frightened,
she fenced and parried, calling to her aid
those shifts for men's fooling that centuries
of helplessness have bred in woman's bone.

"Well, well!" she laughed. "I thought
you more gallant. I on horseback, you in a
buggy. Love at such long distance. I
would n't have believed it of you."

It was a bad lead, drawing him on instead
of away. "That is easily remedied. Get in
with me — or I'll tie up to that poplar."

She checked his eagerness with a quick
invention. "No, no ! I was only joking. No
I say ! there 's a man, a river driver, just be-
hind that bluff." How she wished there
were ! Praying that someone might come
and so afford her safe escape, she switched
the conversation to his journey and when
that subject wore out, enthused over the sun-
set. How beautiful was the sky ! the shad-
ows that fell like a pall over the bottoms !
the lights slow crawling up the headlands.

Preferring her delicate coloring to the
blushes of the west, he feasted his eyes on
her profile, delicately outlined against a
golden cloud, until she turned. Then he
brought her back to the point. "Well —
have you forgotten?"

"What?" She knew too well, but the ques-
tion killed a moment.

"The answer you promised me."

She would dearly have loved to give it; to
cry aloud, "I love ! I love ! I love — him, not
you ! Ay, she would have flaunted it in all
the proud cruelty of love — had she dared.
Instead, she answered. "You forget. I am
a married woman."

"No, I dont," he urged. "That is eas : ly
settled. Three months' residence across the
line in Dakota and you are free of him — "

" — but not of myself."

"What do you mean?"

Alarmed by the sudden venous blood that
suffused his face and neck, the reddish glow
of his eye, she forged hasty excuses. "You
see I never thought of it — in that way. I
must have time to get used to the idea. Wont
you give me a week?" Her winning smile
conquered. He had stepped his ponies along-
side, and, snatching her hand, he covered it
with kisses.

"By G — ! Helen, you must say yes. I'm
mad — mad with love of you. If you re-
fuse — "

"Hush !" She snatched away her hand as
a man came in sight from behind a bluff,
coming up stream. "It is Mr. Bender!" she
explained — so thankfully. Then mindful of
her part, she added, with pretended disgust,
"What a nuisance! I wonder if he — saw
you?"

"Oh, he '11 go by."

"No, no," she said with affected gaiety.

THE SETTLER.

"Leave me the shreds of my character. Now
you must go. Must, I said, sir."

• \ .tv well, hut remember — one week."
No.ldiiiir significantly, he drove, leaving her
to meet the foreman with a mixture of re-
lief and apprehension. She wondered if he
had seen Molyneux shower kisses upon her
hand.

Though, in a few minutes of shy conver-
sation, Bender showed no knowledge of the
cause that had set her to rubbing the back
of her hand against her skirt, it nevertheless
funned the subject of a rough scrawl that
Baldy, the tote trail teamster, delivered to
Jenny in I^one Tree two days later. "You
said I was to tell if 1 saw or heard any-
thing more. Well he is back and — followed
the kisses and the scrawl ended — if you kin
do anything like you thought you ked, do it
quick else I shall have to tell the boss and
give him a chance to look after his own."

Jenny did "do it quick" and thereby in-
itiated a sequence of cause and event that
was to entirely change the complexion of a
dozen lives. An extract from her letter to
Helen explains itself: 'Twos on the tip of
my tongue to tell it to you every time he
druv you home last Winter, but 't was so
mii'h easier for me to have you all believing
as it was the man that went back to Eng-
land, but 't was n't, Miss Helen, 't was him —
Capen Molyneux —

Poor Jenny! She alone knew the magni-
tude of the man's offense against her weak
innocence, but, small stoic, she had hugged
the knowledge to her soul while waiting in
dull patience for the punishment she never
doubted. Immunity would have challenged
the existence of the Qod in whom, despite
small heresies of speech, she devoutly be-
lieved. She read his sentence in that moat
tremendous curse of the oppressor, the One
Hundredth and Ninth Psalm, the bitter cry
of David: "For he hath rewarded me evil
• * * hatred for my love. When he
shall be judged, let him be condemned; and
his prayer become sin. • • • Lej hjg
children be continually vagabonds, seek their
bread in desolate places. Let the extortioner
catch all that he hath ; the stranger despoil
his labor. Let there be none to extend mercy
to him ; * * * Let his posterity be cut
off and his generation blotted out • • •
that he may cut off the memory of them from
the earth." Ay, she had believed that it

would come to pass in some way — by light-
ning flash, sudden sickness, a weary death.
But she had never imagined herself as the
instrument which this letter was to make
her. What the confession cost her! Tears,
shameful agonizings. Small wonder that, in
her trembling' confusion, she mishuffled notes
■ad >li<l Helen's into Bender's envelope.

CHAPTER XIX.

The Wages of Sin Is —

fN the afternoon following
Baldy's delivery of the shuf-
fled notes, the May sun dif-
fused a tempered warmth
upon Molyneux's veranda,
thereby intensifying certain
eomfortable reflections which accompanied
his after-dinner pipe. He had material cause
of satisfaction. To begin, his father's death
placed him in possession of a sum which —
a mere pittance in England — loomed large as
a fortune in the thrifty settlements. Next,
Messrs. Coxhead and Boxhead, exploiters of
the Younger Son and his London solicitors,
had forwarded through that morning's mail
indentures of apprenticeship to colonial
farming of three more innocents at one thou-
sand dollars a head per annum. This more
than made up for the defection of Danvers
who, having learned how little there was to
be learned in the business, was adventuring
farming for himself; and permitted the
retention of the bucolic Englishman and
wife who, respectively, managed his farm
and house.

With their services assured, the life was
more than tolerable, infinitely superior to
that which he would have led at home. There
he would have been condemned to the celi-
bate lot of the Younger Son — to be a "filler"
at dinners and dances, useful as the waiters,
ineligible and innocuous to the plainest of
his girl partners as an Eastern eunich; or,
accepting the alternative, trade, vulgar trade,
his pampered wits would have come into
competition with abilities that had been
whetted to a fine edge through centuries on
Time's hard stone. Like a leaden plummet
he would have plunged through the social
strata to his natural place in the scheme of
things. Here, however, he was of some im-
portance, a magnate on means that would
hardly have kept up his clothes and clubs at

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

home. A landed proprietor, moreover, he
escaped the stigma of trade and the resultant
prejudice should he ever return to England.

Then the life glowed with the colors of
romance. His farm occurred on the extreme
western edge of that vast forest which black-
ens the Atlantic seaboard, and so marches
west and north over a thousand rugged miles
to the limit of trees on the verge of the
barren lands. Within gunshot the old
ferocious struggle for life continued as of
yore. Through timbered glades the wolf
pursued and made his kill; echo answered
the clash of horns as big elk fought for a
doe; over lonely woodland lakes, black with
waterfowl, the hoo-haugh crane spread ten
feet of snowy pinion ; across dark waters
the loon's weird lament replied to the owl's
midnight questioning. In Winter the moose
came down from their yards to feed at his
prairie haystacks; any night he could come
out on the veranda and thrill to a long howl
or the scream of a lynx.

Opening before him now, the view was
pleasantly beautiful. His house, a comfort-
able frame building, and big barn and cor-
rals, all sat within the embrace of a half-
moon that prairie fires had bitten out from
the heart of a poplar bluff. Southward his
tilled fields ran like strips of brown carpet
over the green earth rolls. Beyond them
spread the park lands with his cattle feeding
knee-deep in the rank pasture between
clump poplar. Further still, his horses
scented the wind from the crest of a knoll,
forming a dull blotch against the soft blue
sky. These were growing into money while
he smoked, and what of free grazing, free
hay, and labor that reversed the natural or-
der of things and. paid for the privilege of
working, he could see himself comfortably
wealthy in not too many seasons. He would
still be young enough for a run through
Maiden Lane, London's Mecca for the stage
and demi-mondaine. However, he put that
thought behind him as being inconsistent
with contemplation of the last thing neces-
sary for perfect happiness — a pretty wife.
Through the haze of sunlit tobacco reek, he
saw himself in possession of even that golden
asset, and thereafter his reflections took the
exact color of those of the rich man before
death came in the night: "Soul, soul! thou
hast much goods laid up in store! Eat,
drink, take thine ease and be merry!"

"It is really time that I settled," he mur-
mured. "Thirty-four, my next birthday ! By
Jove, six more years and I shall be forty."

The thought deflected his meditation into
channels highly becoming to a person of the
age he was contemplating, and from virtuous
altitudes he looked back with something of
the reproving tolerance that kindly age ac-
cords to youthful indiscretion. He main-
tained the "you-were-a-sad-dog" point of
view till a sudden thought stung his virtuous
complacency through to the quick. "Oh,
well" — he ousted reproach with exculpatory
murmur- — "if the girl had only let me, I
would have got her away from here and have
done something handsome for her after-
wards. But it was just as well * * *
seeing that it passed off so quietly. I wonder
how she managed it. Nobody seems to
know." Then ignoring the fact that every
seeding brings its harvest, not knowing that
the measure of that cruel sowing was even
then coming home to him on a fast trot, he
smothered conviction under the trite reflec-
tion, "A fellow must sow his wild oats."

Still the thought had marred his reverie
and, tapping his pipe on the chair rung, he
rose. He intended a visit to the barn, where
his man was dipping seed wheat in bluestone
solution to kill the smut, . but just then a
wagon, which had been rattling along the
Lone Tree trail, turned into his private
lane.

"It is Glaves," he muttered, "and his wife.
What can they want? Must have a mes-
sage — from her — otherwise they would never
come here."

His thought did not malign the trustee,
who had positively refused the commission
till assured that its performance would sever
Helen's relations with his natural foes. Yet
he did not like it, and though Retribution
might have presented herself in more tragic
guise, she could not have assumed a more
forbidding face than that which he now
turned down to Molyneux.

Than they two, there have been no more
violent contrast. Beak-nosed, hollow-eyed,
the hoar of fifty Winters environed the trus-
tee's face which wind and weather had
warped, seamed and wrinkled into the sem-
blance of a scorched hide. He was true to the
frontier type, and, beside his bronzed rug-
gedness, the Englishman, though much the
larger, seemed with his soft hands, smooth

THE SETTLER.

skin, polished manner, small and effeminate.

night be expected, the trustee refused

Molvneux's invitation to put in and feed.

'iie an' the wife is going up to see her

brother north of Assippii, an' we have thirty

■bBw to make afore sundown."

He did, however, return curt answers to a
few questions, though it would be a mistake
to set his scant conversational efforts to the
accounts of politeness. Rather they were
the meed of malignance for, while talking.
be secretly exulted over the thought of Molv-
neux's coming disappointment. They would
be gone a week, he said. The mails f Mrs.
Carter would attend to sech letters as
straggled in! She'd be there alonef Yes!
Lonesome t Mebbe, but she was that well-
plucked she 'd laughed at the idea of spend-
ing her nights at Flynn's ! A fine girl, sirree !
Having accorded five minutes to Helen's per-
fections, the trustee drove off, but turned as
he drove out of the yard and nudged his
wife, grinning, to look at Molyneux.

Stark and still as one of his own veranda
posts, the man stood and stared down at
Jenny's pitiful letter. Across the top Helen
had written, "This explains itself," and that
scrap of writing represented three letters
now tom up and consigned to the flames.
The first antedated her receipt of Jenny's
letter and had run: "/ want you to believe
me innocent of coquetry, and you must par-
don me if I have, by speech or action, seemed
to sanction the hope you expressed the other
I now perceive that it was my des-
perate loneliness that caused me to lean so
heavily upon your friendship. I might have
told you this, personally, but for certain ex-
periences which have made me timid." There
was more — regret, pleasant hope that the fu-
ture might bring with it friendly relations,
wishes for his happiness. This letter she
bad withdrawn front the mail to burn along
with one that was full of reproach and a
third that sizzled with indignation.

Face suffused with dark venous blood,

pux faced discovered sin. If ever, this

was the accepted time for his attempts at

reconstruction to bring forth fruit. He had

pictured himself remorseful, but now that

the wage of sin was demanded, he flinched

i selfish child, reneged in the game he

had played with the gods. It was not in him

to play a losing hand to the logical end.

Artead of remorse, anger possessed him for.

tearing the letter, he cried in a gust of
passion :

"She shant throw me a second time! By
God! shesbai;

Needs not to follow his turbulent thought
as be hurried out to the barn— his flushes,
the paroxysms that set his face in the colors
of apoplexy. Sufficient that flooding passion
swept clean the superstructure of false
morality, sophistical idealism that he had
erected on the rotten foundation of his
vicious heredity. A minute of action ex-
plains a volume of psychology. Hitching
his ponies, he drove madly southward, one
idea standing clearly out in his whirl of
thought — she would be alone that night.

Just about the time that Molyneux swung
out on the Lone Tree trail, Helen arrived
home from school with the eldest Flynn
boy, who had volunteered to help her with
the chores; her undertaking of which had
made possible Mrs. Glaves' rare holiday
Under distress of their bursting udders, the
cows had come in of their own accord from
the fat rank pastures and called for ease-
ment with low persistent "mooing" while she
changed her dress. When she finally came
out with sleeves rolled above elbows that
had regained their plump whiteness, they
even fought for precedence, horning each
other aside, until the bell-cow made good her
prerogative as leader; then frothing streams
soon drew tinkling music from her pail. For
his part, the boy fed pigs and calves, car-
ried in the milk, then departed, leaving her
to skim and strain and wash pans and pails,
itself no light task in view of Mrs. Glaves'
difficult standards of cleanliness. That done
and her supper eaten, she placed a lamp on
the table and sat down to think over the
events of the day.

A little fatigued, she leaned a smooth
cheek on her hand, staring at the lamp,
whose golden light toned while it revealed
the changes these distressful months had
wrought in her appearance. Her eyes were
weary, her face tired, but if she was paler
than of yore, the pallor was becoming in
that it was altogether a mental product and
accorded well with her plump, well-nourished
body. Her month, if woefully pouted in
agreement with her sad thought, was scarlet
and pretty as ever; in every way she was
L'ood a

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

At first she had found it extremely dim-
cult to realize the full meaning of the letter
which the Cougar had brought in from camp
early that morning. For Bender would
trust it in no other hand; whereby he dis-
covered not only his wisdom, but also an
unexpected fund of tact in his rough mes-
senger. Anticipating some display of emo-
tion, the Cougar discharged his office in the
privacy of Helen's own room, and if her red
eyes afterward excited Jimmy Glaves' in-
satiable curiosity, only the Cougar witnessed
her breakdown — sorrowful tremblings,
blushes, tearful anger. Not that she had
doubted the girl's word. Only it had seemed
monstrous, incredible, impossible until,
through the day, jots and tittles of evidence
had filtered out of the past. She had con-
nected Jenny's gloomings on the occasions
that Molyneux drove her, Helen, home, with
his refusals to enter and warm himself after
their cold drives. Even from the far days
of the child's trouble, small significances had
come to piece out the solid proof. So now
nothing was left for her but bitter self-
communion.

These days it did seem as though the fates
were bent on squeezing the last acrid drop
into her cup; for to the consciousness of
error was now added knowledge of the utter
worthlessness of her temptor. She burned
as she recalled their solitary rides; writhed
slim fingers in a passion of thankfulness as
she thought of her several escapes; was tax-
ing herself for her folly, when a sudden furi-
ous baying outside brought her, startled, to
her feet.

It was merely the house-dog, exchanging
defiances with a lone coyote, but — -after she
had satisfied herself of the fact — it yet
brought home upon her a vivid sense of her
lonely position. Sorry now that she had not
gone home with the Flynn boy, she glanced
nervously about the room which, if small,
was yet large enough to own shadowy cor-
ners. On top of the pigeon-holed mailing
desk, moreover, a few books were piled in
such a way as to cast a shadow, the sil-
houette of a man's profile upon the wall.

Lean, hard, indescribably cruel, its thin lips
split in a merciless grin as she moved the
lamp, then suddenly lengthened into a sem-
blance of a hand and pointing finger. Then
she . laughed, nervously, yet laughed because
it indicated one of the hundred summons,
writs of execution and findings in judgment
that were pasted up on the walls.

"By these summons," Victoria Regina
called upon her subject, James Glaves, to
pay the moneys and taxed costs herein set
forth under pain of confiscation of his goods
and chattels. Usually recording debt and
disaster, the instruments certified, in Jimmy's
case, to numerous victories over implement
trusts, cordage monopolies, local or foreign
shylocks. "Execution proof," in that his
wife owned their real property in her own
right, he could sit and smoke at home, the
cynosure of the countryside, in seasons when
the sheriff traveled with the thresher and
took in all the grain. To each document he
could append a story, the memory of such a
one having caused Helen's laugh.

Indicating this particular specimen with
his pipe stem, one evening, he had remarked,
"Yon jest tickled the jedge to death. 'Mr.
Glaves,' he says, when he handed it down,
'they 've beat you on the jedgement, now it 's
up to you to fool 'em on the execution.' An'
you bet I did."

Reassured, Helen returned to her mus-
ings — only to start up, a minute later, with
a nervous glance over her shoulder at the
window. Is there anything in thought
transference? At that moment Molyneux
was rattling down into the dark valley, and
is it possible that his heated imaginings
bridged the miles and impressed themselves
upon her nervous mental surfaces? Or was
it merely a coincidence of thought that
caused her to see his face pressed against
the black pane? Be this as it may, she could
not regain her composure. Taking the lamp,
she locked herself in her bedroom, then, as
is the habit of frightened women, sought
further safety under the invulnerable shield
of the bedclothes.

(To be Continued.)

As Philosopher Unto Philosopher

Hy Elisabeth Vore

IPHIL080PHSB sat outsi.le
of tlie door of his tent Date,
a fig tree, writing in a book.
His beard was white as snow
from lands of Winter and
many years had crowned his
head with silver. In his deep-set eyes was
the light of the knowledge of life.

A woman passing that way, and being
weary with a long journey over the burning
sand, paused for a moment in the shade of
the tree where the philosopher sat, and lean-
ing upon her staff watched him as he wrote.
And speaking, the wayfarer said :

"Oh, man of the desert, what mightest
thou be writing in the bookt"

And the philosopher continued to write
and removed not his eyes from the book in
which he was writing, and answering the
voice that had spoken, he said :

"(), stranger, whosoever thou mayest be, I
write herein the Truth regarding mankind,
that it may be handed down from generation
■ration unto all the world."

A swift light of hope dawned in the wo-
man's shadowy eyes, and speaking to the
sage, she said :

" IVrchance, kind seer, if it pleaseth thee,
thou canst assist me in finding that for which
I seek."

And the woman's voice was sweet as the
music of rippling water, and slowly the
philosopher raised his eyes from the book
and beheld a woman leaning upon her staff.
And, answering her, the wise man said :

"What seeketh thou, O woman, and
whither might thy journey tendf"

"I go forth, Sir Sage, into the world

of people to search for a constant man, that

when I have found him I may kneel at his

.ive him my heart's eternal devotion."

And the sage looking upon her saw that
she was fair and as she took up her staff to
depart, he stretched out his hand and laid
hold of the staff to detain her. And address-
ing the woman, he said:

"O daughter fair and goodly to look upon.
woman who comet h out of the West — listen
to the words of wisdom.

"Thou dost go upon a weary journey and
a vain quest. I know the world and have
read the heart of mankind. Seek thou in the
byways and highways, in high places and low
places — but thy search will be unrewarded.
Behold, thou art weary and thy feet are
bruised with much walking — come into my
tent and abide with me, and I will bathe thy
feet with water and give thee of figs to eat.
Lo, I am not of the world — I have shaken its
dust from my sandals. Remain with me. and
by all the gods known to men, I swear that I
will be constant to thee."

And the seer was very old and his years
weighed heavily upon him, and the woman
wore the royal crown of youth and hope, and
faith lived yet in her heart. And she turned
her face wistfully toward the East, and as
she gazed her heart grew strong.

And answering the philosopher, the woman
said:

"0 man of much learning, the knowledge
of one life will not suffice for another — to
judge without experience were injustice and
error."

And the philosopher was silent and made
no answer, but turning back in the book
wherein he had been writing, he read from it
a proverb :

Wherein ignorance is bliss it were foil;/ to
court wisdom.

And the woman's face was saddened, and
she spake yet once again :

"Good sir, hearken I pray thee unto me. I
will go forth into the world and seek both
long and well for the sake of conscience and
that justice may not be forgotten. That faith
may live, and trust may not be numbered
among things that were and are not. And
if my search be not rewarded I will return
to thee and dwell in thy tent forever. I swear
this by all the gods that are reverenced."

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

And the woman laid down her staff and
lifted her bare arms to the sun.

"I swear it by the sun-god, whose kisses
awaken the desert to passion. I swear it by
the wind- god who steals o'er the sand when
the moon hangs low. I swear it by the
night-god who beckons out of the shadows."

And having sworn the woman lowered her
arms and continued :

"By all these I swear to thee that if my
search be unrewarded I will return — and thy
law shall be my law, and the desire of thy
heart shall rule me."

And harkening the philosopher smiled.
And he answered the woman and said :

"0 woman, go forth — I am acquainted
with patience and here will await thy re-
turn." And opening the book he again be-
gan writing, and the woman took up her
staff and departed into the East.

And the day passed and the morrow, and
others came and vanished — but the woman
returned not.

And in the East the sun came up like a
ball of fire and traveling over the desert, like
a ball of fire went down in the West. And
the wind singing under the night sky covered
the woman's footprints with the shifting
sands.

And again the philosopher sat outside his
tent writing in the book. And behold, afar
off a woman, toiling painfully across the
scorching sands. Her staff was gone, her
head drooped wearily, and her tender feet,
bruised and torn by the stones, left bloody
footprints on the sand.

And she drew nearer and approached the
philosopher. But the man of wisdom wrote
on and beheld her not. And coming up to
him the woman stood humbly before him.
Her eyes were soft with tenderness, and her
face held a deep yearning. And stretching
out her hand to the sage, she spake unto him
and said:

"Behold, my lord, I have returned unto
thee, for thou alone art worthy."

Hearing her voice the philosopher started,
and looking up he beheld the woman stand-
ing before him, and over his face there came
a shadow, and his glance fell as he met her
eyes. And speaking to the woman he said :

"Thou wert gone may days, woman, and
thy coming was long delayed — and — -there
came another — "

And while he was yet speaking a woman
came out of his tent and running up to the
sage wound her bare' arms about his neck
and her yellow hair fell around him like a
garment. And addressing the wayfarer, she
cried shrilly:

"Beggar — or worse, begone ! Dusky wan-
derer of the desert, what bringest thou to
the door of my good man's tent. What
words didst I hear from thy wanton lips?
Begone ! lest I spit upon thee ! Thinkest
thou my lord hath eyes for any face but
mine? He, who hath never looked with eyes
of love on any woman save me — and this he
hath sworn to me daily."

The wayfarer stood in silence, mute-lipped
and motionless. Something went out of her
face and left it forever. In her eyes was
the light of knowledge. And looking not at
the philosopher nor speaking, she stooped
and picking up a twig, wrote in the sand,
and the words she wrote were these :

As philosopher unto philosopher, write this
in thy book, that it may be handed down
from generation to generation, unto all the
world. As far as the east is from the west,
as the north is from the south, as the sun is
from the moon, as Paradise from Hades is —
so far removed are man and constancy.

And she drew a circle beneath it and
placed the seal of her slender, bleeding foot
upon it, and girding her garments around
her, turned her face about and departed to-
ward the sunset.

Some Views

of the

Clackamas River

From Photographs by

O. Freytag

Thi Pacific Monthly, July 1907.

On the Main Clackamas.

The Ctat >.'i «

i7SR«3^^^9^CI£' '

ft:

Near the Mouth of the South Fork, the Clackamas.

An Idyll of the Trout Streams

By Jules Verne Des Voignes

Illustrated from Photographs by the Author

P^^gfe^B K V K. N freight ears, spon-

^fTr^^JPi^l s " r<M ' ^ a P assen f- ,er coach
^' that may have been Noah's

.private travel ni: outfit in
the days after the Ark was

[abandoned, took us to Mos-
eow, Idaho, I bad remarked to my wife
that in one way at least we were imper-
sonators of that ancient gentleman and his
helpmeet. We had the whole car to our-
nlrw.

Hi mow reached us at hot noon. That >. I
think it must have eome to us at some time
while we were unloading countless bales and
barrels ami crates during endless waits
■long the route. Throughout the long
sweltering boon since leaving Spokane, I

had endured the torture of stiff, if none too
cleanly linen, not merely in heroic silence,
but with cheerful philosophy about the
country, our special iveyancc. the unhur-
ried precision of the train crew, and the
splendid pat' One* of our engineer — re-
marks which my wife, who was "on" her
last clean shirtwaist — well "on," let me
add — declined to laugh at.

I helped her off. and was rather sulky. I
believe, about banging our heavy suit-cases
after us. Yet. when I gras|>ed the out-
stretched, welcoming hand of my brother
and looked into the boh), optimistic tad
health -blowing face of the mountain-lo\er I
knew him to be. the discomforts of the past
hours were swallowed up.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

''Hello, my martyred brother," he
lauuhed, gathering our luggage in one hand
as if the leaden contents were cotton candy.
"We' '11 see that your sacrifice is rewarded.
Once get you up in the mountains and let
you loose upon the best water, the best air,
and the finest trout in the world, and you
can 't regret it nor forget it — if you live a
thousand years !"

We rolled up dust-piled Moscow streets
in a choking cloud of alkali. It was toler-
ably hard to let my imagination run ram-
pant upon trout when the lining of my
mouth, throat and lungs was a veritable
soot. But an hour later, in the cool shelter
of my brother's lawn, refreshed and re-
clothed, with the consoling taste of a good
cigar, I was ready to be glad I had come,
and to listen with no small anticipation to
the delights in store for us.

"You like to fish and you 've never seen
a mountain trout stream?" my brother in-
terrogated first. In the separation of many
years our respective tastes had been for-
gotten.

I acknowledged the facts.

"Good ! I've got a trip arranged, Chris,
that beats anything on earth. It 's a
cracker-jack ! It 's something that '11 last a
man a life-time !"

His words sent a pleasant tingle through
me. With my eyes on the snow-capped
mountains beyond, the thought came to me
that I in my tenderfoot days was to ex-
perience something for which drudging
millions of my caste would have given their
very souls.

My brother puffed at his cigar in hard
thought. "I want to get started by Mon-
day at the very latest," he said. "In short
figures it will take us the greater part of
four days to — "

"To what?" I demanded.

He looked lis surprise. "You can 't go
three hundred miles into the mountains
much quicker," he remarked.

I gasped. It was incredible. This man
talked of traveling three hundred miles on
a fishing excursion as easily as I of a three-
mile tramp to a "way down East" bass
hole!

"Then it is n't into those mounta'ns" —
I indicated the range in the distance —
"where we 're going .'"

"Good Caesar, Chris!" His hearty laugh

rang out like a boy's. "Did you imagine
that trout streams anywhere within the
reach of civilization were fruitful? Listen
to me ! I'm going- to take you where you
can get trout — do you hear me? — trout!"

"But three hundred miles," I urged. "It
seems — " My mind was already busy with
hardships by the side of which Noah's pri-
vate car paled.

He got up and stood in front of me. I
can see him now — the excited snap of his
blue eyes, the emphatic jerk of his head,
the whole attitude of unprecedented expec-
tation expressed in voice and gesture.

"Chris," said he, "do you realize where
you 're going — that you 're bound miles
above the place where fishermen have been
of late years — ever been, perhaps; where
there are trout, great, speckled, 'lunkerous'
fellows just waiting" — his hands played as
with a reel — "just waiting to snap at a fly?"

The hot glow of his enthusiasm engulfed
me. I stared at him as at a great and in-
fallible prophet.

"Three hundred miles or three thousand,
you '11 like it," he went on. "There 's no
particular hardship the way we're going;
why, the ladies accompany us! Dont shy
out at your imagination, Chris. Just wait
until afterward, and then confess that it
was fifty Michigan circusses rolled into
one."

That evening, while we were at dinner
with a howl of luscious, red, ripe cherries,
matured in late August, to coddle our ap-
petites, the rain began to patter softly —
gentle Idaho rain, and the first we had seen
in the West. All night it fell, large of
drop, faster and faster until, in the early
dawn of Monday morning, the streets of
Moscow with their two months' accumula-
tion of dust ran rivers of mud. But. we
were packed — trunks of provisions, qamp-
kit, tents, fishing tackle and all — and we
resolutely turned our hacks upon the mud
city and took the train.

Spokane, Washington, and late afternoon
brought us a cloudless sky and a smiling
sun. Our luck had begun. The rainy sea-
son had been postponed. It was with light
hearts that we retired to rest in that clean-
liest city of the great Northwest; it was
still a jollier party which the electric inter-
urban whisked on the following morning in
and out of the mountains and along the

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

The Steamer Colfax Rounds a Bend on the Shadowy St. Joe.

Spokane River — sometimes at the mile-a-
minute rate — to Coeur d'Alene City at the
foot of the long and narrow Coeur d' Alene
lakes. At this romantic mining and lumber
metropolis, a large side-wheeler, the Idaho,
steamed away with us, and the morning long
we threaded countless log-booms and made
as if to laugh at the grim peaks which tow-
ered above us and at the icy waters which
sparkled treacherously beneath.

