The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, June 2, 1901, Page 6

THE SUNDAY CALL. ls This the Man to Write “The Great American Nougl™? By B. G. Lathrop. FHEN you read Frank Norris' story ““The Octopus™ the feeling is at first one of doubt. For two or three hundred pages you grope in confusion. trying to mentally assimilate the many characters and the parts they are playing, trying to grasp a thread here and another there. You look at the “map of the country described” on the first Page to get your bearings. and then you turn back and read once more, and Wwon- der as you dive again into an apparent maze of plots who is to be the hero and who the beroine, and why there are so many characters and a great many other things. All thiz you do because you have been narrowed by the literature of the day down to the level of the “human in- terest” movel, with its singleness of plot, its “good” man and jts “good” woman, and all the rest of them. e one of the confirmed und in‘the up-to-date romantic school ap, ast look at the r the lo a fare- list of “Principal Characters in the Novel,” which theatrically occupics a fiy f, and then you throw down the book with a sigh and happaned to your dear friend Mr. Norris, who wrote *“Moran of the Lady Letty” and “McTeague” and so many nice short stories. If you are not one of the *hopeless™ you keep on, and the great purpose of the work begins gradually to dawn upon your romance-harrowed intellect. You realize that this is a ook of no one plot. It gives any stories which go to make one story, At one story is but a finger post in of reason, to point out something higt i almost too near the infinite for the comprehensicn of the finite mind—the tremendous Force that rules the world as one small part of the universe. Mr. Norris has undertaken work in this first volume of a colossal The Epic of the Wheat.” And he has succeeded. He may be accused of crudeness, of youth. He may be criticized in detail as to style or treatment. His book may never become one of “the popular novels.” But, never- theless, though he has aimed high—higher than any of the American writers of the present day—he has hit very near the mark, and those who read to the end i cannot understand anG appreclate his masterfal exposition of the forces of na- ture in ction to the “small bustle of m. and minute swarming of the human should—well, they should devote themselves to the reading of “Love Letters.” or something ‘*neat, tasty and interesting.” In “The Octopus™ Mr. Norris has taken California as his stage. He puts over twenty “Principal Characters” on the boards. These divide themselves naturally into two groups—the Leaguers and the Railroaders, ‘ighting against each other the war of extermination. He takes as a historical anchor the Mussel Slough inci- dent of 1578, and one might imagine upon first thought that the purpose of the work wag an arraignment of the Southern Pa- cific and a vindication of the ““hard-bitten farmer” of the San Joaguin. The partisan of either side will be disappointed, how- ever, in this belief, for he will find that the author has drawn a composite picture of many facts, of many dates and of some fiction. Mr. Norris’ object is to tell of wrongs and horrors, not with the idea of eliciting svmpathy for sufferers of the past, but to show the everlastingness of the most mighty of world forces—THE WHEAT. The truth he constantly brings forward with hammer-llke persistency. When the Leaguers have found that their most trusted representative, the son of the leader of the League, has failed them and he has been thrown out with blows and curses, Mr. Norris here avails him- self of the dramatic situation to bring forth by contrast this great Truth. Pres- ley, the poet, the philosopher, the friend of the o has just assisted in as out into the night— -headed from the fray, to great Truth as his blood cools and alone he contemplates nature. Ard there before him, mile after mile, fllim- covering the earth from horizon to the Wheat. The growth. now many old, was already high from the ground. ere it lay, a vast, silent ocean, shimmering a pallidl green under the moon and wunder the stars; a mighty force, the strength of nations, the life of the world There in the night, under the dome of the sky, it was growing steadily. To Presley's mind the scene in the room he had just loft dwindled to paltry insiznificancg before this sight. Ah, yes, the Wheat—it was over this that the Railroad, the ranchers, the traitor faise to his trust, all the members of an obscure conspiracy, were wrangling. As if human agency could aff: his colossal power! What were these heated, tiny squabbles, this fever- ish, small bustle of mankind, th's minute swarming of the human insect to the great. majestic, ocean of the Wheat itself? Indifferent, gigantic, resist it moved in ts appointed grooves. Men, Liliputians, gnats in the su buzzed impudently in their tiny battles, were born, lived through their little day, died and were forgotten; while the Wheat wrepped in Nirvanic calm. grew stead- ily under the night, alene with the stars and with God. Again. as a fitting close for the chap- ters of battle, crime and bloodshed, this Truth appears to Presley as he stands on an outgoing ship loaded with wheat for India and the vision of that terribie im- mediate past is before him: What outlook curtain. good te then was left? Was there no hope, no