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CONTRIBUTIONS : A FLORA OF BALUCHISTAN. 131

Medicago denticulata Willd. Sp. Ill, 1414. var. lappacea Boiss. Fl. Or. II. 103. Loc. : Panjguri, about 3,100 ft. (no. M 117D). Fl. and fr. in March 1918. Vern. Names : Goki Shims (Bal.), Mena (Sind.).

Medicago sativa L. — Lucerne. Loc. : Quetta. Fl. in August.

Medicago sp. near praecox DC. Cat. Monsp. 123. Loc. : Hazar- ganji, 27° 28' N, 66° 12' E, about 3,600 ft. (no. 331). Fl. in Sept. 1917. Vern. Names : Shims (Bal.), Marav (Br.).

Madicago sp. Loc : Nagak (W. Kolwa), near mouth of Hodal Pass, about 87 miles E. by N. of Turbat, about 2,400 ft. (no. M 117E). Fl. in April 1918. Vern. Name : Goki Shims (Bal.). .

Medicago sp. near coronata Lam. Diet. Ill, 634. Loc. : Hazar- ganji, 27°28'N, 66° 12'E., about 3,600 ft. (no. 332). Growing in a partially flooded meadow. Fl. and fr. in Sept. 1917. Vern. Name : Shims (Bal.).

Melilotus Turnef.

Melilotus alba Desr. in Lam. Diet. 7, 63. Loc, : Panjguri (M 338, M 338A). Fl. in June 1918. Vern. Names: Shams (Bal.), Jangli Meni (? Sind.). Uses : Leaves eaten as a vegetable.

Melilotus indica All. Fl. Pedem. I {1785) 308. Loc: Panjguri, about 3,100 ft. (no. M 158, M 145), Nagak (W. Kolwa) about 87 miles E. by N. of Turbat, about 2,400 ft. (no. M. 158A). Fl, and fr. in March and April 1918. Uses : This plant is eaten by man, cooked as a vegetable. Vern. Names : Mardumi Shims (Bal.). Madi Shims.

TRIFOLIUM L.

Trifolium fragiferum L. Sp. PI. 1086. Loc. : Kalat, about 6,350 ft., plentiful on the edges of irrigated lands (no. M 307A) ; Iskalku, 7 miles E. of Kalat, 7,500 ft., grows on edges of irrigation channels (no. 10, 10 C) ; Surab, 43 miles S. of Kalat, 5,750 ft. (no. 103, M 370), grows by water with clover. Fl. in June 1918, Aug. 1917. Vern. Name : Jaghar Kirm (Br.), this name comes from the idea that if sheep eat it they get worms in the liver. Horses suffer no harm.

DORYCNIUM Tourn.

Dorycnium villosum Blatt. and Hall. spec. nov. Herba perennis, villoso-hirsuta, a basi lignosa et ramosa ; caules ascendentes, sulcati, foliosi, internodiis brevibus. Folia subsessilia. Petiolus simul cum rhachide 3 mm longus, fortis, sulcatus. Foliola 4, quorum unum terminale, duo terminali proxima et unum in parte inferiore. Petioluli breves sed distincti, graciles. Foliola spathulato-cuneata, mucronata, 10 mm longa, 3 mm lata in parte latissima, parce hirsuta vel glabre* scentia in facie superiore, densissime villoso-hirsuta in facie inferiore. Pedunculi erecti, foliis aequilongi, umbellatim 2-3-flori, bractea unica dimidiam partem folioli attingente- Pedicelli 1-2 mm longi. Calyx subaequaliter 5-fidus, dense hirsutus, lobis subulatis, tubo aequilongia in flore, elongatis in fructu. Corolla parum exserta, flava ; vexillum apica rubrum ? longius caeteris petalis ; carina acuta (sed non


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58 THE JOUENAL OF INDIAN BOTANY. 64° 42' E, 1,900-2,200 ft. (no. 266, 266A, 266B). Fl. and fr. in April 1918. Note : The lower joint of the siliqua contains sometimes one seed, each loculus of the upper joint is either seedless or 1-seeded.

Cleome brachycarpa Vahl in DC. Prodr. I. 240. Loc. : Zahren Kahur, 16 miles N. of Pasni, about 200 ft. (no. M 38) ; Eari Dan, 170 miles S. by W. of Kalat, 2,300 ft. (no. 286) ; Korak Pelar, 180 miles S. by W. of Kalat, 1,900 ft, (no. 279). Fl. and fr. in Sept, 1917. Uses : The leaves are said to be crushed in oil and rubbed on the arms, etc., as an embrocation for high fever (Hotson). Vern. Names : Miskok (Bal.), Pawal (Brah.).