As we sat on deck, my brother told this
rather d squieting tale:

"A man," said he, "came here in the
Coeur d'Alene lake country to fish and hunt.
He fished in a small canoe. On one oc-
casion he was out on the water and miles —
supposedly — from a human being. He
caught a very large trout on a spoon-hook.
In attempting to land the fish, the canoe
capsized and in the man's struggles to right
it. lie became entangled in the strong fish
line. The big trout, in frantic endeavor to
free itself, swam 'round and 'round him.
He could not break the line nor swim with
the one arm he had free. He sank, and in
these icy waters and strong undercurrents

no one ever rises. That was two weeks ago.
Another man — on shore and too far dis-
tant to help — saw the tragedy and re-
ported it."

My brother paused with one of his little
outlandish "That 's why !" shakes of his
head. "No lake fishing for me," he con-
cluded, significantly.

"Is the river any safer?" I demanded of
him with a shiver.

"Heaps !" he grunted, Indian-fashion.
Seeing that his story had had no good effect
upon my nerves, he began an interesting
harangue on the little lumbering town, Har-
rison, toward whose harbor we were making.

It was at Harrison, wild spirt of the
cedar woods, that we changed steamers, and
at 1 o'clock in the afternoon, comfortably
installed upon the Colfax, began our spec-
tacular windings and rewindings up the
"shadowy St. Joe," the highest navigable
river in the world, and characterized in
every fisherman's heart as the trail to un-
imaginable and unsurpassable delights.

Past Indian villages and white men's
camps, past tiny settlements of mushroom

AN IDVI.I. nF NIK TKOl'T STKKAMS

On the Shadow v St. Joe.

growth, we steamed, while the out-reaching
willows often brushed our sturdy little ves-
sel and vagrant lops struck muffled blows
upon her white sides — through a drawbridge
alive with squatting squaws and grunting
chiefs, at whom I rattled off a mocking
jargon in pure excess of spirits — an ex-
uberance which was to desert me inoppor-
tunely — and up, ever up, those peaceful
waters, between giant peaks still smoking
from forest fires, to St. Joe, the little town
at the head of navigation, but at whose foot
w;t- to begin our ex|>erienee-glutted journey.
That night from the hotel veranda we sat
watching the prismatic glow of Mount
Haldy Peak bathed in Idaho sunset. The
shadows on the St. Joe deepened. The
mountains wrapped themselves in white
mist veils. From a pavilion nearby light
streamed and the sounds of music and danc-
ni',- came to our ears, uncanny almost in the
eternal solitudes of the mountains. There
was a strange, undetinable acknowledgement
of my individual inconsequence with me as
I dropped —loop; it was with me still when
at I o'clock the following morning the

alarm clock opened my startled eyes upon
violet, cloud-covered mountains, white
mists struggling up from the river, scarlet
and orange sunbeams beating their way into
lurking shadows- the whole a rare, ex-
quisite touch of untamed beauty that be-
longed to no man and to no civilization.

At 7 we stood, the five of us, woodsmen
all in semblance it' not in truth, beside the
long, narrow river boats which were to
carry us the two-day journey to our des-
tination. I had not known myself in the
glass that morning. Heavy, knee-high
leather boots, studded on heels and soles
with tempered steel nails an inch long; that
invaluable trouser adjunct, "khakis"; thick
flannel shirt and hunting coat; and disrepu-
table slouch hat bedecked with rows of flies
had worked a mighty transformation in my
erstwhile highly cultivated — so far as self-
estimation goes — appearance. Our polers,
sturdy. Herculean limbed fellows, bare-
muscled to the elbows, stood ready, their
long wooden poles, steel-pointed, in their
hands.

The sun shot up and played upon the rip-

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

The Highest Draw Bridge in the World; at the Mouth of the St. Joe.

pling waters. Very carefully the polers
superintended the loading of our heavy
trunks and pack-sacks into the two boats.
The crafts listed until they were scarcely
over water-line; their width was that of a
man; their length seemed out of all propor-
tion. We got in, treading cat-like. The
ladies, my sister-in-law and wife, were
seated on cushions in the middle of the
largest boat with reclining backs of soft
tent canvas. We shoved out into the river.
Our polers stood lithely at the extreme ends
of their boats, silent or gruffly talkative,
yet skilled in the river's every point as only
men who spend their lives among the moun-
tain streams can be skilled. I basked laz-
ily in the fresh morning's beauty. Shadow
and sunbeam fell athwart us; water rippled
gurglingly before our tranquil advance.
Great snags and brush-heaps rose blackly
above the peaceful river. Along the shore
the St. Joe lapped musically against the
rocks. One could drink in beauty with the
air. It was as a tonic. We poled onward
in an Elysium of enchantment. And then —
We rounded a bend, and to mv ears from

out mysterious distances came a dull,
hoarse roar like the echo of a Niagara. I
listened with a growing fear of the un-
known.

"A waterfall?" I ventured interrogatively
of our poler.

"A riffle," he answered, nonchalantly.

Back in my native state, on the St. Joe
River of my boyhood recollection, riffles
were waters which sang and murmured over
the stones in tuneful cadence. But this
long, sullen roar — how was I to analyze that?
It grew louder, more insistent as we ap-
proached. At last the rapids burst upon
us — a seething, eddying washboard of Na-
ture, maelstrom of swift, convergent cur-
rents, tumbling and hissing and hurtling at
the giant rocks immovable in their path,
churning up green anger in their frenzy to
get on and on. My hands stiffened con-
vulsively over the edges of the boat. Surely
it was impossible to go through that raging
inferno. No craft could live in it !

We shot into the whirling waters. Our
poler's work had begun. He bent to his
task like the untiring physical machine that

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

A Quiet Spot on Marble Creek.

he was. Cords stood out upon his neck and
arms. He stra'ned down, down, upon the
long pole. Again and again it clinked sharp
and hard on the slippery stones in the river
bed. We crept through, inch by inch.
Jagged rocks, instruments of destruction
should they strike our frail craft, missed by
a hair's breadth. A counter-current skidded
us half across stream. Water foamed by us;
we gained, lost, triumphed, whle my
brother, standing upright in the boat, cool,
unimpressed, uncaring, cast again and again
into those boiling waters and reeled in his
line with a horrifying, inhuman com-
placency. At last, great miracle, we slid
into calm, smooth waters, our first riffle
vanquished and passed.

I wiped the streaming sweat from my
face. Was there no way of walking to
camp, I demanded. I was answered that
the river sides became canons with deep
holes at their bases. Were there no trails
in existence? There were not. But there
was no danger — no possible danger so long
as one sat still, remained cool and held on !
The polers knew their business; such trips
were their business.

The horror of those next hours is with
me yet. Later, when I myself understood
and waded in the riffles, my fear left me;
but then my nerves were bruised and trem-
bling, and each succeeding rapids, stronger
and more terrifying than the last, brought
back my nausea and fright. Many times,
when it became impossible to pole through
the currents, the boatmen, wading to their
waists, dragged the boats over by sheer
force; and once, in a bad rush of water,

the older of the two slipped and all but lost
foothold, so that the long boat turned side-
wise in the rapids and nearly swept us upon
the rocks. The eternity of that moment
left me weak and sick, ashamed as I was of
my tenderfoot fear.

I remember with unwelcome vividness
that we poled up a string of thirty riffles
before we camped for the night. It was 6
o'clock and the polers were exhausted and
hungry for a hot meal. In all we had
made thirteen miles since morning — thirteen
miles in ten hours !

I recall the camp — a group of deserted
lumber cabins, clustered at the edge of a
cedar forest, surrounded by the mountains,
and washed almost at the very thresholds
by the thundering river. I see again the
great fire that leaped and crackled and fed
hungrily upon the pitch logs heaped upon
the stones. There were always the stones;
the country swarmed with them. Our seats
were stones as we sat and ate, like starved
savages, with the firelight dancing redly on
our faces. Ah ! the deliciousness of that
meal — the snugness of our blanket-spread
bunks afterward — the roar of the torrent
that boomed the night long, boomed there
in the solitudes as it has always and will al-
ways do. You ask me if I envy those
hearty, healthy, happy men of the moun-
tains'? I ask you — what more has life to
offer? And so I answer you.

In the early, mist-filled morning we re-
embarked. All day we poled, mountains be-
side us, mountains behind us, mountains un-
ending in our path — by countless springs
that filtered pure cool water for our thirst,
past the Corkscrew riffles and the rapids of
the Black Prince, most dangerous in Idaho,

Black Rock. Lake Coeur d'Alene.

AN IDYLL OF THE TROUT STREAMS. Kit

The Coeur d'Alrne Lake*. From Whose leu Waters and Treacherous Undercurrents No Drown-
ing Man Ever Escapes.

and into cuinp at the mouth of Marble
Creek, twenty-live miles from the scantiest
of civilization. 1 did not declare my joy to
feel the solid earth onee more, but I knew it
was good to chop and stake and work where
solid ground and bedrock belied any sensa-
tion of being swallowed by the hungry riffles
of the St. Joe.

That next day, by silent consent, was
ginu over to the dedication of camp. Our
tents were pitched on a projecting headland,
Ugb and ipltadjd in its view. The moun-
tains, rich with tir and cedar and pine, rose
behind islands and great rocks; beyond these,
green ranges, ribbed with veins of lead and
silver. Day and night roared the riffles; to
our left, as one faced the river, Marble
Creek, demon of unrest, swept in frothing
torrent to the river. That day, also, I waded
in the riffles; learned to understand their cur-
rents; felt myself their master, though I was
yet to recant my boast fulness. We fished, too.

yet lazily, cognizant of what was to come.

"Tomorrow," said my brother, as we gath-
ered about the cheer of that evening's camp-
fire — stars myriad overhead and bright as
never before — wind sighing in the cedars —
the melancholy hoot of an owl or the eerie
snarl of a wildcat — "tomorrow," he re-
peated, drawing hard at his great, black
pipe, "you'd best make the creek trip.
You 're fresh for it now. Louis" — he men-
tioned his son — "will take you."

"You mean that you 're not going your-
selff" I asked, incredulously.

!!•■ shook his head. "I made it last year,"
he said. "It 's hard — slipperiest creek in
the world. But go, even if you dont get up
a mile. You '11 find the fish and he glad of
the experience. I'll see what new spots I
can locate on up the river."

I was inclined to consider the whole mat-
ter as a joke. To bring a tenderfoot, the
greenest of Eastern tenderfoots, up into

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

A Marble Creek Catch.

the mountains and then deliberately to refuse
to rampage the trout streams with him — it
was inconsistent. More, it was preposterous.
I remonstrated with him.

"I know what I'm talking about," he in-
sisted. "I may make the creek trip some
time while I'm up here if I dont do as well
up the river. You '11 understand tilings bet-
ter when you get back tomorrow night. For
one thing, my shoes are in no way as good
as yours and the creek trip would be sure to
put them out of commission for wading in
the river. Oh, you '11 be grateful enough to
me for urging you to go."

I did n't think so then. Afterward — but
that 's my story. Very little more could I
get out of him. I fell asleep that night,
filled with strange, conflicting emotions. If
the creek trip, as old fishermen affirmed, was
a "life is too short" ordeal, why had my
brother urged me so persistently to take it?
Of course, Louis, my nephew, was eager and
optimistic about the venture. He was
young, full of life and hardened by a Sum-
mer in the mountains. But in the face of
my brother's actions, was it safe to accept
his assurances that it was "all right; a lit-
tle slippery, but the best fishing ever"?
Still, I was resolved to go, if my nerve held
good.

We were to start at five. Later I learned
the necessity for our early departure. At
four I awoke. My eyes rested first upon the
canvas stretched above my head. It was
black on the inside with flies, frosted and
stupefied with the cold. I dressed shivering-
ly, slipping on an extra pair of heavy
woolen socks and drawing a thick sweater
over my flannel shirt. The thought of the

temperature of the water into which I must
plunge at that ungodly hour was in no wise
reassuring.

We ate a hot breakfast at 4:20. Then
my nephew and myself, each with fish sack
slung over our shoulders and rod in our
hands, struck the back trail to the creek.
At 4:50 we waded heroically into the
stream — clear, sparkling watei-, but icy
cold as only mountain water can be at day-
break. Yet the shock was not great. A mo-
ment and our chill was passed. Nor, in
after days, did we ever "catch cold," though
we were in the water and wet to the skin
the day long.

Impulsively, we stooped down and drank
great palmfuls of the pure liquid. It put
new life into us. What wild energy and
daring I seemed to possess as we struck out
up the middle of the creek! How invincible
I felt myself, even with that swift, danger-
ous water pummeling and pushing at my
knees !

The sun broke over sheer canon walls at
our sides. It was no great exertion to walk,
even on a bottom of smooth, slippery stones
Dig as a man's two hands, and against a
racing current. The nails in our boots
steadied our steps. We could see every inch
of our way. We lifted our feet with cau-
tion; made sure of their succeeding posi-
tions; braced them firmly between stones as
we set them down.

The air warmed slowly. I no longer felt
the water's cold. My limbs glowed, pulsing
with red blood. The day was fine, clear as
a bell. I crossed and recrossed the stream,
following my nephew's lead. We waded
riffles; skirted deep holes. Still we did not
fish. We were waiting — waiting for great
things !

Hotel -St. Joe.-

AN IDYLL OF TDK TBOUT STREAMS.

In the course of an hour we came to ■
bunieil log jam. h was a half-mile long by
a quarter in width, (ireat trees, products
of centur.'es, lay tiled at every conceivable
angle. Some, perfect in outward form.
irere mere shells through which the unwary

il broke, precipitating ita unfortunate
owner into t lie creek beneath. Over these
my aepbew asramblod with the nimbleness
of a equine] and skilfully swum: himself
down from monster roots to logs heyond. I
followed with considerably less ag lity.

■ ltd the jam lay a deep, dark pool at
the edge of a riffle and shadowed by ;i
great, overhanging rock. Standing oppo-

•. the boy cast into it. his "fly" Hilling
gracefully just where the foaming water
washed the rock; his line zipped out; he
began playing a big trout. Vary skilfully
be tired it. Then with a nimble sprint he
brought it up on the shore stones and threw
himself upon it, full length. The trick m
a Western one of saving a big trout. We
carried no landing nets. We could scarcely
have used them.

Almost at the instant of the trout's land-
ing, my awkwani casting bore fruit. Some-
thing struck with incredible speed and ac-
curacy at my fly. My line sang. I was
playing my first big trout. And how I
played him ! Back and forth he thrashed,
over and over! It was such sport as I had
never dreamed of. My rod bent double.
Still he held. Then, slowly, I reeled him in.
a three-pounder, speckled, spotted, striped.
opalescent — built as gracefully yet as pow-
erfully as a fish may be — a prince of the
finny tribe.

I held him up with care, exultingly. My
nephew was calling to me to bring him my
knife. He had caught a monster — eighteen
and a half inches from tip to tip. I gasped
when I saw it. He slashed its throat with
the knife, placed it in bis sack, fastened the
bag eareleaaly. But bis throat-caning bail
been poorly done. The powerful fish
flopped out and was hack in the current be-

ra we could turn. I knew then, for the
time, what we bad to deal with.

We went on. stopping hut infrequently to
cast. Always the size of the trout grew;
always their waryness decreased. "Bigger
ones ahead!" would cry my enthus'astic
nephew. And, tired by his promises, I
struggled on. The rocks grew larger, the

water swilter. We had to avoid stepping
on the flat white stones in the creek bottom.
They were like flint, but slippery as polished
ice. Our nails would not scratch them.
Boulders baoMM engineering propositions.
It began to take us minutes to draw our-
selves over them. They were nearly as
treacherous as the bed stones. Many t mes I
fell heavily, or saved myself only by a
painful wrench.

Hours afterward 1 commanded a halt. It
was 1 o'clock by my watch. We selected a
shelving ledge of granite and ate our
pocket lunch while we rested. In the mid-
dle of the most delicious sandwich. 1 believe,
that was ever manufactured, 1 casually in-
quired of my nephew how many miles we
had made.

"About three." be replied. Since, I know

Little Fall*"— 8t.

Jot River, Junt Below a
Riffle.

he was right; but then the half of my
precious sandwich fell from my nerveless
fingers and sped downstream. I was dum-
founded. Three miles, when I believed it to
be twenty — three miles in eight hours!

But if the truth were in a sense an evi-
dence of effort inadequately rewarded, if
the everlasting mar of those waters was at
last getting on my nerves, I forgot all this
as we stood ankle-deep or waded to our hips
in the creek and cast our artificial lures into
some churning riffle or shaded pool; I

it as the BpaeUad beauties, whose movements
were so quick that we almost never beheld
them in the water, "raised" and were off with
the hook, the line, seemingly the rod itself;
forgot it as we played them in the excite-
ment of the man beside the ticker or the
winning Itettor at the race course: forgot

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

it as our sacks bulged farther and farther
out with trout whose like I had believed ex-
isted only in fable or tradition. To the eye,
Marble Creek was a thundering torrent of
the mountains, interesting only SO far as
boulders and rapids and waterfalls are in-
teresting; but to us, the initiated, its every
riffle leaped with fish whose mould is the
mould of perfection, whose coloring' is of
the most exquis.tely blended pinks and vio-
lets and purples; whose capture is the acme
of the fisherman's delight, and whose meat
is the finest, sweetest, purest of all animal
flesh.

I remember — what incident of that day
do I not recall with initial vividness? — that
at one time I was casting into a large, shad-
owy pool at the base of a cliff across stream.
1 was standing several yards from shore,
ankle-deep, on the brink of a narrow rushing
channel. Suddenly I hooked a trout which
stole half of my line before I could stop the
reel. Instinctively, I realized that my "big
fish" had come. My excitement was intense.
I knew that my only hope lay in tiring him.
That procedure lasted for five minutes; it
seemed five years. My nephew encouraged
me with shouts and yelled advice above the
roaring of the waters. By merest chance I
started the big trout sw'mming toward me.
Yard after yard I reeled him in. Then, for-
getting caution, I deliberately swung his
great weight over the stones toward the
shore. Where he struck the water could not
have been more than an inch deep and fully
twenty feet from the main channel. Yet I
never saw him after that. He was gone —
and my best fly with him !

The sun gave us tardy reminder that we
were a long, arduous way from camp. We
were reluctant, yet willing, to leave the spot.
The feeling was in us that we had only to
turn our backs upon th's enchantment and
it would be transformed into the reality of
commonplace things. Yet our fish sacks
were stuffed to bursting; we had even strung
the surplus of our catch.

We reeled in our lines and started. But
now, with the excitement, the fascination,
the glamour worn off, fatigued by those long
morning hours of continued walking, and
carrying a heavy load of fish, my feet be-
came suddenly sore and mutinous. The
force of the riffles, too, in my weariness
made me nervous. It was all changed, but

the realization of that change worked the
great disillusionment. The roar of the creek
took on a mocking note; the silences were
pregnant with ill-omen ; the stones, indeed,
seemed slipperier than before. My whole
body ached dully. My nephew had grown
tantalizing. He appeared no more tired
than at the start, and constantly forged
away from me. In drawing myself over a
rock, I slipped and splashed my full length
in a deep hole. He turned around and
grinned at my dripping condition. It made
me sullen. My feet barely dragged. I be-
gan to see why staid old fishermen declined
our twenty-two-inch trout with thanks.

My nephew vanished around a bend; re-
appeared again on the opposite side of the
creek. 1 did not know where he had crossed.
I could see no place which I considered safe.
I could not make him hear me. In my anger
I waded in, detenu ned to cross regardless
of consequences; made the mistake of get-
ting in front instead of behind a big rock;
and felt my feet, braced though they were,
slipping, slipping in the gurgling whirlpool in
which I stood. I shouted fearfully to the boy.
He was farther out of hearing than before
Frantically, 1 tried to push through; failed.
I no longer dared to 1 ft my feet. I felt
that, if I once got down in that horrible
current, I would never get up. It was as
near as I have ever come to a complete loss
of reason.

Of an instant, I saw a tall, broad-shoul-
dered fellow peering down .it me from a
rock overhead. I saw him clamber down in
answer to my cries, though his figure was
but a blur to my reeling brain. My hold
loosened alarmingly. 1 went down, clutch-
ing, clutching at those mocking rocks. But
even as I went to my death, I felt the
stranger's strong una reach out and stay my
going.

A drowning dream is popularly supposed
to be a pleasant sensation. The water closes
placidly over one's head. There comes the
feeling of indifference, almost of ease.
Down — down one slowly sinks as if through
a yielding bed of countless feathers.

Mine was none of this sort. In the re-
pellant detail of my dream, I hurtled down-
stream in that murky green inferno, banging
my helpless body against those jagged rocks,
sweeping on, half -stunned, dying with every
lingering horror of the process, past my

AN IDYLL OF TllK TROUT BTREAMS.

nephew anil on — on until, snatched asiile by
an all powerful whirlpool. 1 sank into it*
oblivion and death.

I awoke with the aoU sweat dinging to
me in great globule*. A woman, young anil
dexterous <>f linger, was bonding over me,
washing a small trash on my forehead. Above
me m the rough-hewn logs of a home-
steader's cabin. I lay on a cot by the win-
dow. A> 1 abm my eyes now, 1 recall the
c|iiiet words with whirh she satistied my lir-t
impatient quer> - .

"This is a homesteader's cabin, sir. You
are alnuit two miles from your camp; I be-

"You can thank him by forgetting him—
and the whole incident," she answered. "Vmi
do not understand this, perhaps; sometime
you may. Do you think you are able to
take the trail T"

1 saw that she wanted me to go, and
acquiesced. The walk of a minute brought
u- to the trail, ami there I left her with a
last aTOW«] of my gratefulness.

M\ thoughts were unusual ones as I
plunged into the woods. Gradually the
truth was dawning upon me. Scattered
fragments of my brother's conservation
shaped ihcinselve- in my mind -fragments

■I'lrifi; thi l.illlr Titun That CMNMNoa PdiiiII .l;i;>ni.

lieve you are one of the parly camping at
the mouth of the creekt" I nodded. "When
you are rested." she went on. "I will show
yon the trail. You had a narrow escape."

My glance, as it roved about the room,
fell upon my tish sack and rod. both intact.
Instinctively. I reached for my watch. It
was after five and growing dusk. I sat up
determinedly, a little weak at first, but with
training strength.

"Where is the man who brought me
here — pulled me out of the creek?" I asked.
"I want to thank him."

I shall never forget how her sharp but
kindly eyes looked at me.

concerning a man, in hiding not three mile*
from our camp, who mouths before had
shot down a da 'ui-juin|ier as he knelt to
drink from a spring. Like a flash I .was
convinced that it was the murderer who had
saved my life and subsequently disappeared.
It was his wife faithful to him through
all — who had shown me the trail. She lived
there alone in their homestead, while he.
no doubt, remained in nearby concealment
and in instant communicatinii with an end-
less chain of informants in the guise of set-
tlers and rivemien. There was a reward of
seven thousand dollars on his head, but his
position was all-advantageous and no per-

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

son or persons cared to test its security. A
thrill, half of dread, half pleasure, shot
through me.

I stopped suddenly, blinking. Before me
stretched not one perfect trail, but several
imperfect paths. In my self-absorption I
had missed my way. The light was fading
in the woods. I could not distinguish clear-
ly the blazing on the trees. I had to act
quickly. There was no use in retracing my
steps; I could never find the cabin. My
only hope lay in getting down to the river.
As I listened I could hear its roaring.

I left the trail and began the mountain's
descent. On hands and knees over giant
logs, falling through rotting brush-heaps,
bruised, cut, my clothing in shreds, I went
that mile to the river. It was a journey sec-
ond only in fearfulness to the creek; but I
came to the river at last and struggled
through dusk and following darkness down
to camp, there to spend my last strength in
convincing my wife that I still lived and in
recounting my remarkable story.

It was a considerable time before I ven-
tured to fish once more. T never again at-

tempted the creek. But in the long, tran-
quil days that came and vanished in our
camp life, wonderful in their very essence
of mystery, I thought, much upon that cabin
isolated on the mountain and of the man
and woman who had played so unforgettable
a part in my commonplace existence. I
even tried to philosophize a bit upon the in-
cident as I fished or lolled contentedly about
camp, eating, drinking and sleeping as a
man to whom the flight from civilization had
given a new being and a new life.

The end came and we broke camp, shoot-
ing in seven hours over those very riffles up
which we had toiled with so much labor.
At a little cabin half-way down, a lady pas-
senger was taken on. We heard someone
say as she got in the boat that she had ridden
to that point five and twenty miles on the
trail in the saddle. She did not appear to
notice me; but I read in her quick little
glance in my direction an appeal for my
silence. And I, thinking of a lonely cabin
and of a man who, though a fugitive from
justice, had still a great human heart, held
my peace.

The Mouth of the St. Joe River — Harrison in the Distance.

The Crater of Kllauea : MSM |Wm Fi> W the P(« of Holrmoumou, 2H Jfff*« .At»ai/.
Immiiimt, FnregroHnd 1» 800 f>ef .Above t*e Genera/ Floor of the Cruti r.

The

A Day with a Volcano

By Arthur Muirhcud Burns

IKKW toursts who were in-
ilulu'iriu; in a late supper at

'n I' Hilo's restaurants on

the night <>f January !) last
wen- anion:; tin' tirst to see
that the mighty mountain of
Mauna Loa hail broken into eruption. In
the balmy tropie night they wore taking
things easily enough, when sonic one sud-
denly noticed a glare in the heavens.

"Must be some plantation on tire." sug-
gested some one, but in two seconds a col-
umn of flame-lit smoke sprang into the air
for thousands of feet it would be rash to
guess how many thousands — and Hilouians
knew there was trouble in the crater of
Mokuawooweip. the pit at the summit of the
mountain.

It happened that the present writer was
awakened almost immediately after the first
discovery Of the outbreak and in common
with others, in werd stapes of dress and un-
. hurried to one of ihe bridges that
spans the Wailuku River to got an uninter-
rupted view. Tl e sight was one which could
not he discounted even by the aurora in its
most brilliant displays.

That tl tbreak was in the crater of

Mokuaweoweo there couh! be 1 ttle doubt,
for. though forty miles away, the northerly
I p of the crater was clearly delined.

From behind this dark barrier there up-
rose a tremendous pillar of smoke, which, lit
as it was by the seething' expanse of lava in
the pit below, looked as though it were virtu-
ally flame itself. The crater is inanv miles

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

Making a Landing from B. S. "Kauai.'

in circumference, and it seems certain that
at the time of the outbreak the whole floor
must have broken into activity. The column
of fire rose steadily as the early morning
hours wore on, and a vast black cloud, like
some colossal umbrella, began to spread
above. At times this awesome pillar would
be almost white, then again in a second or
so it would turn bright golden and later
sink to a deep crimson. The changes in the
colorings and in the form of the pillar were
kaleidoscopic and continual but from it all
there came no sound to the hundreds of
wondering watchers in H lo.

Here it may be explained that the crater
of Mokuaweoweo, from which this splendid
phenomenon appeared, is not the "Volcano"
which is visited by the average tourist. That
is the crater of Kilauea, an outlet in the
easterly (lank of Mauna Loa at a distance of
some twenty odd m les from the summit and
about nine thousand feet lower down.
Mauna Loa's height has been officially re-
corded as being 13,675 feet.

The crowd watching the marvelous sight in
Hilo waited up all night until, shortly be-
fore daybreak, the intense light dwindled
and when day dawned there was only the
huge pall of smoke high in the air to g've
evidence of what had happened. A few slight
shocks of earthquake were felt during the

night and later reports were to the effect
that further up the mountain side there had
been many shocks, though none did damage.

It was on Friday, the 11th, that word
reached Hilo which confirmed the forecast of
old-timers, who declared that the pent-up
lava had found an exit somewhere through
the weaker wall of the mountain on the
southerly or Ka-u side of the mountain, for
the news came that coincident with the dis-
appearance of fire in the crater of Mokua-
weoweo a huge rift had appeared in the
flank of Mauna Loa in the section known as
Kahuku. The break occurred on the ranch
of Colonel Norris, a wealthy cattleman. It
was situated at an approximate height of
seven thousand feet, and was distant about
twenty miles from the sea. From the rift
thus formed a tremendous flood of lava
poured down the mountain side. The few
who saw it say that at first it ran with fright-
ful force, though as in its progress it cooled,
the speed naturally grew slower and slower.

By Saturday the lava had reached the
Government road round the Island of Ha-
waii, and in crossing it had put the telephone
system out of existence completely, burning
the poles and destroying the wires. Any
correct information was thus doubly hard to
obtain, and the following Tuesday the first
party was organized to proceed to the flow

A DAY WITH A VOLCANO.

by the steamship Kauai from Mil". l'ro-
IMMIlling by I he easterly and southeasterly
of t lie island, Ihe MM "t t lit- flow
was reaelicd shortly after dusk on the night
of the 15th, and all night long the visitors
watched enthralled the rivers of fire; for
the main stream had now split in two. The
easterly id' the (lows was about half a mile
wide and the westerly, some -i\ miles t,.
tin* •thwe-.t. was slightly less. The com-
plete MUM of the two rivers of molten rock
coidd be traced for twenty miles or -
the break in the mountain side.

Karlv in the morning a landing was made,
not without difficulty, for the shore is about
as inhospitable a mass of black lava as
could be imagined, and sheltering' a
where the huge rollers from the South l'a
citie may be avoided, are hard to find,

There were just twenty-two Hilonians who
managed to reach the oMOming lava flow,
for, though the head of the stream was Imt

■M^BhBM

■*%*

Mr" .#*

l'ahnrh«r" Fl»

Way to t»

eak.

