The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 22, 1895, Page 15

e T ) A proud descendant of a proud old race was Don Tiburcio Tapia. His many ser- vants;and dependants found in him a kind but: haughty master; his many friends a ajrous, generous, true-hearted gentle- man.. Like all his wealthy neighbors he wis Jord of vast domains, and for one half the year he dispensed the free-handed hos- pitality of those festive Spanish times within the pueblo of Los Angeles; the otlier half he spent in happy, quiet ease z his olives and his vineyards on the il ranch of Cucamonga, ramed from the frowning sierra that forms its inorthern boundary wall. And Lere it is that on a perfect June morning of 1845 we find him pacing up i down the noble avenue of ancient ves, his brows knit into an anxious wD; his much perturbed spirit finding vent in an occational low mutter, “Ameri. canos ladrones!” For many weeks vague rumors of war | ! had been wafted upon the orange-scented breezes and the spirit of unrest had in- | vaded this paradise of peace. But as yet it was only a vacre and undefined feehng of mistrust, and not even in Don Ti- io's own mind had it formed itself actual and active protest. . But only this morning a dust-covered | rider:had fl he hateful words to him which raised re, and then spurred his Yorse. onwara toward the pueblo of Los Arigeles. “The Americanos have risen o nst General Castro! The flag of Mexico. has been pulled down the yueblo of Sonoma and a flag with an Oso floats over the town!” Then the messen- ger had gone on to paint the scene in vivid language, telling of the plunder of tiie indignities offered proud old gray- hedded’dons and their families, and how someg’ of their “paisanos’” had been led away by the filibusters to be imprisoned in Sutter’'s Fort. 1 of Don Tiburcio’s angry spirit leaped ssion of a hun- n the tones fiernos con todos! Dioa! as?” (Ave, bears! de- To h- with them all! God! where art thou?) And the messen- ed on with his hateful message. 9w, an hour later, Don Tiburcio strides and down the Alameda de Olivos, the Ares’ of bate stil ng stormily within hisdreast. Suddenly ail anger dies away. Dgn Tiburcio awakes to a sense of the beauty and freshness of the morning, the of the light upon the frowning crags < e sierra, the sparkle and flash of last night’s dew upon the glowing blossoms ot thé pomegranate, the song of the mocking- birds among the orange groves, the tender Iight of love within a pair of deep dark eves, all conjured up by the sound of a stveet low voice that calls from the depths nd.cattle and household goods, of | | of the grove: “Papasito, are you?” “Aqui, hi daughter, here), he asw forward. Instanily two plump arms are flung | about his neck: a pair of soft warm hands | draw down h ed bead; the d little fizure in ms bends ba with a pretty, esture, then, w a giad gn, suddenly breast, and the pret nd lost in_the depth atkissis Don Tiburcio’s papasito, where , aqu’'- (Here, . as he hastens | hi g s long beard. morning benedictio She is his one priceless treasure, this rianita. Four little mounds | within the churchyard tell of buried hopes | and none but the loving knowa how his proud h had grieved that the: none left to perpetuate his name. lowing blossom of the south | she gave to him with her last breath and | for sixteen years he has worn it apon his | b As fc 1 _for her winsome M r. She draws 3 him now, unre- among her birds :d flowers and ness passion dies out ot his heart. | But later in the day, and for many days, the haunting thoughts recur, doubts arise and a purpose grows within his mind. It en whispered aboat that Don possessed of fabulous sums of real old Spanish gold. All who is pockets al- who counting out the pesetas and fuls, as another man would nt his reales. Don Tiburcio was well cou 4 aware that th 1 all of the Candado de Los | Angeles, the story of the outrages | committed against the-property friends farther north had more than a sym- vathetic significance for him. Day after and his purpose gre rumors of war on the Rio Grande became louder and louder, and at length, when the grapes of Cucamonga were tak- ing on the purple hues of the distant can- yoas, word was brought that the stars and stripes of Los Estados Unidos had been raised at Monterev. Don Tiburcio said nothing, but the next day announced to Marnamta that he must journev to Los Angeles. Close as was the tie which bound these two, the traditional pride and faith of her race permitted no doubt nor further question than the simple **Am I to go with vou, papasito?” ply came, *No, I cannot very well take you, hijamia.”” this proud little descend- ant of old Castile thought for onily a mo- ment, “I wonder why,” then dismissed the subject from her mind, and sent her father upon