245

A HOCHE-POTE OF GOSSIP

Chatter About Souvenir Spoons as an Incentive to Travel.

The Frenchman's Tea-Drinking Aunt-How Thebes Was Recalled - A Remarkable Family on Sunday Island.

The passion for collecting spoons from every city which one visits continues-as one would, say of a diphtheria epidemic-unabated. And every lady who really prides herself on having the daintest novelty in household godlets, now shows her full set of silver spoons, procured in cities as diverse as the patterns of the handles. San Francisco and Florence St. Petersburg and St. Augustine, Havana and Munich rattle together in metallic merriment, and display their roval designs, and Omaha is now represented in these collections by a most appropriate design. It is the head of an Omaha Indian-an actual portrait, and therefore, a really impressive face. The feathers of the head dress form the end of the handle, and the slope of the shoulders makes the outline of the spoon. Beneath, an open gate betrays the name of Omaha. This is the work of a very well known dealer a deal of good designing, but who has never confessed to his workmanship until recently. This maia for collecting spoons as souvenirs of one's journeyings is a harmless enough one, and does quite as well as any other device for getting rid of surplus money. But it emphasizes the fact which is undeniably true, that a good many travel, not because they want to see and know the world, but merely because they do not want to stay at home. It is somewhat irritating to know the benefits of life so frequently come to those who have not the ability to appreciate them. There are hundreds of girls in Europe today who remember very little about the cities they visit, except that they got a spoon of a certain design there on a particular street. And meantime, at home there are girls throbbing with the fine curiosity of the student or the adventurer, who would use such opportunities of travel in the largest and best ways. I remember once talking with a friend of mine who had just come back from Egypt.
"Tell me something about Thobes." I said to her, stretching myself on the grass in expectation of a treat. "Tell me everything about it that you can remember."
"Thebes," she said dreamily, taking a beautiful hat from her head and looking at it reflectively," is really the most surprising place. The shops are as good as those in Paris. You will hardly believe it, but I got this hat there."
I was telling this story one night to a friendly little Frenchman up in the harbor of Lake, in Alaska.
"Your friend was young," he cried charitably, "and you say she was also pretty." One forgives everything to such-even to be filled by one- that is also not past forgiveness. But consider my case. I have an aunt who is horribly old, but who never dies. When she does, what she has will be mine. She adores me, principally because when I go to see her I tell her very wild stories. All the time I am telling them she holds up her fan and emits little shrieks of horror. But all the same, she has cut off all her nephews, who are good young men, and do not amuse her. Fancy, then, my feeling when six months out of every year this dear aunt of mine exhausts her strength and consumes her fortune by traveling over the globe. And for what purpose? My dear madam, only to see in how many latitudes she can drink tea! Even if it were coffee the thought would not be so revoiting. But tea! She learned to drink it from an English lover whom she once had. He died, and I suppose her enternal tea drinking is a sort of votive offering-as one burns a lamp before the Virgin for the repose of a friend's soul. This aunt of mine has steeped tea in the shadow of the pyramids and never once looked up at the monuments. She has set her pot in the geyser water of New Zealand, and returned with poor reports of the country because her tea tasted of sulphur, she has roasted in Algiers and drunk tea with the notables of the English colony, and last year, if you can believe me, she actually went to South Africa and drank tea with a Dutch woman who whips her slaves with her own hands. She can show you a dent that her tea pot got in the Indian ocean, and another that it got on the steppnes of Russia, and I don't distinctly remember, but I think she told me she once dropped it off the matterhorn and walked down herself and picked it up off the ledge of a precipice."