The Oncoming Tide of -a-a." Moving About 30
Feet an Hour.

two miles from the sea, the two miles formed
about as tough traveling as could be found.
It was all over the flow of 1887. Part was
over the smooth lava, which is known in
Hawaiian as "pahoehoe", and the balance
over the rough and brittle "a-a". The pa-
hoehoe is crossed and reerossed with cracks
which threaten sprained ankles or broken
legs every minute, and the a-a is simply a
tangled waste of congealed or crystallized
lava, which cuts the toughest kind of boota
to shreds in a very short time.

But the journey, with all the attendant
discomfort, was well worth the making. Ar-
rived at the flow, the visitors saw a remark-
able sight. The height of the wall of lava
varied between fifteen and thirty feet, and
by taking observations it was decided that
it was progressing at the rate of thirty feet
an hour. The flow was entirely a-a. It came
on in a curious fashion, literally tumbling
over itself. The top of the wall would

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

On the Brink of the Pit of Halemaumau.

The Pit Was over 500 Feet Deep When This Was
Taken.

crumble away and fall forward as the titanic
forces in the volcano miles away sent forth
more and more of its molten rock. This
would repeat and repeat until the road to
the sea was slowly being broken. Some huge
pieces of lava would roll forward and roll a
long distance, and on these the visitors would
scorch letters, coins and so on. The wind
setting from the sea, it was possible to go
within a yard or two of the slowly-moving
flow though a sl ; ght shift in the wind's direc-
tion would send any living thing — short of
the fabled salamander — scampering from the
spot, so intense was the heat.

But despite the fact that the flow reached
within a mile of the sea, it was not destined
to take the salt plunge this time, for on Sun-
day, January 20, Madame Pele — the god-
dess who, according to Hawaiian lore, con-
trols subterranean fires — changed her mode
of procedure and sent a blazing flood of lava
into the pit of Halemaumau, the central pit
of the crater of Kilauea. This spot is eas-
ily thirty m'les from the scene of the former
outbreak. That the lava flowed through
some huge cavern is patent, for it first broke

into the pit of Halemaumau at a point
above the old floor. The floor of the pit was
estimated as being ofiO feet below the gen-
eral floor of the crater of Kilauea, and at
this writing (February 2) the molten flood
has filled up about 200 feet of this. There
remains no reason, beyond the possible
vagaries of Madame Pele, to suppose that
the flow will cease, and if the central pit
should fill to overflowing, the spectacle will
assuredly be wonderful beyond description.
Volcanic eruptions so far from being
feared in Hawaii are actually welcomed,
strange as this may appear to those who
have never witnessed or experienced these
phenomena. Kilauea is ever active to a
greater or less extent, and this is regarded
as a certain safety valve should the forces
of nature feel restless. As a sample of ln»v
the man most interested in the recent flow in
Ka-u looks on little matters like a flow of
lava half a mile wide across his ranch, it is
recorded that Colonel Norris commented
thus: "I woke up some time in the middle
of the night and saw a big glare, and I
thought the kitchen was afire. I got up in

On the Seto Flow Where th< llrcit Was MMI

The Little Beggar," One of the Sumerou* Blowhole* WMcfc 8pouf Lava When the Volcano

Is ill Eruption.

100

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

A Bridge Over a Crack in the Crater Floor.

a hurry, but found that it was only a lava
flow, so I went back to sleep."

Meanwhile it will be safe to hazard the
guess that never before has Madame Tele
had so many pilgrims to worship at her
shrine. Steamers have been dispatched both
from Hilo and Honolulu crowded to the limit
with people keen on seeing the wonderful
display in Ka-u, while hundreds have rid-
den or driven overland to the scene. Now
that the flow there has ceased, the volcano
of Kilauea, which as has been explained
is an outlet for the same flow, is the ob-
jective point, and the usually quiet streets of
Hilo grow unwontedly gay with the presence
of parties of tourists either going or coming.

The trip in the older days was something
of a journey, but now it can be made in all
comfort. A railroad ride takes the trav-
eler through the cane plantations to within
nine miles of the Volcano House, the re-
mainder of the journey being by stage
through a riot of tropical growth.

The first sight of Kilauea !s awe-inspiring.
The earth drops suddenly away immediately
in front of the Volcano House to a depth of
over 800 feet, and there stretches the vast
lava plain miles in extent. In the middle

distance a column of steam is always rising
from the pit of Halemaumau, and when, as
at present, the pit is filling with live lava,
the glow at night is a sight not to be missed.
To the west lies the mighty bulk of Mauna
Loa, the slope appearing so gradual that it
is hard to realize that the summit is 13,675
feet high. At present, despite the terrific
heat below, the summit is snow-capped.

The brink of the pit of Halemaumau is
of course the point sought as soon as pos-
sible by sight-seers. The trail thither leads
across Kilauea in almost a straight line for
over three miles. Once arrived at the br nk
the fascination is so great that people find
it hard to tear themselves away. This is
especially true of those who visit the scene
at night. The turbulent lava spout here
and there in fountains which fall back with
sullen splashes. The continuous swishing of
the fiery flood against the walls which im-
prison it, the marvelous changes in the col-
ors shown by the bottom of the pit, the
knowledge that one is in the presence of a
force so great that the human mind does not
even dare to estimate it — all of these combine
to make the experience one never to be for-
gotten.

UNIVERSITY

am Pli<

Out-of-Doors in California

By George Wharton James

Author of "In and Around tin- Grand Canyon, I'he Indians of the Painted Desert Region,'

"Indian Basketry." "In and Out of the Old Missions of California,"
"Traveler's Hand Hook to Southern California," etc

is not my purpose in lliis
article to speak of the out-
of-door sports, such :is golf.
n|o. tennis, yachting, hunt-
in !.'. fishing and the like.
Kvrrvhody knows of the
Winter golfing and polo nu r . anil the (Treat
games of tennis that California '.rives, and
pages and illustrations galore have been eir
ciliated showing the advantages the Golden
State possesses for yachting, hunting and
fishing. In the main the California!! need
not l>oast nor brag about these things, yet,
somehow, you cannot keep the genuine Cali-
fornian from gloating over its natural ad-
vantages. He knows his state is j>eculiarly
'handsome.'' and he is bound that everyone

else shall know it. Its skies are bluer, its
mountains higher, its deserts drier, its for-
ests more "foresty," its waters wetter, its
mirages more mystic, its islands more charm-
ing, its fruits sweeter, its Mowers more de-
licious, its air more balmy, etc., etc., etc.,
than those of any other country on earth.
The California orator puts one foot on the
North Pah and the other on the North Star.
gum calmly ami complacently over the whole
universe, and then compares it all with his
own state — greatly to the credit and glorili-
cation of the latter.

Ami I am a California!!, with all the de-
fects and vices of my coin|ieera.

So. if at the outset. I begin to brag of the
"glorious climate of Califomy." I shall but

102

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

A Camp in the Woods.

The Graham Pi oto Co.

follow in the wake of such honored names
as those of Bret Harte, Charles Warren
Stoddard, Thomas Starr King, Joseph Le
Conte, Joaquin Miller and a host of others.
For, be it brag or boast, or solemn assertion,
there is no denying to the Californian the
claim that both his Summer and Winter cli-
mate — in the main — surpass those of the rest
of America for any out-of-door life. It
seems as if God knew that the time would
come when hundreds of thousands of his
American children would need an out-of-door
climate every day in the year. He gave them
the granite boulders of Vermont and Mas-
sachusetts to develop sturdiness of charac-
ter; he gave them the harsh Winters of the
North to bring out scorn of all outward in-
conveniences, and he gave them the florid
warmth with its moisture in the South to de-
velop semi-tropical graces, but he kept for
California the ideal Winter and Summer cli-
mate — neither too warm nor too hot, nor too
dry, nor too moist— for the development of
the highest physical, mental and spiritual
manhood. For it cannot be denied that
where the most favorable soil and climate
exist the best flowers, fruits and vegetable
products spring forth; and in the physical,
mental and spiritual world it is the same.
California is the paradise for all out-of-
door lovers. It affords every kind of climate,
from the most vigorous to the most balmv

and mild. I know of no other state in
the country where snow falls so deep that
the horses have to be trained to the use of
snowshoes, and where a dozen ponderous en-
gines are required to force a snow-plough
through the drifts, and where a hundred or
more miles of snow-sheds have had to be
built to permit the movement of Winter
trains; and yet within a few hours of these
rigors one may sit out of doors, reading his
book, or go into the garden and gather helio-
trope, violets, roses and a thousand varie-
ties of flowers, or call upon the gardener for
guavas, pomegranates, oranges, lemons,
strawberries and other rich and luscious
fruits. For several years it was my New
Year's boast that— on that day— I rode from
the buds, butterflies, bees, blossoms and hum-
ming birds of my garden to the snowdrifts
of Mount Lowe, where I enjoyed snow-ball-
ing, tobogganing, sleighing and other Win-
ter sports; back again to the Pasadena
Tournament of Roses, where I have seen a
quarter of a million roses of one kind used
in the decoration of one float; and thence
down to the Pacific for an hour's enjoyable
swim. Where else in the world is such a
day of varied climates possible?

This climate in itself is an education to
the young in being out of doors. It offers
its own peculiar lives. It is a most effective
"Call to the Wild." "Come out, come out!"

Camp Life at WiUon't Peak.

The

The Los Angeles Polo Team.

The Graham Photo Co

it says, "for here are life, health, vim, vigor,
in this sun-laden, oxygen-charged atmos-
phere." Indeed there is scarcely a day
throughout the whole year when even deli-
cate children cannot be out a large portion
of the time. Babies are taken out Winter
and Summer. They have none of the anemic
and bloodless look of children kept indoors
throughout the Winter months. They be-
come "brown as Indians," for, like the In-
dians, they expose themselves more or less
to the sun and the atmosphere, and become
at the same time browned and healthy.

California is a paradise to the artist.
These outdoor cond'tions peculiarly appeal
to him, for they enable him to come in closest
contact with nature more months in the year
than is possible in the more rigorous cli-
mates. Then, too, think of the color effects
that are produced here — colors entirely and
totally different from those of any other
part of the country. John C. Van Dyke, in
his prose-poem The Desert, has shown how
wonderfully this phase of California appeals
to the color-sense in the artist, and when one
recalls the variety of the scenery from the
color standpoint he is amazed and delighted
at the wealth of suggestions it affords. For
its scenery is varied, picturesque — deserts,
oceans, islands, mountains, forests, canons,
valleys, as nowhere else in the same extent of

territory, and the rugged, wild and forbid-
ding is "cheek by jowl" with the cultivated,
gentle, refined and pastoral. The greatest
mountain painters of America gained their
inspirations here — Moran, Hill. Keith and
Bierstadt, and now Gardner Symons, Brown,
Lindgren, Santerwin, Judson and Eytel,
with many others, are proving that there is
still potency in the magic of the Sierras and
their companion deserts, to affect the new
and younger school as it did the older.

Here, Winter as well as Summer, the artist
may work out of doors, bathed in the sun-
shine and in touch with rich floral treasures
and the sweet scent of orange blossoms
on the one hand, snow-clad mountain-
peaks and on the other, gorgeously colored
valleys leading the eye to pearly-faced ocean
in which bathe amethystine and opal islands.

The "House-Boater" finds in California the
ideal spot of the world. Here he need never
to abandon his home on the watery deep.
Safely moored in the quiet bays, inlets and
sequestered nooks of the Pacific, the Winter
is just as tempting as the Summer, and the
out-door life is made perpetual. There is a
peculiar fascination about house-boating to
those who love the water. William Black,
Frank R. Stockton and John Kendriek Bangs
did not in any way exhaust the literary pos-
sibilities of the subject. While I have spoken

OUT OF DOORS IN CALIFORNIA.

105

of the "moored" boat, it is by no means nec-
essary that it should even be moored longer

than its owner desires. Movement is the soul
of house-boat life. Today you are anchored
in one spot, your eyes resting upon one kind
of coast, and tomorrow you may be some-
where else with an entirely different picture
I you. On the house-boat there are no
tixed land-capes; BO externally monotonous
front lawn, with the selfsame tree stuck in
the center, that never cliamres; no hack
yard, with its outhouses, chicken-coops, rab-
bits piles and general accumulation of
"culch." The kindly water takes everything
that is disagreeable into its embrace, and
then presents a smiling face over the sep-
ulchre of "dead soldiers," old tin cans and
mouldy debris it has so accommodatingly
buried. Talk about a whited sepulchre!
There is no whited sepulchre equal to the
ocean, and the charm of it all is. the water
is unconscious of its iniquities and smiles at
you with such conscious innocence that you
smile back and take it at its face value.
California is the paradise for the young

man Of woman -for, thank Cod, young
women are learning in its out-door expan
siveness to exercise their rational inclina-
tions to nature study — to know nature in all
her aspects at first hand. Thoreau. fiilbert
White and John Burroughs have made cer-
tain quiet and picturesque localities classic
by their out-of-door pictures of thetn. Cali-
fornia has its John M iiir. its William Keith.
its Mr. and Mrs. T. G. 1-euinion, its Joaepll
and Elizabeth Orinnell, its Clarence Kim:.
it- W. C. Hartlett. Olive Thorns Miller.
Geraldine Bonner, Mary Austin, Sharlot M.
Hall, and a few others, hut its great canons
sra ><■! uinle-ciiheil, its deserts are scarcely
more than barely known, its mountain peaks
seldom climbed. Instead of tooling away
their energies on golf and polo and tennis —
sports all right enough in their way — why
should not the adventurous take hold of this
fawiilialiim country in a larger, braver,
bolder wayt Muir will live as long as the
Sierras live, because be has identified himself
with their life. What a wild thr.ll of ecstatic
pleasure conies over one as he reads his de-

A CruUer at Arch Rork.

Th« Cralmni I'lmlii

106

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

scription of climbing a tall tree in the high-
est Sierras while a wild storm was raging.
To have the pure air of God pumped into
you by nature's own force-pump, to feel it
going in at every pore and reaching every
nerve and blood vessel, tuning up every par-
ticle of the physical being; is there any won-
der that a man with such an experience comes
like the breezes he describes into the lives of
civilization-pampered men and women? What
golf or tennis can ever equal his mountain-
climbing adventures? Think of the muscle-
hardening and soul-strengthening process
that comes to the true Sierra climber — up
among the peaks, down in the canons, strug-
gling up the slopes. I once took Clarence
Eddy, the great organist, on a trip up one of
our high mountains, and, fortunately, a fierce
storm arose when we were well up the peak.
It was his first experience in anything of the
kind. His hat was whirled away into the
"everywhere" and he never saw it again; his
long beard was rudely tossed as no civilized
wind ever tossed it, and he was once literally
lifted from the saddle by the force of the
winds. The howling and shrieking and wail-
ing and roaring were wonderful, and where
the trees offered resistance the battle was
thrilling, even though one of the combatants
was invisible. When we returned to the
quietude of the valley, the great organist ex-
claimed, "That was an experience I would
not have missed for anything. It has given
me new conception of music. I shall play
as I never have played before."

For fourteen years Carl Eytel has been
fraternizing with the Colorado Desert. He
has tramped over its sandy wastes, climbed
its sentinel mountains, explored its various
canons, drank from its few springs and
water pockets, followed its wild animals and
watched its bird and insect life. Time and
again he has been without either food or
water, but, learning as the coyote, mountain
lion and Indian learn, he has discovered
where, even in the desert, one may sustain
life; so he has battled on. The result is, he
has accumulated a store of desert sketches
that he is now putting on canvas for the
benefit of the world. He will make known
to thousands, who may never see them in
reality, by means of his pictures, the won-
ders, glories and mysteries of the desert.

And while speaking of the desert, let us
not forget the great and marvelous abundance

of health that is stored there for the sick and
ailing of mankind. If those who were suf-
fering from lung, bronch'al or stomach trou-
bles would come early enough and bravely
live out-of-doors in the desert or on the near-
by mountains, their speedy return to perfect
health would be absolutely assured. This is
the lesson the friends of those who are be-
coming sick should learn. Before they are
too far gone to be helped, ship them off to
the West. Let some friend go along, if pos-
sible. Then, instead of taking them to
crowded hotels in c'ties, where they are made
to feel that they are unwelcome — where
everyone, from proprietor of the hotel down
to the shoeblack, eyes them with suspicion
lest their disease be contagious, and thus adds
to the burden of illness the mental disquiet
that such treatment always brings — I say in-
stead of this, encourage the sick one to get
out into the open, ride horseback, walk, climb
(in season), sleep out of doors, work a little
at whatever occupation presents itself, and
my life for it, in a short time sickness will
be driven out, and health, strength and hap-
piness take its place. As I write a case in
point — one of many with which I am fa-
miliar — comes to mind. A young student in
one of our universities showed signs of
breaking down. Two sisters and two brothers
had already "passed on," yet I could see no
reason why this fine youth, capable of so
many large things, should do the same. So
I went up to his home purposely to see him
and his mother, and I placed the matter fully
before them. In less than forty-eight hours,
equipped with Navajo blankets for sleeping
out, he left for the mountains.' He got a job
as a herder of the range horses for a band
of cattlemen. Day after day he rode out,
easily and gently, watching his horses lest
they stray too far away. Occasionally, when
he felt like it, he took a dashing gallop.
When night came he ate sparingly and care-
fully of healthful food, masticating it thor-
oughly, and then turned into his blankets
under the stars, taught himself to breathe
through his nostrils and as deep as he could,
and thus absorbed health while he slept. In
a few months he came home and for four
years worked like a demon at his college
course, a thing that would have been abso-
lutely impossible without the stored-up
health he had gained in his out-of-door life.
The time is not far d : stant when the great-

A Hunter, on the Kern Rivrr.

108

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

On the McLeod River, California.

est sanitarium of the world will be placed on
the Colorado Desert, for there the great
laboratory of God is making the purest air;
there shines the health-giving and disease-
banishing sun, and at night out-of-door sleep-
ing is simply delicious.

The Pacific Ocean with its nearby chan-
nel islands of Santa Catalina, San Clemente.
San Nicholas, Santa Rosa, San Miguel and
Santa Cruz all allure to an out-of-door life
for the water lover. These islands (save
Santa Catalina) are but little known. What
fun and zest of life to go and explore, then
making a map of their coasts, photographing
the'r distinctive features and describing their
flora and fauna. Here is an object for out-
of-door life that not only expands one's own
soul, but makes the explorer able to minister
to the wish of others for knowledge.

Nor is this by any means the most impor-
tant feature of this educational value of Cali-
fornia's out-of-door life. Plato, Socrates and
Diogenes, in the somewhat similar climate of
Greece, used to conduct their schools of phil-
osophy out-of-doors. Not only were the
groves God's first temples, but out-of-doors

was the first and the best schoolhouse. No
college, no university, however well equipped,
can begin to compare with a suitable out-
of-door climate for the purposes of educa-
tion. And when with the climate there are
found all the other conditions for study, one
has an ideal location for his growing family.
Nowhere on earth do these conditions exist
more ideally than in California. A few years
ago a learned savant and literateur asked me
if I would take charge of the education of
his four ch'ldren — three boys and a girl. I
said I might under certain conditions. When
he asked what these were I informed him
that my first requisition would be for five
ponies, on which we could roam over the sur-
rounding country. For books, we would, at
present, study nature. Our geology we would
gain at first hand, by studying the strata of
the mountains and in the ravines, and watch-
ing the deposits of rivers and ocean. Botany
could best be learned by personal observa-
tion of the habits of plants, flowers, shrubs
and trees; practical geography could be
studied from his own front door and riding
over his pastures and the hills beyond;

TO PEOTEA.

109

\ and entomology would have real in-

II' every animal studied was trapped

and taken home for awhile, and every insert

ade the object of personal observation.

"Hali!" said my friend, "how would you
teach my children grammar and language and
matter- of that kind without bookst"

"Nothing in the world more easy." was my
reply. I showed him how that each child
could be allowed to choose a subject for his
own personal study and observation for the
week, and then, at certain times, he should
be called upon to tell all he had seen. In
that way the powers of observation and re-
ihition would be developed, and in speaking
of a subject in which his own deepest inter-
est had been enlisted the child would express
himself in the most simple, direct and effec-
tive manner. There is no grammar or
rhetoric book on earth can teach the use of
language as can this method.

And ( 'alifornians are hnghmhlg to realize
the advantage of this out-of-door method of
education. There is one large private school
established on this basis. Three-fourths of
the school life of the boys is spent out of
doors. Many teachers in the other schools
an' slowly coming to the same wise methods.
Children are being taken to the beaches to

study geography, \\a\c currents, and the tide.
The Sierra Club each year takes a large
tnemhership under the irudance of such
teachers as John Muir. Joseph l.e Conta,
William Keith. Charles Keeler. Hart Merni-
nan and others, and geology, botany, fores-
try. Ornithology, etc., are studied in the open.
Thus California is opening her eyes to
her manifest destiny. She is the country of
the out-of-doors. She is to teach the world
this lesson of the fuller, broader, healthier.
happier life. Get into the open. The sun
and air not only make more healthy the body,
hut they expand the soul. The out-of-door
life is the life for the highest and best of
man's spiritual nature. Moses went into the
wilderness and up the mountains for his
preparation, Elijah went out into the soli-
tudes, and Christ himself found in the great
open the power to go on with his work for
Nation of men. Nature, after all, is
our greatest, best and most effective teacher.
Where nature wears such a pleasing, attrac-
tive and varied presence as it does in Cali-
fornia, men and women are wise who yield
to her allurements, give themselves up to her
guidance and receive at her bountiful hands
all the material, mental and spiritual bene-
fits she so generously offers.

To Protea

By Porter Garnett

I -at beside thee wondering like a child,

I'nlearned in love, in woman's ways untaught,
When, from the ceaseless flood of life, I caught

One moment of contentment undefiled.

Then in thine eyes, so innocent and mild,

Mine met the magic that they long had sought;
All other passions seemed lo be as naught ;

I only wished to be by thee beguiled.

Yet never might I search thy secret soul,
Nor woo thee as I would, but ever curb
Ripe pass on's promptings, ardent of thy charms.

(Thou knowest my desires and my dole.)
I crave thee as I praise thy gTace superb.
Thy lips, thy perfume, and thy passive arms.

Stage Affairs in New York

A Parthian Glance

By William Winter

HE New York theatrical sea-
son of 1906-1907 termin-
ated, practically, with the
close of the engagement of
Mr. Robert Mantell at the
New Amsterdam Theater, an
engagement that began on April 29 and
ended on May 11. Mr. Mantell gave sixteen
performances, acting, in irregular succes-
sion, Brutus, Shylock, Richard III, Macbeth,
Richelieu, Lear, and Iago. It is to be re-
gretted that an actor so potential and auspi-
cious should continue to use, even in an
amended form, the wretched travesty of
Shakespeare's "Richard III" that was manu-
factured by Colley Cibber. That fabric is,
theatrically, effective, and, because of its
obvious "points" and clap-trap speeches, it
is popular with the gallery multitude. Ed-
win Booth and Henry Irving, both of whom
revived the original, in a condensed form,
declared the Cibber vers'on to be the public
favorite. Gibber's version, nevertheless, is
a wicked thing — for the Gloster that Cibber
presents is a vulgar miscreant, false to na-
ture, void of poetry, and fit only for the use
of a soap-chewing, barn-storming ranter,
and it is a libel on the memory of a great
king. The Gloster of Shakespeare, on the
contrary, although, in many particulars,
false to authentic history, is a brilliant image
of royalty, a complex, subtle character, a
veritable reflex of a possible man, bitter with
sardonic self-mockery and piteous with the
anguish of remorse. The play, of course,
because of its great length and its diffuse
speeches, requires condensation for the mod-
ern stage.

The most illustrious presentment of
Gloster that has been seen of late years is
that of Richard Mansfield — a performance
which, at certain points (notably at the de-
livery of the soliloquy, in the tent scene,
"Jesu have mercy!") is as powerful as any
that has graced the stage within the last fifty

years. Mr. Mansfield's arrangement of the
play, although it has the merit of practica-
bility, is not good. There is opportunity
for a really fine revival of Shakespeare's
"Richard III"; but, probably, no contempo-
rary actor would be willing to take the nec-
essary trouble, incur the expense, and forego
the "laughs" and the chances to "split the
ears of the groundlings" that> are afforded
by the Cibber concoction.

It has been made known that Mr. Mantell
intends to add to his repertory not only Sir
Pertinax Maesycophant, in "The Man of the
World," but also Shakespeare's Richard II.
That tragedy of "Richard II" has generally
been found '"caviar to the general"; but,
adequately presented, it would be magnifi-
cent as an historic spectacle, while a verita-
ble impersonation of the costly, wayward,
eloquent, pathetic king would deeply im-
press every lover of acting. No one has
acted that part, on our stage, since the time
of Edwin Booth, who revived it about thirty
years ago. In England it was attempted,
not very long since, by Mr. H. Beerbohm
Tree. The success of any presentment of
"Richard II" must largely depend on beauty
of speech; for the diction of it is magnifi-
cent. Mr. Mantell closed his season here
with a performance of Iago, and it is not
too much to say that this was the most
truthful and dramatically effective imper-
sonation of that specious, implacable, ter-
rible character that has been seen on our
stage since the days of Edwin Booth. The
make-up was not fortunate and the actor
was not scrupulously heedful as to verbal
accuracy and as to the shading of inflection
in his reading of the text. There is not a
line allotted to Iago that can be changed to
advantage. Mr. Mantell said "probable to
thinking" instead of "probal to thinking".
The meaning is the same, but "probal" is
the better word, and. furthermore, the
rhythm requires it. "Probal" and "acknown"

A IWHTllIAN GLANCE.

Ill

but they :ui' used by

iiicl I hey are suitable to him. In all

M Mr. Mantcll is mora <t less

careless as to i the text ami modn-

of tones, ami for tlint reason lie loses

(vantage of tine effects that lie might

readily make. When Edwin Booth acted

Iaifn. giving a performance of the part that

ever equaled, be achieved results tliai

were wonderful in the sanctified, infernally

fill expression of p tcoiitt solicitude.

•inning candor, genial i iradeship. noble

■agnaminity, bluff manliness, and alluring
virtue by such a tpeeiona sympathy of
manner and such adroit, subtle, and eonvine-
|Bf inflections of the roiea aa constituted the

consummate perfection of hypocrisy and
night have deceived the Devil himself. The

part of [ago is one of the most stupendous
achievements of both literary and dramatic

h\ Mantell baa act pliahed so much

with it that he may readily aceonipl sh more.
tcellence is his preservation

of the eharaeter of honesty. He enters abso-
into the spirit of virtuous, indentions,
ruefully explicit fair dealing that this arch
hypiH-r te assumes, and his delivery of the
explanatory speech in extenuation of ( 'as
sio's fault, and likewise his slow, gradual.
■droit, insinuating, deprecatory approach to
the climax of hideous calumny with which
Iago accomplishes the temptation of Othello
alousy ami murder are admirably
itic.
In the closing weeks of the seas ,11 there
arious spasmodic manifestations of
miscellaneous theatrical activity. Mine. Alia
Na/uuova. a Russian actress who has ac-
quired an imperfect command of the Eng-
lish language, presented herself in an ex-
emplary image of in schievoiis. indelicate,
eatdike coquetry, and. by apt simulation of
-!i allurement, piquant petulance, the
blandishments of sex. and the rapid altera-
of capricious mood, now coy. now
■ nt. now amatory, now passionate, and
■OV gajdy reckless, evinced her capability of
ng a peculiarly harmful and despiea-
[ble type of woman. The play is called
''Countess Coquette", The coquette has a
husband and a lover, and aha amuses herself
by playing one against the other, terminat-
ling her wayward frolic by placing her lover
[in a ridiculous position. Mine. Xazimova
pas talent and experience, but she is not. in

any way, an exceptional actress; while her
play the fabric of an Italian writer, Ro

barto Braeeo is frirolona and unclean. It
is scarcely needful to add that she is one of
the followers <>f the [been cult. Miss Grace

. an expert actress in jaunty, impetu-
ous, tart character, of the Susan Nipper
order, revived the old farcical play of "Di-
vorcuiis." by Sardou. and gave I Sprightly
performance of fyprienne. That play, at
least in its English form, veils, without con-
cealing, an un pertinent of common sense to
discontented wives, and. though lacking re-
tinenient. is pervaded with pleasantry. Miss
G eo rg e ' s revival of it which, no doubt, will

:i in other cities next season has en-
abled the brilliant Ugh] comedian Mr. Frank
Worthing to afford new evidences of his
extraordinary talent for seemingly spontane-
ous exposit on of playful, demure, ulitter-
im_ r . nonchalant, fascinating character — in

the vein of elegance, quizzical ease, and
rippling mirth that was exemplified, in an
earlier day. by such actors as Charles Math

ews and Lester Wallaek. A new play,
freighted with the good purpose of protest-

gainsl legal discrimination in favor of
wealth as opposed to poverty, was brought
out at the Empire Theater, under the name
of "The Silver Box," and Miss Ethel Barry -
inore and Mr. Bruce McRa« acted the chief
parts in it. One s< depicted the proceed-
ings that are usual in a London police court —
th«' intimation being that, to use the apt and
beautiful words of Shakespeare. "In the ear
rupted currents of this world, offense's jrilded
baud may shove by justice": but. though
creditable, neither the play nor the present-
ment of it was particularly effective; and.
after nineteen performances. "The Silver
Box" w-as withdrawn. Miss Ethel Barryinore.
more inter e sti ng as a piquant young woman
than important as an actress, closed her sea-
son in N'ew York on May 18, as also did
\l - Eleanor Bobaon, another of the for-
tuitous "stars" of the day — meaning, there-
by, performers, of moderate talent, who. by
chance, and in the dearth of actors of the
first order, are thrust into conspicuity ami
invested with a dstinction that they have
not earned. There are many performers of
that kind extant in this period, and they
can be seen on other stages as well as that
of the theater.