Cleome Hotsonii Blatt. it Hall. spec. nov. Herba perennis, basi lignosa, glauca, glaberrima, caulibus gracilibus ascendentibus, 25 cm altis, angulosis. Folia uniformia, elliptica, obtusiuscula, subobliqua, basi subacuta, valde obscure trinervia, carnosa, remote sparsa, infima maiora 25 mm attingentia (petiolo incluso), longepetiolata petiolo gracillimo tertiam vel dimidam partem laminae attingente, superiora minora, floralia (bracteae) minima. Eacemi terminales, pauciflori, laxissimi. Pedicelli patentes fructiferi 8 mm longi, florigeri breviores. Calyx minutissimus, divisus paene ad basim, lobis ovatis, acutis, reticulatim venosis duobus tribus aliis longioribus. Petala 4, longa 7 mm, apice subulata, trinervia. Stamina 6 diversae longitudinis, petalis breviora. Gynophorus, ovarium necnon stylus in nostris speciminibus valde obscura (an rudimentaria ?). Siliqua pendula, linearis, recta, utrimque attenuata, 65 mm longa, 2i mm lata, aliquantulum compressa, membranacea, striata, stipite gracili 4 mm longo, apice cuspidata. Semina disciformia lanata, margine obtusa. This species comes nearest to C. glauca DC, bub is distinguished by the following points : The petioles are much longer, the leaves are elliptic not ovate, the siliqua has a sharp cusp, is longer and narrower. Loc. : Hills near lspikan, about 20 miles NE of Mand, 1,200—1,500 ft. (90, 90 A). Fl. and fr. in March 1918. Vern. Name : Shwanko (Bal.). "The name was given doubtfully" (Hotson).

Maerua crasstfolia Forsk. Fl. Aegypt. Arab. p. 113. Maerua uniflora Vahl. Loc. : Hodal Pass (N. side), about 80 miles S. of Panjgur, 2,200—2,900 ft. (no. M 15 B) ; Nasirabad, 23 miles W. of Turbat, about 400 ft. (no. M 15 B). Common on both side of the Hodal Pass which leads from Kilkaur to Kolwa. Fl. in April 1918. Vern. Name : Jogar (Bal.).

Capparisdecidua Pax in Engl. Prantl Nat. Pflanzenr. 111,2, p. 231. --C. aphylla Roth. Loc. : Jatu Pass (S. side), about 36 miles S. by W. of Panjgur, 3,250 ft., comparatively uncommon in this neighbourhood (no. M 64 A) ; W. side of the Burida Pass, from Bhani

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Rh The women attend the heroes in the bath, a custom which to us seems inconsistent with the other sex mores but it illustrates well the power of the mores to extend approval, for the sake of an interest, to an incongruous usage. The gods give wives, so that marriages are made in heaven; they bless the marriage of a man who pleases them, and they give children. "Nothing is stronger and nobler than when man and wife, united in harmony of mind, rule their house in wisdom." Achilles says: "Every brave and sensible man loves his consort." Cases occur in which a man renounces a slave woman out of respect to his wife, but there are others in which he declares that he prefers the slave woman. The case of Penelope was complicated: it was not sure that her husband was dead; her son was a boy, but he grew to manhood and became her guardian as she had been his. She was clever and wise and managed well a difficult situation the phases of which changed as time went on, but always presented new difficulties. Telemachus declared to her with rude plainness that he was master ; he told her to go to the women's quarters and attend to the housework and to leave deliberation to men. Thus he defined her "sphere." Hesiod, as quoted in the Anthology of Stobæus, says: "If a man has had the luck to get a wife who suits him, that is the acme of good fortune; if he has a bad one it is the worst disaster." Menander is also quoted: "If we rightly judge the matter, marriage is indeed an evil, but necessity imposes this evil on us."

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54 aided his companion to alight, and a respectful murmur arose.

"It is the Abbé Gudin!" cried several voices.

All hats went off at the name, and the Chouans knelt to ask for his blessing, which was gravely given.

Then the Abbé clapped Pille-Miche on the shoulder.

"He would deceive St. Peter himself, and steal away the keys of Paradise!" he cried. "But for him the Blues would have stopped us;" and, seeing the young lady, he spoke with her a few paces aside. Marche-à-Terre adroitly raised the seat of the coach, and with ferocious glee, extracted a bag which, from its shape, evidently contained rouleaux of gold. He was not long about dividing the spoil. There were no disputes, for each Chouan received his exact share. Lastly, he went up to the lady and the priest, and presented them with about six thousand francs.

"Can I take this with a clear conscience, Monsieur Gudin?" the lady asked, feeling within her the need of a sanction.

"Why not, madame? In former times, did not the Church approve the confiscation of Protestant goods? And we have stronger reasons for despoiling these revolutionaries, who deny God, plunder churches, and persecute religion!" Thereupon the Abbé added example to precept, and took without scruple the tenth—in new coin—which Marche-à-Terre offered him.

"However," he added, "I can now dedicate all I have to the service of God and the King. My nephew has cast in his lot with the Blues."

Coupiau was lamenting, and bewailed himself for a ruined man.

"Come along with us," said Marche-à-Terre; "you shall have your share."

"Every one will say that I set out to be robbed, if I go back again, and there are no traces of violence."

