Evening Star Newspaper, January 13, 1894, Page 15

1. Liberty Cap, 14,282. 2. Dome, 14,359. 3. South Peak. 4. Longmire Sprs. 5. Paradise Valicey. 6. Gibraltar. 7. Eagle Cliff. * Crater. : MOUNT RAINIER, The Grandest Single Peak on the} Pacific Coast, | AND THE WASHINGTON NATIONAL PARK --- Facts as to Its Discovery and Its Climbers. Senses | INTEREST OF SCIENTISTS} —_—_—_s—___—— HE GRANDEST single peak on the Pacific coast and al- most the most im-| pressive mountain mass within the Unit-| ed States is Mount} Rainier in the state of Washington. The} lands around it, a! tract measuring thir- ty-six by forty-two miles, including the entire slope and foot- hills of the mountain, all virgin forest and unbroken wildernes: were withdrawn from ehtry a year ago, and by presidential prociamation constituted the| Pacific forest reserve. There is now a de- mand that this forest reserve shall be de-| ¢lared a national park, and, by the same| means gn1 unde: the same management as| the Yellowstone National Park, opened u; to travel, its points of interest made acces-| sible by roads and trails, hotels built,guides, | conveyances and horses provided, the tract, patrolled,and the game protected by govern- ment t-oops during the summer outing s gon. The real moyement to this end was insti- tuted within the National Geographic So-' ciety of this city, which has a special cori mittee delegated to secure the establish- ment of this new national park in the in- terest of science. With them are associated | committees of the American Association for the Advancement of Science,.of the Geolog- ical Society of America, and of the Sierra Club of San Francisco. Boards of trade, chambers of commerce, clubs and all simi- lar local associations In the state of Wash-| ington are zealously at work with the scien-| tists, and the Washington representatives | in the Senate and House are “pushing” with their might and main. The committees held a joint meeting last month to inaugurate the good wo-k, and enlist the enthusiasm of| those chosen to carry out the project. Committees Interested. The committee of the American Associa- tion for the Advancement of Science in- cludes Maj. J: W. Powell, Prof. Joseph Le Conte, Prof. Israel C. Russell, Prof. B. E. Fernow, Dr. C. Hart Merriam. The Geological Society of America nam- ed Dr. David T. Day, Mr. Bailey Willis and Mr. Samuel F. Emmons. The National Geographic Society’ enlisted Mr. Gardiner G. Hubbard, Senator Watson ©, Squire, Mr. John W. Thompson, Miss £4. R. Scidmore, Miss Mary F. Waite. j The Sierra Club of San Francisco has as | $B committee Prof. John Muir, President | Wid Starr Jordan, Mr. Robert Under-| Wood Johnson, Mr. George B. Bayley and Mr. P. B. Van Trump. senate bill 12), drawn up by Maj. Pow- eli, was introduced by Senator Squire in December, and referrel to the committee provides for the setting ‘ain lands, now known as the © forest reserve, as a public park to own as the Washington National ose concerned in this work have every to believe that Congress will heed and the citizens’ prayers, and that the opening and improving of the park will provide such a pleasure gtound and study ground as could not be afforded elsewhere. The geologist and the botanist, the naturalist and the fisherman find the tract offering them a world of new delight, and the mountain climbers hi: peak matching the giants of the Alps, testing | the most experienced Swiss climbers, and, | ®von to serve as a goal to draw around it community as makes the Zermatt famous the world around. e success of the Yellowstone Park shows the way in which to make this Wilderness minister to the pleasures of ci lization, struction plains. and furnish recreation and to the residents of cities in- and Mt. Rainier Described. Raini Mt. Tacoma, as it i n called, is a pyramidal peak slopin: enely from the very svund to a point in air 14,444 feet above the still inland sea in which its image is re- flected. The mountain itself is fifty-five miles from the syund’s edge, the level for- t land and the ridged foot hills serving | an admirably “composed” foreground | ts the magnificent white mass, the high altar to heaven. Forests denser than any- | taing the eastern mind can picture, somber | wildern) apuy compared to the forests Mt. or | | | | | of the carboniferous age. shroud the lower | slopes, and the giant peak snakes his rocky shoulders free, only io be met by the cowl! | of eternal snow that rests Mi. Rainier is as certain Japanese mj ly ama, the more ing. purely-perfect volcanic peak on the op- of the Pacific is The | nt is a beacon and landmark from the entrance of Puget sound. It is seen from the piains one huadred miles to east- ward, and it is king in all the group of ex- tinct volcanoes past which “rolls the Ore- gon,” the Columbia of the maps. | n tions are hazy at best, and and thin, but they have mul- and betrayed a richness e the me war began about nm his brow. ‘he’ as the ently-siop- | | tiphie of fancy sin the mountain's ni: ever did supply spring more pientifully to the demand than these legends and interpretat: bolster bot c Raini t a casual glan etter, and tell us ountain was built up from with- res have but lately died down, streams of ice now flow do streams of lava rolled before. at this m: them record is plainiy written and they know that it smoked within historic times, if Fremont had not reported Regnier” as smoking spendidly, when saw its cone from the Columbia in 1842 Theodore V rop in his “Canoe and Sad- dle,” pres id embroiders) several when he skirted its Winthrop w: > and poetic interpr. found, althoug s later by Helen Hunt, him the substitution of R. ini nat Dame Mount Kegn . Chris- it in stupid nomencla- ture, perp the name of Or nobudy. More melodiousiy t Ss eall it “Tacoma,” wrote Winthrop. Early Spanish Sarveyors. ‘The early Spanish surveyors from the most er the gre owed thirt: who bewail ¥ with the tians have dubbed the | Nootka fort,who explored the waters around Vancouver Island, were the first to see the tip of the great mountain shining sixty intle€ to southward—for there