for the future, nmo rift in the black no glimmer through the night? Wes be thus overtirown? Was evil thus to be strong and ‘Was nothing left? Then suddenly Vanamee's words came back to his mind. What was the larger view, what contributed the greatest goud to the greatest numbers? What was the full round of the cirele whose segment only he beheld? In the end, tle ultimate, fnal end of all, what was left? Y jesued from this crisis, un- touched, unassaflable, undefiled. Men—motes in the sunshipe—periched, were shot down in the very ndon of life; hearts were broken; I'ttle cafldren started in life lament- ably handicapped: youns girls were brought to @ life of shame; old ‘women died in the heart of life for lack of food. In that little isolated group of human insects misery, death and anguish spun like a wheel of fire BUT THE WHEAT REMAINED. Untouched, unassuilable, undefiled, that mighty world- force; that neur'sher of nations, wrapped in Nirvanic calm, indifferent to the human swarm, gizantic, resistless, moved onward in its anponted roo Through the walter of bleod at the irrization ditch, through the sham chanty and =hallow nhilanthrony of famine relief committees, the great harvest of Los Muertns rolledslike a flood from the Sierras to the Himalcyas to feed thousands of starving scavecrcws on the barren plains of India. Faleerness dies; iniustice and .oporession im the end of evervthing fade and vanish away. Greed, cruelty, selfishness #nd Inhumanity are short-lived; the Individual siffers, but the race goes on. Annixter dies, but in a far distant corner of the world a thousand lives are saved. The larger view always and throuzh all shams, all wickednes, discovers the Truth that will In the enc orevall. and all things surely, In- evitably, resistlessly work together for good. . . . To make this book one and the first of the trilogy of “The Epic of Wheat,” Mr. Nerris has with definite purpose not cori- fined himself to one story, but given many stories. If the reader follows the numer- ous threads that the opening chapters of- fer he will find that they are but the un- raveled ends of the great cable that leads to the ultimate purpose in the author's mind. Each and every one of the characters offers a story and yet all of these plots are so closely related that one is dependent upon the other. There is, first, Magnus Derrick (the “Governor”) and his sons: Harran, the apple of his eye, and Lyman, the city bred man, who so falsely deceives the League in its fight against the Railroad. The life of this family from fits sturdy beginning down to its downfall of the fa- vorite son, ruin of the father and un- worthy rise of Lyman, is presented in every detail. Then there is Annixter, the proprietor of one of the ranches, an odd character, who fears the *feemale” woman, is hard 2ud ready to ride over all for his own ends, and then gradually changes and de- velops as his love is purified until he be- comes a noble man among men and falls in hattle, a man of peace. to prevail? numerous in itself, Nrs. gan Rensselaer Cruger. Again, there is the sad story of Hilma Tree. the dairy girl, who wins and tolds the love of Annixter only to lose him in the last stand of the Leaguers against the Railroad. And a splendidly Grawn char- acter she is. Here s a description of her, wlich shows so well Mr. Norris’ excep- ticral power as a word painter: Hilma Tree was-fiside, s'ng'ng at her work. Her volce of a velvety hu: more of the nes chest than of the, taroat. mingiing with the tiquid dashing of the milk in the vats and churns, and the clear. sonorous clinking of the cans and paps. Annixter turned into the dairy-house, ‘pausing on the threshold, looking ebout him. Hilma stcod b:zthed from head to foct in the torrent of sunlight that poured in upon her from the three wide-open windows She was charming, delicious, radiant of youth/ of health, of well-beins Into her eyes, wide open, brown, rimmed with their fine, thin line of intense black lashes, the sun set a dlamond flash; the same golden light glowed all around her thiek, moist hair, lambent. beautiful, a sheen of almost metallic luster, and reflected itself upon her wet lips, moving with the words of her singing. The whiteness of her Iaat’de Retween the keaguers and the Raflroad, 2s o s - | | | From “The Octopus” by | ! Frank Norris. | Copyright, 1801, by Doubleday, Page & Co. ] L3 ERE they are’” A half-dozen | voices uttered the cry at once. L N Therc couda be no mistake this time. A buggy drawn by two horses came into view around the curve of the road. Three riders accomhanied it, and behind it, seen at intervals in a cloud of dust, were two, three, five, six others. This, then, was S. Behrman, with the Tnited States Marshal ard his posse. The event that had been so long in prepara- tion, the event which it had been =aid would never come to pass, the last tra! of strength. the last figat between the Trust and the People, the direct, brutal prapple of armed men, the law defled, the Govern- ment ignored—behold! here it was, close at hand Osterman cocked his revolver and in the profound nce that had fallen upon the scene the click was plainly audible from end to end of the line, “Remember our agreement, gentlemen,” cried lMagnus in a warmng volce. “Mr. Osterman, 1 must ask vou to let Cown the hammer of your weapon.” No one answered. In absolute quiet. standing motionless in their places Marshal Five minutes passed. The riders came on steadily. They drew mnearer. The grind of the buggy wheelx In the grit and dust of the road. and the prolonged clat- ter of the horses’ feet, began to make themselves heard. The Leaguers couid distinguish the faces of their enemics. In the buggy were 8. Behrman and Cy- rus Ruggles, the jatter driving. A tall man in a frock coat and slouched hat— 1he Marshal beyond ouestion—rode at the left of the buggy, Delaney. carrving Winchester, at the right. Christian, the real-estate broker, 8. Behrman's cousin. 