his journey with a close abrazo and tenaer words of farewell. Don Tiburcio journeyed to the pueblo without adventure or mishap. Two amigos viejos, apprised of his arrival by one of his household servants, dined with him al fresco, and as they smoked their cigaritos under the shadow of the o trees, California’s position in the bnre spread thro struggle between Mexico and Los Estados | | was discussed with great warmth. At length, when the lateness of the hour penetraied the consciousness of their | heated spirits, the two friends arose. and wife had ever | ese whispers had been widely | of his | When the hesitating re- | THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, DECEMBER 22, 1895. with the-formal courtesy which the closest intimacy never alters bade their host a | “Buenas noches, Don Tiburcio, voya V'd con Dios manana,” (Good-night, Don Ti- burcio, God be with you to-morrow.) He had not disclosed, even to these two tried and true old friends, the object of his visit to the pueblo. In that darkest hour before the dawn | when all his household slumbered, Don | Tiburcio arose, listened for a moment, and finding all stiil, crept cautiously out into | the wide hall of the house. Noiselessly drawing the bolt of the outer door, he | glided around the east corner of the house to the servants’ quarters. Here again all | was still save for the occasional mutterings | of the sleepers within, “Domingo!” whispered Don Tiburcio, and out of the darkness a tall figure arose, | and stole silently toward him. With no | further word nor sign the two passed away | toward the stables. Here Domingo drew | out a cumbrous four-wheeled *carreta del | | pais,” which rolled out with dismal creak- | |ings. Hurriedly oiling the lumbering vehicle, so that its complainings were in- stantly hushed, he yoked toita pair of w fed, slow-moving oxen. Then, alw: with quick, gliding motions, he saddled Don Tiburcio’s horse, and just as the dawn was lighting up the crown of El ¥ | Viejo Calvo, master and servant passed out of the great gate, the master astride | | purple canyons of the still distant mount- his favorite horse Paloma, his Indian at- tendant walkicg beside the cumbrous carreta, which contained, besides a large square metal box, Wwith strong brass clasps, pickaxes and shovels of various sizes aug degrees of strength. Slowly they wended their way toward the Rancho de San Jose, and as they rode the golaen glory of the day gilded the crests of the distant Sierra Madre. Rev- erently Don Tiburcio raised his broad sombrero, and the silent but observant In- dian clasped his arms and dropped his head upon his breast. The oxen stood still. With his eyes upon the glory- crowned Sierra Don Tiburcio chanted his morning prayer of Frn»se and_thanksgiv- ing, to which the Indian added a low- toned amen, and, quietly laying his hand upon the nearest of the oxen, they re- sumed their slow journey. The sun rose nigh in the heavens, the ains grew hazy with the day’s heat and the long line of hills to the south grew faint and indistinct. Slowly, slowly the sun passed over their heads and sank | down below the level horizon. A cool | breeze came lightly toward them and | whispered around = them. The glow | of the suncet died and the dusk, like | {a mist, softly fel! and wrapped them | within impalpable, invisible folds, through | which the light breeze tloated like the | touch of a spirit that wanders. In silence they journeyed, the Indian moving like a shadow beside the slow- | rolling carreta, while the stars flung down | a soft white light like the gleam of the | blooms in the orange groves. The Indian | and the master, each in his own way, felt the silent power of the forces of the night; perhaps within the Indian’s untutored soul it stirred the wider depths of poetry. But Le gave no sign, only patiently guided the plodding oxen The star: ‘and as the gray light of another dawn ted the shadowy mists I from the cornfields and vineyards, Do- mingo and his master halted,under the old Encino del Tinaje. Here Domingo’s face took on its first ‘expression of wonder, as Don Tiburcio ‘said to him: “Here, Do- mingo, take my horse, ride on to Cuca- monga and bring back with you a fresh pair of oxen.” S With. no further expression of his as- tonishment than that vague look of sur- Erise, the Indian quietly mounted, lifted | is hat, and, with a courteous, “*Adios, senor,” passed off to the northward, where the mountains loomed up in dark and splendid grandeur. Arrivingatthe rancho, he handed over the master’s horse to a lounging Indian boy, quietly ordered another to bring out the fresh yoke of oxen, saying: ‘‘The carreta is heavy and our oxen grew weary’ ;. and, taking neither rest nor. refreshment, set out to meet his master. They met four miles