is no evidence that any of the Spaniards went south of the Quimper peninsula, on which Po-t ‘Town- send now stands. Quimper, who rounded that point in 179%, and Caamano, who con- Unued the surveys and explorations in 1791, and Galiano and Valdes, who were charting the Gulf of Georgia when Van- couver overtook them in 17¥2, all must have seen the peak,although none entered it on their charts. Unknown, snow-capped peaks were too thick about them to trouole with those at such long range. «hey dit name the splendid white peak below che lraser as Mt. Carmelo, and gave Vancouver tracings of their charts with the names ‘hey had ap- plied. The Englishman. however, disregard- ed all baptisms, save his own, and sent the noble mountain sounding down the corridors of geographic fame as Mt. Raker, in honor of his Neutenant, Joseph Baker, who first | descried it above the fog, and who drew all the charts of Vancouver's surveys. Baker,” said Theodore Winthrop forty years ago, “that name should be forgocten. Moun- tains should not be insulted by being named after undistinguished bi nor by the prefix ‘Mount.’ Vancouver ‘nad heard of and his “curiosity was much excited to ex- plore the promised expansive Mediterrane- an ocean, which, by Various accounts, 1s said to have existence in these regions.” He left his ships in Port Discovery and -with three small boats went from Juan de Fucas straits into the Spanish Canal de Caamano (mow Puget sound). On rounding Fo:nt Hudson the fog lifted und :ne party saw across the low land of Scow bay “a very remarkable high, round mountain, covered with snow, apparently at the southern ex- tremity of the distant range (Cascades) of mountains before notic>1, bore 8., All this on Monday, May s, 171 saw it again the same afternoon across the Hood canal portage at the end of Port Townsend bay, and 9n the tollowing day, while camped on Marrowstone Foint, Vancouver named it in honor of “my friend. Rear Admiral Rainier.” Vancoa: charts being the first ones of this corst ever pub- lished, were adopted ty all nations, and save in a very few instances, his nomenclature is unchanged. Puget Sound Named. Vancouver renamed the Canal de Caa- mano as Admiralty inlet, and named its “AR to | furthest branch, the maze of little water- ways beyond the narrows (near the pres- ent Tacoma), as Puget sound. The first Hudson Bay Company's post and farms, first saw mill and settlement were on the Puget shores, and the first shipments going to and from that arm Puget sound became first known, and has gradually come to mean all of Admiralty inlet, crowding the S MOUNT R T ciety of New York in a lecture, was printed | map in every instance, it being the one of- | as their bulletin No. 4 of 1876-77. An Epidemic of Climbers. With the completion of the Northern Pa- cific railroad interest in all this sound coun- try grew, and an epidemic of mountain climbing began, and has continued. It is a short and select list of successful climbers, uncounted parties having failed. The roll reads: August, 1883: George B. Bayley, James Longmire, P. B. Van Trump. August, 1884: Warner Tober and two com- Panions. August, 1888: John Muir, E. S. Ingraham, N. O. Booth, Chas. V. Piper, D. W. Bass, A. Cc. Warner. August, 1889: E. S. Ingraham,E. C. Smith, Grant Vaughn, Dr. Lessey, Roger Green, H. E. Kelsey, Van Smith. August, 1889: Mr. Gore of Oregon, Alpine Club, J. Nichol. July, 1890: Oscar Brown, two companions. August 10, 1800: E. C. Smith, W. O. Ams- den, R. R. Parish, L. Longmire, Miss Fay Fuller. August 12, 1890 S. C. Hitchcock, A. F. Knight, F. S. Watson, W. Hitchcock. August, 1892: George B. Bayley, P. B. Van T:ump. Another party reached the summit in 1892, Messrs. Taggart, Lowe, Reilly and Jones, and carried away as souvenir the lead plate on which the climbers of so many seasons had cut their names. The offenders were followed and the plate re- stored to the crater caves by the three climbers who ascended in 1893, Of these climbers, Mr. Ingraham made three un- successful attempts before his two tri- umphal visits to the top. Rev, E. C. Smith has ascended twice, James Longmire twice, P. B. Van Trump twice and Mr. George Bayley twice. The latter and Prof. John Muir experienced Alpine and Sierra climb- ers, pronounce Rainier the most difficult ascent they know. All but two parties reached the summit from the south side by the Gibraltar trail, leading between the Nisqually and Cowlitz glaciers to the head of the latter, and thence straight up to the 14,444 feet level. The Only Settlement. The only settlement or habitation within the reserve or on the mountain itself is Longmires, a group of rough shanties sur- rounding some hot soda springs. The land was pre-empted as a mineral claim, and the place is occupied for two months each summer, during which time its simple ac- commedations may be availed of by camp- ers or climbers. Although only sixty miles from Tacoma, it is a two days’ stage and wagon journey to reach Longmires, which is 4,500 feet above the sea. A steep bridle trail leads from this outpost to the Para- dise valley, one the matchless parks at the meeting timber and snow line, one of “the lower Gardens of Eden,” as John Muir called them. In those high valleys or parks nature maintains the scale of wonders dis- played at the base of the mountain. The magnificent forests lose the tangle of bush- es, vines and undergrowth as one ascends, become mossy, then drier and more open, and on the heights there appear such blooming thickets and flower bed as no eastern imagination can picture. Every one of these parks, great and small, is a garden illied knee-deep with fresh, lovely flowers of every hue, the most lux- uriant and the most extravagantly beauti- ful of all the Alpine gardens I ever heheld in all my mountain top “wanderings,” sald John Muir. There grow thickets of spiraea twenty feet high, of azaleas blooming with a prodigality not to be imagined, and dog- wood flowering in clouds 6f huge White Mos- soms. Snow line and timber line interlace at about 6,000 feet elevation, and the botan- ist need only follow