2lso with a rifie. could be made out just behind the Marshal. Back of these, rid- ing well up, was a 2roup of horsemen, in- distingwishable in the dust raised by the buggy’s wheels Steadily the distance between the Teaguers and the posse diminished. Don’t let them et too close, Gover- whispered Harran. i's buggy was about distant from the irri- sprang out upon the road. lcaving his revolvers behind him. He beckoned G and Gethings to fol- low, and the three ranchers, who, with the exception of Broderson, were the old- est men present, advanced, without arms, to meet the Marshal. Magnus cried alond: *“Halt where you are.” From their place in the ditch, Annix- ter. Osterman. Dabney. Harran, Hooven, Brodergon, Cutter and Phelps, their hands lald upon th:ir revolvers, watched stlently, alert keen, ready for anything. At the Governor's words, they saw Ruggles pull sharply on the reins. The buggy came to a standstill, the riders do- ing likewise. Magnus approached the Marshal, still followed by Garnat: and Gethings. and began to speak. His volce was audible to the men in the ditch, but his words could not be made out. They heard the Marshal reply quietly enough and the two shook hands. Delaney came around from the side of the buggy, his horse standing before the team across the road. He leaned from the saddle, listen- ing to what was being £aid, but made no remark. From time to time, 8. Behrman and Ruggles, from their seats in the bug- gy, interposed a sentence or two into the conversation, but at first, so far as the Leaguers could discern, meither Magnus nor the Marshal paid them any atten- tion. They saw, however, that the latter repeatedly shook his head and once they heard him exclaim in a loud voice: “I only know my duty, Mr. Derrick.” one hundred var gating ditch Magnu: the | Leaguers watched the approach of the | = x 2 ness beyond words. Beneath the sweet modu- lation of her chin, the reflected light of the burnished copper vessel she was carrying set a vibration of pale gold. Overlaying the flush of rose in her checks, seen only when she stood against the sunlight, was a faint sheen of down. a lustrous floss. delicate as the pollen of a flower, or the impalpable powder of a moth's g. She was moving to and fru..ubrru( her work, alert, joyous, robust; and from all the fine, full amplitude of her figure, from her thick white neck, sloping down- ward to her chouiders, from the déep, femi- nine swell of her breast, the vigorous matur- ity of /her hips, there was disengaged a vibrant note of galety, of exuberant animal ‘lite, sane. honest, strong. She wore a skirt of plain blue czlico and a shirtwalst of pink linen, clean, trim: while her sleeves turned hack to her shoulders, showed her large, white arms. wet with milk, redolent and fragrant ~ith mik, glowing and resplendent in the e~rly morning light. ‘The other characters all have stories of their own, all lead their lives of right or wrong and all contribute their share to the homcgeneous whole. There is S. skin under the caress of this hale, vigorous 3 caxens Behrman for the raflroad, with his hench- morning light was dazzling. pure, of a fine- O T e O eked-out . bromce <-buster from the Annixter ranch, and esQribed by Frank Norris, Delarey close at hand addressed an un- heard remark to him. The cow-puncher replied curtly and the words seemed to anger Gethings. He made a gesture, pointing back to the ditch, showing the intrenched Leaguers to the posse. Dcianey appeared to communicate the news that the Leaguers were on hand and prepared to t to the other members of the party. They all looked toward the ditch and plainly saw the ranchers there, stand- ing to the'r arms. But meanwhile Ruggles had addressed himeelf more directly to Magnus, and be- tween the two an angry discussion was going forward. Once even Harran heard his father exclaim: ‘The statement a lie and no knows it better than yourself.” “Here,” growled Annixter to Dabney. who stood next him in the ditch, “those fellows are getting too close. Igok at ttem edging up. Don't Magnus see that?" The other members of the Marshal's force had come forward from their place behind the buggy and were spread out across the rcad. Some of them were gathered about Magnus, Garnett and Gethings; and some were talking to- gether, looking and pointing toward tae ditch. Whether acting upcn signal or not, the Leaguers in the ditch could not tell, but it was certain that one or two of the forward. one posse had moved considerably Besides this, Delaney had now placed his horse between Magnus and the ditch, and two others riding up from the rear had followed his example. The posse sur- rounded the three ranchers, and by now, everybody was talking at once. “Look here,” Harran called to Annixter, “this won’t do. I don’t like the looks of this thing. They all seem to be cdging up and before we know it they may take