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Let Professor Royce study Las Casas a little. There any spot on earth can be ; in all seasons they seem are minor errors here and there. The phrase “ James hostile to every form of life.” “In the raging heat King of Williamis not a practice of

of summer the dry earth cracks and crumbles, and munities," but was transferred from the Southern the sultry, lifeless air sways and trembles, as if above Atlantic States; it distinguishes one James King a furnace.” “In winter, snow and ice coat the thin from another James King. The word “one,” used crests and sharp sides of the cliffs, and increase their like the French “on,” actually pervades the book: look of savage wildness; the cold turns the ground thus (p. 493), “ To this end one took sides in national into ringing iron ; and the icy blasts sweep through politics ; one abused, for instance, all supposed abo- the clefts and over the ridges with an angry fury, even litionists; one talked of Jeffersonian principles; one more terrible than is the intense, death-like, silent appeared as the champion of the people; or, above heat of midsummer.” “ But the mountain ram is all, one manipulated party conventions,” besides five alike proudly indifferent to the hotiest summer sun more ones in the next five lines. This is unidiomatic, as to the wildest winter storm.” In size, the bighorn awkward, and ambiguous English. But defects like comes next to the buffalo and elk, being "larger than this, along with other undesirable qualities of style, the black tail deer”; and yet, in spite of his comparwill naturilly disappear with longer experience in atively large size, the mountain sheep is one of the writing history; and we advert to them for Professor most expert climbers in the world, and there seems Royce's good. It is hardly necessary to specify the to be no ground so difficult that he cannot cross it verdict which must be given upon this book as a with ease, and no cliff, so long as it is not absolutely whole. It shows the results of considerable labor, without fissure or break, that he cannot rush down and of good intentions; but both as literature and as in a succession of long leaps, or climb up with aphistory, it is, on the whole, a failure.

parent ease. The bighorn, Mr. Roosevelt says, are

fairly prolific, but never very plenty in any one place ; Hunting Trips of a Ranchman.

they are the least liable to extinction of any of the Mr. Roosevelt's book is a very pleasant descrip- large Western game, for very few are killed by hunttion of the life of a cattle raiser of the West, who is

ers, and their pasture cannot be encroached on by also an enthusiastic sportsman, and takes every op- other animals. He gives no support, by the way, to portunity that lies within his reach to enjoy the splen- the old and well known legend of trappers, about the did hunting and fishing of that vast region. The au- bighorn's headforemost leaps from high cliffs, to light thor does not attempt to retail the big stories he has

on his horns at the bottom. heard of the slaughter of game, but gives a bright and The illustrations, which are numerous, are most of Efe-like account of a number of trips he has taken in them very fine, and carefully true to life. search of sport, and also of the various chances that have come to him in the ordinary line of his business

Briefer Notice. riding.

THE OVERLAND has spoken favorably of several of The peculiar charm to a sportsman in the country he the books that the Putnams are reprinting in their describes is the freshness and variety of the hunting. Traveller's Series, and Canoeing in Kanuckia? is The freshness is especially appreciated by one used worthy of the same praise. It was first printed eight to sport in the older portions of the country, where years ago, and is now supplemented by an appended he has to outwit not only the natural keenness of chapter, giving the improved devices that have come faculties of the game, but also their generations of into use since the statesman, the editor, the artist, training in the wiles of man. His stories are not at and the scribbler transformed themselves into the all big ; any tule hunter on the Sacramento could commodore, the vice, the purser, and the cook, on iell much bigger ones of wild fowl shot ; but he could their memorable cruise. The joys, the adventures, not persuade any one that his sport, from a soaking and the mishaps withal, of the jolly fellowship, full blind or a leaking float, shooting ducks and geese by of banter and fun, keep the reader in sympathy con

a the dozen at close range, was nearly as enjoyable as tinually, and inspire a wish to follow so pleasing an that here described, by clear streams and brooks and example.- -It is not often that one can take pleasin autumn corn-fields.

ure in the growlings of a dyspeptic, whose mind is Mr. Roosevelt is an enthusiastic student of nature, forever on what he is to eat, and how it is going to and brings before you a very vivid picture of the ani- disagree with him. For this reason, many readers mals and places described. He says, in describing will be repelled at the outset by Mr. Pearson's book. that most interesting, and little known, animal, the If, however, the reader can overlook this fault, and Rocky Mountain sheep, that of his own choice he

2 Canoeing in Kanuckia. Bv Charles Ledvard Nortakes to the vast, barren wastes of the “Bad Lands” ton and John Habberton. Traveller's Series. New as his home. “To all other living creatures, they

York: G. P. Putnam's Sons. For sale in San Francis

co by Samuel Carson & Co. 1886. are, at all times, as grimly desolate and forbidding as

3 Flights Inside and Outside Paradise. By a PeniHunting Trips of a Ranchman. By Theodore Roose tent Peri (George Cullen Pearson). New York: G. P. velt. New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons.