the melting snow banks all summer long to wade knee deep almost in beds of bryanthus and cassiopea, the western substitute for heather. Some of the finest trees are to’ be found in these high parks, isolated, stately conifers, taper- ing gracefully and symmetrically as sap- | lings for two hundred feet and more, hung over with clouds cf pale green moss. Camp- ers and climbers have ruthlessly destroyed many such trees, firing them for the pleas- ure of seeing them wrapped in sheets of flame, and burning like torches throughout the night. One imaginative surveyor brought word to Tacoma a few years ago that he had found trees on the mountain that were over five hundred feet high by in- strumental measurement. The story finally came down to a group of trees three hun- dred and fifty feet high, growing in a deep canon,and reaching naturally to an unusual AINIER FROM TACOMA. latter name from charts and local usage entirely. Vancouver never made any at- tempt to learn the native names for the places he surveyed, bestowing geographic immortality on all his friends, and with great discernment on the staff of the admiralty office and all ‘the noble lord who had aided and could aid him in an) w ‘The native name, the gurgling sy $s by which the gutteral-tongued sour tribes knew the great mountain, was Ta ho-mah with the Nisquall Tah-ko-ba with the Puyallups and Tah-ko-bet with the Duwamish, all meaning the snowy. or white mountain, the great one, as com- pared to the other peaks and ranges in sight. In these latter days a dozen fanci- ful meanings have been given the native words, and the copper-colored, fish-eating, canoe-paddling Siwashes of past genera- tions are made out poets of the richest ney by the proof of such imagery. in 1300 the board of geographic names de- cided that the chart name of Mt. Rainier must remain unchanged. The Indians be- lieved the heights to be the abode of a great spirit, of evil spirits, of ghosts, of whistling demons, and only the most ad- venturous hunters went near it. Theodore Winthrop relates a well-built legend that unites the best of Rip Van Winkle and of tider Haggard’s tales. Even the modern eservation Indian has a little inborn dread f the heights, balks, deserts and misleads 0 that he cannot be relied upon in climbers. No tribes had pe! lages on any part of the moun- tain, although the sound Indians visited the camass and berry prairies at its base every summer. The plains Indians crossed to tide water by a pass well to north of it. But during the Indian war of 1853 the retreat- ing Indians set fire to a tract near the Nisqually river to prevent pursuit, and for miles the scrub and undergrowth teil of that destruction today, reforestation not being accomplished in every forty years. The First Attempt to Ascend. The first attempt to explore the myste- rious mountain and ascend the peak was made in 1883 by Dr. William Fraser Tolmie, the young Scotch surgeon at the H. B. C. Fort Nisqually. After a long absence he returned unsuccessful, having wandered in the forest on the west and north slopes. He had ascended one small peak, camped de Crater Lake and looked down from le Cliff into the profound gorge where Puyallup flows and across to the Willis » sloping to the great summit—the ake in that famous landscape, said he m mountain view on r ng all in the hich years later while Mr. Bailey ‘veying the coal fields on that ountain he found traces of olmie’s camp identitied his route. IST Ae autz, with James anions from Fort vuth Peak, on the er hardships and expe- that deterred all attempts for thir- . Mr. Hazard Stevens, son ‘st governor of Washing- an ‘Trump and Edmund T. an English artist and Alpine nber, attempted the peak, Van d Stevens reaching the true sum- r Crater Peak,and spending the ice caves of the crater, en grottoes carved out by the m issuing from crevices in the st most interesting ac- be found in the November, 1876. . Mr. D. Wilson and mons of this city and of the geologi Tvey made the ascent and were the first scientists to view and report glaciers. Mr. Emmons’ account, as given to the American Geographical So- height in their effort to get to the sunlight. They grew, too, in a canon defended by a roaring river fordable during but a few ex- ceptional days in the summer. Interest of Geologists. The geologists have a great interest in he opening of this region as a park. The ight rivers flowing from Rainier’s slopes e fed by as many great glaciers, each ith many tributary glaciers. None of the glaciers have been fully explored, mapped or measured. Several descend to the level of 4,000 feet and present all the features of Alpine glaciers. Four glaciers are over twelve miles in length and one mile in width, with an average motion of three and four feet a day. The evidences of vol- canic action offer other interesting studies to scientists. The whole mountain, built up by successive eruptions, has been cov- ered with a sheet of lava. “There are striking fllustrations of the forcing of molten material throvgh fissures and cool- ing, leaving the trap rock columnar struc- ture lying at all angles from horizontal to perpendicular, and sometimes twisted like a ropé. There are peaks of granite burned to sand and beautiful amygdaloid and con- glomerate formations,” note one visitor. There are, too, heaps of scorial and voi- eanic ash ringed around with flowers and masses of obsidian. The streams around the peak are the spawning grounds of salmon and trout snap in the many lakes hidden in the for- sts. The west side of the mountain offers many attractions to those not bent on climbing the peak. In 1883 Mr. Bailey Willis of this city had a twenty-five-mile trail cut, from the end of track at the colliery town of Wilkeson to the Edmunds glacier, taking in various points of interest on the way. ‘The German scientists of Mr. Villard’s great transcontinental excursion were among the first to traverse the path and reach Observatory Point, 10,000 feet elevation, whence the view is almost finer than from the summit. The Senator, Geo. F. Edmunds of Vermont, who made