the Governor and the other men prisoners.” “They ought to come back,” declared Annixter. “Somebody ought to tell them those fellows are creeping up.” By now the angry argument between the Governor and Ruggles had become more heated than ever. Their voices were raised; now nad then they made furious gestures. “They ought to come back,” cried Oster- man. ‘““We couldn’t shoot now if any- thing should happen, for fear of hitting them.” “Well, it sounds as though something were going to happen pretty soon.” They could hear Gethings and Delaney wrangling furiousl another deputy Jjoined In. “I'm going to call the Governor back," exclaimed Annixter, suddenly clambering out of the ditch. “No, no,” cried Osterman, *keep in the ditch. They can’t d-ive us our if we keep here.” that Mussel STough Treouble Re- Qording to Bangroft. ; 52 From Bancroft’s History of California, Volume VII, page 617. o = = - NE instance of bloodshed only can be recorded, and in that no blame seems to attach to the company. About 1876 the settlers, 600 in num- ber, petitioned Congress to restore a por- ticn of the land grant to the public, no railroad having been constructed on the route between Hollister, in San Benito County, and Goshen in Tulare County, a distance of 140 miles. They represented that for a distance of fifty miles the route lay over a level, sandy waste of little vaive, until by irrigating canals, constructed at their own expense, it had been reclaimed and made fruitful; that subscquent to these improvements the railroad company surveyed its line, and asked for patents to the odd sections, some of which were already occupled. Congressional committees reported some fer and some against a forfeiture of the lands, and the matter remained undeter- mined until 1878, cleven years after the land wos granted. In April of that year a mess meeting was cailed at Hanford, in this region, where a settler's league was organized. The league expressed itself as willing to pay the price fixed by the Government for railroad lands, namely $250 per acre; but declared the ralircad company had no right to their homes and improvements, nor any right to require payment for the same from those who had made the improvements. On a demand from the league to have their land-grader removed, the railroad company brought suits of ejectment against the settlers on its patented lands, and obtained judgment in the United States Circuit” Court in December. Pre- vigus to this decision, however, elghty or a hundred men, with masks to conceal thefr identity, repaired to the house of Ira Hodge, a purchaser of railroad land, five miles from Hanford, and ordering out the family. burned down the dwelling. Another purchgser, Perry C. Phillips, was treated in the same manner, and a settler placed in possession. Soon after these acts a military company was formed. In July, 1879, a party of men. mounted and Then Gethings turned about, and seeing | disguised, *llde a midnight visit to a house where it was suspected that certain obnoxious persons were lodged. Thelr visit was taken as a menace. In May, 1880, no compromise having been effected, United States Marshal Poole, in under- taking to place purchasers of "raflroad lands in possession, was resisted by an armed force, and a battle resulted in which eight persons were killed, namely, James Harris, Tver Knutson, J. W. Hen- derson, Archibald McGregory, Dariel Kelly and E. Haymaker, seftlers, and Walter J. Crow and M. D. Hartt, pur- chasers of railroad lands. Tt was shown at the inquest that time of the collision Marshal Pno?(: nllfi company with the land grader Clark, and Crow and Hartt, purchasers of raliroad lands, had set out in the street the house- hold goods of W. B. Braden and was procecding to evict other families. The Coroner’s jury resolved that “the respon- sibility of ‘the shedding of innocent blood rests upon the Southern Pacific Rallroad Company,” and the feeling throughout the State was stronfly adverse to the com- pany’s course. It was shown, however upon the trial of those persons engaged in resisting the Marshal that the settlers had set themselves ufi as the rightful owners, regardless of the patents held by the railroad company, and had organized a military force, which patrolled the streets on horseback with masks over their faces; that they warned away bne purchaser of 1aflroad land, turning the occupant out of doors; that it was not known who was the attacking party on the fateful 10th of May, but that the set- tlers deliberately murdered Crow after the first fury of the fight was over. But such ‘was the sentiment regardlng the right of the Southern Pacific Company to hold the land grant that the only crime charged against the men who participated in the tragedy of Brewer's rancho was that of resisting the United States Marshal. For this J. J. Doyle, James N. Petterson, J. D. Purcell, W. L. Pryor and Willlam Braden were- sent to prison in San Jose January 24, 1881, where they remained sev- eral monghs, during which time they were the recipients of much Kkindness and at- tention from the citizens of that place. On returning to their homes the; mets by 3000 gmple assembled at ‘;:;3 Park to_tender their sympathy and ap- proval. Upon the platform erected for the orators of the cay sat the released prison- ers and their tamilies, with the families of these killed in the defense of their homes. Letters were read from Congress- men