"Oh, if that is all you want," said Marche-à-Terre. He made a sign, and a volley of musketry riddled the turgotine.


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Rh The old coach gave a cry so piteous at this salute, that the Chouans, naturally superstitions, fell back in alarm, save Marche-à-Terre, who had seen the pale face of the mute traveler as it rose and fell inside.

"There is one more fowl yet in your coop," Marche-à-Terre said in a low voice to Coupiau. Pille-Miche, who saw what this meant, winked significantly.

"Yes," replied the driver; "but I made it a condition when I enlisted with you that I was to take this worthy man safe and sound to Fougères. I promised that in the name of the Saint of Auray."

"Who is he?" asked Pille-Miche.

"I can't tell you that," said Coupiau.

"Let him alone!" said Marche-à-Terre, nudging Pille-Miche with his elbow. "He swore by the Holy Virgin of Auray, and a promise is a promise. But don't be in too great a hurry down the hill," the Chouan went on, addressing Coupiau; "we will catch you up for reasons of our own. I want to see the muzzle of that passenger of yours, and then we will give him a passport."

A horse was heard approaching La Pèlerine at full gallop. In a moment the young leader returned, and the lady promptly tried to conceal her hand with the bag in it.

"You need not scruple to keep that money," he said, drawing the lady's arm forward. "Here is a letter for you among those that awaited me at the Vivetière; it is from your mother."

He looked from the coach, which now descended the hill, to the Chouans, and added, "In spite of my haste, I am too late. Heaven send that my fears are ill grounded!"

"That is my poor mother's money!" cried the lady, when she had broken the seal of the letter and read the first few lines.

Sounds of smothered laughter came from the woods.

The young man himself could not help smiling at sight of the lady with a share of the plunder of her own property in her hands. She began to laugh herself.


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56 "Well, I escape without blame for once, Marquis," she said. "Heaven be praised!"

"So you take all things with a light heart, even remorse?" the young man asked; but she flushed up with such evident contrition that he relented. The Abbé politely handed to her the tenth he had just received with as good a face as he could put upon it, and followed the young leader, who was returning by the way he had come. The young lady waited behind for a moment, and beckoned to Marche-à-Terre.

"You must go over towards Mortagne," she said in a low voice. "I know that the Blues must be continually transmitting large sums of money to Alençon for the prosecution of the war. I give up to your comrades the money I have lost to-day; but I shall expect them to make it up to me. And before all things, the Gars is not to know the reason for this expedition; but if anything should go wrong, I will pacify him."

"Madame," the Marquis began, as she sat behind him en croupe, having made over her horse to the Abbé, "our friends in Paris are writing to tell us to keep a sharp lookout, for the Republic means to take us with craft and guile."

"Well, they might do worse," she replied; "it is not at all a bad idea of theirs. I shall take part now in the war, and meet the enemy on my own ground."

"Faith, yes," said the Marquis. "Pichegru warns me to be on my guard as to friendships of every kind. The Republic does me the honor to consider me more formidable than all the Vendeans put together, and thinks to get me into its grasp by working on my weaknesses."

"Are you going to suspect me?" she said, tapping his breast with the hand by which she held him close to her.

"Would you be there, in my heart, if I could?" he said, and turned to receive a kiss on his forehead.

"Then we are like to run more risks from Fouché's police than from regular troops or from Counter-Chouans," was the Abbé's comment.


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Rh "Your reverence is quite right."

"Ah, ha!" the lady exclaimed, "so Fouché is going to send women against you ? I am ready for them," she added after a brief pause, with a deeper note in her voice.

Meantime, some four gunshots from the lonely plateau which the leaders had just quitted, a drama was being enacted of a kind to be common enough on the highways for some time. Beyond the little village of La Pèlerine, Pille-Miche and Marche-à-Terre had again stopped the coach in a place where the road widened out. Coupiau, after a feeble resistance, came down from the box. The taciturn traveler, dragged from his hiding-place by the two Chouans, found himself on his knees in a bush of broom.

"Who are you?" asked Marche-à-Terre in threatening tones. The traveler did not answer at all till Pille-Miche recommenced his examination with a blow from the butt end of his musket. Then, with a glance at Coupiau, the man spoke:

"I am Jacques Pinaud, a poor linen-draper." Coupiau seemed to think that he did not break his word by shaking his head. Pille-Miche acted on the hint, and pointed his musket at the traveler, while Marche-à-Terre deliberately uttered this terrible ultimatum:

"You are a great deal too fat to know the pinch of poverty. If we have to ask you for your name again, here is my friend Pille-Miche with his musket, ready to earn the esteem and gratitude of your heirs. Now, who are you?" he asked after a pause.

"I am d'Orgemont of Fougères."

"Ha!" cried the two Chouans.

"I did not betray you, Monsieur d'Orgemont," said Coupiau. "The holy Virgin is my witness that I did my best to protect you."