from the ranch, on the outskirts of the wood. The Indian’s quick eye noticed that the shovels and pickaxes still lay in the bottom of the carreta, but the box had disappeared. But no! one word did he utter; he understood that a secret rested between him and his master. The leaves hung lmp with heat, all sounds were hushed save the dull thud of the overripe figs falling to the ground as they rode into the wide patio. . The ioyous clamor of welcome accorded the master | awakened Marianita from her dreamful siesta, and with smiles, sweet words and | caresses she waited upon the weary traveler; but like the faithful Indian ser- vant she never questioned the object of his journey. % x % The vineyards had yielded up their purple fruits, and the straggling vines were trailing their gold and crimson ban- ners on the ground. Great piles of pump- kins rose like golden thrones within the cobwebbed almazen, while rival thrones of gold glowed 1 the loft above, where sun- kisseg apples were heaped high. Here, in garlands and festoons of chili peppers, the autumn’s royal colors were hung alcft. Don Tiburcio stood among a group of Indians without the open door of the almazen, from which came the sounds of fun and laughter, where the merry boys and maidens were shucking the ripened corn under the supervision of old Ysidor. Don Tiburcio stood before a long, rough table, upon which were several pans and 7.7 5 | THEY DINED TOGETHER AL FRESCO. Indian | 15 ." i 9§ I Al il “THE AMERICANOS HAVE RISEN!” SAID THE MESSENGER. one large pail, with a huge iron spoon. With a sharp knife he cut into a round of beef at his side, dipped the strips of meat into the large pail before him, and laying them within the several pans around him called out: ‘‘Here, Juan, Jose, Pedro, Chapo, we will give Don Coyote a royal feast to-day. I should like to see the grin with which he and his brothers will receive this generous gift. Ah! but his jaws will grow too stiff to close upon our fat young ducks again. Nothing like a dose of cava- longu for Senor Coyote, eh, muchachos?”’ Thus, with merry jest, he passed around the fateful poison and dispersed his dusky helpers. As the sun sinks westward the shuck- ing-party emerges and passes out to the kitchens and corrals. At sunset Don Ti- burcio’s band of helpers return, singing an old mission hymn, Domingo, who has been mending the sheepfolds, at the heaa. The little procession winds round toward the almazen, when with one accord they all stop; their song ends in ashriek! As if turned to stone they stand and gaze! There sits Don Tiburcio upon the low bench, hiseves staring and glassy, his jaws ughtly locked, the whole figure horribly upright and rigid. With a cry like a wounded animal Domingd falls forward upon his master, **Mi senor! mi senor!” he calls in harsh, chokinz tones, then without a word he puts his strong arms about the rigid form. Instantly the others leap forward, and they bear him through Marianita’s grove, around to the veranda. Slowly they lay him down, and at that moment the jaws unlock— a shiver, a gurgle, the head falls back— the glassy eyes stare upward to the pitiless heavens! - Light footsteps sound down the wide hall, a gay voice calls out, ‘‘Papasito, papasito!””” The Indians start with appre- hension: one muscular youth springs for- ward. He will hold her by main force if he must, from the sight of that awful horror! Too late! Marianita bounds for: ward, one inarticulate cry, she sways and falls! When Domingo creeps forward and lifts the arm that lies stretched across her father’s breast, it fails back heavy, lifeless. In death, as in life, Don Tiburcio’s price- less blossom rests safe against his heart. * *x * = » It is many days after. The relations— there are many of them—have all departed, after naving filbed the house with loud lamentations and laid their kinsman and | his lovely daughter in their double grave | with all the solemn pomp of church ceremonial. Don Tiburcio’s legal friends have come, and they search for all that rumored gold. They find buried gold and silver, but still they are not satisfied; the amount is not adequate to their expectations. There must be more. ¥ Then some one remembers that Domingo was the confidential servant of Don Tibur- cio, and they go out to him, where he sits in the sun and the wind, staring smuil{n before him, always staring, staring. e lifts his head and looks stupidly at them when they question him. At length he { understands, and in dull, monotonous tone | and matter he tells of that journey to Los | Angeles, of the metal box, the picks and shovels in the carreta; of the separation at El Encino del Tinaje; of the meeting on the outskirts of the wood. y “Why had you not told us all this before, Domingo?” they exclaimed, impa- tiently. Lere “It was all for Marianita that he did it, Iknow. Iknew it was a secret; my mas- | ter knew I would keep his cecret; it was a | secret—it was a secret.” : So they left him muttering, his head upon his breast. The cold wind blew about himj; he felt nothing, he saw noth- ing, and so he passes out of our story. * x x o % They have burrowed like moles for Tapia’s treasure. Miles have been thrown upward all around El Encino del Tinaje to the very edge of the wood. The old adobe house at Cucamonga, squatted at the foot of the frowning sierra, is in ruins. Lizards crawl in and out its gaping doors; black, winged creatures make hollow, ghostly echoes in the silent ooms ; the mocking-birds that nest among he thicket of orange trees sing to ruin and decay. Half a century has gone by, and men, still wondering, ask: ‘‘Where lies Tapi2’s treasures?”’ The old encino guards its secret w}gll. NCES SUNOL ANGUS. THE YOSEMITE QUESTION, John P. Irish Discusses Problems Vital to California’s Future, RECESSICN OF THE VALLEY. A Strong Forestry Organization Is Needed Badly by the State. The discussion of recession of the Yo- semite Valley to the Federal Government may be the means of attracting public at- | that moves them to do this so is because it ’like valley, and a hall rown with tention to some problems that are vital to all the future of California. The year just closing has witnessed | ¥ood and the people would not be able in | probably the most pitiful and widespread destruction of our mountain forests that has ever occurred. In the Santa Cruz | ble, and by that means the trees grow here | mountains, the Coast range on both sides | and there, as in our parks, and it makes | | the country very beautiful and commo- | the Russian River and around Sotoyome Valley. the destruction by fire has been terrible. In the Sierras, in El Dorado and Placer cbunties vast tracts of splendid timber have been burned and the baked earth made arid and robbed of its tree- producing virtues. There are large areas in our mountains where fire has so fre- quently passed in the dry season that the roots and germs of all high vegetation have disappeared, and the soil, no longer held in place by the mesh, has slipped off and erosion has ieft the bare granite rib; of ‘the earth to glisten where once the ““foliage and shade spread a scene of sylvan ‘beauty. ; The State needs a strong forestry organi- Zation, composed of men who are willing 16 learn by the experience of others. The ‘people need to be taught that forestry daes not mean the prevention of economic tises of our forest trees, but that a tree when ripe and ready may be harvested arid sent to the saw to be prepared for éommerce. This use, however, may be under such regulations that the harvest- ing of one tree destroys no others not yet “fit for the ax, ana in no way robs the soil of its capa to produce more trees. ‘The fine forests of this continent come to us from the hands of the Indians. When we talk of the primitive condition and beauties of the Yoserite Valley and the -Bierra forests, it is well to inquire what these were and their cause. This in- quiry will develop the principal reasort for the irresistible conflagrations which are making our mountain flanks desolate. Many who talk and write about ‘‘the vir- ein beauties of the Yosemite’’ describe a condition different entirely from the state in which we received that vailey from its Indian tenants. - The Yosemite’s primitive condition was | | the same as that of every square mile of | forest on this continent. Bradford, the second Governor of Plymouth colo { nis_history of the Pilgrims, desc; | toeir landing from the Mayflower N | ber 11, 1620, says: “The crust of the earth | & spit’s depth was excellent black earth, {all wooded with pines, oaks, sassafras, juniper, birch, holly, vines, some ash, walnut, and the woods for the most part open and without underwood, fit to go and ride in.”” Again, describing Mile andish the expedition of to Pokanoket, Bradford says: “There is much good timber, oak, walnut, fir, beech and exceedingly ereat chestnut trees; and though the country be | wild and overgrown with woods, yet the tree: and not thick, but a man may well ride a horse amongst them.” | How the primeval forest came into the | condition described by Bradford is told by | contemporary writers. who noted the prac- tice of the Indians. Morton’s “New Eng- lish Canaan,” published in 1632 from ob- servations made in 1622-25, says: | “The savages are accustomed to set fire | to the country in all places where they are \nnd to burn it twice a year, viz.: spring and fall of the leaf. The reason would otherwise be so overg: underweeds that it would .be ail a coppice | any wise to pass through the country out | of a beaten path. This