Berry and Ferral and Senator Tinnin of the California delegation in Washing- ton, speeches were made and resolutions offered. Hooven and Harran who had instinct- ively folowed Annixrer. hesitated at Os- terman’s words and the three halted Ir- resolutely on the rcad before the ditch, their weapons in ihcir hands. “Governor,” shout»d Harran back. You can't do anything. Still the wrangle continued, and one of the deputies, advaacing a little from out the group, cried oul: Keep back, there! you!" “Go to hell, will on the instant. “Yu “Oh, come back here, ‘“‘come on Keep back, there, »u!” shouted Harrran re on my land.” Harran,” called Osterman. “That ain’t going to do any good.” “There—listen!” suddenly _exclalmed Harran. “The Governor is calling to us. Come on; I'm goin=.' Osterman got ogt of the ditch and came forward, catching Harran by the arm and pulling him back. “He didn't call Don't get exchted. You'll ruin everything. Get back irto the ditch again.” But Cuiter, Phelps and the old man Dabneéy, misunderstanding what was hup- pening, and seeing Osterman leave the ditch, had followed his exam: All the Leaguers were now out of the diteh, and a little way down the road, Hoovea, Os- terman. Alexander and Harran in front; Dabney, Phelns and Cutter were coming up from behind. “Keep back, again. In the group around S. Behrmau’s buggy Gethings and Delaney were yet quarreling. and the angry debate batwecn Magnus, Garnett and the Marshal siil continued. Till this moment the real-estate broker. Christian, had taken no part iu the argu- ment, but had kept himself in the rear of the buggy. Nbw, however, he nushed himself forward. There was but iittle room for him to pass ard as he rode by the buggy his horse scraped his flank against the hub of the wheel. The anitual recofled sharply and, striking agalnst Garnett, threw him to the ground. De- laney's horse stood between the buggy and the Leaguers gathered on the rvad i1 front of the ditch. The incident, indis- tinctly seen by them. was misinterpreted. Garnett had not risen when Hooven rafred a great shout: “Hoch, der Kalser! land!" With the words, he dronped to ‘one knee, and sighting his rifle carefully, fired into the group of men around the bugry. Instantly the revolvers and rifles seem- ed to go off of themselves. Bothisides, deputies and Leaguers, cpened fire simul- taneously. At first it was nothing but a confused roar of explosinns; then the roar lapsed to an irregular, anick succession of reports, shot leaping after shot: then a moment’s silence. and, last of all, regular as clock-ticks, three slhots at exact in- ‘tervals. Then stillness. Delaney, shot through the stomach. slid down from his horse, and on his hands and knees crawled from the road into the standing wheat. Christian fell backward from the saddle toward the buggy and hung suspended in that position. his head and shoulders on the wheel, one stiff leg still across his saddle. Hooven, In at- tempting to rise from his kneelihg posi- tion, received a rifie ball squarely in the throat and rolled forward upon his face. 0Old Broderson, crying out, ““Oh, they've shot me, boys,” staggered sideways. his head bent, his hands rigld at his sides, and fell into the ditch. Osterman, blood running from his mouth and nose, turned about and walked back. Presley helped him across the irrigating ditch and Os- terman laid himself down, his head on his folded arms. Harran Derrick dropped where he stood, turning over on his face, and lay motionless, groaning terribly, a pool of blood forming under his stomach. The old man Dabney, silent as ever, re- cetyed his death speechless. He fell to hi§ knees, got up again, fell once more, and died without a word. Annixter, in- stantly killed, fell his . Jength to the ground and lay without movement, just 2s he had fallen. one arm across his face. cried the deputy you Hoch, der Vater- Christian and Ruggles. Rehrman plays his role of winning every fight against men, but succumbs at last to the inevitable and dies like a dog in the midst of that wheat for which he had blasted so many souls. After finally ob- tafning possession of the Magnus Derrick place he goes to the shin to see his wheat loaded, and while watching tke grain pour from the chute into the hold loses his balance and falls. At first he is pleased with the fancy of watching the golden stream flood in and seeing the high cone break and seethe around his knees, but |soon he realizes that there is no way of escape and his delight is turned to terror as thé inexorable mass rises and rises and the dnst clogs his mouth and eyes. At last he dies in the midst of that for which he had struggled so long and finally at- tained: 1 Reason fled. Deafened with the roar of Ima grain, bl'nded ard made dumb with its chaff. he threw himself forward with clutch- ing fingers. rolling upon his back. and lay | there, moving feebly. the head rolling from | s'de to sid=. The Wheat, leaping continuously from the chute, poured around him. It filled the pockets of the coat, it crept up the sleeves | and trousers ler it covered the great. pro- tuberart stomach, it ran at last in rivulets Into the d.stended, gasping mouth. It covered the face. Upon the surface of the Wheat. chute, nothing moved but the There was no sign of li‘e. stant, the surface st'rred short fingers and swollen veins. reached up, | clutching, then fell limp and prone. In an- other Instant it