He was a nice little Frenchman, and I highly valued him and his lies, but I found out that with all his cleverness he made mistakes.
There was an English woman on board our boat who divided her stateroom with me. She got on at a port somewhere in British Columbia, and at the close of a day in harbor. I had been ashore all day engaged in the pleasing occupation of wrecking buggies. That is to say, I had a good horse, who had a mouth of cast iron and a will as an unbending as the British lion's . And this brute instead, whenever we met a horse and vehicle on the road of turning out to the left. I resisted I swore by the American eagle that I would not be conquored by a bloody British quadruped. And I wasn't. I had my way. But to my astonishment I ran into nearly every team I encountered. it was not till the day was nearly ended that I found out that the horse was right and I was wrong, and that it was the custom of the country in driving to turn to the left.
"Well, I came back from this day's exciting experience to find a most astonishing pile of bags and bandboxes and paceils before my stareroom door, and our them was sitting a quiet looking woman whom I immediately took for a lady's maid.
"I am sorry you were kept waiting without," I said, "why didn't you ask the stewards to let you in?"
"I wished to wait and see if you would be willing that I should share the stateroom with you." she said sweetly. She had a lovely voice and a fine enunciation and a second later I thought that what she was really waiting for was to see if she wanted to stay with me. And then I knew she was not a lady's maid at all, but a middle aged gentlewoman, who was seeing the world I found. In fact, that she was making a journey around the world, and that she had given herself four years to do it in.
"She also," cried the little Frenchman when I told him about her, "is trying to see how many elimates she can drink or tea, or perhaps she is knitting an afghan, and wishes to add each row in the territory of a different monarch."
But he was wrong. She was a great traveler. She had the spirit of those old Englishmen in her who conquered the unknown continent of America, who penetrated the orient and Africa and the wild islands of the Pacific. She would sit in a frail boat that was being forced up the rapids and never open her thin lips; she would not even shut her eyes when a frightened shoal of salmon swerved the boat from its course, and then in their frenzy dashed against the stones and incarnadined the shallows with their blood, she would plod all day through the ranking chaperal drenched and without food, and never complain; she would wade a creek or climb a mountain or go down in a mine or ruin with the miners from a dynamite binast, or slide down an incline in a quartz mill, and all with an unassuming. spinster-like air that was the very acme of modesty and feminity to be sure she usually had her knitting along, but she took that for the same reason that the gentlemen took their tobacco. The needles used to protrude from her pocket when she stood on the glorified ice of a glacier lit by the sunset. Crevasses of ultra in arine, terribly beautiful, yawned at her feet and beneath goined the ice in its never ending struggle sounding like a world a making back of her the uprising wall of crystal flushed into red. transparent and mystic But this English gentlewoman was undismaved. She knew that her boots were water tight, that her purse was in the