custom of firing the country is the means to make it possi- | dions.” Wood’s “New England Prospects” wri n from the author’s observations in 16 | te: | ““Whereas it is generally conceived that | the woods grow so thick that there is no | more clear ground than is hewed out by the labor of men; itis nothing so; in many | places divers acres being clear so one may | ride hunting in most places of the land. | There is no underwood, saving in swamps | and low grounds, for it being the custom | of the Indians to burn the woods in No- | vember, when the grass is withered and leaves dried it consumes all the under- | wood and rubbish which otherwise would | overgrow the country, making it impassa- | | ble and spoil their much-affected hunting. | So that by this means in these places | where the Indians inhabit there is scarce a bush or bramble or any cumbersome un- | derwood to be seen.” | Joagnin Miller, in a paper read before fh_edAmericau Forestry Congress in 1887, said: ‘It |was my fate to spend my boyhood ‘amon!z the Indians. They were the only true foresters I ever knew. In the spring, after the leaves and grasses had served | their time and season in holding back the | floods and warming and nourishing the | earth, then would the old squaws begin | to look about for little dry spots of head land of sunny valley, and as fast as dry ‘ spots appeared they would be burned. In this way the fire was always under control. I In this way the fire was always the ser- vant, never the -master. And by the time | the floods came again then there was an- other coat of grass and leaves, stronger and better than the one before because of the temperate use of fire by the careful and wise old women. By this means the In- dians always kept their forests open, pure and fruitful and conflagrations were un- known.' ¥ Dr. Bunnell, vne of the discoverers of | the Yosemite Valley, who entered itin the | spring of 1851 with the first party of whiie | men who ever saw it, in his_description of its condition, drawn from observation that extended into June of that year, says: | *In going up and down new objects were | continually presenting themselves to our view as there was no underbrush. The " Azelea occidentalis and other rare and frag- rant flowers and shrubs were found in great abundance among the rocks and debris and on the tables above the curious crimson | Barcodes sanguinea, springing from its bed | of snow. evergreen and deciduous trees, planted by | nature’s landscape gardeners, and.as the | undergrowtnh was kept down by annual fires while the ground = was yet moist the valley at the time of i ery presented the appearance of a | well-kept park. There was nothing in | those days to mar the beauty of our sur- | roundings, and while waiting in the valley | or exploring the high Sierras the robust | lover of nature had many sources of enjoy- ment. We never had a company or bat- | talion drill, but unless we exercised our | animals freely they would not_acknowl- | at the | edge our mastery over them. There was | then but little underlk;mwth in the park- day’s work in lop- ping off branches along the course enabled us to speed our horses uninterrupted through the groves.” H. J. Ostrander says of the Yosemite as first seen by him a third of a_century ago: “I'stood spellbound on ‘Inspiration Rock,’ looking down from a height of 3000 feet into the Yosemite Valley, and that view was indelibly impressed upon my mind. | Then the uncivilized Indians were the commissioners and guardians of the val- ley. And :he windings of the beautiful, clear Merced River could be traced for miles up the valley, until lost to sight at the base of ‘Cathedral Rocks.” At that | time in the graceful bends nestied beauti- ful meadows. Outside of the meadows, noble pines, Douglas firs and cedars dotted the vallev. No underbrush, cottonwood nor second growth pines and firs to ob- struct the view of the marvelous walls of | the valiey. It may be asked why was this? | Because the Indians burned the floor of | the valley over each year, so that they could better hunt the game. The same practice was also followed through the { whole range of the Sierras for the same | purpose.” This testimony as to primitive conditions of our American forests covers 275 years of time, and in territory spans the continent from the Atlantic to the Pacific. In every European country that has awakened to the necessity of forest preservation there is an approximation to the method of our Indians. If we are to preserve what is left to us we must go to the red men, also, study his ways and be wise. The forests of the Yosemite are choked with under- scrub and continuous thickets, and in every dry season dauger broods over the wonder of the world. The valiey’s walls are no longer visible