was covered. In the hold of the Swanhilda there was no movsment of the widening ripples that spreed flow'nz from the ever-breaking, ever-reforming cone: no sound but the rushing of the Wheat that continued to plunge incesgantly from the iron chute in a prolonged roar, persistent, steady, inevi- table. under the Wheat itself. Then, for an in- A hand, fat. with . Mr. Norrfs spent a comparatively short time in the San Joaquin Valley studying the countr: ard the peanle. yet he has caught the life on the great wheat ranches to perfection. His description of the dance in Annixter’s new barn and then of the rabhit arive are the best that I have read. and I can vouch for them per- sorally. fer many a drive and many a dance have T attended in just that Incality where Mr. Norris places his story. T never enjoved the felicity. as Annixter did, of taking a shot at bronco-busting Delaney who Fad made up his mingd to “clean out the .ance to which he was not invited, but this incident might well have oceur- red, for Tulare County has seen in fact 2 startling events by the hundred as Mr. Norris portrays in fiction. To one familiar with the people, history {and scenes of Californfa, the book pos- sesses a double interest, as nearly every location described has its duplicate some- where In the State and nearly every char- acter has, or has had, its counterpart in real life. One flgure easily recognized is that of ‘Shelgrim, as the counternart of the late head of the Southern Pacific. The words that the axthor puts in the mouth of the great railroad magnate during a conver- sation with Presley may prove of interest: “‘And,”” cont'nued the president of the .. #nd S. W., with grave intensity, laoking at Presley keenly, “I suppcs» you believe I am a grund old rascal?” ! “I believe,” answered Preeley, syaded—'" He hesitated, words. | “Believe this, young man,” exclaimed Shel- grim, laying“a thick: powerful forefinger on the table to emphasize his words, “try to be. lieve this—to begin With—THAT RAILROADS BUILD THEMSELVES. Where there is a de- e —— The Bilioustine, A clever satire which originally appeared in EERT LESiuN T.YLURS “'LIN_.-y-1V ¢ (RW" FO" UuN, on the editoral page of the CHICAGO TRIB- UNE, attracting wid, lon. Evi . Suitnted E thes maserion. Brety reader joy reading and want to posses this unique Boo B i FAA MES/RAS AND THE BOY G3AFTERS will be famous the world over. Send at once if you wish to own a copy. o o mash to own a copy. They will quickly Every copy tied with a string by hand. am per- searching for. his Brown paper; 24 pp.: pricé Zec. Booksellers and Newsdealers supplied. Address W;LLIAM’- + LORD, tutisher, Tvansten, . One of Mrs. Cruger’s Books Out in a New Edition. HE sentimental wave that has spread over the world with enough violence to give popularity to “An © Englishwoman's Love Letters” Is responsible for the new edition by D. Ap- pleton & Co. of “His Letters” by Jullen Gordon.. These were copyrighted in 1882. but as everything in the way of “letters now seems to be the vogue, a ‘‘mew edi- tion” may not be out of place for public favor, : “His Letters” cannot be compared with Julien Gordon’s (Mrs. Van Rensselaer Cruger) book of last year, ““Mrs. Clyde;” but for those who dote on reading the purrings of love from the heart-to-heart medium of letters it will answer well enough. The writer of these epistles is supposed to be a brilliant orator and lawyer of some forty odd years. There are parts that no sane man of that discreet age would be willing to claim authorship of. although proceedings in modern courts of law and up to date breach of promise suits have demonstrated they might real- 1y have happened, for ‘‘there’'s no fool like an old fool” still seems to hold good even in the present century. This talented member of the bar finds inspiration in a palnting and without the conventionality of an introduction to the artist proceeds to fall in love and write letters. This explanation takes but a few nages of the book, the rest of the volume being made up of the one hundred and fifteen letteps that the gentleman writes to the object of his adoration. The lady is not personzlly in evidence except in such portions of the letters that repeat parts of what she has had to say. Mre. Cruger can gain nothing from these Jetters in the way of lterary fame ex- cept from those who care for sentimental- ity of the mawkish order. Still in all fairness to her literary ability—which. as has been demonstrated Ir her other books, is of no mean order—her power of epi- gram shows forth with undiminished lus- ter. Here are some good bits from “His Letters:"” Unless one can bear punishment repentance amounts to nothing. When love comes death has no terrors. 