One other theatrical example of evam -

112

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

publicity is afforded by the momentary pres-
ence of Miss Margaret Wycherly, a per-
former who, not very long ago, suddenly
came out of nowhere, as an exponent of the
sickly sentimentality of Mr. W. B. Yeats,
author of "The Land of Heart's Desire,"
etc. That Celtic bard, it may be remem-
bered, sought notice and obtained contempt
by designating Henry Irving as the chief
enemy of the stage. Miss Wycherly has re-
cently presented herself in an odoriferous
fabric of maudlin nonsense relative to a girl
who, when her seducer has fallen ill, and
both of them are impecunious, becomes a
street drab in order to obtain money for his
support, and who is repudiated by the un-
grateful blackguard, as soon as he recovers,
and takes a fancy for another woman. The
propensity that some female performers
have to present themselves on the stage in
a condition of supposititious sexual infamy
commingled with physical suffering and
mental delirium is inexplicable. That such
a propensity to theatrical hysterics has long
existed the records of the theater only too
thoroughly prove.

Mention should be made of the marriage
of the eminent English actress, Miss Ellen
Terry, whose tour of American cities ended
on May 3, at New Haven, and who sailed on
May 4 for her home in England. Miss Terry
was married, on March 22, at Pittsburg, to
Mr. James Carew (whose family name is
Ussellmann), the leading actor in her dra-
matic company. Mr. Richard Mansfield, who
has passed through the ordeal of a danger-
ous illness, was sufficiently recovered to ad-
mit of his sailing for England, on May 12,
and he is now recuperating at a sequestered
country house in Surrey. It is not likely
that he will act again for a year.

Announcement has been made of an alli-
ance between the two prominent theatrical

syndicates of this period, formed, it is inn-
claimed, for the management of vaudeville
theaters only, all over the United States.
One of those "trusts" is under indictment
for criminal conspiracy in restraint of trade,
but the case has not yet been brought to
trial. It does not seem likely that partners
who are interested in the theater as well as
in the music hall will long refrain from
"pooling" all their interests and endeavoring
to accompl'sh a monopoly of the entire
"business". That result, indeed, may be ex-
pected. A few independent managers pro-
claim themselves — Mr. David Belasco, Mr.
Harrison Grey Fiske and Mr. Walter N.
Lawrence — but, more and more, it is becom-
ing evident that the American stage is
doomed to become one prodigious depart-
ment store. In the retrospect of the season
now ended it is clearly seen that, with little
exception, the animating motive has been
commercial, not artistic. The methods of the
syndicate are, however, the methods of the
whole business world — covetous to clutch
everything, and to crush all competition. In
this city its iniquitous power has sufficed to
exclude from its theaters persons who ven-
ture to question the justice of its adminis-
tration. Mr. James C. Metcalfe, a worthy
citizen, an honorable man, a just and in-
telligent writer, a person intellectually and
soc : ally superior to every one of its mem-
bers, is, for example, barred from all the
theaters that it controls — the allegation
against him having been made that he has
attacked those tradesmen as Jews. There
was a notion prevalent at one time that
the country of George Washington and
Thomas Jefferson was the country of
Amer'cans. It is a singular state of things
that now prevails, and many denotements
indicate that it will grow worse be-
fore it grows better.

H'l/atta Day on Lake Washington.

Motor Boating on Puget Sound

Bv Daniel L. Pratt

(PJ^^^^yHlli: Summertime < ;ill of the
fyK^M/T^ -**"• w ''h ' ,s coo 'i D ' ue viatas
I ' g| %C I " f distant sparkling waters,

■^VvM I id promise of relief from the
of cruise*, adventures,
enchanted isles, and many
- wiucii the heart of man yearns for,
is nan: ; when it is ever in .your ears

ami spread out in beckoning, entieinir pano-
rama before your eyea, arf it is in the
Piifret Sound count happy and

fortunate is he who. be :- call, can

answer it; who cranks his engine at the
uttermost shore and speeds hia swift motor-
boat out and away into tin- embrace of the
inviting waters. V.i tnent, sky-

scrapers, heat and care far in his wake.

What need to seek a watering place away
from the city, when a measure of gasoline
and a fe« ns of tlie propeller shaft

leaves behi- utter oblivion the humid

life of the town and tike thins* you wish to
forget, and ope' • re yoi: this beautiful

gem of the inland seas, studded with a hun-
dred emerald islands, hemmed in with its
double barrier of lordly, imperial mountain
peaks, reaching out its scores of channels and
inlets into the heart of a dozen counties and
offerin;.' an almost infinite opportunity for
new voyages and explorationst Here in-
deed is a Summer of continuous delight, with
always the city to return to at sundown and
always a new cruise at sunup. And many
are the city dwellers on the Sound who take
advantage of these opportun ties and ask no
better Summer recreation.

All of the large towns on Pupet Sound
have grown very rapidly, are virtually new
communities, and their people have been so
engaged in building cities and fortunes thn:
they have until recently used but little time
for pleasure. They are just beginning to
ava'l themselves of the fact that right at
their doors is the finest playground in the
world; one that would make older communi-
ties envious, and will ultimately pro

114

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

Running

Miles an Hour,

Remarkable Snap-Shot
at Full Speed.

of the ''Meteor'' as She Passed

wonderful Summer attraction to the people
of these less fortunate places. Consequently,
it has only been in the last few years that
motor boating on Puget Sound has gained
many followers as a Summer pastime. Of
late the pursuit of pleasure has supple-
mented to a large extent the pursuit of the
almighty dollar — the successful progress of
the latter effort making the former pos-
sible — and water sports are beginning to re-
ceive 'a large degree of long merited atten-
tion. The fleet of pleasure launches has
become a pretentious one, and many hand-
some new boats are being added each year.
The fleet of speed boats, while not large, is
nevertheless one worthy of consideration, as
it contains crafts that challenge the world
for speed, and travel through the water like
an express train. And competitive speed is
becoming such a factor that the fleet of fast
boats promises in a short time to become one
of considerable proportions.

It is quite a pretty sight to see these
grown-up people of the city at their play.
Go down on the Seattle waterfront any
bright Summer morning — and most of the
Summer mornings are bright. The breeze
wafts down over the distant mountain heights
and gathers added freshness and vivacity

from the cool salt waters of the bay. The
sun fiiSods over the surface of sparkling
waters tu.it seem to beckon and entice one
to embark on their blue expanses. If you
have n't a boat already, you are filled with
a sudden desire to rent one and with an ex-
cusable envy for the fortunate possessors.
If you are in the latter class, one look at
the water on such a morning is enough to
make you forget the iniquities of the System
and commence further contribution to its
coffers forthwith by the burning of much
gasoline. Nor will you be lonely, for scores
of other fine launches are already chugging
off across the brine, and scores more are
casting loose tL« hawsers. In fact, it is
quite a sight of i Sunday morning to see
the pleasure-seekei's speed away in their
handsome motor-boats for "realms un-
known." The bay is fairly dotted with the
launches outward bound and the air is so
pregnant with gasoline explosions that it
sounds like an Oriental New Year's. Hand-
some sailing yachts with snowy canvas mingle
with the swifter motor-boats and the num-
ber increases until it looks as though half
the city were off to make a day of it. But
off Magnolia lighthouse, West Seattle and
Alki Point, they go their respective ways.

116

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

The Speed Boat "Comet," the Fastest on Puget Sound, and Present Holddr of the Furth

Challenge Cup.

some down-Sound toward the Straits, some
up-Sound toward Taeoma and Olympia, and
others across to the channels and narrows
among the islands. All day long they cruise,
in waters qu'te as charming as Stevenson's
Southern Seas, rounding island after island
only to come upon new vistas of blue seas
and inlets. All day long that old monarch
of Puget Sound, Mount Rainier, looks down
across the waters from its throne among the
snow-crested Cascades, and Mount Baker
shines in distant glory a hundred miles to
the north, while the Olympics form a ma-
jestic framing for the resplendent sett ng of
the sun as it sinks into the infinite Pacific
beyond the peninsula.

It seems a shame to think of such a ma-
terial thing as lunch in such a country,
doesn't it? And yet, the salt air gives one

The Fast Motor Boat "Siwash," Belonging to
Colonel Papst, of Taeoma. Speed Twenty
Miles an Hour.

the appetite of a bear who 's been hibernat-
ing, and when the sun swings near the zenith
one is inclined to descend to earth and prose
and express his most inward emotions in
the unpoetic and soulless language, "Let 's
eat." Most of the fine pleasure cruisers of
the Sound have "all the modern conven-
iences," as the real estate man would put it.
If. the party is so inclined, lunch can be
served aboard the boat in regular trans-
oceanic grand saloon style. There are pan-
tries, kitchen, dining-room and banquet
board, and a cook and servant aboard to do
the "honors". But if you have any picnic
spirit about you, you wont want to eat that
way. You can do that at home, at the restau-
rant, at the boarding-house, any old place.
If you are out for the day and want to make
the best of it, there is nothing for it but
that the boat must be landed on the sandy
beach of one of the hundred delightful little
coves along the shore of the Sound. In a
jiffy all are over the gang-plank on terra-
firma, and coffee is sizzling on a hot fire
made from the ample driftwood to be found
all along the shore, and the lunch is served
in true picnic, out-of-door fashion. And
the common, quondam tasteless and unin-
viting "vituls" that ordinarily would go un-
tasted and a-begging, have suddenly become
as the viands on a king's table, while the
coffee, served in a style properly dignified
as "a large black," is the nectar that Jupiter
sips. And now, Mr. Man, comes the real
test, and let us hope that you prove a true
sport and produce your aged old pipe and a
sack of Mail Pouch instead of digging down

MOTOR BOATING ON PUGKT SOUND.

117

uto your pocket lor an outlawed
clear Havana and polluting the pure salt
air with ineongruo -moke. Cigars

are incompatible with picnics ami are only
allowed when you stay in the launch and
dine in the grand saloon. The proper pro-
cedure is a briar and tobacco smoked tram
an incumbent position on a log, while the
host or his engineer is. snaking the engine
and making ready to resume the trip. Then
it's all aboard again and mm- . more

ami channels and islands, and Anally a
run home across the Sound and into
the harbor with the million lights nf tl •
glimmering down over the waters from the
seven hills and the full moon overhead stir-
ring the passengers to sentimental melodies.

And all this in a day; the only recji.
being that you live on Puget Sound, own a
motor-boat or a friend with a motor-boat and
have unlimited credit for gasoline.

The doughty motor-boat sportsmen of
Ptaget Sound do not confine their scope by
any means to one-day trips, however. They
have spent thousands of dollars in outfitting

handsome pleasure cruisers with all the
anodationa and aqnipmanl in miniature
of luxurious steam yachts. These boats are
capable of carrying fair sized parties on ex-
tended cruises lasting all Summer long if
necessary, and few are the owners of these
boat! who do nut once or twice in the Sum-
mer, at least, cruise the entire Sound from
Hoods Canal and Otympia to the San Juan
Islands and Hellingham Bay, spending weeks
at a time on the water witli little necessity
for landing during the entire trip. Indeed,
cruises have been made in these boats up the
coast by the inner passage to Southeastern
Alaska, but this is not often attempted, ow-
ing to the risk that must be encountered in
crossing certain rough and dangerous waters,
tranquil and safe a part of the time, hut
with a little wind, becoming wild passages
more dangerous to small craft than the mid-
ocean. The trip is often made across to Vic-
toria, for while the Straits of .Inan de Fuca
become very rough on occasions, yet on a
calm Summer morning when the sky is clear
there is small danger that a storm will blow

118

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

The "Mercury," the Twenty-two-Foot Wonder, at One Time Champion Speed Boat of the
World; Now Owned by Roderick Macleay, of Portland, Oregon.

up before the' crossing is made. With the
late afternoon a strong breeze almost in-
variably blows in from the sea and those
waters become rough and choppy.

There is ample room for the burning of
plenty of gasoline on Puget Sound alone
without venturing to any of these out-
side waters. Pleasure boats can cruise
for a month without beginning to see
everything, for the Sound proper is
many scores of miles long, approximately
a hundred, and has channels and inlets
running dozens of miles inland and
around the many islands. Hoods Canal, for
instance, joining the main body of water be-
low Port Townsend, runs back for sixty
miles or more, right almost at the base of
the Olympic mountain range, and washing
shores as wild and primeval as when they
were first created. Another favorite cruise
is up among the San Juan Islands at the
eastern end of the Juan de Fuca Straits.
Here is one of the most beautiful water trips
in the world, unexcelled by any parts of the
Mediterranean or the Thousand Islands of
the St. Lawrence. Each island is a mountain
all by itself, rising apparently sheer from
the water's edge, but really sloping back
gradually, and with lands for miles back
from the shores rich in agricultural and
fruit-raising possibilities. There are many

of these picturesque island-mountains, sep-
arated by beautiful sheets of sheltered
water ideal for motor-boat cruising purposes.
A cruising party can lose themselves from
the world in these waters for weeks at a
time, making new explorations every day
and still leaving much to be seen. And the
waters surrounding the San Juan Islands
comprise only a small part of Puget Sound.
For sumptuous furnishings, complete
equipment and modern facilities these pleas-
ure-cruisers of Puget Sound are not to be
excelled, in the same scale, in the world.
They have every convenience of the large
steam yachts of the Atlantic, including for-
ward and after-decks, men's and ladies' cab-
ins, sleeping compartments, galleys, engine
rooms, lavatories, pantries, and many other
desirable features. Consider the cruiser
Kipling for instance. This boat is owned by
F. H. Boynton, of Seattle. She is sixty
feet long with an eight and one-half-foot
beam and a twenty-five-horsepower engine.
The boat makes an average speed when on a
cruise of twelve miles an hour. The boat is
handsomely finished with hard woods and
heavily upholstered throughout. She has a
forward cabin, ladies' cabin, engine room
and galley, bath room, toilet and lavatories,
etc., and carries gasoline storage for an
eight-hundred-mile cruise. The boat was

MOTOR BOATING ON I'l ill T BOUND.

Hit

built under the special directions of her own-
er and the fMollln is carried in the extreme
stern in specially lested heavy tanks, behind
a tight bulkhead. The gasoline is piped out-
side and along the keel of the boat under
water to the engine roots, so that there is
virtually no danger from fire. The entire
length of the deck is utilized, there being, in
addition to the main deck, a forward and
after-deck on a different elevation. The boat
is a very handsome one and wins admiration
everywhere she goes.

The Ilvilo is another very handsome pleas-
ure-cruiser and is owned by Charles E.
Crane, of Seattle. She is fifty-eight feet
in length with a beam of eleven feet and
four inches, and is equipped with a forty-
horsepower engine for power, a two-horse-
power engine for furnishing electric lights
and another engine of the same horsepower
in her tender. The boat has sleeping com-
partments for twelve people, is lighted with
electricity, has pantries, toilets, compressed
air and water tanks, and sufficient gasoline
storage to take the boat on a trip of eighteen
hundred miles without replenishing the sup-
ply. This boat makes an average speed of
twelve miles an hour. She has traveled with
a party for a month at a time, and on these
trips has a regular engineer and a cook to
make up her crew, leaving the balance of
those On board free to enjoy themselves dur-
ing every hour of the outing.

One of the finest boats which is being built
this year for cruising purposes is the Sans
Souci, owned by Ferdinand Smith, of Seattle.
This boat is fifty feet long and is constructed
of the handsomest woods obtainable, and
when complete will be one of the finest
pleasure launches ever built. She will be
fitted out with electric lights, sleeping com-
partments, and the other conveniences usual
with handsome pleasure boats of her type,
and will carry a thirty-two-horsepower en-
gine, which will give her a speed of about
twelve miles an hour.

These are only a few of the many pleas-
ure-cruisers of Pnget Sound, and there are
others worthy of fuller mention if the space
allowed, such as the Spray, owned by
Henry Ilensel ; the Sea Gull, by J. M. Cun-
ningham; the Clyde, by A. A. Schuschard,
and others. Of these mentioned, the Spray
and the Clyde are new boats. The Sea Gull
has been in the water for several years and

Arete." Second Fattest Boat on Puget
Sound. Speed Twenty-eight Miles an Hour.

is one of the best known cruisers on the
Sound, her owner having sailed her on long
cruises to all parts of those waters. She is
fitted out in handsome style and has all the
conveniences of the pleasure-cruiser.

While there is no organization devoted ex-
clusively to the interests of the motor-boat
cruiser owners, the Elliot Bay Yacht Club
■ Tined a motor-boat section of its or-
ganization and has at the present time six-
teen launch-owners included in the member-
ship of sixty-four. These motor-boats will
participate in the regular cruises and re-
gattas of the club, and it is likely that this
branch of the organization will become as
active and enthusiastic as the section com-
posed of the owners of sailing and auxiliary
yachts.

On Lake Washington, however — which is
virtually Puget Sound, as it will soon be
connected with the larger body by a ship
canal and is already connected by partly
navigable rivers — is a regular motor-boat
club. Lake Washington is only twenty min-
utes' ride from the main business streets of
Seattle and is entirely as convenient and
accessible for the owners of motor-boats as

Cruiser •■lloilo.'

Belonging to Charles R. Crane,
of Seattle.

120

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

Puget Sound. The Motor-Boat Club of Lake
Washington has over one hundred members,
all enthusiastic devotees of the sport of
motor-boating. This club has regular speed
regattas twice a year, on January 1 and July
4, and these have become very popular and
have attracted wide attention all over the
country, owing to the fine type of speed
boats that have been developed and to the
speed records which have been made. The
purpose of this organization is to encourage
the building of motor-boats, the develop-
ment of speed and later on, when the canal
is open, to form cruising regattas on Puget
Sound. The Mid-Winter regattas are fea-
tures which are decided novelties, and an
article concerning the 1907 regatta, appear-
ing in one of the large Eastern motor-boat
publications, was the cause of discussion all
through the United States, the officers of the
club receiving many inquiries as to whether
it was a fact or merely a fairy tale that re-
gattas were held in the middle of the Winter
on a fresh-water lake, especially at a point
as far north as Seattle. It seemed to be
a cause for wonder that there should be
enough open water on a fresh-water lake
at that season of the year to allow of such
a thing, and the further surprise of the
authors of these inquiries can be imagined
when they were informed that there is n't
enough ice on Lake Washington the whole
year around to cool a cocktail. Many of the
members of this club live across the lake
from the city and travel back and forth from
business in their boats at all seasons.

The fastest speed motor-boat on the lake
and in the entire Puget Sound country at the
present time is the Comet, owned by the
Washington Motor-Boat Company. This
boat was built by Leighton, the builder of
the celebrated Chip and Chip II, the boats
which won the world's championship at the
Thousand Islands on the St. Lawrence River
in 1905 and 1906. The Comet is a twenty-
four-mile boat, and is a fine type of the
fast pleasure and speed boat. She is the.
winner of the Jacob Furth five-hundred-dol-
lar perpetual challenge cup, and has yet to
meet her better on the Pacific Coast. She is
open to challenges from any speed boat in
the United States. The Comet is thirty-three
feet long with a beam of five feet six inches.

The Areis, owned by the same company as
the Comet, is at present secondary in speed

to the later boat, but is being equipped with
a new six-cylinder five-and-a-half by six en-
gine that it is believed will make her the
fastest boat on Puget Sound and on the Pa-
cific Coast. Her owners expect to develop
a speed of twenty-eight miles an hour. At
present her speed is twenty-three. She is
one of the fastest types of boats built, her
entire hull weighing only three hundred and
one pounds on the scales, and yet being as
stanch and firm as the ordinary boat with
three-fourths inch planking. She is planked
with three-eighths inch cedar. The Areis is
the winner of the L. L. Moore Grand Chal-
lenge Cup, 1906, for boats faster than fif-
teen miles an hour, and also winner of the
First Prize Cup of the Motor-Boat Club of
Seattle for the ten-mile race.

One of the finest types of speed boats on
the lake is the Meteor, owned by Clarence H.
Jones, of Seattle. This boat develops a
speed of eighteen miles an hour and is voted
by most boat-owners on Lake Washington
to be as handsome and swift a fast pleasure-
boat to be found in those waters. The
Meteor is forty feet long with five-foot beam,
and is equipped with a four-cylinder engine
of the make-and-break ignition system. She
has two cockpits, with the engine room for-
ward, separated by a bridged deck. The
passenger cockpit aft is capable of carrying
twenty-five people. The Meteor is the win-
ner of the sixteen-mile race at the 1906
Labor Day regatta.

Another boat which has been famous on
Lake Washington for some time is the Mer-
cury, which has recently been sold to Roder-
ick Maeleay, of Portland, Oregon, and is
now on the Willamette. This boat is only
twenty-two feet long and is equipped with a
ten-horsepower engine that sends her
through the water with the speed of an ex-
press train. This boat was also built by
Leighton and was the craft that tieat the
Chip after her sensational winning of the
world's championship at the Thousand
Islands in 1905. The Mercury was the fast-
est boat in the world at that time. She made
a sensation when she was first brought to
Lake Washington because of her small size
and her great speed, and many people, not
knowing her past record, predicted that she
would prove impractical as a speed boat, but
they revised their opinions after seeing her
take one or two turns around the lake.

.MOTOR BOATING ON PUGET SOUND.

121

Handsome Pleoture

Probably tba most famous boat on the

take and one which held all newcomers at

•veral years, and is even now the

strictly pleasure boat on Puget

Sound, is V. H. Faben's Dolphin. This boat

is forty-live feet long and has an eight ancl

a half-foot beam. She is equipped with n

i'ti -hy-nine engine, which is

capable of developing unusual speed in the

boat.

A type of boat intended entirely for
roughing it on the salt water is one that is
springing into demand at the present time on
ri'i An exemplary boat of
this type is being constructed at the present
time by Dr. S. B. Milne, of Seattle, who is
a typical motor boat skipper and has seen
as much of real cruising and the full enjoy-
ment of the sport as any man on Puget
1. Once or twice a year Dr. Milne takes
a party of friends and goes on a long hunt-
ing and cruising trip far up into the Cana-
dian coast waters between Vancouver Island
and the mainland.

While this trip is fraught with danger for
even the large-sized ■ pleasure-cruisers, Dr.
Milne has taken the trip several times in his
former little launch, the Zebra, thirty feet
ind equipped with a ten-horsepower en-
trine, an open boat without any cabin and
only an improvised shelter. The party has
been lucky enouch to escape without any
:ind with onlv one storm, which

caught the heavily-laden boa) ai it was going
northward about ten miles from shore in the
(iulf of Georgia, and tossed it about in
waves monntain-high for several hours. Luck-
ily the little engine plodded along steadily
and those aboard were able to keep the
launch running with the waves until the
storm suhsided, and the boat was able to
continue its trip peaceably on up the Cana-
dian coast, where the party was going after
deer and big game. Dr. Milne has sold his
launch Zebra, however, and is now engaged
in building a launch thirty-five feet long,
equipped with a heavy engine. This boat is
built along lines very similar to that of a
salmon fisherman's boat, heavy and stanch
and safe, although not quite as bulky end
clumsy as the craft used by the fishermen.
and having very pretty lines.

As the Puget Sound country becomes more
settled, as her citizens become more wealthy
and more numerous, and have more leisure,
the pastime of motor-boating on that great
and beautiful body of water promises to be-
come much more extensive and more famou?.
and ten years from now we should hear qni'e
as much about the great regattas, the speed
records smashed and the world's champion-
ship races won on Pnge4 Sound as we ■
the present time of the Thousand [aland*
of the St. I.awrenee and other famous ren-
dezvous for the swift motor-boats of tin-
world

A Defense of Style

By Porter Garnett

EE ! that 's . a bully story !"
By some such expression as
this a small boy might be
expected to signify his ap-
proval of a tale of Indians
which he had just read in a
third-class magazine. It goes without say-
ing that no one would take such an indorse-
ment as an expression of literary judgment.
And yet it is by a process similar to that
of the small boy that most people judge liter-
ature, or, at least, fiction.

I have been charged repeatedly, by letter
and by word of mouth, with laying too
much stress in these essays upon style, too
little upon material ; I am moved, therefore,
to say something in defense of my attitude.
That, in the eyes of the public, the subject
is more important than the form — the mat-
ter than the manner — is a fact almost too
obvious to be mentioned. In other words,
disproportionate valuations have been
placed upon the two major factors of liter-
ary expression. These factors are Material —
the subject and psychological content there-
of — and Treatment— the form, or arrange-
ment, and style. A sense of proportion is
one of the rarest endowments of the human
mind, productive or receptive, and thus we
have become so accustomed to the dispropor-
tionate valuations of Material . and Treat-
ment that any attempt to readjust these val-
uations by insisting upon the importance of
the latter neglected factor is regarded as
false criticism. Not alone is this lack of a
sense of proportion found among the public,
but it is also found among writers, whose
purpose it is to cater to the public, and
among book-reviewers, whose function it is
to judge of literature by the public's stand-
ards.

In any discussion on the subject of criti-
cism it is necessary to recognize at once the
two forms of criticism, the academic and the
impressionistic. These may be defined a?
the criticism from law and the criticism from

feeling. Both are, or should be, analytic
processes. An extreme type of academic
criticism is to be found in the student's
thesis for a literary degree and in most
pedagogues' lectures on literature, which are
commonly narrow and generally futile. An
example of this sort of criticism is reviewed
in a recent number of the Nation. The work
under consideration is Tennyson's Sprache
und Stil, by Dr. Phil. Roman Dyboski, Band
25 of Wiener Beitrage zur englischen Philol-
ogie. "Dr. Dyboski," says the review,
"plunges into Syntaktisches and considers
the two ways of joining clauses — by sub-
ordination and coordination. He discovers
that Tennyson uses 'and,' 'or,' 'nor,' and
'but' where other connectives might in Dr.
Dyboski's opinion be more precise." An ex-
ample of the doctor's illuminating analysis
is as follows:

Balin the stillness of a minute broke, say-
ing (d. h.: Balin was still for a minute, then
said).

And of such is the academic criticism,
pure and complex.

An extreme type of the impressionistic
criticism may be found on the literary page
of some daily papers, particularly in reviews
written by women — the critical sense being
one of the four mental attributes which a
divine Providence lias denied the human fe-
male. (I shall not mention the other three
for fear of incurring more enmity than 1
am already exposed to in my hazardous pro-
fession.) An example of this sort of criti-
cism should run about as follows:

The "Flatulence of Adam Saunders" by
Gazelle and Fortescue Snipp is one of tho
notable books of the year. * * * The
reader is carried breathlessly from one thrill-
ing incident to another. * * * The story
abounds in dramatic scenes of great power,
interspersed with vivid descriptions, whole-
some sentiment and delightful humor. » » •
There is not a dull page in the book, etc., etc.

Clearly the thing for the critic to do is to

A DEFKNSK OF M'YLE.

123

steer a mean course (no pun is intended^
between the academic Sylla and the unpr. -
sionistic Charybdis. That is to say, the
ideal attitude of criticism is one which em-
bodies both styles. Impressionistic criticism
without an academic basis is as valueless
as the opinion of the small boy who ex-
claims, "Gee ! that 's a bully story !" while
the academic method without the saving
frrace of human sympathy .is no whit
better. Spenser's use of the present
participle in The Faerie, Queen is pre-
ss unimportant as the statement
that there is the scent of bilge water
in Oban Hill Stubblefield's matchless tales
of the sea.

The bulk of the criticism which reaches
the public through the medium of the press
is impressionistic when it is not perfunctory;
it exaggerates the importance of Material
and either slights or ignores the question of
Treatment. It becomes necessary therefore
to remind the public occasionally that liter-
ature is an art; that there is really some-
thing more to it than the subject matter.
But critical essays and articles competently
written and dealing with literature as an
art are usually to be found in the more
sedate reviews and therefore do not reach
the public, which continues to say: "Gee!
that 's a bully story !" when it is thrilled or
amused, and dismisses works of real literary-
quality, but deficient in human interest, with
the final if inelegant epithet "rotten". For
example, there has been produced recently
in the West a book that is not only strictly
literary in character, but of a high order
of literary excellence — this is The Flock by
Mary Austin. And yet I have heard people
of intelligence say that they could not read
it, that it bored them; that, in short, it was
"rotten". This simply means that people of
intelligence, to say nothing of the polloi, do
not care for literature unless combined with
human interest — the transcript of action and
the record of emotion. They get no esthetic
stimulation nor delight from reading Mrs.
Austin's beautiful prose; to them The flock
is nothing more than a dull treatise on an
uninteresting subject.