"Since you are Monsieur d'Orgemont of Fougères," replied Marche-à-Terre with a fine affectation of respect, "of course we must let you go in peace. But still, as you are neither good Chouan nor genuine Blue (for you it was who


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58 bought the property of the Abbey of Juvigny), you are going to pay us three hundred crowns"—here he seemed to count the number of the party—and went on, "of six francs each. Neutrality is cheap at the price."

"Three hundred crowns of six francs each!" echoed the unlucky banker in chorus with Coupiau and Pille-Miche, each one with a different intonation.

"My dear sir, I am a ruined man," he cried. "This devil of a Republic taxes us up to the hilt, and this forced loan of a hundred millions has drained me dry."

"How much did your Republic want of you?"

"A thousand crowns, my clear sir," groaned the banker, thinking to be let off more easily.

"If your Republic wrings forced loans out of you to that tune, you ought to throw in your lot with us. Our government will cost you less. Three hundred crowns—isn't your skin worth that?"

"Where am I to find them?"

"In your strong box," said Pille-Miche. "And no clipped coins, mind you, or the fire shall nibble your finger-ends!"

"Where am I to pay them over?"

"Your country-house at Fougères is not very far from the farm at Gibarry, where lives my cousin Galope-Chopine, otherwise big Cibot. You will make them over to him," said Pille-Miche.

"It is not business," urged d'Orgemont.

"What is that to us?" said Marche-à-Terre. "Mind this, if the money isn't paid to Galope-Chopine within a fortnight, we will pay you a call, and that will cure the gout in your feet, if it happens to trouble you. As for you, Coupiau," he turned to the driver, "your name in future will be Mène-à-Bien."

With that the two Chouans departed. The traveler returned to the coach, and, with the help of Coupiau's whip, they bowled rapidly along to Fougères.

"If you had carried arms," Coupiau began, "we might have defended ourselves better."


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Rh "Simpleton!" replied the banker; "I nave ten thousand francs there," and he held out his great shoes. "How is one to show fight with a large sum like that about one?"

Mène-à-Bien scratched his ear and sent a glance behind him, but his new friends were quite out of sight.

At Ernée Hulot and his men halted a while to leave the wounded in the hospital in the little town, and finally arrived at Mayenne without any further annoyance. The next day put an end to the commandant's doubts as to the fate of the stage-coach, for everybody knew how it had been stopped and plundered.

A few days after, the authorities directed upon Mayenne enough patriot conscripts to fill the gaps in Hulot's demi-brigade. Very soon one disquieting rumor followed another concerning the insurrection. There was complete revolt at all the points which had been the centres of rebellion for Chouans and Vendeans in the late war. In Brittany the Royalists had made themselves masters of Pontorson, thus securing their communication with the sea. The little town of Saint James, between Pontorson and Fougères had been taken by them, and it appeared that they meant to make it their temporary headquarters, their central magazine, and basis of operations. Thence they kept up a correspondence with Normandy and Morbihan in security. The Royalists of the three provinces were brought into concerted action by subaltern officers dispersed throughout the country, who recruited partisans for the Monarchy, and gave unity to their methods. Exactly similar reports came from La Vendée, where conspiracy was rife in the country under the guidance of four well-known leaders—the Counts of Fontaine, Chatillon, and Suzannet, and the Abbé Vernal. In Orne their correspondents were said to be the Chevalier de Valois, the Marquis of Escrignon, and the Troisvilles. The real head and centre of the vast and formidable plan of operations, that gradually became manifest, was the Gars, for so the Chouans had dubbed the Marquis of Montauran since his arrival among them.


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60 Hulot's dispatches to his Government were found to be accurate on all heads. The authority of the newly-arrived commander had been recognized at once. The Marquis had even sufficient ascendency over the Chouans to make them understand the real aim of the war, and to persuade them that the excesses of which they had formerly been guilty, sullied the generous cause which they had embraced. The cool courage, splendid audacity, resource, and ability of the young noble were reviving the hopes of the foes of the Republic, and had excited the sombre enthusiasm of the West to such a pitch that even the most lukewarm were ready to take part in a bold stroke for the fallen Monarchy. Hulot's repeated reports and appeals received no reply from Paris; some fresh revolutionary crisis, no doubt, caused the astonishing silence.

"Are appeals to the Government going to be treated like a creditor's duns?" said the old chief to his friends. "Are all our petitions shoved out of sight?"

But before long news began to spread of the magical return of General Bonaparte, and the events of the eighteenth of Brumaire. Then the commanders in the West began to understand the silence of the ministers, while they grew impatient of the heavy responsibilities that weighed upon them, and eager to hear what steps the new Government meant to take. Great was the joy in the army when it became known that General Bonaparte had been nominated First Consul of the Republic, and for the first time they saw a man of their own at the head of affairs. France had made an idol of the young general, and trembled with hope. The capital, grown weary of gloom, gave itself up to festivities long discontinued. The first acts of the Consulate abated these hopes no whit, and gave Liberty no qualms. The First Consul issued a proclamation to the dwellers in the West. Bonaparte had, one might almost say, invented the appeals to the masses which produced such enormous effect in those days of miracles and patriotism. A prophetic voice it was which filled the world, for victory had never yet failed to follow any proclamation of his.