the trip to this same outlook, and it is easily made on horseback, all but the last mile or so, wrote: “I have been through the Swiss moun- tains and am compelled to own that there is no comparison between the finest effects exhibited there and what is seen in ap- preaching this grand and isolated moun- illing to go 500 miles again to see that scene. The continent is yet in ignorance of what will be one of the grandest show places, as well as sani- tarlums. If Switzerland is rightly called the play ground of Europe, I am satisfied that around the base of Mount Rainier will become a prominent place of resort, not for America only, but for the world besides, with thousand of sites for building pur- Poses, that are now nowhere excelled for the grandeur of the view that can be ob- tained from them, with topographical fea- tures that would make the most. perfect system of drainage both possible and easy and with a most agreeable and health-giv- ing climate.” The First Map. Mr. Willis made the first map of the mountain and its glaciers, which was printed with his geological report in a vol- ume of the tenth census (1880). From it Berghaus drew the map in the Glelscher- Karte of his Physikal Atlas (1886), and Berghaus himself erased the name of North Puyallup glacier and named it for Mr. Wil- lis. A Tacoma surveyor, having published a map of the mountain, in 1893, on which several of the glaciers were renamed, an appeal was made to the board of geographic names,which sustained the Wiliis-Berchaus ficial or government map of the region. It seems very strange that this magnifi- cent tract with its wonderland of forests, parks, lakes, rivers, cascades, glaciers, snow fields, craters, lava fields and flower beds should be so inaccessible a wilderness up to this late day. Two cities, each having a population of more than 30,000 people, have the noble peak directly in view every day. It is only sixty miles away from either city. The electric lights of both cities may be seen from the high parks on the mountain side, yet those parks are more remote from those cities than those of the Yosemite. With such a rapid increase of population in the state within this decade, it is strange enough that this tract, thirty- six miles long and forty-two miles wide, inclosing 1,512 square miles or 967,680 acres, and comprising forty-two townships of Pierce, Lewis, Yakima and Kittitas coun- ties, should not receive a single settler, should remain forest primeval, and the mountain top hold but a handful of climbers each season. ——_— se Written for The Evening Star. HAND SEWING. A Danger That It May Become One of the Lost Arts. In these days of hurry and rush there is great danger that sewing by hand will be- come one of the lost arts. The younger generation, who know little of anything but machine work, will pertraps sneer at the idea of calling so commonplace a thing as sewing art, but their mothers and aunts can tell them of the hand stitching, and the rolling ana whipping of dainty ruffies, than which nothing is ib pad ladies’ ’ clothes of the olden times. ea Tate acted among her friends for the daintiness of her clothes, and leading a busy life in the literary world, tells me it was with the greatest difficulty she can find seamstresses who will finish a garment neatly by hand. And it is not to be wondered at when the machine is so convenient and does up everything in such a hurry. The pay, too, is another drawback, as few are willing to pay for the time it takes to do the — ‘The remedy is with the ladies and gir! themselves. If they only knew how to img the needle deftly it would be a real res! when tired out with society demands and too much reading of novels, that many in- dulge in. Then it is so convenient to have a lot of lace-trimmed ruffles already rolled and only to be whipped on the garments when the seamstress comes in to do the spring and autumn sewing. It would not take from her wages either, as it is noth- ing more than sewing on lace and other trimmings, and far daintier than any other trimming. Now, when so many practical branches are being introduced inte the schools, would it not be well to have this all-important branch taught? 1 am sure the much burdened papas would not mind the additional amount to be paid, which would be small compared with the bills for the stamstress when the young lady “turns out.” Then how important when the event- ful time in a woman's life comes, and she marries and goes to her own home, to know how to mend and darn and sew buttons on neatly, for, say what you please about gain- ing or keeping a man’s heart through his stomach, I know that they can appreciate a neatly mended garment as well. The poor things are often dreadfully imposed upon, because the little wife thinks they are stupid about such things, and she thinks it very cruel, it, after a few years of married life, her spouse lets slip a little cuss word when the badly darned sock hurts his foot, or the poorly sewed on button pops off at the first or second wearing. I say girls, learn to sew well. M. SORRY HE KICKED THE CAT. A You Gray in A remarkable case of hair turning gray in one night is that of James Cannavan, a young school teacher, living south of Birdseye, Ind. Mr. Cannavan’s explana- tion requires more than average credulity in the supernatural to believe; the gray hair shows for itself. Cannavan avers that while he and a companion, William Flaherty, were passing through a neigh- borhood called Sodom, en route home from a dance night before last, says the St. Louis Republic, they were met several times by a large black cat, which persisted each time in passing so close to him as to rub his leg. He grew angry at last and expressed his mind very rudely, but Flaherty pleaded mockingly for the cat, saying jocosely: “You don’t know but you shall be a cat in the next life.” Scarcely had these words been uttered when the cat repassed and rubbed him again, and without more ado he kicked it high in the air. The young men proceeded toward their parting place, from which each had more than a mile to travel