Now the quality that gives The Flock its
importance is not the factor of Material, but
the factor of Treatment. It is an achieve-
ment in style, and as such it must be
judged. And here we have the crux of criti-

cism. Style cannot be judged by either the
academic or the impressionistic method.
Style can be judged only by the critic's own
conception of the elements of style which.
as I have said elsewhere, is a leaven made
up of varying proportions of beauty, bal-
ance, dignity, delicacy, reserve, rhythm, and,
above all, and through all. taste. Here en-
ters the personal equation. In criticism by
the academic method there is no personal
equation. The laws of grammar and syntax
are to a great degree fixed laws and the
academic critic is quite within the realm of
the obsolute in applying them to literary ex-
pression. When, however, he treats of style
his criticism becomes a matter of personal
opinion for he can speak of style, which is
not a matter of law, only as he understands
it. Our critic may react to De Quincy or
Pater, as the case may be, or he may be
possessed of the catholicity to appreciate
both.

The demand for matter and the indiffer-
ence to form, the insistance upon heart-in-
terest and the slighting of literary quality,
which expresses the attitude of the public
toward literature, is an attitude that must
always exist, however much it may be de-
plored. It is an appetite that must be fed.
It would hardly do to deprive the public, by
a national board of censors, of books that
did not possess literary quality. As well de-
prive the public of popular music and popu-
lar art. The error lies in classing books of
the popular sort as literature and expecting
them to be judged as such. Errors of a simi-
lar kind are not commonly made regarding
the .other arts. A more or less definite dis-
tinction is recognized between the higher and
lower forms of music; between the higher
and lower forms of painting, the graphic
arts and sculpture. But such a dividing
line is drawn between the hiirher and lower
forms of literature by comparatively few
persons.

It is this failure to recognize the differ-
ence between story writing and literature
that is one of the chief causes for tl
proportionate valuation of subject and form.
As far as the public is concerned literature
consists of everything of a creative charac-
ter that is produced in print from an essay
by Henry James or a poem by Swinbourne
to a story in the Black Cat or one of George
Ade's clever fables. The worth or unworth

124

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

of every item in this great mass of verbal
expression is measured by the interest it ex-
cites, by its appeal to the emotions, and
absolutely without regard to its esthetic
value.

But to continue the comparison of the
art of literature with the arts of music and
painting. I have said that the public recog-
nizes the difference, in a general way, be-
tween popular music and music of the higher
order — between Waltz Me Around Again,
Willie, and a "real classical piece". Musicians
not only make this distinction clearly, but
they go still farther and in the higher order
of music distinguish between absolute music
and descriptive, illustrative, or programme
music. Thus we find musicians who uphold
the absolute music of Bach, Hayden, Mozart
and their congeners, and place all modern
music, including the music of Wagner, in a
lower scale; even classing it as decadent be-
cause it falls away from the absolute stand-
ards of music for music's sake. Again the
public recognizes the difference, in a general
way, between illustration and painting while
the painter often goes farther yet and di-
vides painting into absolute painting and
painting that is illustrative in character and
therefore not the expression of absolute art.
For example, take the Maternity of Carriere,
the picture of a mother k ssing one child
while she embraces another. This painting
is a marvel of technic and psychological sug-
gestion; but let us suppose that instead of
the portrait of Carriere himself which is
seen in the background there should be the
figure of a soldier waiting to tear the mother
from her babes and lead her to the guillo-
tine; and let us suppose that the picture is
called The Last Kiss; at once it ceases to be
a work of absolute art. It may still be a
miracle of technic, but the psychological ele-
ment is debased to a direct emotional appeal.

The artist adhering strictly to the abso-
lute in painting will not tolerate the story-
telling picture except as a lower order of
art. So the musician adhering to the abso-
lute in music will not tolerate the story-
telling composition except as a lower order
of music.

Now while such distinctions in painting
and music are perfectly understood by many
painters and musicians, in literature not only
does the public fail to make an analagous
distinction, but writers themselves, with few

exceptions, fail so to do. That is, they do
not recognize an absolute literature. They
do not recognize the fact that fiction is not
and cannot be absolute literature as the nar-
rative poem is not absolute poetry, the illus-
tration or illustrative painting is not absolute
art, the descriptive composition is not abso-
lute music and the Rodgers groups are not
absolute sculpture.

But the public not only fails to make the
distinction between fiction and absolute liter-
ature, it regards everything of a creative
character which is found in magazines or be-
tween book covers as literature. The bulk of
this is fiction, most of which appeals directly
to the sympathies and passions, and it is the
most natural thing in the world that from
such a condition should grow the exagger-
ated importance that is given to the Material
and the consequently slight attention that is
paid to Treatment. There can be no doubt
that the disproportion is greater today than
it ever has been in the history of the world,
that it is greater in America than in any
other country, and that it is greater in the
West than in the East.

It might not be so bad if there were a few
more' stylists, who, by their influence, might
establish a new parity in public taste. The
present parity may be likened to the sixteen
to one of the double standard advocates —
the sixteen representing Material and the one
Treatment. In this connection it is perfectly
proper to remark that the Material may be
likened to silver and the Treatment to gold,
nor would it be inapposite to say that the
advocates of the sixteen to one ratio are the
Populists of literature. For my part, 1
should like to see a gold standard — a style
standard — established in the Republic of
Letters.

But stylists, the aristocrats of literature,
are few and far between, and when cne
arises, like Mary Austin for example, the
bourgeois Populists will have none of her.

And thus it has come to pass the public,
a large number of writers, and the great ma-
jority of book reviewers have established
false standards of taste so firmly that the
charge of false criticism is immediately made
against any attempt to readjust the equilib-
rium.

It is true that in considering the current
literature of the West I have commented at
some length upon the graces and refinements

A DEFENSE OF STYLE.

125

nf literal. isually eonapieuoiu by

t heir absence. 'I'liat this should give the im-
pression of an undue emphasis on one side
of the que- ,rfectly natural, because

the emphasis is on the side that is commonly

.1 for the reasons above mm (nth. Be-
cause I have enlarged on this neglected
phase — an unusual tliinjr to do
seems to have been lost sight of that 1 have

uitly kept in view the human and

• i logical aspects of literature. I have
: again and again the importance of

ousness which underl'es life and which
the writer, if he be an artist, should inter-
pret in a manner simple or complex as his
ideals dictate, but touched by the magic of
art. The work of Frank rTarria is typical
of the simple manner of interpreting
consciousness, that of George Meredith of
the complex. In both cases, though
differing widely, the results are thorou ghl y
artistic.

While Material— the subject and the
logical content thereof — is, as I said
at the beginning of this art ele, one of the
of literary expression, can it
be denied for a moment that it is the way in
which the Material is presented, in other
words the Treatment — the form, or arrange-
ment and style — that goes to make the work
of art. Give a clever newspaperman the
plot of one of Maupassant's tales and tell
him to put it into story form. The result
would not be a work of art. With two men
using precisely the same material, what is it
that makes the work of one vastly superior
to that of the otherf If the material were
_reat importance as some would
have us believe, how could such discrep-

- be accounted forT There is but one
way out of the difficulty and that is to adm't
that it is the facti r of Treatment and not
the factor of Material that constitutes volue
in literature. If this were not true the mere
expression of ideas in written «•
forming of tonne to the simple rules of
grammar— would constitute literature. The

il application of this view wi nhl mean
that spoken words— conforming to the simple
rules of jrrammar — if transferred to paper
would bee .me literature. We all relate ex-
. day. but it could not be
claimed that a transcript would

be literature. The letters that thousands of
educated end clever people write are not

literature. 1 have heard men tell stories at
clubs with great effect, but they could not
write a paragraph that would have literary
quality. I have heard a man talk fluently on
a subject with no thought of literary re-
quirements, and then dictate to a stenog-
rapher on the same subject in an entirely
different manner, casting bja ideas in tit)
form and producing matter that was literary
in character.

I have before me now a rare little volume
entitled A Genuine N ar rativ e of the Deplor-
able Deaths of the English Gentlemen, and
Others, Whii Were Suffocated in the Black
Hole in . Eort William, at Calcutta, in the
Kingdom of Bengal; in the Night Succeed-
ing the 20th Day of /mm, 175$, by J. /..
Holwell, Fsq. It is written with clarity in
excellent Kngl'sh: it is in every way better
than anything to be found in our newspa
pers. It has not, however, style nor literary
quality. But the author differs from many
writers of less ability, for he says in his
preface: "For truth, and more especially so
affecting a truth, stands little in need of
ornament, and appears to more advantage
the less it is assisted by the arts of wr tinj:.
to which the author being a stranger, he
trusted to his feeling, and endeavored to
express by his pen the emotions of his
heart." Mr. Hoi well's book is an ad-
mirable account of a terrible episode, but
in writing it he did not produce litera-
ture and he had the rare good sense to
know it.

The man who can describe a thing with
absolute accuracy makes a good reporter,
but with that accomplishment alone he can-
not atta n to the rank of a literary artist. 1 1
■ man have only the qualifications of a good
reporter, does it really make any difference
whether the thingi be writes about really
occurred or whether they are the invention
of his fancy? If the faculty of invention is
a test of the literary instinct, it would follow
that every liar is a potential author. Aj I
matter of fact it is only the artistic liar that
can lay claim to that distinction. The point
I wish to make is that a great deal of what
.ng into books and magaz nes and which
is being accepted as literature, is nothing
more than the repnrtorial work of unlilerary
scribblers who report their experiences, re-
their fancy and report their emotions.
They are nothing more nor less than a lot

126

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

of persons with the gift of the gab and a
typewriter.

It is in his character as an artist that the
creator of literature excells the mere reporter
of fact or fancy. The artist arranges his
material; that is, he brings to it light and
shade, color, accent and repression or, in
other words, form and style; and by such
means he forges from the raw material the
work of art. But this is Treatment without
which Material — raw Material — is worthless.
Your morning paper is full of raw material
every day; an artist of the stature of
Tourgueneff may be born once in fifty years.
And yet it is this essential element or Treat-
ment, that is to say, form and style, that I
have been accused of giving too much im-
portance.

But I have at no time neglected and shall

not neglect now to insist upon the impor-
tance of another phase of literary expres-
sion, namely, the interpretation of conscious-
ness. While such interpretation is a part of
the author's art — a matter of Treatment —
the psychological content of his work is a
part of the Material. Take, for example,
some simple episode, so much raw material,
treat it superficially, in other words, report
it, and it has no literary value. But bring
out the psychological basis underlying the
episode and it becomes at once matter for
literary treatment. Relate the episode, inter-
pret the psychological basis underlying it, by
means of artistic processes and a work of
art results.

Now let us consider the man that writes
not as a reporter nor as a stylist, but
as an interpreter of psychology and con-

sciousness, for it is by that function
that the value of his material must
be tested.

The accompanying diagram will help to
explain the observations which follow:

The sphere A represents an artistic per-
sonality; the plane 1, the external aspects
of life in our own time; la, lb and la, the
substrata of consciousness underlying life
as it exists today; plane 2 represents the
surface aspects of life at a period antedating
the present; 2a, 26 and 2c, substrata of con-
sciousness underlying life at the same
period; plane 3 represents a period more
remote and so on. It will be observed that
the planes become narrower as they go far-
ther back, for our purview of life in the
past is not so great as in the present. In
this diagram the focus of the artistic per-
sonality A is on plane 1, which represents
the surface aspects of life as we observe it.
It is at this focus that the reporter and the
superficial story writer depict life. An-
other, with more insight, will focus upon the
first substratum of consciousness, still an-
other on the second and so on. The dotted
circle d represents an artistic personality
which focuses on the third substratum of
consciousness, the external aspects of life
being out of focus. The author whose focus
is on the deeper levels of consciousness re-
ceives, however, connotations from all the
strata through which the rays of his person-
ality pass. Henry James is an example of
a writer whose focus is on the deeper levels
of consciousness. With him it is not the
first meaning that we look for, nor the sec-
ond meaning, but the third and fourth
meanings.

In the case of a writer treating of the
past, his focus may be on the surface
aspects of life in a remote period, or it
may be on the underlying strata of con-
sciousness. Whether he be novelist or his-
torian, it is his focus which determines
whether he is a mere reporter, or an inter-
preter, an artist.

The shaded portions of the diagram marked
XX represent the realm of mystery and the
imagination, which, like the infra-red and
ultra-violet rays of the spectrum, are in-
visible to the normal eye. It is in the depths
of these regions that the poet's artistic per-
sonality is focused (see dotted circle c in dia-
gram) gaining his connotations from life

A DEFENSE OE STYLE.

127

as the rays of his intellect pass through its
various strata.

There is still another matter that this ap-
parently fantastic method of demonstration
will serve to illustrate; that is the question
of poise. The true artist has control of his
focus while the pseudo-artist has not The
latter may pass from the treatment of ex-
Is to the sub literal aspects of his sub-
ject, but such fluctuations of focus are large-
ly a matter of accident and the work that
results lacks unity and value. On the other
hand the artistic personality of Zola, for
example, as expressed in Le Bonheur des
Dames, is focused on the external aspects of
life and in this as in many of his other
works he is no more than the competent
journalist. But in Le Rive bis artistic per-
sonality expands until its focus not only
reaches the depths of consciousness, but wan-
ders into the domain of poetry. Give the
plot of Le Rive to the clever reporter or the
successful story writer of our magazines and
tell him to develop it into a novel. With his
«'ii the superficies of life; without the
artist's feeling for form, for light and shf.de,
color, accent and repression: without the
magic of style, that leaven made up of vary-
ing proportions of bebuty. balance, dignity,
delicacy, reserve, rhythm, and. above all,
and through all, taste, can the result be other
than worthless as art? As worthless, for ex-

ample, as the reporter's "stuff" or the maga-
zine writer's story.

The defense rests its case.

I have read recently four books by West-
ern authors. They are: Whispering Smith,
by Frank Spearman (Charles Scribner's
Sons) ; Tin l'lmc Woman, by Eleanor Gates
(MeClnn, 1'hillips & Co.); Montlivet, by
Alice I'reseoM Smith (Houghton, Mifflin &
Co.), and Casa Grande, by Charles Duff
Stuart (Henry Holt & Co.). Of these only
two have any pretentions whatever to literary
quality. These are The Plow Woman and
Montlivet. Miss Gates shows n considerable
feeling for style if not fo> form. In the
construction of her ston »ue makes use of
the most obvious tricks and expedients, but
her actual writing is much above the average^
Mrs. Smith has the feeling for language, a
good idea of construction and a certain power
of insight. Any book-reviewer will tell you
that, as stories, both of these are intensely
interesting. They will also say the same
thing of Casa Grande and Whispering Smith
and in the case of the latter they would
be perfectly right. It is also very seri-
very melodramatic and perfectly ab-
surd. But the small boy who reads it
will say, "Gee! that's a bully story!"
or words to that effect and the boii'
will concur.

A Summer Playground of America

By Frank Carleton Teck

10ME of these balmy Sum-
mer days, and not so very
long henceforward, Califor-
nia will find herself experi-
encing an exodus of mil-
lionaire Winter boarders.
Migrating northward with the wrens and
the robins, these adorable seekers of glowing
health, genial climes and diverting recrea-
tion will flock to Northwest Washington on
Puget Sound, the already popular Summer
playground of America.

There is the lustily growing city of Bell-
ingham, for instance; the very hottest day
she has had for the last three Summers reg-
istered a maximum of only eighty-three de-
grees. Think of it, and wonder the more
that anybody with a cool million at his near
elbow should suffer his marrow to be fried
out by the stress of sweltering and sultry
heat that reminds one painfully of the rude
old Summertime among the hornets and the
hay!

Puget Sound, as nearly everyone in the
West knows, has one of the most genial
Summer climates in the United States; and
Northwest Washington — that is, what is pop-
ularly termed "The Bellingham Bay Coun-
try" — has decidedly the coolest, clearest and
most delightful Summer climate of the
Puget Sound Basin. Not only that, but it

is wonderfully endowed with scenic marvels
that thrill and fascinate every beholder and
baffle the descriptive power of artist and
scribe alike.

Although climate is. but one of several at-
tractions to be considered in the selection
of a Summer-vacation scene, it is the ele-
ment that has a lot to do in influencing the
decision of the tourist. It has built Los
Angeles and some other good towns. The
City of Bellingham, according to the United
States Weather Bureau, has enjoyed the
following nine years' averages, including
the calendar year 1906:

Annual mean temperature 50.2 deg.

Average highest temperature 84.8 deg.

Average lowest temperature *12.6 deg.

Average annual precipitation 31.5 in.

Average greatest monthly precipi-
tation 5.5 in.

Average annual snowfall 9.9 in.

Average rainy days 112.5

Average clear days 140.2

Average part cloudy days 123.7

Average cloudy days 101.1

* Above zero.

There you have a true statement of the
record of what the United States Weather
Bureau pronounces the most equable cli-
mate in the United States, and the records
of the Secretary of War prove that it is

\ BUMMEB PLAYGROUND OF AMERK a

129

productive of the lowest death rate known
to the American army.

The t -ill-waters of Northwest Washington
are free from destnu-tv -. cyclones.

Ion, typhoons, thunder and lightning.
In all that region there are no poisonous
snakes, insects of plants, and the country
is remarkably free from such insect pests
-.mats and ticks. There
are neither earth<]iiakes nor water-spouts,

re there heavy, drenching rains at any

of tlie year, while hail, sleet and

blizzards are unknown. Indeed, there is not

in all its phenomena of sky, sea or land a

solitary element of danger to life or limb.

Westward across Bellingham Bay from
the City of Bellingham lie the famous San
Juan Islands. "The Cyrlades of the V.
Umbering about half a hundred evergreen

indndmg San .luan. Orsas and Lopes,
the three largest. San Juan is unique in
American history as the scene of the last
of the British flag on American soil,
ami where the Rritsh and American forces
held joint occ upa tion from l. Q - r >9 until

when Emperor William I decided the boun-
dary controversy in favor of the American
i-otitention. Orcas Island, noted for its large
orchards, is the ideal Summer resort. Its
predominant feature is picturesque Mount
Constitution, a great bank of green rising
practically from the water's edge to a
height of 2,40fl feet. A fine trail reaches
to the summit of the mountain, and one is
rewarded for the climb by the most en-
chanting view available in all the Pnget
Sound country. From this emerald sum-
mit a wondrous panorama of varied scenery
thrills and fascinates the beholder, the scope
of view commanding more than a hundred
miles in every direction; all the shimmering
windings of I'ugct Sound toward the smith,
and beyond, the towering dome of Mount
Rainier (Taeoma); dim outlines of the
peaks of Oregon, the rugged blue Olympic
range in the west; the countless islands of
Puget Sound hovering like Iwryl clouds on
the glistening waters; the broad expanse of
the Oulf of Georgia laving the northern
shore of the island: northeastward. Belling-

130

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

ham Bay and the City of Bellingham in the
foreground, and far beyond the lordly Ca-
nadian Selkirks clearly niark'ng the hori-
zon, while eastward and within forty miles
from Bellingham rises majestic Kulshan
(Mount Baker, as the white man dubs it)
with an altitude of 10,827 feet, the noblest
figure in all the Cascade range. It is doubt-
ful if any other country excels the inspiring
splendor and magnificence of this panorama.
There is excellent fishing in these salt

All the mainland creeks and lakes are
plentifully supplied with speckled trout, and
some are stocked with black bass, while the
forests abound with deer, mountain goats,
bear, rabbits, wildcats, lynx, cougars, coons,
beaver, otter, marten, mink, ermine and
weazel. The Lummi marshes, about seven
miles northwest from Bellingham, and the
Samish flats, about eight miles south, are
the favorite Puget Sound feeding grounds
of ducks and geese. Automobile stage lines

Lake Whatcom.

waters, kelp bass, several kinds of cod,
perch and the great salt-water speckled
trout, called the steel-head salmon, are
plentiful. Camping-out facilities and nat-
ural attractions and comforts are ample
There are fine, gravelly beaches in sheltered
coves, and plenty of clams, crabs, oysters,
shrimp, g-uiducks and mussels. Both on the
islands and on the mainland there are deer,
pheasants, Chinese pheasants and quail, be-
sides all kinds of waterfowl in season.

are operated from Bellingham into the sur-
rounding country, and the Bellingham Bay
& British Columbia Railroad extends to the
foothills of the Mount Baker region, where
the Mazamas, the well-known Oregon club
of mountain-climbers, spent several mem-
orable and delightful weeks in July and
August, 1906, a trail having been built for
them from Nooksack Falls to the site of
their permanent camp at the Mount Baker
snow-line.

Lumtni Island and thr Ya<hts

Ixike Padden.

132

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

The City of Bellingham.

Bellingham, which is the industrial and
commercial metropolis of this beautiful re-
gion, is a tremendously busy, resourceful
and progressive city of 35,000 people. The
average Bellingham man is proud of the
city's wonderful growth since the consolida-
tion of the two former cities of Whatcom
and Fairhaven under the name of Belling-
ham three years ago, when the combined
population was 22,632. But few have, until
recently, attached sufficient importance to
the unique attractions of climate, scenery
and all the delights of Summertime outdoors.

Any Bellingham enthusiast will tell you
without waiting to catch his breath that
the value of the city's manufactures in-
creased from $3,293,988 in 1905 to $7,751,-
tG4 in 1906, an increase of 135 per cent in
a year; that the value of marine shipping,
according to the report for the War De-
partment, increased from $5,938,173 in 1905
to $9,990,864, an increase of sixty-eight per
cent; that National bank deposits increased
fifty-three per cent in the same time, num-
ber of telephones twenty-seven per cent,
street railway passengers carried twenty-

seven per cent, or that postoffice receipts for
1906 were $50,136.68, an increase of eigh-
teen per cent. But they dont waste time
talking about the great blessing of cool, re-
freshing Summers, mild Winters, and all
the beautiful works of Nature that make it
"The Summer Playground of America."

Of course, as nearly everyone knows.
Bellingham has some industrial sights that
many people come many miles to see in
operation, and perhaps the most picturesque
of these is its salmon fish'ng and canning
industry. There are four salmor. canneries
in the city, and one of them is the largest
institution of the kind in the world and em-
ploys over a thousand persons, having a
daily packing capacity of 10,000 cases of
forty-eight one-pound cans each. During
the fishing season, July to September, this
cannery often receives 125,000 eight-pound
salmon a day. The largest cedar shingle
mill in the world and two of the largest
cargo lumber mills of the Pacific Coast, lo-
cated on the Bellingham waterfront, also at-
tract many interested sight-seers. The big
codfish-packing plant at Anacortes. on

A SUM.MKW PLAYGR01 M> t»F AMERICA.

133

The Skagit River.

Fidalgo Island, is another industrial attrac-
tion, sufficiently interesting to warrant one
making a special trip to that thriving and
inviting little city.

However, when yon include industrial
■ irlits worthy of note in this most resource-
ful industrial district it's about time to

pass on to something less difficult of un-
questionable selection. It is hard to

discriminate between what to mention and
what not.

Anyhow, one never has cause to regret

the time spent in so rare a clime and so
rich a region.

Pasture Land Before Being Irrigated. Seven Miles From Spokane.

What Irrigation is Doing for Spokane

By Fred Lockley

where you will in the West,
be it lumber camp, round-up
or range, you will see broad-
shouldered, well-built young
fellows, their eyes looking
out keen, alert and unafraid
on the world about them. They wear no
man's collar and, drop them where you will,
you will find they always light on their feet.
In their tanned and bronzed faces you may
read courage, chivalry and optimism, and an
unfailing humor which makes the best of
every situation. They are bound by no iron-
clad regulations and conventions as are the
men of the more stable and conservative East.
They have no traditions to follow, hence
their lives do not run in a groove. They
have made fortunes and lost them, and with
splendid courage have snatched victory from
defeat and made new fortunes.

It is this spirit of optimism, of courage
and of resourcefulness that is developing the
West. The East, seeing the West as it was,
has no conception of the West as it is. It
cannot credit the transformation which has
been wrought in the past few years. Cities
have sprung up, having a permanence and
stability that would have taken a generation
to accomplish elsewhere. Districts which

were semi-arid wastes are now peopled by a
prosperous and contented people.

Spokane is a typical example of Western
growth and enterprise. Here is a city, one
of the most beautiful in the whole West, a
city of nearly one hundred thousand people,
showing on every hand abundant evidence of
growth and prosperity, of comfort and re-
finement, yet so short a time ago as the cen-
tennial year deer were grazing on the site
of the present City of Spokane.

While in Spokane last week I met James
N. Glover. Tall, erect, tanned, clear-eyed,
hair tinged with gray, face smooth-shaven,
he gives one the impression of a man whose
life has been spent in the open, one who has
been a leader, not a follower. In answer to
my question, he said:

"Yes, I have seen a city of a hundred
thousand people grow up on my claim here
by the Falls. I came here in the Fall of '73
from Salem, Oregon, where I had lived since
1849. There were two settlers here. Downing
and Scranton, whose squatter rights I pur-
chased. I put up a store that Fall and
traded with the Indians, taking pay for my
goods in furs. Then I put in a saw mill.
The Phoenix mill now occupies the site of it.
The country in those days was so sparsely

WHAT IRRIGATION IS DOING Kol< SPOKANE,

13.".

ng Up Pasture /.and for Purpose* of Irrigation.

settled that Fort Colville was the county
seat for all the country from the Columbia
to the Snake River. In 1877 General W. T.
Sherman with his troops camped here on his
way from Fort Walla Walla to Fort Van-
couver. I asked him to station some troops
here, as the Indians were very uneasy on
account of the pursuit and capture of Chief
Joseph. When his regiment had pone into
Winter quarters at Palouse City, he detailed

inic- H and I, Second Regiment, men
who had been recruited in Alabama, to spend
the Winter here. N'ext May these companies

~ent to Fort Coeur d'Alene, afterward
named Fort Shennan, on the old Mullen trail.
That Spring a few people settled near here.
My claim was I. shaped and took in the main
and lower lulls. In the Fall of 1879 the
building of the Northern Pacific was re-
sumed, railroad work was commenced at
Pasco and people began settling around the
Falls. In less than thirty years I have seen
my farm become the leading city in the whole
Inland Empire."

Spokane has grown because it is the nat-
ural dist ri butin g point for a rich tributary
territory. Not only mining but stockraising.
manufacturing and farming, have all contrib-
uted toward the upbuilding of the City by
the Falls, and now a new factor has been
introduced which is destined to play an im-
portant part in the development of Spokane.
Until within the past few years the country
surrounding Spokane was devoted to the
growing of grain or to stockraising. Within
the past two or three years thousands of
of this pasture land and wheat land
have been put under irrigation and the price
of the land has advanced from fifteen or
twenty dollars an acre to from $150 to $300
an acre. A visit to any one of the irrigated
tracts in the vicinity of Spokane will open
one's eyes to the wonderful possibilities to be
found in diversified fanning on a small irri-
gated tract of five or ten acres. The princi-
pal irrigation projects in the vicinity of Spo-
kane are the Otis orchards, located twelve
miles from Spokane and consisting of 9,000

136

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

acres of land; Edendale on the Columbia
River, forty-two .miles north of Spokane; Ar-
cadia on Loon Lake, forty miles from Spo-
kane; Green Acres on the line of the Coeur
d'Alene electric railroad, about twelve miles
from Spokane; East Green Acres, having
about 3,000 acres of land under water; Dal-
ton Gardens, two miles north of the City of
Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, and two miles south of
Hayden Lake; Opportunity, eight miles from
Spokane; Hazelwood, six miles distant from
Spokane, and Trent, a few miles from the
outskirts of the city.

There are many other irrigation projects
tributary to Spokane, but a description of
the projects already mentioned will suffice to
show what irrigation is doing for Spokane.

Otis orchards is a tract consisting of about
9,000 acres. Ten years ago this land could
have been purchased for from ten to twenty
dollars an acre; now it is worth ten times
that sum. Three years ago there were not
over three or four farm houses on the entire
tract; now there are at least a hundred fam-
ilies there, many of whom have put up beau-
tiful and artistic bungalows and have brought
their five and ten-acre tracts to a high state
of cultivation. The soil of this prairie is
black loam mixed with gravel, and with
plenty of water it is astonishing what crops
of small fruits, tomatoes, melons and vege-
tables are produced on this land. I stopped
to talk with one of the farmers who was
plowing between rows of young apple trees.
"Potatoes do so well here I am putting in a
few acres of them between my trees," he
said. "I am, or at least I was till lately, an
amateur in the farming business. I am a
conductor on the Great Northern, and I
thought I would do a little farming on the
side, but I find it is panning out so well that
now I count myself a farmer doing a little
railroading on the side. My brother, who
is an engineer on the same road, owns the
place next mine. I'll have to stop in an hour
or so and go into Spokane to start on my
run."

The next man I ran across in the field was
a German named Witmer. He, too, was
plowing among the blossoming young trees.