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Rh "Inhabitants!

"For the second time an unnatural war has been kindled in the departments of the West.

"The authors of these troubles are traitors in the pay of England, or marauders who hope to secure their own ends, and to enjoy immunity amid civil discords.

"To such men as these the Government owes neither consideration nor an explanation of its principles.

"But there are other citizens, dear to their country, who have been seduced by their artifices; to these citizens, enlightenment and a knowledge of the truth is due.

"Unjust laws have been promulgated and carried into effect. The security of citizens and their right to liberty of conscience have been infringed by arbitrary measures; citizens have suffered everywhere from mistaken entries on the list of Emigrants, great principles of social order have been violated.

"The Consuls declare that, liberty of worship being guaranteed by the Constitution, the law of the 11th Prairial, Year III., by which citizens are allowed the use of buildings erected for religious worship, shall now be carried into effect.

"The Government will pardon previous offences; it will extend mercy and absolute and complete indemnity to the repentant; but it will strike down any who shall dare, after this declaration, to resist the national sovereignty."

"Well," said Hulot, after a public reading of the Consular manifesto, "could anything be more paternal? But for all that, you will see that not a single Royalist brigand will change his opinion!"

The commandant was right. The proclamation only confirmed each one in his adherence to his own side. Reinforcements for Hulot and his colleagues arrived a few days later. They were notified by the new Minister of War that General Brune was about to assume command in the West; but in the meanwhile Hulot, as an officer known to be experienced, was intrusted with the departments of the Orne and Mayenne.Every Government department


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62 showed unheard-of energy. A circular from the Minister of War and the Minister-General of Police gave out that active efforts were to be made through the officers in command to stifle the insurrection at its place of origin. But by this time the Chouans and Vendeans, profiting by the inaction of the Republic, had aroused the whole country and made themselves masters of it. So a new Consular proclamation had to be issued.

This time the General spoke to his troops:

"Soldiers, all who now remain in the West are marauders or emigrants in the pay of England.

"The army numbers more than sixty thousand heroes; let me learn soon that the rebel leaders exist no longer. Glory is only to be had at the price of fatigue; who would not acquire it if it were to be gained by stopping in town quarters?

"Soldiers, no matter what your rank in the army, the gratitude of the nation awaits you. To be worthy of that gratitude you must brave the inclemency of the seasons, frost and snow, and the bitter cold of winter nights; you must surprise your enemies at daybreak and destroy those wretches who disgrace the name of Frenchmen.

"Let the campaign be short and sharp; show no mercy to the marauders, and preserve strict discipline among yourselves.

"National Guards, add your efforts to those of the troops of the line.

"If you know of any partisans of the bandits among yourselves, arrest them! Let them nowhere find a refuge from the soldier who pursues them; and should traitors dare to receive and protect them, let both alike perish!"

"What a fellow!" cried Hulot; "it is just as it used to be in Italy; first he rings the bells for mass, and then he goes and says it. Isn't that plain speaking?"

"Yes, but he speaks for himself and in his own name," said Gérard, who began to feel some concern for the results of the eighteenth of Brumaire.


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Rh "Eh! Sainte gúerite, what does it matter! Isn't he a soldier?" cried Merle.

A few paces away some soldiers had made a group about the placard on the wall. As no one among them could read, they eyed it, some with curiosity, others with indifference, while one or two looked out for some passing citizen who should appear scholar enough to decipher it.

"What does that scrap of paper mean, now, Clef-des-Cœurs?" asked Beau-Pied banteringly.

"It is quite easy to guess," said Clef-des-Cœurs. Everybody looked up at these words for the usual comedy to begin between two comrades.

"Now look here," went on Clef-des-Cœurs, pointing to a rough vignette at the head of the proclamation, where a pair of compasses had in the past few days replaced the plumb-line level of 1793. "That means that we soldiers will have to step out. That's why the compasses are open; it's an emblem."

"No, my boy, you can't come the scholar over us. That thing is called a problem. I served once in the artillery," he added, "and that was what my officers fairly lived on."

"It's an emblem."

"A problem."

"Let us lay a bet on it."

"What?"

"Will you stake your German pipe?"

"Done!"

"No offence to you, sir!" said Clef-des-Cœurs to Gérard; "but isn't that an emblem and not a problem?"

"It is both the one and the other," said Gérard gravely. He was musing as he prepared to follow Hulot and Merle.

"The adjutant is laughing at us," said Beau-Pied; "that paper says that our general in Italy has been made Consul, which is a fine promotion, and we are all to have new caps and shoes."