1 have lots of enemies; thank God for that. Tragedy is quite out of date now—it's bad form, In fact. Even in a delirlum a man may innocently say something which jars upon the fiber of an ear infinitely more delicate than . urs. 1f there were no religion women like you would make men invent ome. Love is but a chili—he takes cold from too much_exposure. Nothing grows ness. Only one woman in a million can feel love; only one in ten million can evoke it. A man’s love never changes; a woman’s may, because she has more vanity. Isn't it too bad the truth is so horrible! One always is capable of hurting the very thing for which-one would die. Perfect? No. Had she been perfect she would have been less lovable. Another’'s wisdom does us no’ good. How much happler we would be if we could decelve ourselves. To a woman that loves there is no tragedy 11 hat of love unsatisfled. ”;:.:l,ah; EOmEe relenting mood of heaven, finds & blossom of Eden in his path and often treads it under foot. Defeat or triumph depends upon the aims one starts with. 1 used to be fool Heavens! more slowly than trustful- enough to suppose that love was all fun. there is very lit- tle fun in it. &< sooner or later there will ba a supply. M dl’)emck, does he grow his wheat? - The Wheat grows itself. What does he count for? Does he supply the force? What do I count for? Do I build the Railroad? You are deal- ing with forces, young man. ‘when you speak of Wheat and the Railroads, not with men. Ther= js the Wheat, the supnly. It must be carried to feed the People. There in the demand. The Wheat is one force, the Raflroad another, and there is the law that governs them—supply and d>mand. Men have only little to do in the whole business. Comvl'cations may arise, con- ditions that bear hard on the ind’vidual—erush him; mavbe—BUT. THE WHEAT WILL BE CARRIED TO FEED THE PEOPLE as In- evitably as it will grow. If you want to fastsn the blame of the affa'r at Los Muertos on‘ any one person vou will make a ‘mistake. Dlame ond'tions, not men."”" Butebut,” faltered Presley, “'you are the head, you control the road.” “You are a Very young man. Control the road! Can I stop it? I can go into bankruptcv it you like. But ctherwise if T run my road ax a business proposition I can do nothing. 1 can NOT control it. Tt is a force :;‘(\:':’u‘t( o; ondit'ons and I—no man—c: o i::‘::: cnf‘d Can vour Mr. Derrick stop the Wheat growing? He can burn his crop, or he can giva it away, or sell it for a cent a bushel —just as I could go into ‘bankruptcy—but other- wise his wheat must grow. Can any one stop the Wheat? Well, then no more can I stop the Read.” Preslev is an interesting character. He has no farm and sides with the Leaguers merely through friendship and a perfect appreciation of their strugle. He re- mains in the San Joaauin Vallev first. in the hope of xetting the inspiration for a pcem, and later because he cannot leave until he sees what the end will be. Tt is easy to find in the descrintion of this oem, “The Toflers.” the counterpart of “The Man With the Hoe."” Dyke. the blacklisted englneer, 1S 2 composite of Chris Evans. the Dalton gang, and an honest man. His last flight on the buckskin bronco. his fight on the fiving engine and Jater his final stand in the chanarral is told with all the vigor of the author’s virile pen. Tn a brief introduction Mr. Norris out- lines the scope of the trilogy. He says: The Trileey of the Epfe of Wheat will in- cinde the. following navels: “The Octopus. a Story of California.” “The Pit. a Story of Chirago.” ““The Wolf, a Story of Furove.” These novels, while forming a series, will be in no way connected with each other save only in their relatien to (1) the production. (2) the d'stribution, (3) the consumntion of American Wheat. When complete they will form the story of a crop of wheat from the time of its cowing as seed in California to the time of its consumption as bread in a village of West- e et movel, “The Octoous.” deals with the war between the wheatgrover and the rail- road trust: the second. “The Pit.”” will be the fictiticus narrative of a “deal’” in the Chicazo wheat pit. while the third, ““The Wolf.” will probably have for Its ivotal episde the re- llevine of a famine in an Old World com- munity. t" and “The We have vet to see “The P Wolf.” If thev equal this first book the trilogy will bring Mr. Norris very near the mark of *“the writer of the Ameri- can novel.” (Published by Dc:ubleda)’. Page & Co., New York. Price $150.) Literary Notes. The lifelike butterflies and insects which agpear in the new edition in colors of Professor J. H. Comstock’s “Insect Life” are reproduced directly from specimens selected by Professor Comstock from the remarkable collection which has been formed at Cornell University. - A work on Marie Antoinette on the later of the French monarchy is in prep- aration by Miss Soohia H. MacLehose and will be published very shortly by The Macmillan Company. Miss MacLehcse is alrea¢: known by her selection of tales from Spenser, Her present work will be very beautifully illustrated from rare pic- tures and prints. An interesting innova- tion in illustration will be the insertion of a portrait as a sort of initial letter at the beginning of each chapter. It will be a chatty book. Maxwell Gray, in private life Miss M. G. Tuttiett, the author of “The Silence of Dean Mattland.” and most recently of a strong story, which appears for the first {ime as a novel In Lippincott's, Magazine for June, writes from Richmond, Surrey, Ergland, that the novel in question, “Four-leaved Clover,” was written in Richmond during the winter of 1900, one of the most agitating periods of the Boer war. She says: “The story s thought out long before the war began, under the trees of Richmond Park, which does not in the least resemble the spot in the Isle of Wight, in which the action takes place. The most poignant of the experiences of Marcia, however, fell to the lot of many and many an Englishwoman during that tragic winter, and, in this respect, at least, the story is a reflection not only of reat life but of what has had recent vital