homeward. When Flaherty was half way home he met Canna- van, who exclaimed ‘Hello! Where are you going?” “I'm going home,” said Flaherty. “What in thunder are you doing here?” On comparing notes Cannavan found his error, and instead of accepting an invita- tion to go home with his friend started homeward, only to be lost again and meet his comrade once more. This time he ad- mitted being bewildered and requested his friend to accompany him to the place where they first parted, which Flaherty did. When this point was reached they stood a minute to speak. The cat appeared again! They began to inwardly curse the cat, each reading the other’s thoughts in their silence. At this moment voices were heard overhead near “Oh, the blood by. The first voice was: The thir “That last voice," said Flaherty, “is Threena Una na Cardie’s voice! That is the banshee that follows our family, and is never heard except preceding the death of some member.” ‘The couple now became thoroughly fright- ened, and Cannavan readily accepted his zompanion’s invitation to go home with him, Nor was time wasted in getting there. Neither slept any that night. The worry, with the feeling that the trouble was all incurred by his treatment of the eat—which both now looked upon as super- natural—he does not hesitate to say caused the change in his hair. Neither has re- covered his normal condition, and the se- quel of “Threena Una na Cardle's” voice is anxiously awaited. Both young men are much above the average in intelligence, and stand high in the respect of the com- munity, where they have lived all their lives. Cannavan is about twenty-two years of age. His hair before the metamorphosis was a rich dark brown; now it is densely streaked with gray—more than a half hav- ing changed color. soe DOGS ON THE RACE TRACK. A Canadian Lad Made $10,000 Out of His Exhibitions by His Trotting Set- ter. Horse racing has long been an established and popular pastime, and now dog racing is coming to attract some attention. A lad named Willie Ketchum of Ontario is said by the Utica Press to have been the pioneer in this line of sport. In 1887 he showed his trotting dog broken to harness. It was an Irish setter, who never left a trot and made half-mile heats against ponies. He was able to outspeed almost every pony that was entered against him. His challenge was against any pony twelve hands or un- der, or to give any horse twenty seconds, the horse to go a mile and the dog half a mile, the horse to draw a quarter of his own weight. The lad made about $10,000 with his dog in this way. Another boy named Charley Kinsler, whose home is in Ohio, trained a bulldog to make splendid )time on the course. He was not a success, however, because on the occasion of his ‘first race on a fair ground the word go had just been given when he espied an un- friendly dog some distance away, and he bolted the track and cverhauled the object of his chase, and could not be persuaded to return till he had whipped him on the spot. Young Kinsler gave up teaching bulldogs and his next venture was with a cross be- tween a Newfoundland and bloodhound which developed very good speed. Young Kinsler, however, had the best success with setters, and those that he broke to harness were able to go at quite a fast clip. He made a tour of the ccuntry fairs, and was everywhere a popular attraction. The busi. ness netted him handsome profits and he is spendirg the present winter in training other dogs to draw in harness, single, in pairs and four-in-hand. Of course ‘dog trotting can be at best but a novelty and a side attraction. The two lads who have gone into it have done immensely well with the enterprise, but it is a field that can be very easily crowded and too much competi- tion will extinguish the business. - BRAIN-WORKERS Use Horsford’s Acid Phosphate, When night comes the literary and active busi- ness min's brain is hungry from the exhausting labor of the day. Horsford's Acid Phosphate quickly supplies the waste of tissue, and refreshing ep results. THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JANUARY 18, 1894—-TWENTY PAGES. HE CAN DRAW HORSES An Interesting Chat With Mr. Frederick Remington. para eg GE LIVES AN ACTIVE, CUT DOOR LIFE. How He Obtains Material His Brush. for HIS HOPES FOR THE FUTURE. —_.___ Written for The Evening Star. HE ARTICLES that have been writ- ten about Frederick Remington are many and varied, though he has not been in the field more than five years. But he jj has not been very truly represented. His personality has been delfied, and of all men, Frederick Remington is not of the deified sort. He is a man among men, “a deuce of a good fellow,” he never drew but two women in his life and they were failures, while his greatest hope is a war in Europe. If he were of the deified sort he would not know | Short = | Remington gave up this study and went to Albany as the confidential clerk of Governor Cornell. Things were too slow for him, and, finally, all things considered, it seemed de- cidedly best—in fact the only thing to do— to go west. Accordingly, a few weeks later found Frederick Remington “punching cows” in Montana. " “Punching cows” in Montana may not seem to have much to do with a history of his artistic career; but.in fact, it has every- thing to do with it. Had he not lived four years in the saddle, as a bona fide cowboy, he would never have today the intimate knowledge of horses that is the secret of his wonderful success, nor would he know what cows are, and Indians, and the men who rough it. From here he weat to Kansas and started a mule ranch. He made money and made a good thing of this, selling out after a time. Then he wandered further south, serving as ranchman, Indian scout, anythirg and everything that offers on a wild western plain. At last he “dropped his wad, as cowboys terms it—that is, lost his morey—and being “dead broke” he said to himself: “Now that I am poor there seems to be no reason why I should not gratify my in- clination for an artists’ career. In art, to be conventioial one must be poor.” So he made some drawings