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 tools. The upper story was of frame-work, regularly covered with boards, and contained one room decently fitted up for the purposes of justice. A bench run along one of its sides, and was raised on a narrow platform to the height of a man above the floor, and was protected in front by a light railing. In the centre was a seat, furnished with rude arms, that was always filled by the presiding judge. In front, on a level with the floor of the room, was a large table covered with green baize, and surrounded by benches; and at either of its ends were placed rows of seats, rising one over the other, for jury boxes. Each of these several divisions was surrounded by a railing. The remainder of the room was an open space appropriated to the spectators.

When the judges were seated, the lawyers had taken possession of the table, and the noise of moving feet had ceased in the area, the proclamations were made in the usual form, the jurors were sworn, the charge was given, and the court proceeded to hear the business before them.

We shall not detain the reader with a description of the captious discussions that occupied the court for the first two hours. Judge Temple had impressed on the jury, in his charge, the necessity for despatch on their part, recommending to their notice, from motives of humanity, the prisoners in the gaol, as the first objects of their attention. Accordingly, after the period we have mentioned had elapsed, the cry of the officer to "clear the way for the grand jury," announced the entrance of that body. The usual forms were observed, when the foreman handed up to the bench two bills, on both of which the Judge observed, at the first glance of his eye, the name of Nathaniel Bumppo. It was a leisure moment with the court; low whispering passed between the bench


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 and the Sheriff, who gave a signal to his officers, and in a very few minutes the silence that prevailed there was interrupted by a general movement in the outer crowd; when presently the Leather-stocking made his appearance, ushered into the criminal's bar under the custody of two constables. The hum ceased, the people closed into the open space again, and the silence soon became so deep that the hard breathing of the prisoner was audible.

Natty was dressed in his buck-skin garments, without his coat, in place of which he wore only a shirt of coarse linen-check, fastened at his throat by the sinew of a deer, leaving his red neck and weather-beaten face exposed and bare. It was the first time that he had ever crossed the threshold of a court of justice, and curiosity seemed to be strongly blended with his personal feelings. He raised his eyes to the bench, thence to the jury-boxes, the bar, and the crowd without, meeting every where looks that were fastened on himself. After surveying his own person, as if in search of the cause of this unusual attraction, he once more turned his face around the assemblage, and then opened his mouth in one of his silent and remarkable laughs.

"Prisoner, remove your cap," said Judge Temple.

The order was either unheard or unheeded.

"Nathaniel Bumppo, be uncovered," repeated the Judge.

Natty started at the sound of his name, and raising his face earnestly towards the bench, he said—

"Anan!"

Mr. Lippet arose from his seat at the table, and whispered in the ear of the prisoner, when


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 Natty gave him a nod of assent, and took the deer-skin covering from his head.

"Mr. District Attorney," said the Judge, "the prisoner is ready; we wait for the indictment."

The duties of the public prosecutor were discharged by Dirck Van der School, who adjusted his spectacles, cast a cautious look around him at his brethren of the bar, which he ended by throwing his head aside so as to catch one glance over the glasses, when he proceeded to read the bill aloud. It was the usual charge for an assault and battery on the person of Hiram Doolittle, and was couched in the ancient language of such instruments, especial care having been taken by the scribe, not to omit the name of a single offensive weapon known to the law. When he had done, Mr. Van der School removed his spectacles, which he closed and placed in his pocket, seemingly for the pleasure of again opening and replacing them on his nose. After this evolution was repeated once or twice, he handed the bill over to Mr. Lippet, with a cavalier air, that said as much as "pick a hole in that if you can."

Natty listened to the charge against him with great attention, leaning forward towards the reader with an earnestness that denoted his interest; and when it was ended he raised his tall body to the utmost, and drew a long sigh. All eyes were turned to the prisoner, whose voice was vainly expected to break the stillness of the room.

"You have heard the presentment that the grand jury have made, Nathaniel Bumppo," said the Judge; "what do you plead to the charge?"

The old man dropped his head for a moment in a reflecting attitude, and then raising it, he laughed again, before he answered—

"That I handled the man a little rough or so, is not to be denied; but that there was occasion


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 to make use of all them things that the gentleman has spoken of, is downright untrue. I am not much of a wrestler, seeing that I'm getting old; but I was out among the Scotch-Inshers—lets me see—it must have been as long ago as the first year of the old war"

"Mr. Lippet, if you are retained for the prisoner," interrupted Judge Temple, "instruct your client how to plead; if not, the court shall assign him counsel."

Aroused from studying the indictment by this appeal, the attorney got up, and, after a short dialogue with the hunter in a low voice, he informed the court that they were ready to proceed.

"Do you plead guilty or not guilty?" said the Judge.

"I may say not guilty with a clean conscience," returned Natty; "for there's no guilt in doing what's right; and I'd rather died on the spot, than had him put foot in the hut at that moment."

Richard started at this declaration, and bent his eyes significantly on Hiram, who returned the look with a slight movement of his eye-brows alone.

"Proceed to open the cause, Mr. District Attorney," continued the Judge. "Mr. Clerk, enter the plea of not guilty."