For Putnam's Sons. 1886. For sale in San Francisco by sale in San Francisco by Samuel Carson & Co.

Samuel Carson & Co.




can give the author the privilege that he may claim less skill; and even when lesser pens are set to this sro:n his English blood of indiscriminate grumbling, theme, they gain from it something of the master's there is much to attract and please in the journey- charm. It is not difficult to see why this is so; for ings in the interior of Japan, where no white man nowhere were the picturesque elements of the old may go without a special permit. Even when he New England life more highly developed. And notreads more familiar ground, and takes us to Florence where were they more directly matched and conand Monte Carlo, there is little of the commonplace trasted with all the marvels of the sea and the treas. about Mr. Pearson's narrative. More congenial, ures of foreign lands. Then, again, Salem is of the however, than his chosen Japan or the gay haunts of past, and there is the glamor thrown about her of Europe, is the subject of the last article in the book. quiet and retrospection, the charm that makes MelHere, he is on ground that is at the same time rose's ruined pile fairer, if sadder, than all the splenfamous and unknown, historic and forgotten. It is did shrines of today. Few American towns possess Nicæa, the stronghold of the early church, where this element of literary availability, and none of them Easter was instituted and the Christian creed of wid- more than Salem. The book that calls up these reest acceptance formulated. Here, during the Cru- flections has an added touch of pathos in it, because -sades, the fiercest struggles surged around the walls it is the collection made by her husband of the work of the mighty city. Here, now, fever, and death, of a woman of much promise in the literary life, a and desolation reign, and over the ruins of the van promise left unfilled by her early death.

The pubrished greatness brood the owl, the stork -and Mr. lication will add to the number of those that mourn Pearson. -The tendency of Christian thought in for Eleanor Putnam. —Down the West Branche is these days is mainly to the practical in work or in re- a story of boys camping and hunting in the woods of search, but The Transfiguration of Christl shows lit- Maine. It has no literary style, and a little of sentle trace of this modern influence, being an effort to sational incident-a landslide, a red-hot meteor, a explain the spiritual meanings of the transfiguration somewhat lurid conflict with counterseiters, who of Christ. It argues for Mount Hermon, instead of murder lads with the greatest sang froid, and so forth ; Mount Tabor, as the scene of this event; propounds but it is innocent enough, and may impart a Kttle the very questionable theory that, “In that solitude knowledge of the Maine woods, and a little enterended the education of Jesus, and in that loneliest tainment to lads who chance to be reading it instead moment, the ideal fact of his Deity became real to of something better. -Like most colleges, Berkehim "; and, accepting evolution in a general way, ley issues annually a students' catalogue, which resuggests that this event “is the glorification in cords unofficial, undergraduate organizations, classChrist of man's earthly life." It is not clear wheth- unions, fraternities, literary societies, the programmes er by this last phrase is meant a step in evolution. of speakers on public days, etc. It has become the

The daughter of a Boston coffee merchant, custom at Berkeley to intersperse this matter with just through with her college course, learned to the jokes of the year, ballads, local descriptions and speak Spanish for the purpose of acting as inter- anecdotes, and a great deal of pictorial embellishpreter for her father on a coffee hunting journey ment, most of it of a humorous cast. The Blue ant through Guatemala and Mexico. In the book be. Goldó (for these publications are frequently named fore us, she relates the story of their journeyings. after the college colors), this year was an especially Her style is simple and matter-of-fact, not to say enterprising one, and has doubtless given its young common-place, and the chief interest of the book at- editors a good deal of insight into book-making. It taches to its description of Guatemala at the time of contains a very large amount of illustration and literthe ill-starred attempt of Barrios to establish a union ary matter, much of which is entertaining. It is inof the Central American States. The little touches teresting to note that the drawings by the students that show the Boston ideas of the authoress are often themselves are almost invariably spirited and to the amusing, and yet her bravery in peculiar surround- point, though shaky enough in technique ; while of ings is admirable, as is her persect willingness to that which they had done by outside artists, part is trust in Providence everywhere, except in Colon. much neater and much weaker, and part poorer in

-Old Salem is classic ground in American letters. every respect. The publication has demanded some Hawthorne found in it a subject worthy of his match- pluck on the part of the class, since it has twice lost

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material, by the Bancroft and Schmidt fires, the last 1 The Transfiguration of Christ. By F. W. Gunsau

juist as it was on the verge of issuing. lus. Boston: Houghton, Vitilin & Co. 1886, For sale in San Francisco by Chilion Beach.