and took them in to the Harpers. That is where everyone goes when he begins to draw pictures. Some find fortune waiting for them, as did Reinhart and Smediey and Remington. They took his pictures, though he has since been told that the drawings were pretty bad. But they were fresh and orig- inal and nobody had worked that vein be- fore, and as a result Remington got an order to go out west again to make illustra- tions for a special series of articles, and since then he has traveled from one end of this country to the other, over and over. He has been in two Indian campaigns, vis- ited Canada, and fortnight ago he was down in West Virginia to witness a “gan- der pulling. Until last year he had not visited Europe at all. Then he went with Poultney Bige- low and got “fired out” of Russia. His opinion of =he Russians is not at all flat- tering. When asked if they didn't treat him well, not long ago, he said: “Treat us well?” I should say they did. Champagne and everything else! Got out a Frederick Remington. how to draw horses, cowboys and Indians. He has made his immense success because he knows the life which he depicts, knows a horse from the prick of his ears to the frogs of his feet; knows what riding is from four solid years in the saddle; knows what Indians are from two Indian cam- paigns—one among the Apaches. Mr. Remington is not much over thirty, and has seen life in a good many phases; but for the past three years he has occu- pied a quiet littie brown painted stone house, on Webster avenue, in New Rochelle, a small town sixteen miles north of New York city. There is plenty of land out there and he can keep horses, without which he would be lost. In the summer time his surroundings here are most beau- uful. The grounds about his house and the neighboring houses are excellently kept, ample though they are, and well provided with trees, and of course there is good rid- ing and driving for miles around. His house is a steep-roofed, gabled cottage, roomy in- side and easy to get about in. The kitchen is almost the only room that does not stand invitingly open and contain the scattered traces of the artist's craft. Upstairs in one gable is the room where he ‘paints in otis. About the room are numerous saddles of various varieties, many of which look oddly familiar to an old habitue of the western plains; and on a little platform is a wooden horse ‘used for posing models. Everything is scattered about the room promiscuously. Here is a finished painting of a troop of horses in a long rank; on the easel is a yet unfinished painting of Virginia rider. Another finished painting is a resting group of Indians and horses, looking over the plains away to the distance. He says he tried that a number of times, but it didn’t suit him. He posed this way and that way, and another. But at last the right attitudes were discovered and in a few hours the work was finished. But much of his illustration ts done down in his study—it looks more like a study than a studio—where he has a desk and books, though the walls are hung with specimens of Indians’ garments and other relics. This rcom stands open, like all the other rooms on the lower floor, and just in front of it is a little reception room filled with pictures—sketches, proofs, paint- ings, water colors—what not I do not know. Here it is that one sees a portfolio of proofs, which laid flat, sheet upon sheet, make a pile six inches high, and Mr. Rem- ington will tell you that these are only about half his work done in little over half a dozen years. If you go to see him you will find a big, thick, smooth-faced man (who was on Wai ter Camp's original foot ball team). He may be dressed in old clothes suited to working out of doors, for he cannot stay inside after 3 o'clock. Commonly he rides for an hour or two; but he is a man to take excellent care of his horses, and not leave it all to his outside man, either. When he has taken you inside he provides you with a first-rate cigar, and asks you if you will have a drink of his fine old Scotch whisky (a luxury he spends a little money on now and then, though he says he can't afford it,) and gives you a com- fortable seat in his attractive little parlor. Au Original Study by Remington. Some of his own finest work, both original and engraved, hangs on the wall, side by side with work of various of his friends One certainly will not forget a drawing of Dana Gibson’s, a fashionable young lady sitting on a divan, while in the back- ground are dim suggestions of the ball room, like fancies passing through her mind. There are fancy Indian pipes lying on the tables, and old Mexican vases. Fur- thermore, the room, like all the rest of the house, in the most charming ta doubt showing the handiwork and good judgment of the dainty and unusually interesting little woman known as Mrs. Remington. She evidently lets the man of the house do as he pleases, but keeps him in_excellent order. When at last we were settled down for a talk on the day I called, Mr. Remington told me his story briefly. He was born in Canton, Lawrence county, New York, in a smail village, where he was rather a lively youngster, fond of sports, taking life not too seriously. His father Was a newspaper man, and wanted him to follow the same profession. But when he showed a leaning toward art, the older man offered no objection, as the case usually is, and when the young man was about eigh- teen—that was in 1S78-0—he sent him to the Yale University Art School. He made & pretense of working here for a year and a half, but he admits himself that he found out more about foot ball than he did about the principles of fine art. As I have said, he was a member of Waiter Camp's original foot ball team. At that time Walter Camp was practically inventing the American game, and Mr. Remington assisted him practically in his experiments. He took part in other athletic sports as well After drawing from the antique and gain- ing some little skill with the pencil, young whole regiment of infartry to drill for us. But you felt there were a pack of spies at your