After a short opening address from Mr. Van der School, Hiram was summoned to the bar to give his testimony. It was delivered to the letter, perhaps, but with all that moral colouring which can be conveyed under such expressions as, "thinking no harm," "feeling it my bounden duty as a magistrate," and "seeing that the constable was back'ard in the business." When he had done, and the District Attorney declined putting any further interrogatories, Mr. Lippet arose,


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LL the world gives ready credence to the possibility of friendship between man and man; some people are even inclined to believe that the immutable attachment of Orestes and Pylades, of Æneas and Achates, may be repeated among men in these inconstant, modern times; but the devotion of woman to one of her own sex, the sincerity with which she clasps the hand or presses the lip of woman, the genuineness of her self-sacrifices daily made for a beloved sister, are subjects of a vast amount of skepticism. Philosophic writers, poets, wits, have openly declared their disbelief in the existence of the strange phenomena of woman-friendships. Even Diana Mullock, who has written so many lines of woman which bear the impress of truth and wisdom, who has solved so many of the enigmas inseparable from woman's nature, gravely shakes her head when she touches upon "female friendships," and calls up such a doubting host of "ifs" and "buts" to usher in the possibility of perfect love between

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 terious affinity, may become, and recognize each other as sisters in heart? Who can doubt that there is a bond of sisterhood between their spirits, as real and as strong as the tie of blood between sisters? And if this be true, must not that internal kinship outlive even the dissevering stroke of death, and proclaim them true sisters in the great. hereafter? But in this lower sphere, what name can we give to their attachment but that of "woman-friendship?"

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 with an air of keen investigation, and asked the following questions:—

"Are you a constable of this county, sir?"

"No, sir," said Hiram, "I'm only a justice-peace."

"I ask you, Mr. Doolittle, in the face of this court, putting it to your conscience and your knowledge of the law, whether you had any right to enter that man's dwelling?"

"Hem!" said Hiram, undergoing a violent struggle between his desire for vengeance and his love for legal fame; "I do suppose—that in—that is—strict law—that supposing maybe I hadn't a real—lawful right;—but as the case was—and Billy was so backward—I might come for'ard in the business."

"I ask you, again, sir," continued the lawyer, following up his success, "whether this old, this friendless old man, did or did not repeatedly forbid your entrance?"

"Why, I must say," said Hiram, "that he was considerable cross-grained; not what I call clever, seeing that it was only one neighbour wanting to go into the house of another."

"Oh! then you own it was only meant for a neighbourly visit on your part, and without the sanction of law. Remember, gentlemen, the words of the witness, 'one neighbour wanting to enter the house of another.' Now, sir, I ask you if Nathaniel Bumppo did not again and again order you not to enter?"

"There was some words passed between us," said Hiram, "but I read the warrant to him aloud."

"I repeat my question; did he tell you not to enter his habitation?"

"There was a good deal passed betwixt us—


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ONGENIALITY! what is it but the genial sense of appreciation, united to sympathy, for which all the world is yearning? And well may mankind seek that inspiring, rejoicing influence. In a congenial atmosphere even a dull, contracted nature is vivified and enlarged, while a spirit that has height and breadth expands and develops beyond its own recognition. All its powers are vitalized and strengthened and called into their most puissant activity. The pulses beat tunefully, the brain has a sparkling clearness, discordant emotions are quiescent, a delicious serenity pervades the whole being, and the mantle of universal love envelops all creation.

That state, sublimed and perfected, hereafter must be the condition of the blessed, for heaven and its "many mansions" could not exist, unembraced by a sphere of absolute congeniality.

When a highly sensitive organization is thrown into unavoidable contact with uncongenial associates, a sensation of repulsion is experienced, followed by mental paralysis. All the utterances of

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 but I've the warrant in my pocket; maybe the court would wish to see it?"

"Witness," said Judge Temple, "answer the question directly; did or did not the prisoner forbid your entering his hut?"

"Why, I some think"

"Answer without equivocation," continued the Judge, sternly.

"He did."

"And did you attempt to enter, after this order?"

"I did; but the warrant was in my hand."

"Proceed, Mr. Lippet, with your examination."

But the attorney saw that the impression was in favour of his client, and, waving his hand with a supercilious manner, as if unwilling to insult the understanding of the jury with any further defence, he replied—

"No, sir; I leave it for your honour to charge; I rest my case here."

"Mr. District Attorney," said the Judge, "have you any thing to say?"

Mr. Van der School removed his spectacles, folded them, and replacing them once more on his nose, eyed the other bill which he held in his hand, and then said, looking at the bar over the top of his glasses—

"I shall rest the prosecution here, if the court please."

Judge Temple arose and began the charge.

"Gentlemen of the jury," he said, "you have heard the testimony, and I shall detain you but a moment. If an officer meet with resistance in the execution of a process, he has an undoubted right to call any citizen to his assistance; and the acts of such assistant come within the protection of the law. I shall leave you to judge, gentlemen, from the testimony, how far the witness in


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 tenfold might. The lustre of the most radiant intellect may be wholly extinguished by the saturating agency of uncongenial surroundings, or it may be brightened to inspiration, by the receptive power of sympathy.