illustration.” After completing the first four volumes in the series of Historical Guides, “Taris,” “Venice,” “‘Florence” and “The Cities of Belgium,” Mr. Grant Allen’s lahors were cut short by his death. He had, howeyer, sufficiently mapped out the plan of the series for sympathetic hands to carry on his work. Mr. G. C. Willlamson has been asked to continue the series and had talked oven the series with Mr. Allen many times: thus he knows well what were his ideas and with many of them is in fullest accord. He has just completed “The Citics of Nortkern Italy,” which wiil be fssued im- mediately by the A. Wessels Company, New York, and Mr. Grant Richards, Lon- don. The intelligent tourist will find this vol- ume a capital guide to Milan, Verona, Pa- dua, Bologna and Ravenna. Perhaps the busiest person on earth, even here in America, is the society wo- man, the woman who can do what she will with neovnle because of intellectual charm ard magnetism. It is not so casy a task as many observers think to 1o this sort of work with the brilliancy that con- ceals the effort; and many noble qualities of heart and brain go to the making of such a success. When a woman of this type manages to distinguish herself also in other circles she Is Indeed a 1: genius, for there is no more exacting mis- tress than society. Mrs. Reginald de Koven has never been conteni wil single kind of effort, and she nas mwan aged to find time between the dinners ani dances of an exceptionally zay s in Washington to write a new fncvel which is to be brought out this spriug by Messrs. Herbert S. Store & o 1t no light task.that she undertook in it, “By the Waters of Babylon™ is a literal title and refers to the luxurions life of the pompous ancient capital. She was | no means content with a cursory stu for her background, and the result of ker researches is a vivid impression of 1 florid civilization. In the midst of it the figures of Artaxerxes King of Kings Themistocles, the exiled Greek, and ti captive Jews, move swiftly and haughtily to tell their dramatic story. In the May Bookman there commences a fine serial story entitled “Warwick of the Knobs.” by John Uri Lloyd, author of “Stringtown on the Pike.” To those who have read Mr. Lloyd's earfier book we may say that the story deals with practi- cally the sams scenes and the same pe- riod. “Warwick of the Knobs” is a study of a life such as men like Warwick met both with Warwick's faith and stoieism. These men were iron in the maaner in which they clung to tradition, to home, to family pride and. above all, to their re- Iigion and their God, whem they believed to be relentless but just. “This desecrip- tion of Boone (Stringtown) County,” says Mr. Lioyd, “is such as history might re- cord, but does not.”” The scenery, the people, the methods of worship, the preju- dice. the sacrifice. the love. the nobleness of character, might all have been drawn from actual lif> There was no Warwick. At least there was no one of that name who presented the characteristics of the man whose name has given the title to this story. But with that, we might say, pure fiction ends. Beyond it everything lies somewhere or other in that borderland where the memory and the imagination meet and blend. These kills of Boone County felt often the tread of Morgan's cavalry. From this historic section of our country, this borderland which both in topography and in events may be likened to the Scottish Highlands, hundreds of recruits turned to swell the forces of the great Southern cavalryman who passed through this county after s escape from Columbus and for a time was secreted in a house on one of the knobs of Gunpowder. The ruins of the old church on the island, the first church reared in Northern Kentucky. built wihle yet Kentucky was a county of Virginia, a historic landmark, are still to be seen. The story marks a distinct advance upon “Stringtown on the Pike.” " Books Received. THE WISDOM OF ESAU—By C. H. Chomlye and R. M. Outhwaite. Cassell & Co., New York. $1 3. HIS LETTERS—By Julien Cordon. D. Appleton & Co.. New York. $1 30 VEST-POCKET “KAISER"” DICTION- ARY, GERMAN-ENGLISH and ENG- & LISH-GERMAN—Published by Lee. Chicago. Leather 5 cent. cents. THE WOMAN'S BOOK OF SPORTS— By J. Parmly Paret. D. Appleton & C New York. $L MAG AND MARGARET-By Mrs. G. R. Alden (“Pansy”). Lothrop Publishing Company, Boston. $1 50. THE DREAM OF MY YOUTH-By E. P. Tenney. Lothrop Publishing Company, Boston. 31 . THE POTTER AND THE CLAY-By Maud Howard Peterson. Lothrop Publish ing Company. Boston. $1 50. THE WILDERNESS ROAD—By Joseph A. Altsheler. D. Appleton & Co., New York. $150. HEALTH AND HYGIENE FOR THE HOUSEHOLD-By John Joseph Nutt, M. D. The Abbey Press, New York. Cloth 50 cents, paper %5 cents. A DAUGHTER OF THE PROPHETS - By Curtis Van Dyke. The Abbey Press. New York. 3§l X CHRISTIAN SCIENCE AND KIN- DRED SUPERSTITIONS—By Charles F. Winbigler. $1. THE HERQJNE OF SANTIAGO—BY Antoinette Sheppard. The Abbey Press, New York. $1. A DREAM OF EMPIRE—By Willlam Henry Venable. Dodd, Mead & Co., New Laird cloth York. $150. ¥ WHEN THE GATES LIFT UP THEIR HEADS—By Payne Brskine. Little, Brown & Co., Boston. §150. CLAYTON HALOWELL—By Francis W. Van Praag. R. F. Fenno & Co., New York. $1350. The Books Reviewed ON THIS PAGE Can Be Obtained at OBERTSON'S, | 126 FOST STREET, SAN FRANCISCO. Prices are always in the Reading Notices. Postage is tree. A. M. ROBERTSON.