heels all the time, and the first thing you knew you'd be Cigging salt in the A Typical Trooper, by Remington. mines of Siberia, and that would be the last anybody would hear of you. After the things Kennan wrote about them, no American can live very long in Russia if he is going to make pictures or write arti- cles.” Remington has the reputation of doing more work in a given time than any other illustrator who draws. ee ‘How do you do so much work?” I asked im. “If I sat in the house all of the time, I couldn't do it. One's ideas are shortly used up. I travel a third or a half of my time. 1 can’t work steadily more than two or three months. I must go somewhere and see something new. Then when I see what I want, I think it over, and kind of get my idea of what I am going to do, and then the rest of it is nothing. I've made the best things I ever did in two hours.” “It is all in feeling it. If I feel it, I can do it. If I don’t feel it I work something else till I do feel it. You can’t draw what you don’t know. After you see a thing you digest it, think it over, get it just right in your mind, and then Gash it off. That is the way to do. But the trouble is in get- ting to feel it. ‘I eam thinking, abscrbing, when J travel, you krow; observing everything, making sketches, taking notes. But I don’t finish up anything, and I try to have a good time. It is the wi I get resied. When 1 work I work hard enough to make up for it.” After we had talked a short time he re- marked to me: “Come out of doors. I can’t stand it in here. I must get out. I never could live in town in the world. It would kill me. =I like to go to town and etjoy myself, but in the city I couldn’t keep” horses, couldn't | Tide, couldn't get fresh air. I have to get out in the country.” So we walked up and dcewn the piazza, though it was a pretty chilly December day, for the next half our, while he pro- pounded to me his ideas of art. “People have talked about my using Muy- bridge, and photographs. I've seid all 1 want to say about that already, but I never saw Muybridge’s pictures, though I made photographs times ercugh myself. But I've offered a man who wonders if horses can go as I draw them, to bet him $35 1 can take him out and show him a horse and he will see for himself. Why, not one man in ten has ever carefully observed a horse in his life, and yet such as these are most free to pass comment. If they had observed horses a little they would feel how they go, and if you don’t feel it, you never can draw them, because cameras don’t feel and consequent- ly do not produce action. “Do you use models much?” I asked. “No, not much. I make my sketches from life, and when I have arranged my figures I ve to have a model a little for the drapery. I will pull a coat back with a string and a safety pin to see how it would look blowing in the wind. These wrinkles at the elbow in a coat are hard to draw. I have to get those things from a model. But for the rest, except in nudes, I draw mostly from my sketches. For nudes you have to have models, of course. The human form is one of the hardest things in the world to draw.” “What? do you use your man mostly out here for a model?” “Yes, for little things. There used to be an old Indian around here who posed for us. Now there is a man from that English a who does it.” “How do you like to draw best, ni ink, wash, color?” saleee “I lke a wash drawing you can produce by prccess easily about as well as anything. I was one that got them to take up that process work more extensively. They thought it was cheap work, but in my line you get the best effects in that way. I guess I haven't done a pen and ink for two years. I don’t like that very well. In my style of work you don’t get scope enough with that, you can't get effects. | “When I was over in Europe I did the |German army and am enthusiastic in my admiration for it. The uniforms of the Ger- | A Sick Horse, From a Drawing by | Remington. mans are as complicated as the robes of the Catholic Church and it is no end of difti- |culty to digest them. Half the German | officers do not know the subject. I had every facility offered me. “What I want to do is soldier men now. I've done the wild parts of this country “p pretty thoroughly by this time. The west is all played out in its romantic as- | pects. I've been pretty much everywhere |and done up pretty much everything but | the east. I don’t know anything about | New York city. I'm going to see something of New York city this winter just for my |own amusement and edification. But 1 | hope to travel in various parts of Europe, 15 looking up the armies, and to go to Africa andi those places. I don’t want any more of Russia right away, but I should like to see the Italian and Spanish and French soldiers and the Swedish and the others. One has got to see something new all the time, you know, to keep in stock for material. These fellows who stay right in their back yard all the time and never see anything can’t do much in an illustrative Way if they indulge in living subjects and do not get their inspiration from the books. I do so much work because I travel, get- ting filled up all the time.” You would know that Mr. Ri had been a ranchman and was one still at heart simply by his language, which savors very decidedly of the west, though at the same time it has a curious mixture of east- ern, even English, making a combined dialect which must be poculiar to Mr. Rem- ington himself. Yet in manner he is so much the polished gentleman that abso- lutely nothing in his dress or deportment. betrays his rough experience. He loves his subjects, the life he has chosen, and it is more than certain that he will never do any other. He has drawn but two women in his life and they could hardly be called successful. Horses and Soldiers are his pets, and he knows their every habit. If there were to be a war in Europe he would be eagerly at the front in a@ moment. In that Mes his success, His observation of the minutest details is marvelous and his emphasis on the state- ment that you must “feel” the movements and