4 Down the West Branch. By Capt. Charles A. J. 2 A Winter in Central America. By Helen J. San- Farrar. Boston: Lee & Shepard. 1886. For sale in born. Boston: Lee & Shepard. 1886. For sale in San Francisco by Strickland & Pierson. San Francisco by Samuel Carson & Co.

5'The Blue and Gold. Berkeley : Class of '87. 1886. 3 Old Salem. By Eleanor Putnam. Boston: Hough- For sale by the Blue and Gold Committee, Berkeley, ton, Mifflin & Co.









Such a queer, tumble-down place as it was then burst out in wild frenzy ; but, for the so aged and weather-beaten, so ragged and most part, she bore her sufferings-whatever utterly neglected and forsaken. Years ago they were—mutely. And another thing, she it bore the name of Keya Paha, after a mur- seemed unconscious of the presence of any. dered Indian, whose grave was on the top of body; would answer no questions, respond a neighboring mountain, and the mountain to no salutations, talk to nobody. The itself was called the same; but the name rough people of the mountains all seemed to. does not appear on the maps now, and know her, although she had nothing to say scarcely in the memory of those who once to them; not a week passed that some honlived there. It had sprung up in the heart est miner did not leave food at her door, of the mountains, and, until the mines that and look after her little cabin, and see that surrounded it gave out, was a thriving place. she did not suffer for anything. But now it was dead, too dead to ever hope I can not tell you how beautiful she seemfor resurrection.

ed, even in her wild sorrow; how white her There was but one person left in all the face, and beseeching and tender ; how wontown, but one human inhabitant, and that derfully beautiful her hair, how blue her was a woman-a strange creature, with flax- eyes. Above her the rugged mountains and en hair and blue eyes. Every feature of the the brazen hills; at her feet the river runface was marked with sorrow; every move- ning by like mad ; desolation all around her, ment was that of a person in deep distress rocks, trees, hills, and abandoned mines, -not physical, but mental agony. The and, more than all else, abandoned houses, woman was mad; not a raving maniac, but and deserted, weed-grown streets. mildly, hopelessly mad. She seemed to dis- picture of loneliness, relieved only by the presregard her situation utterly, and went about ence of this beautiful woman, and yet a lonethe town peering in at the broken windows, liness made more apparent by her very prespulling the weeds from the doors, and prop- ence. ping up the tottering houses with poles and “She has been that way several years, pieces of rock. Sometimes she would be mad as a March hare,” said a miner friend, heard to moan and cry piteously, then pray, who was guiding me over the mountains.

Vol. VIII.-15. (Copyright, 1886, by OVERLAND MONTHLY Co. All Rights Reserved.)

It was a

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“I knew her three years ago ; she was that other things needful. I don't want her to very way then ; five years ago she was just suffer; for why? She was my partner's wise. as sane as you are, or myself, or anybody It isn't because I am so powerful good, and else ; she got that way in a hurry. A beau- honest, and generous, but it's a square deal; tiful woman, for all she is crazy. Don't you it's a duty that a man owes to his partner.” think so ?”

The woman did not see us, evidently. Once only, and then but for a moment, She slowly walked away from us, and finally were we near enough to note her features seated herself on a rock that overlooked the closely; and, as I have said before, sad as rapid-Aowing river and the valley beyond. the face was, and pale and careworn, it was Then, as she rocked herself to and fro, we strangely beautiful. The eyes so mildly blue, could hear her moan softly and piteously. the mouth so sensitive, the hair so silken; It was a sad sight, and a strange one; there was something unnatural, almost un- this woman, friendless and alone, the sole earthly, in the wild loveliness of this strange inhabitant of an abandoned mountain vilwoman.

lage, herself abandoned, perhaps; anyway, “Yes, she is beautiful," I said. "You she was alone, terribly alone-companionseem to know her; why do you not speak to less. her?"

“ Don't know that she's so awfully alone He shook his head, and turned his face either,” said my miner friend, suddenly. away from her.

He had been with me a “There's a man here she's been looking afmonth-this miner friend—and, other than ter pretty considerably of late. A woman this, was as much a stranger to me as the ain't alone so long as there's a man with woman herself. I had employed him to her.” guide me over the mountains, and to help “A man! Why, I thought you told me me in some geological researches, and until she was all alone.” now had never noted anything strange about “ Jist so; I did tell you that, and, in a him. He had seemed a quiet, unobtrusive manner, it is so, and then again it ain't so. fellow, with a fair amount of intelligence, Leastwise, it don't seem exactly right to say and without any particular history. But now she's alone, when there's a man with her all he seemed different in my eyes. The sight the while; I reckon not, anyhow." of this crazy, but beautiful inhabitant of the "A man, you say?" I repeated; "I don't abandoned town of Keya Paha seemed to understand you. A man?” agitate him beyond measure.