A HOCHE-POTE OF GOSSIP

Chatter About Souvenir Spoons as an Incentive to Travel.

The Frenchman's Tea-Drinking Aunt-How Thebes Was Recalled - A Remarkable Family on Sunday Island.

The passion for collecting spoons from every city which one visits continues-as one would, say of diphtheria epidemic-unabated. And every lady who really prides herself on having the daintiest novelty in household goblets now shows her full set of silver spoons, procured in cities as diverse as the patterns of the handles. San Francisco and Florence St. Petersburg and St. Augustine, Havana and Munich rattle together in metallic merriment and display their roval designs, and Omaha is now represented in these collections by a most appropriate design. It is the head of an Omaha Indian-an actual portrait, and therefore, a really impressive face. The feathers of the headdress form the end of the handle, and the slope of the shoulders makes the outline of the spoon. Beneath, an open gate betrays the name of Omaha. This is the work of a very well known dealer a deal of good designing, but who has never confessed to his workmanship until recently. This maia for collecting spoons as souvenirs of one's journeyings is a harmless enough one, and does quite as well as any other device for getting rid of surplus money. But it emphasizes the fact which is undeniably true, that a good many travel, not because they want to see and know the world, but merely because they do not want to stay at home. It is somewhat irritating to know the benefits of life so frequently come to those who have not the ability to appreciate them. There are hundreds of girls in Europe today who remember very little about the cities they visit, except that they got a spoon of a certain design there on a particular street. And meantime, at home there are girls throbbing with the fine curiosity of the student or the adventurer, who would use such opportunities of travel in the largest and best ways. I remember once talking with a friend of mine who had just come back from Egypt.
"Tell me something about Thobes," I said to her, stretching myself on the grass in expectation of a treat. "Tell me everything about it that you can remember."
"Thebes," she said dreamily, taking a beautiful hat from her head and looking at it reflectively," is really the most surprising place. The shops are as good as those in Paris. You will hardly believe it, but I got this hat there."
I was telling this story one night to a friendly little Frenchman up in the harbor of Lake, in Alaska.
"Your friend was young," he cried charitably, "and you say she was also pretty." One forgives everything to such-even to be filled by one- that is also not past forgiveness. But consider my case. I have an aunt who is horribly old, but who never dies. When she does, what she has will be mine. She adores me, principally because when I go to see her I tell her very wild stories. All the time I am telling them she holds up her fan and emits little shrieks of horror. But all the same, she has cut off all her nephews, who are good young men, and do not amuse her. Fancy, then, my feeling when six months out of every year this dear aunt of mine exhausts her strength and consumes her fortune by traveling over the globe. And for what purpose? My dear madam, only to see in how many latitudes she can drink tea! Even if it were coffee the thought would not be so revolting. But tea! She learned to drink it from an English lover whom she once had. He died, and I suppose her enternal tea drinking is a sort of votive offering-as one burns a lamp before the Virgin for the repose of a friend's soul. This aunt of mine has steeped tea in the shadow of the pyramids and never once looked up at the monuments. She has set her pot in the geyser water of New Zealand, and returned with poor reports of the country because her tea tasted of sulfur, she has roasted in Algiers and drunk tea with the notables of the English colony, and last year, if you can, believe me, she actually went to South Africa and drank tea with a Dutch woman who whips her slaves with her own hands. She can show you a dent that her teapot got in the Indian ocean, and another that it got on the steppes of Russia, and I don't distinctly remember, but I think she told me she once dropped it off the Matterhorn and walked down herself and picked it up off the ledge of a precipice."
He was a nice little Frenchman, and I highly valued him and his lies, but I found out that with all his cleverness he made mistakes.
There was an English woman onboard our boat who divided her stateroom with me. She got on at a port somewhere in British Columbia, and at the close of a day in harbor. I had been ashore all day engaged in the pleasing occupation of wrecking buggies. That is to say, I had a good horse, who had a mouth of cast iron and a will as an unbending as the British lion's. And this brute instead, whenever we met a horse and vehicle on the road of turning out to the left. I resisted I swore by the American eagle that I would not be conquered by a bloody British quadruped. And I wasn't. I had my way. But to my astonishment, I ran into nearly every team I encountered. it was not till the day was nearly ended that I found out that the horse was right and I was wrong, and that it was the custom of the country in driving to turn to the left ship's safe and that her knitting needles were in her pocket.

Fate could not harm her, folk with hysterical sensibilities are usually called eloquent. My friend, because her digestion was so good and the action of her heart perfectly normal, was not eloquent, but she used to tell in lucid and accurate language about the places she had visited and the people she had seen. The temperance of her language made her relations positively classical. I have never met man or woman who was so unaffectedly truthful and realistic. This accuracy was of course much more valuable than eloquence.

Here is one of the stories she told me: "A number of gentlemen of New Zealand engaged a steamer for three months for the purpose of taking them among the islands of the Pacific. With them were their wives and children; and every comfort was provided which would make the surroundings home-like and ease-giving. One day when we were cruising around in the midst of the Tahiti group it was discovered that our supply of water was unexpectedly low, and the captain said we would be obliged to land at the first island we came in the way of. I was not long before the land was slighted, and in a few hours we anchored off a rocky coast. The boats were lowered, and the day being beautiful and calm, the passengers were told that it was safe for them to go ashore if they wished to explore the island. But so very uninviting was the aspect of the black rocks that few availed themselves of this opportunity, and among the women ouly I went with my little niece. There was a fissure in the black rock, and we had some difficulty in getting our boat safely through, because a strong sea surged in and out, but once beyond this cleft we entered upon a very small harbor, almost as round as a saucer, and beautifully calm, with green clear water in it, and a shelving beach on which we could see the white pebbles. We had never one of us a doubt that we were visiting an uninhabited island, and you can, therefore, fancy our surprise when we saw a very pretty skill, well painted-though most curiously- anchored where the tides would not injure it by dashing it out the beach.