postures you draw simply indicates how perfectly he identifies himself with his drawing. If he were « horse or an Indian he would know how to enjoy life perf A and thus it is that he gives horses and Indians and soldies the very blood of life as they are printed in black and white on paper. ALPHEUS SHERWIN CODY. — oe DOGS IN ALASKA, Without Them the Eskimos Coula Searcely Find an Existence. From the Youth's Companion, “Without dogs the lafger portion of the great Eskimo family peopling the barren northern coast of America would find it im- possible to exist in its chosen home.” So writes Mr. E. W. Nelson in his “Mammals of Northern Alaska. They are used in the winter for hunting, sledge drawing and the like, but in summer are mostly left to shift for themselves. They receive much hard usage, as well as do much hard work, but are described, nev- ertheless, as a rollicking set, full of play, fond of human society and quarrelsome as schoolboys. Mr. Nelson credits them with @ vein of humor and declares that their po Ad characteristics can be read in their races. They are worth from §2 to $15 apiece, ac- cording to age, size and intelligence. For sledge drawing they are harnessed in teams of either seven or nine—three or four pairs and a leader. The load is from 350 to 700 pounds and the course is mainly through unbroken snow or over rough ice. With a team of seven dogs and a load of more than 30) pounds Mr. Nelson made a journey of more than 1,200 miles in about two months. The last 60 miles were made over @ bad road in a continuous pull of 21 hours. They are much affected by the moon, During full moon hali the night is spent by them in howling in chorus. “During the entire winter at St. Mich- ael's,” says Mr. Nelson, “we were invaria- bly given a chorus every moonlight and the dogs of two neighboring and seems to have found it agreeable rather than . The influence of the moon is also very apparent when the dogs are traveling. They brighten up as the moon rises and up their ears start off as if they had for- gotten their fatigue. The fur traders taka advantage of this fact and sometimes lie over during the day and travel at night. The dogs endure an astonishing degree of cold. Mr. Nelson saw a female with two newly born puppies lying upon the snow near a hut, with no sign of shelter, when the thermometer ranged from 30 to 35 de- grees below zero. The average number of days of sickness jin every decade for each man is said to be only sixteen. Under rules of scientific hy giene and principles of health better prac- ticed, our span of life—be this Cesirable or the reverse—has, by the evidence of insur- ance societies, considerably increased. The power of unalleviated physical pain to ter- rify or trouble is practically az an end with the general use of those benign anaesthetics which have brought a new era of confidence to the hospital and sick room, end taken away all its horror from the surgeon's knife. to judge from ycur average Doubtless, daily journal, murders and suicides, crimes and catastrophes, wars and feuds and frauds would seem to remain the staple of the human record. But be it remembered that, for obvious reasons, all our worst and darkest is collected there. One might as well judge of public health by the painful cases described in a medical publication as of the vast mass of solid human happiness and innocent living joy by the daily cata- logue of these really trivial exceptions to it. As for “sins” (the most serious of which ere only such as are malicious), though the population increase, they seem steadily to diminish. We had 87,608 “habit- uals” in 1868; now the evil roll is only 52,- 1538. When the population of England was 19,257,000 in 188), there were 2,589 undergoing 1 servitude; now, with a Population the number is only M47. In the entire number of prisoners in our jails was 20,533; the entire number at ibe same date last year was 12,663, though the population had increased by 6,000,000. Pauperism is also declining. In 5 Wl persons were in receipt of re- ; in 1891, with an addition of more than 0,00) Inhabitants, there were only 774,- 5. The upshot of these figures—without pressing them too much—seems surely to be that the “cosmic process” in our little corner of the universe is not eee A Delicious Entree, From the Chicago Evening Post. This is the scason when everybody give® a dinner, so it is timely to suggest that oys- ter cutlets make a delicious entree to serve at a formal dinner. Take one cupful of fine chopped cooked chicken, half a pint of oys ters, three eggs, one tablespoonful of flour, one of butter, two of fine cracker crumbs, one of lemon juice, one teaspoonful of salt and one-eighth of a teaspoonful of pepper. Soak the crumbs in the oyster liquor. Chop the oysters very fine and add them to the soaked crumbs. Add, also, the chicken and seasoning. Put the butter into a frying pan and when it becomes melted add the flour. Stir until smooth and frothy, then add the oyster mixture and stir for three minutes. Put in two s beaten well and stir for a minute longer. Take from the fire and Spread upon platter to cool, and when cold shape lke cutlets. After beating the remaining egg (which should be a large one) dip the cutlets into it and then into bread crumbs and fry in fat until brown; a min- ute and a half should suffice for the cook- ing. Serve with bechame! or anchovy sauce. While the mixture is hot it may be sp smoothly upon a buttered platter and ther shaped into cutlets. |so badly. The son of Albion stood gazing at the group of men in front of the “Bon Ton Temple of Bacchus” with deep interest. Excitement was running high at Red Dog. It was the day of election, and a reform ticket was in the field. “Alkali Ike, ain't yer goin’ ter vote fer Hank Bitters and moral methods?” cried a red-bearded enthusiast. “The hull ticket "ll be beat,” replied the party addressed; “I'll be hanged ef I do!” And then the intelligent British tourist drew out his tablet and wrote—“Note: in America, after an election, the friends of f3 defeated candidate are taken out amd lynched.”