“Yes, a man.” “I reckon it wouldn't be proper for me to “Who is he?" speak to her," he said ; "she wouldn't know “ Her husband.” me, likely, although she was tolerably ac- " Where is he?" quainted with me once. You see, she has “ He's dead." been in this sort of a plight nigh on to five “ Dead!" years, and although I knew she had lost her His words startled me, and involuntarily reason, I didn't know she was living here I caught him by the arm and pulled him tountil three years ago; had been away; used wards me. Quickly he disengaged himself, to live in Keya Paha myself, and when I got and, with an expression of pain on his face, 'round here again, after being away two years, said: found her here. She didn't know me, or “Don't do that again—don't. My shouldidn't want to know me, one or the other, der ain't over strong; got it out of joint so I don't have anything to say to her. 'bout five years ago, and it hasn't been right Once in a while, I come here on the sly, and since; reckon it'll never be perfectly well. see that her cabin don't go to ruin-see that But about this man-he's her husband, and she's got plenty of wood, bring her a little he's dead." clothing, now and then, and provisions, and He glanced over his shoulder at the wo


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man, who was still rocking herself to and the boys were accommodating and cheerful. fro, and moaning piteously.

There was gold in the gulches then, a good "Yes, he's dead,” he went on—"tolera- deal of it, and what with digging in the earth bly dead, I reckon ; leastwise, he was plant- for gold, teaming over the mountains, traded five years ago, over there in his grave. I ing in groceries and so on, and selling whistell you, Judge, she keeps it mighty nice, ky, and gambling, it was a rattling place and this woman. It's all trimmed up like a flower no mistake." garden. If a feller could only be sure of a "But Perhaps So and the woman?” I grave like that, it would be worth while to said. die."

“Oh, yes; Perhaps So and the woman. The grave was near the cabin in which Well, as I was jist saying, Keya Paha was the woman lived; so near that she could considerable of a town five years ago It watch and protect it at all hours of the day. petered out all of a sudden. First the dig In a rough mining town, where little consid- gin's gave out, then everything else kind-e eration is given either the living or the dead, sort-er went to pieces. You see that pile of a well-kept grave is very seldom seen. In red sandstone ? Well, that was the court this case the ground had been nicely leveled house, which was a jail also, and a schooloff around it, the weeds were kept down, house, and a concert saloon; and that tum. and a profusion of many.colored flowers ble-down shanty over there by the river was covered the mound from foot to head-stone. the ‘Traveler's Rest,' a sort of tavern, with The latter was a very simple affair, and was

a bar in front, and a billiard hall in the rear, characteristic of the rough people of the and a gambling room overhead. That's mountains. It was a plain board, which where Johnson was killed, and Peters, and had once been part of the box of a wagon; Sam Jones, and Alkali Dick, and several it had been painted white, but the wind and others. It was a lively town then, and quite rain had streaked it, and taken the life out civilized, for there was a big . scattering of of it, so that it looked dingy and old. Some women-folks and pious sort of people in and one had undertaken to carve the figure of a about the place. There was even a place dove in the board, but it was a bad job, and for the ungodly to get their sins repaired—” looked more like an owl. Then an effort “And Perhaps So—" had been made to scratch it out, but the “Yes, yes ; strange that I should forget eyes of an owl and the wings of a dove were Perhaps So and the woman. I knew them still plainly, to be seen. The lettering was

both well. I was Perhaps So's partner. I better. It had been done with a knife, and lived here when he died. He was a son-of-awas as perfect as the inscription on many gun.another head-stone. It ran thus :

“What do you mean by that?” I asked. PERHAPS So.

“Jist what I say.

I have seen lots of Died June 12, 1865.

queer men in my day, but none half so queer Aged 36 years.

as Perhaps So.

He was a son of-a gun. He “ The boys fixed it up for her,” said my came in on us one morning and said he was friend, by way of explanation. “I wasn't from somewhere in the East. He didn't here then, but I know they fixed it up for look like a miner, but more like a schoolher. The handwriting is that of Slimy Bill, teacher, or some sort of philosopher. He the gambler, who was also a painter and en- wasn't a bad looking man, only awkward graver. Briggs, and Hank Smith, and Joe and seedy-a gangling sort of fellow, whose Adams, and perhaps Miser John, helped face was so darned honest that it was jist throw in the dirt, for they were always great absolutely amusing. He was a mild manfriends of Perhaps So. It wasn't then as it nered man, too, with nothing to say for or is now, you know. Keya Paha was consid- against anything or anybody. I reckon he erable of a town, and things were lively, and hadn't much of an opinion of his own; any

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