"A moment later three girls full-grown, or almost so, appeared upon the sands and upon seeing us stood perfectly still, something in the way a bear does after it has leaped out of the brush and first catches sight of hunter. After a few seconds' survey of us, one of them started to run, but the others caught and held her. Then the three walked together toward the water. Their feet were bare, and so were their arms to the shoulders. Their skirts were of faded blue jeans, and they wore bodies of untanned leather, laced in front with little thongs. After their first fear had been quieted they waited for us with dignity, standing squarely on their feet, with their arm hanging down at the sides. I said to one of the gentlemen that they looked like women who could turn a long way without bringing, and he replied that I was right and that it was only persons with developed and educated muscles who knew the value of letting them rest supinely when they were not in active use. We much curiosity to know what language they would speak, and the men called out to them: 'Ahoy there,' and they answered: 'Ship ahoy.' They had fine strong voices which were sweet, but not in the way that a woman's voice usually. They were more like masculine voices which were very musical in their quality. When we were landed Iran to them and held out my hand, to which they each gave a hearty grasp, and in ten minutes I learned that they had been born on the island and had never set foot on any other land. The oldest of them was 18. The youngest was 13, but she was almost as large as the others. They spoke elegant English, but with a little burr on the r, which was explained by the fact that their name was Campbell. I asked them to take me to their mother, which they did after inviting the gentlemen and sailors to follow. Some on of the ground had a barren look as if it were composed of lava or slag, but these were the higher portions of the island, and in the lower lands were very fruitful fields. These were in a high state of cultivation, and what was growing there and what you Americans call corn and many kinds of vegetables. There were besides rows of bushes bearing, small fruits, and some orchards composed of wild trees, which had been set out in an orderly fashion and cultivated. The house was part of stone and part of logs, all cemented together so that no storm could penetrate it. It had no noticeable deficiency expecting the lack of glass. For, though small panes were set in the large wooden shutters, they were not great enough either as to size or as to numbers to furnish sufficient light. But they told me that it was seldom indeed that they had occasion to close these shutters. The interior of the house was wonderful. You cannot imagine the simplicity of it, or how much better and less material that simplicity seemed than all the wasteful and hampering elaboration we burden our homes with. A large, strong table, well-shaped chairs, in which one might rest, but not lounge, a fine clock, a fire place, lamps without chimneys, but with large, round wicks, and a shelf of books- these were the furnishings of the apartment. An alcove showed sleeves containing dishes, most of which were of baked earth. In the rear was a shed containing household and farming tools. As the side was a long room divided into several parts, with rustic screens made of crooked twigs nailed on frames, and on the sides of these rooms were bunks for sleeping, filled up with sweet hay, and having stout, elegant blankets of Scottish material, folded across the foot. They were blankets that would stand fifty years of use.