from its floor. The | azaleas, -originally iiving in the rocks of | the talus which' fringes the valley. offer their testimony to the invasion of its floer, for they are now abundant on the level. The oak trees, crowded by the dense growth which saps_ their nourishment, have diea and are dying by -scores, dis- figured by parasites and fungi which feed on their decay. Not only does the under- wood stand’ like a torch reaa{ for the match,” but the fallen leaves have been added to annually, until There was a great variety of | discov- | | in depth, composed largely of the resinous | needlesand cones of the pines. In the dry | season all this is nearly as quickly in- | flammable as powder. | the valley, restrained from clearing it, from renewing its primitive beauties, by the reckless criticis directed against | them in the pressand by magazine writers, go through every summer in fear of a general conflagration, which, if it ever | occurs, will wipe out the forests and prob- | ably destroy every building in the grant. | Recession to the Federal Government is no remedy, it offers no safeguard. Upon | the Federal reservations outside the valley final destruction. The underbrush is | zrowing unchecked, the duff is accumulat- ing, each season’scrop of dry grass, neither | cropped by stock nor consumed by fire, is | added to the means of spreading forest conflagration. If we need an example recent enough to be impressive, it is fur- nished by the Yellowstone Park. Within a very few years it was taken under Federal management immediately from the Indians. It had noble forests filled with game. Buffalo, elk, | moose, deer, wild sheep and goats abounded. Cavalry troops ot the regular army were stationed to guard and police it, and a Federal superintendent took -charge. The troops no doubt did their duty as well as they could, and party poli- ticians who succeeded each other in the superintendency triea to do theirs. But the record of the Yellowstone, as it ap- ears in the annual reports of the Interior epartment, is a sad story of waste and destruction. Secretary Noble reported that in one season sixty fires swept the forests of that park, and he adds that as they were uncontrollable they were permitted to burn themselves out. In the same re- ?Grt he becomes cheerful as to the future, or he says he has sent a water-cart to the park to be used in putting out any further fires that may occur. Under date of December 5, 1895 an official sent to investigate by authority the condition of the wild game in the Yellow- | stone Park, reported : ““If the present rate at which the wild |animals in the National Park are being | killed is continued, it will not be many | months ere that beautiful park will have | lost all its larger game. The wholesale slaughter demonstrates that the officers and soldiers put there to guard .and pro- tect the animals are either incompetent or unable to do the work.” It is useless to rail at tihe soldiers or superintendents, as by and by it will be unwise to accuse the troops which patrol the mountain res- ervations of California when their strict performance of their duty will be testified 1o by ‘a general conflagration, lighted in the results of their care and destructive of the very forests they have guarded. If our system of government is found adaptable thereto we should begin now the intelligent care of these forests and enforce it by law. They should be cleared of all undergrowth except the necessary growing crop of trees which will replace those to be harvested as they ripen. The duff and dry grass should” be carefully burned every year. Swine may be nse- fully introduced, as in Europe, wherever they can live on roots and mast, for they destroy many enemies of growing trees which burrow in the ground or crawl on its surface. Insect-eating birds should be encouraged and politicians discouraged. In short, a military patrol not only does not preserve forests, but prepares them for de- in places the accumulated duff is two leet ¢ struction. It must be supplemented by an Those in_charge of | the same causes are accumulating to bring | rection of men trained in dendrology. Un- less this is done all thut has been done is in vain. For an example of the best government | forestry we must turn to Austria. Tbe | officers empl in this work by that empire are classified as follows: Class A, forest inspectors—Two chief forest counselors, tive forest counselors, seven chief forest commissaries. Ciass B, technicists—Forest inspector commissaries. Class C, forest wards—These are of three | grades. The imperial and municipal forests cover T army of foresters under the intelligent di- chemistry, general and special botany, mineralogy and geology, mathematics, geodosy, mechanics, geometry, national economy. Second group—Forest culture, forest felling and technology, forest preser- vation and zoology. forest laws, forest vield, regulation and management, forest | statistics, forest engineering. The course is three years and two state | examinations must be taken, after the diploma, before a graduate can enter the forest service. The treatment of forests is modified by their location, whether upon mountain | flanks_or level plains. The exclusion of | browsing and rooting animals from the COLONEL JOHN |Sketched from life P. IRISH. “ Recession of the valley to the Federal Government is no remedy.” by a “Call” artist.] 