"Dont my trees look mighty good?" he
asked. "They are White Winter Pearmine,
Rome Beauty and Wagners. Those trees
so full of blossoms are the Wagners. They
are three years old. I have been on this

Cherry Tree,

Without Irrigation, on the Hazel-
wood Tract.

place, makes the third season already. Last
year I put potatoes in this field between my
trees and got ninety-five sacks to the acre,
and sold them from a dollar ten to a dollar
and a half a sack. See that little piece of
ground? It is an even three-quarters of an
acre. I sacked 117 sacks of potatoes from
it last season. Over there near my barn I
planted tomatoes. I put in three rows be-
tween each row of trees, that made a strip
of land eighty feet wide by 600 feet long.
2,000 plants in all. What do you think I got
to the acre? More than fifteen tons of toma-
toes to the acre. I sold them all the way
from seventy-five cents for a twenty-pound
box down to twenty-five cents a box, and the
last ones I sold for eight dollars a ton. If
I can average ten dollars a ton that makes
$150 an acre. Yes, I did mighty well last
year; seems like I had pretty good luck with
everything. I put in eight rows of Crinkly
Sweet watermelons; the rows were 280 feet
long; that makes about quarter of :in acre.
I sold thirty-four dozen of them at a dollar a
dozen and when I had sold the thirty-four
dozen you wouldn't think I had taken any:
seemed like there was as many as ever left.

WHAT IRRIGATION is DOING POR Sl'uKANE.

137

ll'iii • ■' changed Into Small Irrigated Farms.

I did prett v well wiili my cantaloupes, too,
but l>est of all I think were my peppers. I
had five rows of them three feet apart ; that
makes a strip fifteen feet wide and 150 feet
1 sold seventy-three twenty-pound
boxes at sixty-five rents a box. Fiu'in

that bring! an acre. What you think

.it; pretty g I. not s<>? My trees are

y feet apart; that makes 106 to the

When they arc six ..r eight years old

they will lioar five boxes to the tree, maybe

and sell lor From one dollar to a dollar

and a half a box. If they bring only a dollar

i a box that means $540 an acre for my apples.

ii see with ten acres of fruit a man need

starve."

■tared by Newman Lake,

130 feet higher than the tract of

[ land which it irrigates. A unique feature of

the employment of Professor

A. Van Holderbeke, ex-State Horticultural

' -!cr. for a period of four years to

■ reside at the tract and give free instruction

■ and advice relative to the planting and pare
of the orchards. This gives the novice an
opportune ..ii the

i- method of irrigation and cultivation,
rehards this year has 1.500 acres in oni-
on and there have been set out 110,000
fmit tncs. Last season the following oops
rrown on the tracts by the various farm-
I'wo hundred and forty acres of pota-
iixty acres of tomatoes, thirty-five acres
rn, fourteen acres of melons, six acres
. twelve ai ueumbers, eight

acres of cabbage, three acres of celery, be-
sides a considerable acreage set to carrots,
squash, pumpkins, beets and other vegetables.

It is impossible to travel by team or auto
in the vicinity of Spokane without being im-
ed with the splendid roads and the
beautiful scenery. I-evel prairies merge into
the limbered foothills, beautiful lakes gleam
like mirrors in the valleys, the Spokane River
winds like a shimmering: ribbon of silver
through velvety preen fields. From Spokane
to Hayden Lake in Idaho the distance is
about thirty-four miles. Hut when one makes
the trip in a large and powerful automobile
you are ready to declare it can not be over
ten or twelve miles. However, I presume if
one's automobile went wrong and you had to
walk back it might seem all of thirty-four
miles. At times our car seemed to be skim-
mini: along the hard, smooth road like a
swallow. "She 's not making over twenty-
five miles an hour; let her out a little," said
the owner to the chauffeur. The auto took
the bit in its teeth and the fenceposts
mi etch side began galloping wildly back-
ward.

The soil at Dalton Gardens and at Hayden
Lake is a rich sandy black loam without
gravel. It is beautifully situated and is in
close proximity to Coeur dAlene City. The
water is pumped from Hayden Lake to tin-
highest point on the tract and from there is
distributed by gravity all over the tract. It
is brought to the land by means of a wooden
pipe twenty-two inches in diameter and

138

THE PACIFIC .MONTHLY.

11,000 feet in length, the flow of water being
6,000 gallons per minute. We stopped to
look at a new orchard of 150 acres of apples
which has just been put in by Dr. Hilscher,
sugar beets being planted between the trees.
D. C. Corbin has 1,100 acres of sugar beets
planted on the Hayden Lake lands for use in
the Waverly sugar-beet factory.

Hayden Lake is destined to be one of the
most beautiful Summer resorts in Washing-
ton, not only on account of its natural beauty
and its splendid fishing, but because the eom-

At Hayden Lake is located the Avondale
poultry farm, one of the largest institutions
of the kind in the entire Northwest. It cov-
ers forty acres, ten acres of which are de-
voted to sheds and runways. Their fourteen
incubators have a capacity of 5,000 eggs.
They have already hatched 8,000 chickens this
Spring and will hatch that many more. In
addition to the chickens, they have more than
a thousand homer pigeons.

Everything is carried on in a large and
strictly scientific way. Wheat is bought by

Immense Crops of Melons and Strawberries Are Grown on the Irrigated Land.

pany that is in charge of the enterprise is
working with Nature to make the place more
beautiful by erecting buildings which will
harmonize with their environment. Comfort-
able cabins of rough barked logs with wide
stone chimneys nestle between the trees along
the shore of the lake. The "wigwam" carries
out the same idea of rustic simplicity, while
the hotel will be on the plan of a Swiss
chalet, low with broad, projecting roof whose
broad expanse will be relieved by moss-cov-
ered rocks suspended from the ridge-pole.

the. carload. The brooder, which has a
capacity of 6,000 chicks, is heated by
hot water pipes. About 5,000 laying hens
are kept on hand, the rest being dressed
for market.

If clerks and professional men in the
East who are anxious to come West, but are
timid about giving up a sure thing for an
uncertainty, could only know the sure re-
ward that comes to thrift, intelligence and
industry they would no longer hesitate. Fif-
teen years ago a man started up a waffle

WHAT IKKKiATloN IS DOING FOB SPOKANE.

Where Ike Life-Oiving Waters Turn Vast 8tretches of Grind Land Into 8plendid Orchards.

stand on one of the side streets of Spokane.
The waffles were good, the syrup was real
maple syrup, and the butter was of the very
best He could not supply the demand, so
he enlarged his quarters, and from that
humble beginning he has grown till he has
the largest, the most complete and one of the
finest restaurants in the Northwest, so that
now Davenport's restaurant is one of the
show places of Spokane. Here is another
illustration equally striking: Seventeen years
•go David Brown and his brother. O. M.
Brown, and their brother-in-law, J. L. Smith,
to Spokane from the East. One of the
Br.iwn bmt hers secured work driving a milk
wagon at thirty dollars a month. They bought
a small farm on credit near the city and
started in a modest way in the dairy business,
dollar they could save went into their
•"■« to buy more cows. The cows enabled
them to buy mure land, till they had gathered
a farm of 3,000 acres and their cows were
winning blue ribbons wherever they were ex-
hibited. From driver of a milk wagon at
thirty dollars a month to owning the Hazel-
herd and ranch, with its hundreds of
cattle and its scores of prize-winning cows.
Mows what can be done by consistently try-
produce only the best.
Recently the Hazelwood Company has de-

cided on an entire change of plans. Hereto-
fore they have used their 3,000-acre ranch
for pasturage purposes. Now, however, they
are going t<> set aside a tract of 480 acres,
which will be placed under irrigation, and
on which they will be able to raise sufficient
alfalfa to keep about 350 cows. All of the
rest of their land will be irrigated and sold in
five and ten-acre tracts. A considerable part
of this land had been used prior to its pur-
chase by the Hazelwood Company for grow-
ing wheat, and from twenty-five to forty
bushels of wheat were raised per acre. When
the Government relinquished its right to the
water rights of Silver Lake, the Hazelwood
Company filed a claim and secured the water
rights of this lake. Silver Lake is three and
a half miles long and half a mile wide. The
water will be piped to the highest point of
the land to a natural storage reservoir several
acres in extent, and from which it is to be
led to the land by a gravity ditch. In place
of producing pasture, the land will herenfter
be farmed intensively, and in place of one
family living upon the land, it will provide
an ample living for three or four hundred
families. It is near Spokane, and will provide
a beautiful home and a sure income for
those who are tired of being slaves to the
desk or counter, and who wish to get back to

140

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

nature. The raising of berries, of small
fruits, of honey and of fruit will support a
family in comfort, and at the same time it
will be a delightful home.

In the past it has been thought that unless
water could be had from some nearby lake
or stream, irrigation was not feasible. The
tract of land at Opportunity has sufficiently
refuted this theory. Here an electric pump
is kept going day and night, and two streams
of water — one eight inches in diameter and
the other fourteen inches in diameter —
steadily flow into the ditches. Most of the
land at Opportunity has been sold in from
five to ten-acre tracts, and during the past
two years more than a hundred families have
moved there and built homes. From the hill-
side it looks like a well-kept experiment sta-

tion or model farm. Encouraged by the suc-
cess at Opportunity, many other irrigation
projects are being planned where water will
be pumped on the land.

D. M. Drumheller, an old pony express
rider and pioneer of the early days, is put-
ting in a gas-making plant on the Columbia
River, in the Horse Heaven country, just
across the river from the town of Irrigon,
Oregon. He has secured control of a consid-
erable body of land there, and will soon sub-
divide the tract and sell it with a perpetual
water right in small tracts. The wonderful
success of irrigation along the Snake River
at Clarkston, in the Wenatchee country, and
in the Yakima Valley, is stimulating a devel-
opment along irrigation lines throughout the
whole Northwest.

One of the Finished Products of the Irrigated Lands.
Fatten Rapidly and at Low Cost.

Pigs in Alfalfa

The Mediterranean of North
America

By C. B. VandeU

I surely as the needle points
'o the North Pole, so surely
will the American people
t.i know within the
lite-time of the present gen-
eration that the Pacific
Northwest holils forth more charms to the
lover of nature, the tourist, the seeker of
health and recreation, than almost any other
part of the North American Continent.

of the factors which will lead to this
change in the mental attitude of people of
Ihhwiii who travel for pleasure, will be the
iwnitsnt pressing forward of the "See
■ lea. While I am not a prophet,
nor the son of a prophet, yet knowing the
unexampled scenic wonders of Puget Bound
'and of the Pacitie Northwest, including
Alaska. I will venture the prediction that
within the life-time of the present genera-
tion, this magnificent section of the coun-
try will be known at home and abroad, as
a land most wonderfully endowed with
beauties and climatic attractions,
while Puget Sound itself will be justly
known as the Mediterranean of the North
..American Continent.

Canoeing

MS0PM

Jt may seem the height of temerity to
venture the assertion that the mountains of
the Cascade and Olympic ranges in Wash-
ington are equal to, if they do not surpass
in eoenic grandeur and eternal charm, the
most famous mountain peaks of Continental
Kurope.

Yw any man who has scaled the heights
of the Cascades — who has looked from the
backbone of the range at the head of the
Stehekin Canon, south to the broad valley
of the Columbia, north to the Selkirk* in
British Columbia, across the mighty Fraser
— who has seen glistening under a Sum-
mer's sun from this unparalelled point of
view a score of mighty peaks — will avow
that God never put upon this earth a
grander prospect nor more ennobling sight
than this.

Appreciating the task of describing the
attractions in a scenic way of Puget Sound
and the Northwest for the benefit and in-
formation of the pleasure-seeker and the
tourist, one hesitates because of the riches
at hand which surpass in amplitude and in-
dividuality the powers of the most luminous
descriptive writers. For example, within a
radius of sixty-five miles of Seattle there
lies a most delightful group of islands in
the San Juan Archipelago, separated by
wide stretches of the Sound or joined to-
gether by narrow, swift-rushing channels
of deep, green water. These islands include
Whidby Island, Orcas and San Juan. Many
historic spots are to be found on them, in
eluding the famous post on San Juan where
Great Britain made her last stand on this
side of 54° 4V.

Comfortable passenger steamers ply over
this route carrying the visitor through an
almost endless but ever-entrancing vista of
light and shadow — long stretches of opales-
cent water fringed with dark green shadows

142

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

where the steep bluffs overhang the Sound;
of mysterious far-distant islets peering out
of the twilight and seeming to belong to
some supernal realm; of heavily timbered
mountains near the shore, flanked by
grander, loftier, 6now-clad peaks to the

the islands of the Lower Sound, when the
sun — a ball of molten fire — drops into the
placid Pacific, leaving in his wake a wide
stretch of blood-red sea.

But it must not be imagined that the
wonders of the islands of the Lower Sound.

Snoqualmie Falls; Two Hours' Ride From Seattle.

west; and of cozy farms nestling close to
the water with here and there a thatched
cottage sheltered underneath wide spread
apple trees planted fifty years ago.

No tongue hfl' ever told, no pen has ever
portrayed, no \-rush has ever painted the
exquisite beauty of a Summer sunset among

and of the channel routes that reach the
upper peninsula country, are all that the
sight-seer or tourist can find to stimulate
his imagination, and to charm him into a
beatific realization or sense of the beauties
of nature. The Upper Sound country
around by way of Vashon to the pictur-

144

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

esque state capital at Olympia, a town a
half-century old or more, invites the tourist
and pleasure-seeker, who finds a new and
delightful charm in every one of the many
windings of steamer routes to Olympia.

Further down the Sound are Victoria and
• Vancouver, B. C, which are reached by-
regular lines of splendidly furnished steam-
ers, and which are greatly patronized dur-
ing the Summer months by visitors from
all over the country. The steamer route to
Victoria carries one by way of the historic
old town of Port Townsend, the headquar-
ters for this customs district and chief port
of entry; and thence across the wide Strait
of Juan de Fuca. The trip carries one not
far from the base of the mighty Olympic
Mountains, a purple sawtooth range, bristl-
ing with spires and minarets, with dozens
of glaciers glistening like diamonds in the
rays of the Summer sun.

Alaska tourist travel every Summer is
becoming more and more popular with the
wealthy and cultured of the East, so that
a brief mention of this delightful trip is
necessary in any review of outing in the
Northwest. A number of palatial steamers
annually are devoted exclusively to this
travel for a season of about two months in
the Summer. The schedule is so arranged
as to cater to the demands of this traffic
rather than to the ordinary freight and
mail service. Southeastern Alaska is a
veritable wonderland of wide, open stretches
of placid sea and of deep and narrow
canons where the mountains come sheer
down to the water's edge. The Taku and
Muir glaciers are famous as show points in
Southeastern Alaska, while curio-hunters
have a veritable field day with the Indian
villages along the route.

Directly tributary to Seattle and more in-
timately connected with the life of this city
is a large section of country where short
trips are made. For example, there is the
whole length and breadth of Lake Washing-
ton, one of the most beautiful inland bodies
of fresh water on the American Continent.

It is more than twenty miles long and ranges
from one to three miles in width. Its shores
slope gradually from the water and are
here and there covered with farms or coun-
try villas. Beyond and to the east the Cas-
cade range rises to a height of ten to twelve
thousand feet, the peaks clad in eternal
snow, while to the southeast rises the hoary
head of the giant of the Cascades, Mount
Rainier. This is the tallest peak in the
United States proper. Fishing trips and
boating trips on the lake are profitable to
the idler and seeker for recreation, while
a little further into the foothills are to be
found dozens of ice cold streams, fed by
glaciers, which teem with three distinct va-
rieties of speckled trout. An hour's ride on
the street car from the center of Seattle will
bring one to where the streams entering the
lakes are alive with fish, while a little far-
ther back in the smaller lakes black bass are
plentiful.

From Seattle it is little more than a
day's journey to points in British Colum-
bia, whence the hunter for big game can
penetrate the wilderness of Northwestern
Canada. Here in the mighty Selkirks,
mountain sheep are found in great num-
bers, while other game, such as bear, deer
and elk, reward the hunter with splendid
trophies of the chase.

To the east over the Great Northern and
Northern Pacific are reached the hot medi-
cinal springs at Madison on the Great
Northern and at Green River on the North-
ern Pacific, while across the Cascade range
and down in the valley of the Columbia be-
gins the journey to Lake Chelan, the largest
glacier-fed lake on the continent. Lake
Chelan is sixty miles in length and its sur-
roundings, especially in the upper reaches
of the lake, are of such surpassing beauty
that there is serious talk of making this part
of the state a National park. Lake Chelan
is reached by railway and steamer up
the Columbia River from Wenatchee in
little less than twenty-four hours from
Seattle.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY— ADVERTISING SECTION.

Pears' Soap is good for boys and everyone— It
removes the dirt, but not the cuticle -Pears'
keeps the skin soft and prevents the roughness
often caused by wind and weather— constant
use proves it "Matchless for the complexion"

OF ALL SCENTED SOAPS PEARS' OTTO OF ROSE IS THE BEST.

' ylll ri[ktt Ittmrtd."

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY— ADVERTISING SECTION.

A 5 -MINUTE PROCESS

To Make SYRUP WitH

MAPLE I NE

RECIPE

SUGAR 7 pounds

WATER 4 pints

MAPLEINE - 1 ounce

This makes one gallon of Syrup with a maple flavor that experts
pronounce perfect.

No Gluecose-No Adulteration—
But Pure and Wholesome

Mapleine is sold at Grocers, or enough for two gallons of syrup

mailed to any address on receipt of 35 cents in stamps.

Our Cook Book mailed FREE with each bottle.

CRESCENT MFG. CO.

315 Jackson St.., Seattle, Wash.

Made in Southern California

JMONG the many attractive ex-
hibits at the recent exposi-
tion held in Los Angeles for
. the purpose of showing the
various lines of goods manu-
factured in Southern Cali-
fornia, the following deserve special mention,
for the crowds always seen around them fully
attested to their popularity as well as their
worth :

The Carl E. Nash Company had on exhi-
bition their marvelous round table, the only
one of its kind in the world which can be ex-
tended and still remain perfectly round. It
can be used as an ordinary center table and
in a few seconds converted into a full-sized
dining-room .table. The top is solid and the
base stationary, while the leaves are circular.
and are placed around the outer edge of the

top on slides which are drawn from under the
top. These leaves, after being placed, are
securely fastened together by a metal clasp,
which makes them firm and they will sup-
port any weight.

The Walker Portable Cottage next at-
tracted our attention, they presenting the
only canvas portable cottage having upper
and lower floors, connected with a folding
stairway. It can be readily taken apart and
put together, and fills the bill for people de-
siring a home for out-door life, for mining
camps, and for mountain and beach use, and
for health-seekers desiring a perfectly venti-
lated home.

Turning from this exhibit, we noted tli.it
of the Anita Cream and Toilet Company,
with their varied assortment of Anita Toilet
preparations. The most prominent among

MADE IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA.

perhaps, is their Anita Cream tor
sting a new and fairer skin, and their
on-setta Cream, wlncli prevents sunburn,
"ckles, etc. These goods are guaran-
under the pure food and drug act.
Next we were impressed with the display
the Gifford Olive Oil Works of San Diego,
lis company makes a specialty of uianu-
turing pure olive oil and keeping it in an
ilutely fresh condition, passing it through
last refining process the day before it is
at out. By so doing and by sending it di-
et to their customers, the consumer receives
in an absolutely fresh condition.
The Cieortce J. Birkel Company, who are
uthern California headquarters for the
or talking machines, as well as sole
its for the famous Steinway pianos, had
very attractive booth containing various
nds of talking machines and a Steinway
ino with front taken off, exposing the in-
dicate and fine mechanism. This firm advo-
ites handling only good goods and advert is-
them well.
The Norton Engine & Power Company ex-

hibit an interesting novelty in the line of
mutor-boats. The Hankscraft is a gentle-
man's pleasure launch, with its mechanism
so arranged that the outward appearance of
the boat differs in no way from a large elec-
tric launch, the high-powered motor and other
machinery being entirely concealed. It also
has all the good qualities of the latter craft,
such as quietness, safety, ease of handling,
etc., and in speed, equipment and finish re-
sembles as nearly as possible an automobile.
Here is compares favorably with the beat
of the large machines.

In addition to the completed launch as de-
scribed above, this company shows a very
complete line of marine and stationary gas,
gasoline and distillate engines. It is the
Western representative of a number of East-
ern manufacturers whose products are rec-
ognized as standard in their lines. Among
tin 'M> is i he Alamo Manufacturing Company.
of Hillsdale, Michigan, who turn out a dis-
tillate engine which combines the greatest
simplicity with the highest efficiency for
power work of all kinds.

Lea & Ferrins' Sauce

AL WORCESTERSHIRE

I Never Dine Without It.

My chef, who is always successful
with his seasonings, tells me that
Lea & Perrins' Sauce is the secret
of his success. I find it gives an
appetizing relish to an otherwise
insipid dish. I like it in Soups,
Stews and Hashes. It certainly does
improve Roast Meats, Chops and
Steaks. Just a little on Cheese is a delight-
ful finishing touch. No Rarehit is complete
without it. It is a good digestive.

SEE LEA A PERRINS' SICNATURE ON LABEL

John Duncan's Sort. Agrnlt. New York

Do not forget to mention The Pacific Monthly when dealing wlih adrertlaere. It will be appreciated.

The Los Angeles Savings Banks

There is no better index to the prosperity of a country than the deposits in its sav-
ings banks. The story told by the banks of Los Angeles is a wonderful one. It is this, in
brief: For each inhabitant of the United States there is an average deposit in American
banks of thirty-nine dollars. For each inhabitant of Los Angeles there is a deposit in
the Los Angeles savings banks of $160.

Some of the details of this prodigious business prosperity are given in the article
that follows.

N January 1, 1907, the regu-
lar savings banks in Los An-
geles had deposited with
them for safe keeping the
enormous sum of almost
$40,000,000, it being divided

amongst them as follows:

National, state, private and savings, thirty-
nine in all— was $100,020,553.28. Thus we
see that thirteen savings banks, although
representing only thirty-three per cent of
the banks in number, were doing forty per
cent of the total business so far as concerns
deposits.

Deposits.

Security Savings Bank $15,515,339.36

German-American Savings Bank 9,373,447.90

Southern California Savings Bank 7,569,673.14

American Savings Bank 1,450,126.56

Equitable Savings Bank 1,348,295.93

California Savings Bank 1,154,555.63

Dollar Savings Bank 1,050,331.39

Home Savings Bank 784,194.20

International Savings Bank 533,000.00

Fraternal Savings Bank 207,248.04

Manhattan Savings Bank 73,000.00

Pacific Savings Bank 59,668.20

Globe Savings Bank 50,196.00

Total $39,169,076.35

On the basis of a population of 250,000,
this would be an average of $160 per in-
habitant. The importance of this average
will be better appreciated by comparing it
with the fact that the "average deposit per
inhabitant of the United States is $39." So
that according to these statistics we are in
Los Angeles saving four times as much
per capita as the residents of other sections.
Comparative Figures.

Another feature of the savings in Los
Angeles is that 40 per cent of all the money
on deposit is with savings banks. That
is to say, on January 1, 1907, the total de-
posits in all the banks in Los Angeles —

One savings bank alone, the Security, had
deposits amounting to $15,515,339.36, which
was a greater amount of deposits than any
other bank in the city. The two banks com-
ing nearest to this figure were the First Na-
tional, which included the merger of two
other banks, having $15,450,486.06, an'd the
Farmers' and Merchants' National, having
$13,110,929.00 on deposit.

Ranking first in the above list is the Se-
curity Savings Bank. This bank now has
over $17,000,000.00 of assets and over 25,-
000 depositors. It is located in the H. W.
Hellman building at Fourth and Spring
Streets, but will follow the southward trend

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY— ADVERTISING SECTION.

Beauty, perfect sanitation, life-long durability and
moderate cost make ^$ta«daT<T Ware the most satis-
factory and economical sanitary equipment for the bath-
room, kitchen and laundry in your home.

Our book, "MODERN BATHROOMS," tells you how to plan, buy and arrange
your bathroom, and illustrates many beautiful and inexpensive as well as luxurious
rooms, showing the cost of each fixture in detail, together with many hints on decoration,
tiling, etc. It is the most complete and beautiful booklet ever issued on the subject,
and contains 100 pages. FREE for six cents postage and the name of your plumber
and architect (if selected).

CAUTION: Every piece of » m »r Mare bears our Ik—mf "GREEN and
GOLD" guarantee label, and has our trade-mark tt—tmC cast on the outside.
I 'nless the label and trade-mark are on the fixture it is not "M h \f Ware. Refuse
substitutes — they are all inferior and will cost you more in the end. The word
T^mimC is stamped on all our niciled brass fillings; specify them and see that you
get the genuine trimmings ivith your bath and lavatory, etc.

Address Standard Sannmslflfo.C* Dept. N, Pittsburgh, Pa., U. S A.

Pittsburgh Showroom, 9*9 Penn Avenue
Offices and Showrooms in New York: "WUmHtf Building, 15-37 West 31st Street
London. Eng.: 22 Holborn Viaduct. E C New Orleans: Cor. Baronne £*» St Joseph St»

Louisville 325-329 West Main Street Cleveland: 206-210 Huron Street

aajM iu mention Toe Pacific llonthlr wbes dealing with adis i til ls. It will be appreciated.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

of business, and this Fall will move to the
new Security building at Fifth and Spring
Streets. When the merger of the Southern
California Savings Bank takes place, as
noted below, the Security Savings Bank will
have over $24,000,000.00 assets and about
00,000 depositors. It will then be classed
with the largest savings banks in America,
and its capital and surplus will be over a
million dollars.

Another very strong savings bank in Los
Angeles is the German-American Savings
Bank, which represents a consolidation with

quirements. This will give the bank very
desirable quarters in the center of the busi-
ness section, and fitted up with every facility
for prompt and efficient transaction of all
business within the scope of a modern, well
equipped savings bank.

The accompanying view of the Union
Trust Building is a faithful picture of the
location of the future home of this savings
bank.

Like other large up-to-date financial insti-
tutions, the German- American Savings
Bank is prepared to do a banking-by-mail

OECU RITY

^ ZjtjSVt, BUILDING CALIFORNIA

LOS ANGELES,

New Home of Security, an 1 Southern California Savings Banks

the Union Bank of Savings of Los Angeles.
While it ranks second in total deposits, it is
first in amount of capital and surplus. Its
capital and surplus are $So0,000, its re-
sources $10,500,000.00, its deposits over $9,-
000,000.00, and its total depositors over
20,000.

During the present year there will be
many changes in locations of banks in Los
.Angeles. The German- American Savings
Bank will move to the Union Trust Build-
ing, where it will occupy the entire lower
floor for its banking and safe deposit re-

business and is able to satisfactorily care
for the interest of customers at any distance
tributary to Southern California. It is a
well-oflicered bank, governed by men closely
identified with the development of this sec-
tion. It has a board of directors composed
of practical men who take an active part
in the work of the bank and who are thor-
oughly familiar with banking conditions.

Third in size in this list of savings banks
in Los Angeles is the Southern California
Savings Bank. It has resources of over
$3,000,000.00 and has a greater number ol

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY— ADVERTISING SECTION.

JELL-O ICE CREAM Powder Exhibit, JAMESTOWN EXPOSITION

Located in Food Products Building, Entrtnc* to Horticultural Court.

We cordially invite you to visit our Exhibit and allow our demonstrators to serve you
with the best ice cream in the world, made and frozen in 10 minutes from

JELL-O ICE CREAM Powder

No heating, no cooking. Nothing to add but milk. One quart milk and one package
JELL-O ICECREAM Powder makes two quarts icecream when mixed together and frozen

Complies <u>M\ *U pure food U<ws.
Saves the cost of eggs. Saves the cost of sugar. Saves the cost of flavoring.
Saves the cost of everything but the ice and milk.

1 p»ck»((«, anougn for a gallon. 25c.

At your grocer's, or bv mail if he does not keep it.
Illustrated Recipe Book IV**.

Meat your friends at the JELL-O ICE CREAM Powder exhibit. Sit
down snd rest , write letters, read, converse or amuse yourself in any way
yon please. Come often and stay as long as yon like. Yon will be welcome

THE GENESEE PURE FOOD CO.. Le Roy. N. Y-

I to mention The I'acinc Monthly when dealing with advertitcra. It will be appreciated.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

depositors (35,000) than any bank in South-
ern California. It is also the oldest savings
bank in Los Angeles and was established in
1885. This bank now occupies the entire
lower floor of the Union Trust Building at
Fourth and Spring Streets. It has, how-
ever, outgrown these quarters and will be
merged and move with the Security Savings
Bank to the new Security Building at Fifth
and Spring Streets. When thus consoli-
dated the bank will be a part of a savings
institution that will have 60,000 depositors

and owning over $24,000,000.00 of re-
sources.

The lower floor and basement of the Se-
curity Building, which is to be the home of
the consolidated bank just mentioned, will
give the Security Savings Bank ideal quar-
ters. The main floor is 120 by 135 feet,
making a banking room space of 16,200
square feet, and the basement, . which is to
be the safe deposit department, has a floor
area of 120 by 70 feet, or 8,400 square
feet; in all a total of 24,600 square feet.

1 ^r*

Union Trust Building, Fourth and Spring Streets, Los

Angeles, Cal. Lower Floor to be occupied by

German American Savings Bank.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY— ADVERTISING SECTION

more than the Knox price will not buy a motor car
of greater all-round ability than is jMissessed by the
Model "ll" Knox Waterless. It is built for touring, and will do more of the
day's driving on the high gear than any other ear in its class. The lubrication
is automatic — and |*>sitive; the cooling is perfect — without the plumbing
troubles; the gearset is simple, of the selective type, with three forward speeds
and a reverse; the engine, four cylinders, of thirty road horsc|>ower, will take
you anvwhere vou want to go as fast as vou dare drive. The MODEL H"

KNOX WATERLESS

PRICE $2,500

has few equals and no superiors in its class. Any Knox representative will
prove it. Let us send you the address of the nearest representative; they are
the representative dealers in their community. Our illustrated catalogue is
yours upon request.