The mother received us with some excitement, but with courtesy of manner, and confirmed my opinion that these were gentlefolk. Soon the father came in with his four sons. One of these sons was about 17 years of age, but the rest were younger than the girls, and it was explained to me that the girls had been obliged to do a large part of the farm work, which accounted for their fine physical development. The father had been off the island on two occasions since he landed on it eighteen years ago. Both times he had been for supplies, and had ventured in a small boat, but had been brought back by a steamer. We could not learn from his conversation why he had chosen to isolate himself in such an extraordinary manner. He was a gentleman of education of orginality, and had a peculiar way of expressing himself, which made on remember everything he said. The tie was not without fortune, for he told us that he thought of sending his children to England to finish their education. He had taught them Latin and even the higher mathematics, and he had also instructed them on the violin. All of the family also spoke French, and Mr. Campbell said he had passed several years in Paris. When he and his wife were set off the steamer on this lonely island with their implements for farming and housekeeping they had no children. They said, indeed that it had not occurred to them that hey would have children, and that they never dreamed of such happiness and peace as had come to them. It was, of course, apparent that hey had some vital reason for leaving the world, but the person does not live, I suppose, who would have the temerity to ask what it was. Both Mr. and Mrs. Campbell were persons of such dignity that I was almost tempted to call their behavior majestic. I never saw royal personages behave with more stateliness. They would have us all eat with them, and they gave us coarse bread from flour of their own making, and plum sauce, potatoes, a sort of shed, and tea of excellent flavor. Mr. Campbell had brought cattle to the island five years before, and we had butter, cheese, and cream. We afterward saw his cattle, of which he now had five, two of them bring young heifers which he had taught to wear it yoke and which were of great service in farming. You might have expected such people to be heavy in conversation, but they were the very, contrary. Their manner of joking was quaint and strange. It reminded me of the jokes that were in fashion in Shakespeare's day, and as Shakespeare was one of their few books it is not impossible that they got the fashion from him. They laughed much and very musically. None of them wore hats. They had very few clothes on, but they did not give one the impression that they were unclothed. There was nothing about them that suggested the savage. None of them apologized for their manner of living. On the contrary, I felt impelled to apologize for mine, so ignoble did seem when compared with theirs. We were taken over the island, which was a curious, volcanic formation, rising by a succession of grotesque hills to a considerable mountain, at the apex of which was a crater. But it was silent and cold, and we were told that we might do down into it with safety. Near the apex a sort of observatory had been built, and here, when any of the family had been to the far side of the island, they sometimes slept. As they had first landed on the island on the seventh day of the week, they called it Sunday island, but it is not that Sunday island which is designated on the maps. In fact, I do not think the island we visited appears on the map at all.

"When we had bid them farewell and got back to our vessel, the other numbers of our party were most incredulous. And it was only when we loaded a boat with delicacies to send ashore, that they would believe us. We also put in two books, one was "Ben" Hur and the other 'Byrce's American Commonwealth' We would willingly have added many more, but we feared to disturb the serenity of those finely balanced minds. Ceasar's Commentaries, the Iliad, Shakespeare, Burns, Cornelle, Benelou, Milton, Racine, Rousseau and Wordsworth were not books easily companioned. There were, of course, a number of modern books that I would gladly have sent them had I had copies with me, but it would have been sacrilege to have given them any of the novels with which we amused ourselves on shipboard. In return for our gifts, we received a quaint and elegant note from Mr. Campbell. I suppose I shall never hear of this strange family again, but they impressed me more than any family that ever I met, and I like to remember and talk of them. For they were a little commonwealth to themselves. They had no laws, and were therefore perfectly moral--"

"Dear me," I cried, "what an anarchistic sentiment!"

The good lady looked surprised at herself, and to hid her confusion worked in a row of lilac on her canvas toilet bag.

ELIA W. PEATTIE.

AN EDITORIAL SERMON,

Rockport (Tex.) Picayune: Take things as they are and make the best of them. Prudence in a woman should be an instinct, not a virtue. Happiness is like the echo it answers but does not come. Bice in the young fills us with horror-in the old, disgust. Caution is often wasted, but it is a very good risk to take. The man who never makes any blunders seldom makes any good hits. The great difficulty with advice is the preponderance of quantity over quality. When a man has the reputation of being plain-spoken it is a sure sign that he never sees anything good in others. The slowest and dullest woman soon gets on to a new wrinkle, if it appears in another woman's face. Don't think that because you have exhausted all your own resources you have exhausted all in the world. There are acres to be plowed outside your own gate. Because a man makes a loud noise by continually shooting off his mouth, don't think for an instant that it is an overflow of brainpower. Consider the mule; he is a good example,

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