2,249,927 hectares or about 5,624,817 acres, and the force of officers and workmen of- ficially employed in their administration numbers 31,826 men, a considerably larger roster than the entire army of the United States. The cost of this administration is 2,546,240 florins or about $1,276,656 annu- allv. The empire maintains elementary, mid- dle and gizh schools for the training of foresters. The themes for examination are: First group—Physics and climatolegy, former is necessary, while under proper restrictions they may be used on the plains. This is because the mesh of grass and tree roots serves to hold the soil on slopes, which otherwise in the rainy sea- sons seeks an equilibrium by slipping. When it is gone the bare rocks cannat hold back the water, as it is held by the soil, and mountain streams, receiving the en- tire fall qn their watersheds, immediately me torrential and strip their banks of soil to flood height. These are only exam- ples of the detail to which attention must be given in forest administration. Perhaps the Mariposa Lig tree grove offers the best example in this State of in- telligent care. It was invaded by a fierce forest fire in 1887 and was saved with diffi- culty and at great cost. Admonished by this the Yosemite Commission cleared its floor of fallen timber, the duff under the sequoias was carefully raked off and burned, new roads were built to inclose the big trees, and the grove is now well protected against fire and the several groups are open and accessible. There was a ve-y interesting effect of this work. Lamentations had been heard that the big trees had lost the power of re- production, as no young sequoias were found growing under them. But when the dry duff was removed and the ground was again exposed to the air and sunshine, the seed from the ripe cones fructified, and now there is a nursery of young sequoias under every parent tree. These should be used for transplanting and renewing the grove and for spreading this rare fam- ily of giants over the whole mountain range. % The magnitude of the task of extending such treatment and protection 10 our forests, in order to preserve and renew them, will be seen when it is known that until quite recently the forest area still in Federal possession was 73,000,000 acres, and that the so-called park reservations by the Federal Government 1n this State and elsewhere measure 16,325,760 acres. It seems hardly worth while to divert atten- tion from the necessities of this principal- ity of forests to the petty question of reces- sion of the Yoscmite grant. P. Irism. A European ‘“Monroe Doctrine.” Fven the mere suggestion that the TUnited States might interfere in the Turk- ish probiem has been ignored by nearly all the mouthpieces of British opinion; and if any serious announcement were made to the effect that the Americans pro- posed to capture Constantinople, it is easy to imagine what an ‘angry buzzing would be Lieard in that hornets” nest known as the London newspaper world. It requires no great stress of fancy to infer with what unanimity, indeed, all Europe would hasten to denounce ana to protest against such a proposed invasion of Turkey. The fact is that while the British press snarls or sneers at the Monroe doctrine that very doctrine in another guise isin force in_ Europe to-day, and it is certainly enforced more stringently than the Mon- roe doctrine would be in the Western Hemispbere, 1if the British ¢laims were ad- - mitted 1n such affairs as the Venezuela boundary dispute, for example. The at- tempt of the United States forcibly to ac- uire any territory from Turkey would cail orth the instant remonstrance of all Europe. It is as well to remember that fact 1n considering the British protests against the Monroe doctrine.—Boston Ad« vertiser. A Fashionable Deformity. We believe that the deformity of the female form by tight lacing may be at« tributed, in part at least, to the erroneous education the eye receives from the fash- ion plates of popular dress magazines, and in this way fashion-plate designers be- come, in a degree, responsible for the miseries entailed by this miserable prace tice.—Globe Reviews