KNOX AUTOMOBILE COMPANY

Member Association Licensed Automobile Manufacturers

SPRINGHELD, MASS.

Do not forget to mention Tbe Pirlfle Monthly when dealing with adrertiaen. It will be appreciated.

The Lighter Side

"Written by Hugh Herdman unless otherwise designated

Easy.

They were in the country store, and the
city drummer was talking, as city drummers
sometimes do.

"As I was saying, I sold him a big order,
and as it was about supper time, I began
looking around for something to eat. The
only hotel in the town was on the blink, and
there wasn't any restaurant; so it occurred
to me to pick up a store lunch. I looked
around, but all that struck my fancy was a
bunch of bananas, hanging in the widow. I
gave him a quarter for a half-dozen, pro-
vided he would let me pull them. You see,
T used to be in the fruit business and I knew
a thing or two. I pulled and ate only those
that had been stung in the dark of the moon
by a female tarantula. There are never more
than a dozen of them in a bunch. And I tell
you they are delicious."

"Shucks!" exclaimed the proprietor.
"That 's just another one of your drummer
joshes. You can 't string me."

"Who is trying to string you? It 's noth-

ing to me, but if you dont know that you are
not yet on to your job."

"Is it really a fact?" asked one of the
loafers.

"Sure! Why it 's the easiest thing in the
world. It 's worth money to a man to know,
too."

"How much will you take to tell us?"

"Let me see. How many are there of you?
Six, including the boss. I'll do it for a quar-
ter apiece."

They eagerly accepted his offer, put up the
money and sat expectant.

1 ' Why, they are the twelve biggest bananas
in the bunch," he said as he skipped nimbly
out the door.

# * #

Proof.

Jinks — Jones, I hear, married a very sen-
sible little wife.

Binks — I dont believe it.

Jinks— Why?

Binks — Well, she married Jones, did n 't
she?

1 »

Buy direct at producers prices

Cawston's

CALIFORNIA

J PLUMES

The Cawston trade mark which is attached to
each feather article insures it to be the best of its
kind in the world.

SUPERIOR. TO ALL, OTHERS

Tree delivery to afl {>arts of the world. Satisfaction guar-
anteed or money refunded.

Favored by the ideal climate of Southern California we
have developed here the largest and finest specimens of feather
producing birds in the world. Our feathers have life, lustre,
beauty and strength not to be obtained elsewhere. Made in our
factory on the farm, and sold direct. We also do repairing. Send
us your old feather goods and have them made to look like new
by our expert workers.

Our New Catalogue Free S ow tne . ostr '^ h ri z es >

** mm •w*9 ^*w*»*«v^**w & ■ w ltg pecu i iar character-
istics, etc., interestingly told. Superb illustrations. Half-tone
pictures of Cawston tips, plumes, boas, stoles, mulls, fans, etc, and
a complete price list of all of our goods.

PAW3TON

^^ OSTRICH FARM

P.O.BOX 67, SOUTH PAS AC EN A, CALIFORNIA

One of Cawston's magnificent Os-
triches, from which are taken the
finest feathers in the world. Eight
feet tall, and capable of reaching ten
feet when a tempting orange is placed
in view.

When in California visit the Farm.
Semi-tropical Parks. Ostrithes of all sizes c

)

Do not forget to mention The Pacific Monthly when dealing with advertisers. It will be appreciated.

THE LIGHTER SIDE.

Taft.

I "When I wu in Washington recently,"
id a w»U-known Portland man, ' ' 1 was
morel with an invitation to a dinner at
hieb a number of Senators, members of the
ibinet and other prominent public men
ere present. Among them was Secretary of
«'ar Taft, who naturally came in for a great
deal of attention. As is generally known,
Taft is a good joker, that is, he can give
ami take; and during the course of the even-
ing he came in for a great deal of good-
natured 'joshing.'

"In the crowd was one person who is on
very good terms with him, both personally
and politically, and who is also an irrepres-
sible joker. Just as the party was sitting
down at the table, this man, who was along-
side Taft, slipped an opera hat on the chair
so that the corpulent Secretary would sit on
it. The signal was given, and they all sat
down. With surprising celerity, however,
Taft sprang up and held up to view the flat-
tened hat.

" Miontlemen,' shouted the perpetrator of
the joke, 'I call your attention to this inci-
dent. Taft has been sitting on another lid.
He has the habit.'

" 'Gentlemen,' replied the Secretary when
the roar of laughter subsided, 'I call your
attention to a still more important part of
t!ii« incident. See,' he said, snapping the
flattened hat up to its height, 'the lid is not
broken; I'm losing weight.' "
• • •

How It Might Have Been.

Jack— Great idea that of sending a lot of
girl* dressed like squaws to Jamestown from
Oregon!

Hank — Sure! A great mind that originated
that idea. Do you know, if that plan had
been carried out, I was going to start a sub-
scription to collect a lot of Nez Perce, Uma-
tilla. Siletz, Klamath and Rogue River
squaws, real, dirty, wrinkled, pigeon-toed,
v squaws, you know, and send them back
to Jamestown, also. Then I would have hired
two "spielers," one to go along with the
white girls and say, "Ladies and gentlemen,
behold the beautiful Oregon Indian. Gare
on their complexions. If the climate of
n does that mueh for an Indian, what
will it do for a white personf " The other
"spieler" I would send with the real squaws
to say in answer to the other fellow, "8e« for
yourselves what it does. These are the white
people."

Jnck— Yes, that would do. 8ay, it is too
bad that old "Mis' Michelle, the last of the
< latsnps," is .lead, isn't itt

Hank--WhyT

J»ck_ What a jim-dandy of a ehaperone
»he would have made for those white squaws!

HIGHEST

IN
AMERICA.

The manufacture ol film
(o the Kodak standard re-
quires perfect basic mater-
ials.

To insure such materials
we make them ourselves,
even to the acids. The
manufacture of these acids
made necessary the highest
stack In America -366 feet
from foundation to top.

This stack is simply typ-
ical of the perfection in every
department of our film
plant. Special machinery,
special buildings, access to
the methods and formulae
of the best plate makers in
the world— all are at the
command of our film
makers. Back of all this
is more than 20 years' ol
lilm experience. The result
is Kodak N. C. Film, the
only film rated by experts
as equaling the speed of the
lastest plates.

Tht film sou use is mart
important than tht camera
you ust.

Look for "Kodak" on
the spool.

EASTMAN KODAK CO.
Rochester. N. Y.
Tht Kodak Cits.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

The Eye to Specify

When you waiit that satisfied, comfortable
feeling that your clothes are properly
fastened, without gap, pucker or wrinkle,
insist on having

dfft'c patent rvrc

rTlEil a INVISIBLE LI Ed

Ever present when needed. Will not rnst. Better
than common eyes or Bilk loops. It's all In the
Triangle. Sold at all stores or by mail, all sizes,
black or white — 2doz. Eyes 6c.
with Spring Hooks inc. Sold
only m envelopes.

PEET BROS.,

Dept. R

Philadelphia.

<v a /

DEAFNESS

The Morley 'Phone"

A miniature Tele-
phone for the Ear,
invisible, easily ad-
justed, and entirely
comfortable. Makes low sounds
and whispers plainly heard. Over fifty
thousand sold, giving instant relief
from deafness and head noises. There are but few
cases of deafness that cannot be benefited.
Write for booklet and testimonials
THE MORLEY COMPANY, Dept. 100
31 South 16th Street, Philadelphia

RECAMIER CREAM

For the Complexion

Will cure a bad
skin and pre-
serve a good

~R£AM

Used by cele-
brated beauties
fornearacentury

For Sale Everywhere.

Two sizes—
50c and $1 -OO

Recamier Manf'g. Co., No. 127 W. 31st St., N. Y. City

Send for free sample and interesting illustrated booklet

•NQ.1 I I I I

®,

A Pin with a Handle J

Supersedes Tacks mj^J

Moore Push=Pins

GLASS heads, STEEL points

For fastening up CALENDARS, small pictures,
posters, draperies, match-scratchers, and num-
berless "little things," without disfiguring
wood or plaster walls.

At Stationery, Honse-fnrnishinjf, Notion and
Photo-sui'ply Stores, or mailed prepaid for 10c per
Packet of % doz., or 20c per box of one
doz. No. 1 or No. 2 like cuts.

Moore Push-Pin Co., 169 1 llth St., Phila., Pa.

■F¥

Cured of Good Intentions.

' ' Catch me giving my seat in a street car
to a woman again," growled the short, fat
bachelor to a group of his fellow clubmen.

"What's the matter now?" asked the taH,
thin one. ' ' Some old maid been making
hints about men occupying seats while women
stand?"

"Naw. Nobody ever had a chance to say
that about me. I was always very particular
about getting up and offering my seat to
women."

"The pretty ones?"

"Yes, and the plain ones, the old, the
young, and the middle-aged. But I've quit.
They may stand ten deep all around me
after this, and I'll never budge. They may
make hints about hogs, they may step on my
corns, they may jostle my newspaper, but
I '11 be stone deaf and purblind to their com-
ments. I'm done with the whole bloomin'
sex."

"Poor sex."

"Yes, sir; done with the whole caboodle.
Done, I tell you, done."

"It is awfully tough on a fellow, you know,
a bachelor especially, when a woman asks
him to hold her baby for her, and in a street
car above all places," said another unsym-
pathetic one.

"Hold her baby!" exclaimed the bachelor
in scorn. "Hold your grandmother's knit-
ting needle! It wasn't anything like that.
I was sitting down reading my paper."

"A man always is when he doesn't want
to see a woman standing."

' ' I was reading my paper and did not no-
tice that all the seats were occupied and that
a woman was standing near where I sat. As
soon as I saw her, I rose and politely offered
her my seat. She looked at me an instant,
and then said, 'No, thank you. This is my
corner also.' The impudent, sarcastic

huzzy!"

• .# #

Casus Belli.

B inks— Well, how are you and that new
girl getting along now?

Jinks — Not getting along.

Binks — How's that? She hasn't thrown
you down, has she?

Jinks — I dont know what you call it, but
she returned my ring this morning. I rather
expected it, however.

Binks— Why?

Jinks — Oh, she 's a telephone girl. Dont,
dont hit me! I was only joking.

* * *

Not Surprised.

Captain (to mate) — There 's a storm com-
ing up.

Passenger (on the rail) — Wouldn't be sur-
prised. Lots of things have come up that I
dont remember having eaten.

T1IK PACIFIC MONTHLY ADVERTISING SKcTION.

The Biggest Kind of a Change that
ever Happened to Any Magazine
has Happened This Month to

THE

SCRAP

BGOK

THE SCRAP BOOK for July is issued in two sections — two com-
plete magazines, each with its own cover and its own table of contents.

One of these sections is an ALL-ILLUSTRATED magazine; the other is an Ahlr
FICTION magazine. Each is a mammoth magazine in itself. The one presents an
overwhelming array of human interest articles and illustrations; the other an enormous
tannage of fiction— 160 pages of absorbing stories.

Ten years ago I created a new type of magazine — the ALL-FICTION magazine.
Now I am creating another distinct type — the ALL-ILLUSTRATED magazine. This is
the age of specialization. The conventional magazine, with its muttering of illustrations
and its smattering of fiction and its smattering of special articles, doesn't contain enough
of anyone thing to make it satisfying The AI.I.-FICTION magazine and the ALL-
II.I.rSTRATI-.D magazine, joined together as a unit, strengthen each other, and make
something really big and forceful and convincing.

The Only Way to Know a Thing is to Try It

The two-section magazine idea is brand-new to the world. It is not quite new with
tne, however, as I have given it, at odd times, four or five years of thought It first
came into my mind in response to a desire to couple, in some way, the strength of the
.ill-ti tion magazine with the illustrated features of the conventional magazine. It has
been a difficult problem to work out. Now that the idea is perfected, I wish to see what
there is in it. It looks to me to be very good, but the only way to know a thing is to try it.

Two Magazines for a Quarter — Easy Money

The price of this two-part magazine is twenty-five cents, which is
equal to twelve and one-half cents a magazine. Most magazines
which were selling at ten cents have been advanced to fifteen cents.
THE SCRAP BOOK In two parts means two magazines for twenty-
five cents against thirty cents for two fifteen cent magazines.

Now Ready on all News-stands
FRANK A. MUNSEY. New York

Do not forget to mention The Pacific Monthly when dVallnc with adiertleera. It will be appreciated.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

Buckskin Shoes

Styles

for

Men,

Women

and

Children

For Outing

or General

Wear

This Is the Men's
Shoe, in Sixes 4
to 12, -widths A A
to E- Price $4

Ideal shoes for outing and general
summer -wear. Light and cool, very-
durable — made on anatomical lasts
which ensure freedom and comfort
to the feet. Made in both pearl and
tan buchsRin — high cut, extra high
cut and oxford styles — and button and
lace styles for children.

Write for Catalogue C for BucHsHins and other
outinB boots and shoe*. For Catalogue if
you want our general footwear Catalogue.

"WetHerby-Rayser Shoe Co.

215-217 South Broadway

Los Angeles, California

THERE ARE NONE!

Just as good

When the dealer tells
you his is just as good,
he admits the superiority
oftheKREMENTZ. It is
the standard of the world.

KREMENTZ

EHf BUTTON

contains more gold and will
outwear any button made.
E-Oery button injured.
It stands the test of acid and
time as no other button
. Quality stamped on
back. Be just to your-
self, take only the
Krementz. All dealers.

Booklet tells all aSout
them FREE.

KREMENTZ & CO.
97 Chestnut St.
Newark. N. J.

Ever Hear Him?

"Say, I aint no kicker, but when things
get to going the way they has been lately,
then I've got to say something. Why, dad
burn it, just look at the railroads! See how
they 've been puttin' the whole country on
the bum, robbin' the poor people, and makin'
the rich richer. Look at the way they 've
been tryin' to save money, too, hirin' cheap
labor and wreckin' their trains and losin'
hundreds of lives by doin' it. No, sir, it aint
right. They ought to be stopped."

"But they are being taken to task. See
what the President did to Harriman."

"Yes, and see what he tried to do to some
of the best men in the country, the common
laborer. Called them 'undesirable citizens,'
classed them with Harriman! Humph! By
gosh, that aint right. Them rich law-breakers
ought to be brung to time, they ought, but
when the poor man gets in trouble, he ought
to be gave a fair show. It 's all right to
jump onto Harriman and that bunch of rob-
bers, but it aint all right to land on the
laborin' man with both feet that a- way, so
it aint. No, I aint no kicker, but I've got a

kick eomin'."

e # *

The Contrary.

She is an exceptionally bright child, but
her manner of saying witty things relieves
her of the serious charge of precocity. One
day she had an appointment to meet her
mother at a downtown restaurant for a late
lunch. When they arrived there, whom should
they encounter but a certain person who
always rubbed the little girl the wrong way
and who was naturally very unpopular with
her. However, like the little lady that she
is, she put on a smile and made the best of
an awkward situation.

That evening she related the chief incident
of the day to her father, and did not fail to
mention the unfortunate part of it.

"How did you happen to meet her there?"
he asked. "By appointmentt"

"No," she replied, as quick as a flash,

"by disappointment."

•i - ft . *

The Mean Thing.
Mr. Grouchly — I see in the paper that ra-
dium is probably the most expensive sub-
stance in the world.

Mrs. Grouchly — Indeed! What does it costt
Mr. Grouchly — It says here $10,000 an
ounce. But I dont believe that.
Mrs. Grouchly — Why?

Mr. Grouchly — Well, women haven't be-
gun to wear it on their hats yet.
What?
* ft

Of your wisdom give me just a dash.
If m-u-s-t-a-c-h-e clearly spells mustache,
Then put me wise for heaven's sake
And tell me what does m-u-s-t a-c-h-e maket

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY— ADVERTISING SECTION.

Rocaford. 111.
It sire*) me pieajnre to endorse yoar
" Hoc" Tonic as the beat m«lt run..! I
ha»e uaed la my loon— a ymn prac-
tice. I hare often preerrlbed It for my
patients, bat never was *o fully con-
vinced of lt» merit* as when 1 tried it
myscirfordyspoptJcaiMlsu>fnach trou-
ble*, from which I suffer, fvpeetelljr
during: the hot weather.

W. K. Kuuu» M. D.

Loss of appetite is nature's first warning of indigestion. YY
the forerunner of dyspepsia. This disease, like nervous- \ »
ness. is often due to irregular living, improper food and I
inattention to diet. The digestive organs are inert, the
weakened membranes of the overtaxed stomach are unable
to perform their functions, and the food you force yoursell
to eat distresses instead of nourishes. Nothing will do
more to stimulate the appetite and aid digestion than

raixst Extract

•fte-JesTTonlc

Combining the rich food elements of pure barley malt
with the tonic properties ol choicest hops, the nourishment
offered in this predigested form Is welcomed by the
weakest stomach, readily assimilated by the blood and its
food tor the nerves and muscles is quickly absorbed by the
tissues. At the same time, the digestion ol other foods is
aided by promoting the flow ol digestive juices, while the
tonic properties ol the hops create an appetite and tone up
the system, thus assuring a speedy return ol health.

Paftsi Extract

ftic "Best Tonic

creates an appetite, aids in the digestion of other foods,
builds up the nerves and muscles of the weakened stomach
and conquers dyspepsia. It brings strength to the weak
and overworked, induces relreshing sleep and revives
the tired brain.

F»r Sat* ef *// Ltajinf Drugftti
In tut t/pea th« Orteinaf

Guarsateed under the Nstioaa) Pure Food Lew

U S S.n.1 No. 1931

FREE PICTURE AND BOOK

Send «» Tour name oa ■ foetal tor our interesting Booklet end
Adveeture a beautiful picture of baby life. Both FREE.

B.bv
Addr

Firrt

PABtVT EXTRACT DEPT

Milwaukee. Wle.

Don t forjet to mention The Pacific Monthly when dealing with advertisers. It will be appreciated.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY— ADVERTISING SECTION.

Hammerless Repeating Rifle

_^ .22 Calibre

ERE is one of the lightest repeating rifles made.

It shoots short, long and long rifle cartridges, and

ejects the shell at the side, away from the lace. It

has a safety like a shot gun — the trigger is always under

control. For boys or for men there is no safer gun.

The top is tightly closed and smooth — no chatce for dirt to
get in, no hammer to catch in clothes. You can carry maga-
zines loaded with all three kinds of cartridges in your pocket and
change instantly. Each magazine shoots seven shots, and stops and
indicates automatically when empty. The parts are remarkably
simple and positive in action.

Rifles are the only ones made with all these highly desirable features. You
need only ask the dealer to show you a Savage and compare it with others to
be convinced of its acknowledged superiority.

It has the popular pistol grip and stock of American walnut, not stained
maple. Dealers will frankly tell you that there is no better all around shooting
rifle. Weighs only 5)4 pounds, has 24-inch octagon BROWNED, NOT blued barrel,
and rifle butt plate.

Price with two magazines, $12 00. Extra magazines, 25c.

An unusually interesting catalogue for your name and address on a postal.

SAVAGE ARMS COMPANY,

257 Savage Avenue, Utlca, N. Y.

"She can see him, but he can't see her."

"How to Cool a Hot Porch"

^^^ is the title of our free booklet, which we know

P Twill interest you if you have a veranda. It

mJ tells how to make your porch the most inviting

t y\ spot about the house this summer by the use of

TRASS mSIEGlQF MAKK

Porch Shades

These shades shut out the hot sun, but
-^are constructed to admit every passing breeze
that blows. Made of Linden Wood Fibre and
Seine Twine, durable and weatherproof,
stained in soft, harmonious colors. Easily adjusted to any porch in a few minutes, and may
be used season after season. You can equip your porch at the moderate cost of from $2 to $10.
■\r i jfj 1 are built on the "made-to-wear" principle. The supporting

VU&OY riClTnjnOCKS cords are fastened direct to a Rock Elm spreader, as is also the
body. This gives double the life to the Vudor Hammock, as it is especially strong where other
hammocks are especially weak. Vudor Hammocks sell at $3.00 and $4.00 and are guaranteed
to wear twice as long as any other hammock on the market.

tr j /-»i • ww w give the luxurious ease of a Morris chair, with the gentle, swaying motion

VUOor C/iair namtnOCRS of a hammock. They conform to every movement of the body, andean bo
adjusted to any angle. Simple in construction and may be instantly hung up on the wall when not in use. _ For
complete relaxation and restfulness, the Vudor Chair Hammock cannot be excelled in any piece of porch furniture,
If your dealer can't supply you, we'll send you one, express prepaid, for S3.50.

CAUTION— Inferior products— bamboo shades which let in the sun and do not retain their shape or color and

cheaply constructed hammocks are sometimes sold by unscrupulous dealers as Vudor goods. Look for the

Vudor trademark on an aluminum plate on every genuine Vudor Shade or Chair Hammock and on the printed

label sewed to every Vudor Hammock. It means quality in porch equipment, and it's there for your protection.

Prepare now for the hot summer — write for our free booklet,

"How to Cool a Hot Porch," and the name of nearest Vudor dealer.

^HOUGH SHADE CORPORATIO N, 84 McKey Boulevard, Jane.ville, Wisconsiny

Don't foreet to - mention The Pacific Monthly when denllng witL advertisers. It will be appreciated.

TUE LIOHTEB Ml.h.

You Never Can Tell.

I'll.- professional humorist sat nervous and

ax] tap! "" the edge of his chair. He

turned a»d brushed his hat time and again,

but all the time he kept his eyes on the face

of the man seated near him. This individual

had a long, cadaverous face, high forehead, a

hard, unyielding mouth, and wore glasses.

I stuek a blue pencd,

and behind the other u red one. He was

reading some manuscript, but from the tight-

g .if the muscles of his mouth, he was

getting much pleasure from the process.

Finally he threw the manuscript on the
desk in front of his visitor, and looked at
him vindictively; but not a word did he
utter.

The professional humorist gathered up his
papert and, with disappointment mingled
with hunger on his face, turned to go. At
the door ha paused and, looking at the other,
said, more in sadness than in anger:

••WYI1, if I were the editor of a funny
paper and couldn't take a joke, I would

. M."

"Here," yelled the editor, joyfully.
"come back. I'll give you ten dollars for

that our."

• • •

Satisfied.
" Y.-. - ' remarked the Cheerful Idiot. "I've
had my share of hard luck, as every one else
in the world has. I've had to make my own
way in the world. I've done everything from
dinning ditches to washing dishes. I've been
on the verge of making my fortune time and
again, but I never got over the verij.-. I

ri a widower three times and my present
wife has poor health. I've be«n burned out
twice when I had no insurance. I've been
hit by an automobile, run away with by a
horse, ami crowded off the platform of a
streetcar. I've had ptomaine poisoning,
mumps, measles, scarlet fever, appendicitis,
typhoid fever, pinkeye, whooping cough and
an Ingrowing toe nail.

" \-< I said, I think I've had my share of
what is commonly rilled hard luck, but I
dont think I ever had any real trouble,
hair continues to cover the same area that it
originally covered on my head, my teeth arc
goi'd and sound, and the only trouble I have
with my stomach is in keeping it full. I
guess I have no kick coming, chf"

• • •

Little Pitchers.
Pater — My boy, you must not do these
thinirs. They are wrong. When I was a boy
I always did as I was told.

FUin* Was Ma like that, toot

inly she was.
Filius — How old were you when you quit
doing it f

C 'he

HAIR TEST

A famous mrgfcal-inatniment maker
of Brooklyn, New ^ ork, has
produced a new Ready Razor —
the RAZAC — a safety razor that is safe.
A simple silver-plated holder all in one
piece. A blade adjustment that will suit
any face — blades of Swedish razor-steel,
rigid and firm as a surgeon's knife and
brought to a temper and edge quite impos-
sible with flexible blades. Repeated hair
tests are made in perfecting each RAZAC
blade. Apply a hair to one yourself and
note the sharp clean way it is severed.

Anyone can use this little instrument.
It will clean the face of every vestige of
hair and stubble — simply, quickly, pleas-
antly, and leave* it as smooth as the palm
of your hand. A clean, cool shave, DO
matter how tough or wiry the beard. N 1 1
stropping, no honing. No trouble at all.

RAZAC

THE NI.W READY RAZOB
Nothing to it but Shave

You can't get away from the plain farts
about the RAZAC "o matter how you are now
shaving — whether at the barber's, at home with
the regular razor, or with one of the old-model
safeties.

The price of the RAZAC is $3.50. Try
it for thirty days and if at the end of that time
for any reason you arc willing to part with it we
will refund your money. Cjood drugstores, cut-
lery, and hardware dealers want K A/A( S faster
than wc can make them.

Send for the new little RAZAC Book. It
explains and illustrates even-thing you'd like to
know about shaving. You needn't enclose any
stamps. Just say you want the book.

HAH.OODS SALES CO.

Suite 14<>, 305 Broadway, New York

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

Her Paragon.

She was bragging about her maid. "And,
you know, she is so careful about all the lit-
tle nice things. She never makes a mistake
when visitors come. She knows just what
to do, whether I am at home or not. She is
so polite and sweet, and so thoughtful, too. '
Keally, she is a paragon. I dont think 1 ever
saw her equal."

A few days later, the lady to whom these
remarks were addressed had occasion to pay
a party call at the house where this perfect
maid was employed. The maid opened tho
door and informed the caller that the lady
of the house and her sister who was visiting
her were out; and, as the caller expected,
held out a small silver platter to receive her
cards. Naturally she placed two cards upon
it, and was turning to go, when this thought-
ful maid addressed her politely:

"Oh, haven't you made a mistake? You
have left two cards. Maybe they were stuck
together and you didn't notice."

The caller broke the news to her as gently

as she could.

# * #

For Instance.

"The audience never knows," remarked
the renowned prima donna, "what a singer
who becomes famous has to put up with."

' ' A tenor who persists in eating garlic, for
instance," remarked the irreverent reporter.

In June.

"James," said his mother in that tone
which James knew well and liked not, "you
have been swimming again."

James started to reply, but was cut short.

"Now, it is of no use for you to say that
you haven't, because I know you have. Your
hair is wet, your ears are full of sand, and
your shirt is on wrong side out."

"Yes, but—"

"I dont want any 'buts' about it. Come
along."

James was hard put and was doing a deal
of hard thinking. "What for?" he asked,
to gain time for further thought,

"You know very well what for. Come
along."

"Say, Ma," he said, persuasively, "dont
you remember readin' in the paper about the
Judge sendin' that man to jail because
everything looked like he had stole some
money, and they found out afterward that it
wasn't him but another feller that took it?"

"Come along."

"Oh, gee whizz! You can 't never make a
woman see nothin'."

• * #

He Saw.

She — George, I'm easy to get along with if
I am treated well.

He — What do you want? Ice cream soda
or a box of candv?

FRANCIS G. LUKE
Gen'l Manager

$501335

some money

for

you

Syracuse, Utah, March 23, 1907.
francis G. Luke, General Manager,

Merchants Protective Association, Salt Lake City, Utah.
Dear Sir : — I take pleasure in acknowledging receipt of
#5> OI 3-35 collected by you from the railroad company for the
death of my husband. The largest amount the company
would offer me before you took charge of this case was $2000.
I desire to express my sincere thanks for your efforts in this
matter and will gladly recommend your institution to all
others in need of such service. Mrs. Mary Ann Frew.

We attend to the adjustment of all kinds of
actions and accounts everywhere. We can collect
if you turn in your claims. Write, or see us.

In very important matters our special representative will call on you.

Merchant's Protective Association

SCIENTIFIC COLLECTORS OF HONEST DEBTS
Commercial National Bank Building, Salt Lake City, Utah, U. S. A.

FRANCIS Or. LUKE, General Manager
"8ome People Don't Like Us."

Do not forget to mention The Pacific Monthly when dealing with advertisers. It will be appreciate.!.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY— ADVERTISING SECTION.

When You Buy

SOCKS

You pay an established, advertised price for them, no matter where or of whom
they are purchased.

All <fl~fc-g - dealers must therefore make a uniform profit and the buying public gets a
square deal and honest goods.

Wouldn't you rather know the price of an article is regular — everywhere — than to be
fooled into paying an extra profit now and then, a little more than the store around the
cornet charges ?

There is no denying the superiority of £' **"$ ' Socks. They have

been Standard for wear and fastness of color for nearly thirty years.

Even the dealer who is prejudiced against making a small

profit, will not and dare not dispute our

claims for honest made, honest

priced «cu*~g - Socks.

Each pair branded, sold
in the United
States every-
where.

STYLES

1 9*9 — Famous SnowbUck. will

not crock « fade.
3S8 — Rich Navy Blue.
SP 1 - Pure White lns.de. Black and While Clerical

Mature Outside.
5P14 — Black and Cardinal Mixture Outside. Cardinal Inside.
19F20— Black Ground with Neat Embroidered Figure* in Cardinal Silks.
D9 — Navy Blue with Fine Bleached White Ha» Line Stripes.

Made in sizes

9 to //',

inclusive

Q \A L Pi I If »ot procurable from yours, let us send you 6 assorted pairs on trial for $1.50 ;

JO IQ Py UealerS j^,^, c h» rgel paid lo any part of U. S. upon receipt of price, or 25c per
single pair. Made from Combed Selected Cotton.

When you order direct, state site

OUR FREE
coM us ■ whole lot of
lo hftv* one. It it

P -/ at. . 1 n .1 m . mJ

ar«i tn^rwrnals''*! I our n

CATALOGUE
money and we want >ou
■cry attracrva and useful,
replete with style*. ptiott,
ame no • postal will bnog it.

Shaw Stocking Co.

27 Smith St., Lowell, Mass.

Do not forget to mention Tbe Pacific Monti, lj when dealing with adrertlaen. It will be appreciated.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

fiEHtAN£EttlNESE
JAQt JEWELRY

Buy Jade at the gateway of Chinese
imports and save money. You take no
risk as we guarantee satisfaction or re-
fund your money promptly. Finest deep
Green Jade with Pure Gold
(24 Karat fine) Mountings.
Made by Chinese workmen
under our personal super-
vision.

Extremely Fashionable
Intrinsically Valuable

Rings, Brooches, Pendants,
Bracelets, Scarf Pins, etc. Every
design artistic and seldom two
patterns alike. We ship selection
packages, express prepaid, for ap-
proval. Learn to buy the best
Chinese Jade — Beautiful Souvenir
Leaflet "Jade" and SO page Jewel-
ry Catalog No. 5 free on request.

Brock ®> Feagans

Importing Jewelen

Broadway and Fourth St..
Los Angeles, California

Producing

SOUTHERN
CALIFORNIA

Where Ml the
Conditions
Are Ideal

Write for illustrated literature of the silk indus-
try. Interesting, instructive, and full of matter of
interest to every American. Sent free on request.
MAIL ORDER. DEPARTMENT

36 inch Black Taffeta, pure dye silk $2.00 yard
Free delivery anywhere. Satisfaction guaranteed
or money refunded. Samples of dress silks sent
on request.

Curtis Silk Farms

Dept. A

Los Angeles, California

All the Thanks They Get.

Binks — Say, Chicago University has a lot
of hard luck, dont it?

Jinks — I dont know. Why?

Binks — Well, just to show you. Only re-
cently its president, the man who built it up,
died. Now, just when it is recovering from
that blow, along comes old John D. and forces
two million dollars on the trustees. It 's an
awful load to have to carry, the friendship of
John D.

Jinks — Guess you are right. There is just
one thing laeking now to complete its load
of tough luck.

Binks — What 's that?

Jinks — A slight token of Andy's desire to

squeeze through the eye of that needle.

* • j #

From Choice.

Ex-Senator (making a speech) — Yes, my
friends and fellow-citizens, T am proud and
happy to say that once more I am a pri-
vate citizen. No longer do the responsibili-
ties of the government and control of this
great nation rest upon my shoulders. For
years, though, I have been honored in serving
your interests in the national capital, I have
felt the burden growing more and more se-
vere. I began to realize that it was making
me an old man before my time. But now that
I have decided to retire from public life, I
feel like a boy again. And the best of it all
is that I do it from choice, from free choice.

Unappreciative Constituent — Who gave you

the hunch?

» * *

The Way of the Old World.

"It is all right," remarked the Impecuni-
ous Title-Wearer, "it 's all right about that
saying that where your heart is there will
your treasure be also. Yes, it 's all right
about that. No one can find fault with that
so long as it applies only to things of the
world beyond. But on this mundane sphere
somehow things are different.

"I've noticed," he continued after a long
pause, during which he seemed to reflect
deeply, "I've noticed that, with men of the
old and titled families of the old country,
where the treasure is there somehow we man-
age to make our hearts be — or seem to be,"

he added as an afterthought.

* * *

Not Regular.
Snow — Tippler is a pretty regular drinker,
is n't he?

Shaw — Quite the contrary. He mixes 'em

all the time.

* * *

Says Uncle Kastus.
Dey say dat er rollin' stone dont gadder
no moss, but I has 'bserbed dat er movin'
fam'ly gadders er heap ob truck dat aint no
mo' count dan moss.

THK LIGHTER SIDE.

Bald Bobby.

Bobby was only six, but he bad a way of
thinking for himself. One aubjeet on which
he aeemed to have reached a decided con-
clusion was that of lying. He lied with or
without provocation and with the greatest
facility. The punishment which this practice
brought upon him seemed to have absolutely
no effect.

One day after he had told his mother an
unusually barefaced story, she took him upon
her lap and talked to him about it.

"Bobby," she said, seriously, " tlont you
know where little boys who lie go when they
diet"

"No," replied Bobby mendaciously, for
he had been repeatedly warned about his fu-
ture.

' ' w 'hy. yes you do, dear. They go to hell. ' '

"And where do the people that dont lie
got"

"They go to heaven."

Bobby thought a moment, then remarked,

"Gee, bat. wont us kids have a picnic I"

• • •

That *s Why.
Son — Pa, why do cats have nine livest
Father — In order that they may outlive
the old mai'ls.

Willing to Please.

She met him at the head of the stuir*. He
was ascending on all fours, and of eonrti iU
not sen her until he reached the top. By the
time that he regained his feet and stood up-
right, a process which to him was long and
laborious, be had nerved himself for the
ordeal.

"Yoo. beast!" she hissed, scornfully.
"Look me in the face."

"M'dear, you are — hie — mos' 'mark'ble
worn 'n. You 've got more beau-beau 'f ul
fashes zhan any wom'n I— hie — -ever shaw,
an' I — hie — take great pleazher in lookin'

in — hie — all of them at shame time."

• » •

An Accident.

Little Susan's auntie said to her one day:
"Little Susan, dear, will you run upstairs
and get my book for met You are so sweet."

"Oh, auntie," replied Susan in a tone of
disappointment, "you are just like everybody

else; you have an ax to dent."

• • •

Did You Ever Notice

That the fattest, squattiest men always
wear the fattest, squattiest hatst

That the tallest, thinnest women always
wear the princess gownt

Don't foreet to mention The Pacific Monthly wbra dealing with adTertlaera. it will be appreciated.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY— ADVERTISING SECTION.

TRADE MARK

■:::

Summer
Underwear

LE.TS YOUR BODY BREATHE

through its air holes. You will never know true coolness
and cleanliness until you put on air-free, self-drying, odor-
banishing, i/otoiMUr Ask your dealer and look for the
label '(Jhffikiut' If he does not sell it, write for free sam-
ple of the fabric and booklet, "Inside Information."

CHALMERS KNITTING COMPANY, 16 Washington Street, Amsterdam, N. Y.

Are You Going to Build?

Complete plans specifi-
cations and details of
this 7 room bungalow
only SIS. 00, cost to
build about S1750 com-
plete ready to occupy.
Send 50 cents in silver
for my 1907 book con-
taining 75 of the best
house, cottage and bun-
galow plans of houses
costing from $400 to
49.000.

V. W. VOORHEES, Architect

22-25 Eitel Building, SEATTLE, WASH.

**■>/ n* p/.*

Opportunities
For Settlers

Is the title of a booklet that has just
been published by the Portland Railway,
Light & Power Company.

There are golden opportunities for
farmers, dairymen and fruitgrowers
within easy reach of Portland, on the
rich farming and fruit lands along the
Oregon Water Power lines of the Port-
land Railway, Light & Power Company.

A market for every variety of farm
and garden product is readily found in
Portland, and low rates over the O. W. P,
lines, coupled with quick transportation,
enable the farmer to realize large prof-
its.

Reliable information concerning tim-
ber lands, farn^s, stock ranches, fruit
lands and all kinds of suburban prop-
erty situated adjacent to the O. W. P.
lines will be gladly supplied.

For copies of booklet write to
W. P. KEADY. Land Agent

Portland Railway Light & Power
Company

First and Alder Streets, Portland, Oregon

The Harper System

of body building
makes women

Graceful

and

Healthy

makes men

Comely

and

Strong

It reduces obes-
ity, cures indi-
gestion, con-
quers nervous-
ness, produces

HEALTH

No Drugs, Apparatus or Medicine

My home treatment is as thorough as that given

f>ersonally at my office by means of my illustiated
essons. System can be practiced at home or in the
office without inconvenience. If you are in bad
health stop drugging your stomach. Write or con-
sult me and I will prescribe special lessons for different
conditions. Booklet, references.terms, etc. .mailed free

C. H. Harper

639 S. Grand Ave., Los Angeles, Calif.

Do not forget to mention The Pacific Monthly when dealing with advertiser*. It will be appreciated.

THK LIOHTEB BIDE.

Compliments of the Day.
Mike— Oi say, I'at, phut 's th' manlier
will y'er

I'at — Sure, an' it 's all Casey's fault, it K
Be 's color blind, Casey is. Him an'
me was bavin' a few drinks in honor av
Pathrick last Sunday, and I'aaey says
., sayi be, ••I'at, oi '11 I. it yi-z I can
:i 11 ii \t lii [i ' grnne that yez name."
• • N that sof" says Oi.
"Yin, that 's so," says be.
"Well," says Oi, not likin' Casey's tone,
tM« y.'z try niakiii' ma eye pane." And

will that be sot to wor-rk re-deeoratia'

Hut as Oi says, Casey is color blind.

Be maile it l.laik 'stead av grane. But all

•«e, Casey 's wearin' wan ear and a

that has a pronounced orange tinge to

thim."

• • a

Just Think.
"Wtahed I swaad one of them nutomo-
■aid shuffling Sam, as he lay on bis
hark in the shade of a tree and looked up
at the sky.

"What f erf" asked Plodding Pete in the
■mate position, but with bis tattered hat over
his face.

"<'li, just so I could get in it and go
buzzing round the country, runnin' over DM
pie, nml eows anil chickens and things, and
■t doin' nothin' but settin' up there and
to.. Ma' the honk. No work, no walkin', no
nothin' to do. Dat 'ud be heaven."

V.s. bat jest t'ink," replied Plodding
'how tough it would be when you 'd
wake up and find ye'erself ridin' in a empty
cattle car."

• • •

Revenge.

«.'ui.|- (returning from hunting trip with a,
city sportsman, and speaking of a dog that
barked at him) — Ool rap your vnller bide!
You '11 get me so mad by bark in' at me son,..
day that I'll steal you and make you hunt in
front of one of these sure death fades,

• • •

In 1950.
Impresario (in despair)— Tee, it is sad

but true. We haven't the big voices we

had fifty years ago. They are still sweet,

but they :ir.- small.

Critle— How do yon account for itf
Impresario— By 'the fact that the world

has been living in flats for a generation.

• • .
The Horrid Thing.

Wife— Oeorge, is this dress too short*
1 von wear it longer?

Husband—Well, considering the pri.
the dress anil the condition of mv j.
book, I would suggest that you wear it about
a year longer.

resident
Suspenders "/

THE

BACK
SLIDES

Neither warm weal her imr
Miller affect President
Suspender ends. Moist -
ure ami coloring of
leather stain shirts
— President »hlle
I, braided cord cuds
don't. Sonic men
wear belts; not
that they like belts
but most suspen-
ders bind and
cliuir. Presidents
rest so liirlitly you
can't feel them.

lightweight Summer Presidents weigh 2 oz. Weal
them instead of a binding belt and you won't have to
adjust your trousers 50 times a day.

If you can't get Lightweight Presidents in your city,
buy of us. After 3 days' wear, if unsatisfactory, return
for your money.

BOc a Pair

Also Medium and Heavyweights. Extra long for
big men. Special size for youths and boys.
Th* C. A. Edgirton Mlg. Co., S53 Main Str**t, Shirley, Mass.

MENNENS

BORATED TALCUM

TOILET POWDER

"YOU'RE SAFE"

In the hands of the little
captain at the helm,— the
"complexion specialist,"
wnoee resalte are certain,
whoee fees are email.

MENNEN'S

Borated Talcum

TOILET POWDER

protect* and eoothee, a ear*
relief from I ■ ■ i, n r n ,
Prlrkl> II, ,,. , |,„ii, 1Ki
etc. Pot op In non-ri lill-
mblv limn _ the " box
.V , " , , lo 5"- ,or yon' protec-
tion. If Menoen's face is on
the cover if* g-ennlne and
» f, n »r»at** of pority.
D*)UhUol after ■having.
Oaaraawarf aad.r Poo* a n™
AjJ.Jm.Wi**. ku feu 7
Wm€ er»e*JT»he>f w, or bj m*iL tsW.

s\mci.i m,i
G. Menncn Co., Newark, N.J.

Tr r Mr..,.-.

'••■'I Itoralad

T«i.»«|...a rr

It hit u« arral at
rraah cat farm*
VioMa.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY— ADVERTISING SECTION.

>n>

WE REPEAT IT

Go -where you will tor speculative chances in mining, but come
to the Coeur d Alenes tor substantial profits and dividends.

IN THE- HEART

of this wonderful dividend-paying district is located the property of the
Hector Mining Co., Ltd. This stock is still being offered at the very, very
low figure of FIVE CENTS per share. This is an exceptional opportunity
as an investment for the one who is looking for GOOD PROFITS. There
isn't a better property in the Coeur d'Alenes today with the same amount
of development.

BUT, BETTER STILL

The management of the Hector is the best possible. In fact, it is all
that you would ask for the bank in which you trust your money, and under
these conditions we do not hesitate to recommend Hector stock as an in-
vestment at five cents a share, at which price it does not seem possible to
remain long.

Write us immediately for reservation of a block of this stock and fur-
ther particulars. We know it will pay you.

PARIS H. RENSHAW ®. CO.

WALLACE, IDAHO

One Way.

Tim — So you have bought an auto, have
you?

Tom — Yes, I've joined the ranks of the
swift ones.

Tim — You must have made a raise. Dont
you find it rather an expensive luxury t

Tom — Oh, no. It costs me only two hun-
dred a month to keep it in repair.

Tim — But what about the fines for fast
driving? They must be enormous.

Tom — Merely nominal. You see, I married

the Police Judge's daughter.

* # *

Pretty Nearly.
Tommy — Pa!
Father— Huh!
Tommy — Pa!
Father— Huh!

Tommy — Pa! Why dont you answer me?
Father — Well, son, what is it?
Tommy — Is the Ananias Club the same as

the Big Stick?

* # *

That 's Why.

Sillicus — How did they ever come to call
them charity halls, do you suppose?

Cynicus — That 's easy. They called them
that becausei at them men are supposed to
dance with a lot of has-beens out of charity.

The Source.

Mrs. Blabit — I simply cannot understand
how that new neighbor of ours, Mrs. Knowit,
has found out so much about us all. She has
been here only a few weeks, and yet she
knows more about the people of this neigh-
borhood than those of us who have lived here
for years.

Mrs. Teller — That 's easy. Dont you re-
member that her maid, Jessie Gadabout, has
worked for us all at different times? Know
about the neighborhood? I should think she
would! » * *

Explained.

Willie — Pa, what are all those knots on the
Big Stick?

Pa — They are not knots, my son. You see,
the President used to live out in the cattle
country, and out there some men have a prac-
tice of cutting notches in the handle of their
guns whenever they get the best of an enemy.
The President has so many notches on his
stick that it looks as if it were covered with
knots, but really they are only the high places
between the notches.

# # *

Sure.
Citicus — T say, old fellow, which side of
the horse do you start to curry first?
Countrycus — The outside.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY— ADVERTISING SECTION.

BUILT
FOR SERVICE

You believed your knot »as sharp — but it wasn't. You than
with the wrong razor anil its name is Dull Edge" which grows duller
and duller with each successive shave if you don't strop — and strop prop-
erly. The razor that slices hair and jerks the roots cannot be justified as a successful
(having tool — and it isn't.

A CLEAR SMOOTH COMPLEXION IS PRESERVED BY A SHARP RAZOR
Nobody knows" that battel than tb« limber — and that is why barbefl continue to play a part in the affections
\nd that is why the barber strops his razor. No razor can survive the wear of a single shave
unless stropped and be as good for the second shave as for the first — you know that.

Mn't patronize a birbrr \vli<> didn't have a good sharp razor every time would you?

THE AUTOSTROP RAZOR IS AN AUTOMATIC EXPERT MECHANICAL BARBER
Which '■ to automatically sharpen the blade skillfully in spite of your inexperience.

ITS SIMPLE CONSTRUCTION-NO TAKINC APART FOR 8TROPPINC OR CLEANINC

To I — just slip the strop through the razor itself and in a "jiffy" it is ready for proper shaving

d sharpening by any novice and no taking apart to clean either.

"COMMON SENSE ABOUT SHAVING "-FREE

It's a ! Hook o( Common Sens*-." briefly written.

We at"'" anxious to put a copy III the hands of every *haver. Whether out of curiosity or
■W out ul respect for your own private (ace send a postal with your name and address,

&•* ^^^-The Complete St (will la*t a lifetime) will be sent you chary * prepaid, on

*.»/♦,, v ^^n-O'iiii of .'5S tv OR if you prefer, we will send it through your t
°^ '»^ * ^ V^sjf^^Tftailrr In cither event if for any reason you ww to return
*■• "0- *a * A /9^^kW ,l aft,r 30 Days' Trial, vmir money will be refunded

AutoStrop Safety Razor Co

D..L 74

341 to 347 Filth Avenue

New York

'^itS:

'• %,'o ♦• *>

Itntih I

( tSwaJaf T n.\t Cn
Nee lork.

RAZOR-^

>-l2CCRTiriED
BHfjaaj Blades

SJ^Slrop

CealherCatcj

tCa^h.

ERVOU8NES8 Exhausted or Debiliated
' " ** V-* w wlw &WW j\j erve Force from Any Cause.

N Cured by WI\< II r> I I I.'n II V POI'IIOSI'IIII KS OK I.I.MI \Mi SOIM
(Dr. J. F. CHvaonu.'* Formula) and WIXCHESTEB'8 SPEC II t( II II.

They contain no Heronry, Iran, Cmnthmrldea, Morphia. Strychnin, Opium, Alcohol, etc.

TW Seecinc Pill ■ pwerr rateable, he) boa Muud pmenbed bj peyeWenvesrfhMDnmMtobctWbt* sile*m«rfis««<*ctfreti»M»n«

known to medical iciencc lor reworlat- VTttlitr. no meni r how orlrlnaUr impaired, aa Ii trachea the not <A the ailment. Ow raaedka arc the beat
ol their ktid. ami contain onlr the be* and pels* Infredleeta tkel money oa bay and Kfcace produce) therefore we cannot ofer tree aaarplea.

ffEk*}aJ22ti£L No Humbug, C.O.D., or Treatment Scheme.

•m lor Ih-er and kidney coaphlMa in
. an I will eadoat are eoUen end will ask yo» to arad o«t se orach
esjra can by eiprraa prepaid lor that anm. nntii we on ret hraroojh the rrralar channel* I aei conadent k u in* what I hare been In search ol
far Bamy rears. I am preacrftdnr ynnr H ypoehoephaes of Umeand Soda, and aapleaacd with the preparation. Yoan slncerrly. Dr. T. J. WBST.

I kaowol no remedy In the whole Materia Medica canal to ronr Speriac PHI lor Nerroo. Debility.— ADOLPII BEHKE. M. D„ Professor
ol OrranJc Chemistry and Physiology. New York.

l^'i^eaS!"" Winchester & Co., Chemists. 905 Beekman Bid*., New York. E * t rMl!H bed

PERSONAL OPINIONS: %?*"• '^.— -»?*-»«»»»«i-i9*---

arcorely sealed.

Don't forrct to mention Tb* Pacific Monthly wben dealing- with advertisers.

It will be appreciated.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY.

It Is Yours

I want to mail you my
market letter for three
months. It will keep you
informed as to the conditions
in the C(EUR d'ALENES.
It will advise you when to
buy for a quick profit. It
advises you when to sell or
when to hold for a greater
profit.

As an illustration of the
value of the advice my mar-
ket letter contains, I cite the
case of Oom Paul. This
stock was selling at around
23 cents on February 1st
when I advised my clients to
get in. About the 20th of
February the price had gone
to around 31 cents and it is
still going up. I am writing
this February 27th. Those of
my clients who have bought
will clear about 40l CCEUR
d'ALENE stocks are safe,
sure and profitable if bought
on the advice of a broker who
has practical experience and
knows the camp thoroughly.

My market letter costs you nothing if you
name The Pacific Monthly.

WM. A. NICHOLS

t05 Howard Street, Spokane, Wash.

Some Truth in It.

They were looking at a catalogue of houses.
From the close proximity of their heads and
the deep interest they had in the subject, one
might have suspected that they intended to
build or buy a house.

"Why," she asked sweetly, as she sighed
and laid her head contentedly on his shoul-
der, "do they always have so many vines
growing over these bungalows?"

' ' For the same reason that a wise man who
has a thin, spavined horse decks him out in
a stunning set of harness. He know.s that

most people will look only at the harness."

* # ' #

The Pangs of Hunger

Plodding Pete — Did youse ever suffer the
pangs of indigestion, Sam?

Studious Sam — Ay, me lad, many a time
and oft as I have traversed the broad thor-
oughfares of this great land, have I had a
demon gnawing at me vitals and sapping
away me precious life.

Plodding Pete — And youse really had eat
too much?

Studious Sam — Nay, me lad, too little.
That 's what gives you real indigestion; the

other kind is naught but tummy-ache.

* * *

An Oft-Told Tale.

Sagebrush Sim — Us cowboys is marked men,
Rattlesnake; we 're doomed. The fences, and
dudes, and farmers is puttin' an end to us
and our ways of livin'.

Eattlesnake Pete — Yup. They aint no fun
in havin' to git off your horse every twenty
mile and open a gate. Le 's go further west.

Sagebrush Sim — Le 's have another drink
first.

Eattlesnake Pete — Dont care if I do. How!

* * #

Hard to Identify.

Visitor — So you have a little baby brother,
have you, Ethel?
Ethel — Yes 'm.

Visitor — And what is his name?
Ethel — We dont know yet. The man that

brought him lost the tag.

* * #

One Reason.

Jones — Monday seems to be the fashionable
day at home among the wealthy class, does n't
it? How do you account for that?

Johns — That 's easy. They want to show
the public that they no longer have to do

their washing on that day.

* * *

A Paragon.

Mrs. Neighborly — And did she leave you
without giving you warning?

Mrs. Gadsby — Oh, BO indeed. She warned
me many times that if I didn't stay at home
more she would leave me. In that respect, I
must say that she was a good cook.

THE PACIFIC Monthly ADVERTISING SE< HON.

Hammer the Hammer

Tin- for J. baton untie

Rnulur won't go off nld

dililar.itely pull the trigger. I >•>

tli it and you'll fiml it just as sure

it i> >.ifc-. The rtrtlghte« t - »h oo tln g i hardetUhit-

tint;, »'"*t nli.ilili- revolver made to-day. Rightly
proportioned, beautifully finished; a gentleman's j >i -t. .1 lor
pocket, desk, or bur
Our Free Booklet, "Shots," tells more in detail why the for

Johnson has outstripped competitors in public favor. Our handsome
catalogue goel with it, showing details o| o CM tWJ

Ivor Johnson 8afety
Hammer Revolver

3-inch barret, nickel. plated finish,
11 rim-fire cartridge, 31 •»/» AA
or 38 center-fire cartridge «j)UlUU

StJJhy ffitr jwap * tind Sorting Goods dealer! ez'rryivhere , or tent f^rrp.iid on rr e:?i
0/ firui . is-, iuff.j . Lookjor emCl keadongrtf andour name on barrtt.

Iver Johnson Safety
Hammorless Revolver

3-Inch barrel, nickel-plated Aniah,
32 or 38 center-fire cart- *"t A A
ndg dl.UU

IVER JOHNSON'S ARMS A CYCLE WORKS, 192 River St., Fitchburg, Mass.

N»V"tt:S9('k»mi»r>Str«rt. Ramluira, Qornanr: Plckhnl< m I

Peclnc Ooaal: UMPark St.. Alameda, Oal. London. England: 17 Miuciun Lane. E.O.

■akin of Im Johnson Single Barrel Sholggns and Irer Johnson Truss Bridge Bicycles;

Iver Johnson

' AUTOMATIC REVOLVER

LAUNCHES

Why Not Own a FIRST CLASS Launch and Enjoy Your-
self on the Ideal Streams in the Pacific Northwest.

EVERYTHING THAT FLOATS
EVERYTHING FOR. BOATS

See Our "Truscott,'' "Shell Lake' and "TAullins Steel' Launches,
Boats and Canoes, or Send for Catalog.

R-EIER.SON MACHINERY CO.

182-4-6 Morrison St... PORTLAND, ORECON

Do not forget to mention The Pacific Monthly when dealing with adTertl«era. It will he appreciated.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY— ADVERTISING SECTION.

It makes The Mountain Smile.

NEW VIGOR AND STRENGTH IN EVERY DROP

Seattle Brewing & Malting Company

SEATTLE, U. S. A.

Don't forret to mention The Pacific Monthly when dealing with advertisers. It will be appreciated.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY— ADVERTISING SKCTION.

Industrial and Commercial Supremacy is "in the cards" for

BELLINGHAM

ON PUGET SOUND

The jVlun?cijf>a) f^larvel of the Pacific Northwest

Write to tke
Jjellingnam
Chamber or
Commerce
for further
facts

Population, 1900 11,062

Population. 1907 ----- 35.000

Increase, 216 per cent.
Bellingham's Record of Tremendous Growth

Value of Manufactures - -
Value of Marine Skipping -
National Bank Deposits - -
Street Railway Passengers

1 QAA P* r ?*nl Inrreeae
1VUO overlap.

$7,751,464
$9,990,864
$2,778,857
3305.063

Tons Rail and Water Skipping, 772.988

L
D

Assessed Valuation - - $8,271,028 - - 24
Post Office Receipts - - - $50,136 - - 18

Average percentage increase 1906 over 1905, 50

Greatest Industrial Enterprises for the

Development of Bellingham's Territory

are Now Under Construction.

135
68
53
27
25

1 907 Record Includes

34 mdes Interurtan Electric Railway - $2,000,000
6.000-barrel Cement Factory - - - $3,000,000
Permanent Street Improvements, already

authorized -------- $650,000

The value of New Buildings, first FOUR

MONTHS of 1907 was $265,045, an

increase of 133 per cent over the same

months of 1906

BELLINGHAM is the Metropolis, Seaport, and
Heart, of NORTHWEST WASHINGTON, the Rich-
est. Region in the World.

WRITR FOR Fl'RTHER INFORMATION TO

Chamber of Commerce, BeTlingham, vvash.

Three Transcontinental Railroads

The Ideal Pacific Coast Harbor

THIS 15 A SQUARE DEAL

Do not forget to mention The I'a.irlc Monthly when dealing with adTertlaere. It will be appreciated.

THE PACIFIC MONTHLY— ADVERTISING SECTION.

Pure Food Products

IN TINS AND GLASS

ALLEN & LEWIS

PORTLAND, OREGON, U. S. A.

FOR SALE BY ALL FIRST
CLASS GROCERS

Let me sell Your Patent

My book based upon 16 years ex-
perience as a Patent Salesman
mailed FREE. Patent Sales exclu-
sively. I f you have a PATENT for
sale call on or write

WILLIAM E. HOYT

Patent Sales Specialist
257 Dun Blag.. New York City

PATENTS

" 8ECURED OR FEE RETURNED

Free opinion as to patentability. Send for Guide Book
and What To Invent, finest publication (or free distri-
bution. Patents secured by us advertised free.

EVANS, WILKENS & CO.
No. 900 F Street, N. W.. Washington, D.C.

AUTOMOBILES

BOUGHT, SOLD AND EXCHANGED

Thelargest dealers and brokers in New and S conn-
hand Automobiles in the world. Send for complete
bargain sheet No. 140.

TIMES SQUARE AUTOMOBILE CO.
1599-1601 Broadway, New YOik

PATENTS

B»"PR0TECT YOUR IDEA!

68-Paee <ilIDE BOOK FREE.

Free Search of Pat. Office Records!
t f. VHOOMAN, Bo» 65, Wasbineton. D. C.

Make a Motor
any Boat in 5

Boat of
Minutes

Here's a little, 2 h.p. marine motor
(40 lbs. complete) that you can
attach to the stern post of
your boat in 5 minutes with-
outanytools. Drivesani8-ft.
row boat 7 miles per hour
(runs 8 hours on one gallon
gasoline). Can be detached
from boat just as quickly and
stored in box in which itiscarricd.
Simplest motor made— does not
get out of order. Money-back
guarantee. Write for catalog
with full description and price.

WATERMAN MARINE MOTOR CO.

1 5 1 1 Fort St. West, Detroit, Mich.

RIFE AUTOMATIC
HYDRAULIC RAM

Pumps water by Water Power. — Runs continuously and auto-
matically. —Pumping capacity up to 1,000,000 gallons per day. —
No wearing pans except valves. Highest efficiency of any engine in
tutf world. — From 60 to 90 percent developed under repeated tests.

OUR SPECIALTIES:

Equipping Country Places with
Complete System Water Works.
Large Plants forTowus, Institutions
and Railroad Tanks.
Large Machines for Irrigations.

Operatesunderl8in.
to 50ft. fall. Elevates
wateriOfeet for each
foot of fall used, up
to 500 feet elevation.
Catalogues and Esti-
mates free.

RIFE HYDRAULIC ENGINE CO.

2155 Trinity Building NEW YORK CITY

Mcintosh automatic sand-
cement BRICK MACHINE

Turn Your Sand Banks Into Cash It Has No Equal

Daily capacity 20,000 to 30,000 perfect