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 this prosecution can be so considered, feeling less reluctance to submit the case thus informally to your decision, because there is yet another indictment to be tried, which involves heavier charges against the unfortunate prisoner."

The tone of Marmaduke was mild and insinuating, and as his sentiments were given with such apparent impartiality, they did not fail of carrying their due weight to the jury. The grave-looking yeomen, who composed this tribunal, laid their heads together for a few minutes, without leaving their box, when the foreman arose, and after the forms of the court were duly observed, he pronounced the prisoner to be—

"Not guilty."

"You are acquitted of this charge, Nathaniel Bumppo," said the Judge.

"Anan!" said Natty.

"You are found not guilty of striking and assaulting Mr. Doolittle."

"No, no, I'll not deny but that I took him a little roughly by the shoulders," said Natty, looking about him with great simplicity, "and that I"

"You are acquitted," interrupted the Judge; "and there is nothing further to be done or said in the matter."

A look of joy lighted up the features of the old man, who now comprehended the case, and, placing his cap eagerly on his head again, he threw up the bar of his little prison, and said feelingly—

"I must say this for you, Judge Temple, that the law has not been as hard on me as I dreaded. I hope God will bless you for the kind things you've done to me this day."

But the staff of the constable was opposed to his egress, and Mr. Lippet whispered a few words in his ear, when the aged hunter sunk back into his place, and removing his cap, stroked down the


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 remnants of his gray and sandy locks, with an air of mortification mingled with submission.

"Mr. District Attorney," said Judge Temple, affecting to busy himself with his minutes, "proceed with the second indictment."

Mr. Van der School took great care that no part of the presentment, which he now read, should be lost on his auditors. It accused the prisoner of resisting the execution of a search-warrant by force of arms, and particularized, in the vague language of the law, among a variety of other weapons, the use of the rifle. This was indeed a more serious charge than an ordinary assault and battery, and a corresponding degree of interest was manifested by the spectators in its result. The prisoner was duly arraigned, and his plea again demanded. Mr. Lippet had anticipated the answers of Natty, and in a whisper advised him how to plead. But the feelings of the old hunter were awakened by some of the expressions of the indictment, and, forgetful of his caution, he exclaimed—

"'Tis a wicked untruth; I crave no man's blood. Them thieves, the Iroquois, won't say it to my face, that I ever thirsted after man's blood. I have fought as a soldier that feared his Maker and his officer, but I never pulled a trigger on any but a warrior that was up and awake. No man can say that I ever struck even a Mingo in his blanket. I b'lieve there's some who thinks there's no God in a wilderness!"

"Attend to your plea, Bumppo," said the Judge; "you hear that you are accused of using your rifle against an officer of justice; are you guilty or not guilty?"

By this time the irritated feelings of Natty had found a vent; and he rested on the bar for a moment, in a musing posture, when he lifted his face


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 with his silent laugh, and pointing to where the wood-chopper stood, he said—

"Would Billy Kirby be standing there, d'ye think, if I had used the rifle?"

"Then you deny it," said Mr. Lippet; "you plead not guilty?"

"Sartain," said Natty; "Billy knows that I never fired at all. Billy, do you remember the turkey last winter? ah! me! that was better than common firing; but I can't shoot as I used to could."

"Enter the plea of not guilty," said Judge Temple, strongly affected by the simplicity of the prisoner.

Hiram was again sworn, and his testimony given on the second charge. He had discovered his former error, and proceeded more cautiously than before. He related very distinctly, and, for the man, with amazing terseness, the suspicion against the hunter, the complaint, the issuing of the warrant, and the swearing in of Kirby; all of which, he affirmed, were done in due form of law. He then added the manner in which the constable had been received; and stated distinctly that Natty had pointed the rifle at Kirby, and threatened his life, if he attempted to execute his duty. All this was confirmed by Jotham, who was observed to adhere closely to the story of the magistrate. Mr. Lippet conducted an artful cross examination of these two witnesses, but, after consuming much time, was compelled to relinquish the attempt to obtain any advantage, in despair.

At length the District Attorney called the wood-chopper to the bar. Billy gave an extremely confused account of the affair, although he evidently aimed at the truth, until Mr. Van der School addressed him, by asking some direct questions:—

"It appears, from examining the papers, that


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 you demanded admission into the hut legally; so you were put in bodily fear by his rifle and threats?"

"I didn't mind them that, man," said Billy, snapping his fingers; "I should be a poor stick, to mind such a one as old Leather-stocking."

"But I understood you to say, (referring to your previous words, (as delivered here in court,) in the commencement of your testimony,) that you thought he meant to shoot you?"

"To be sure I did; and so would you too, Squire, if you had seen the chap dropping a muzzle that never misses, and cocking an eye that has a nateral squint by long practice. I thought there would be a dust on't, and my back was up at once; but Leather-stocking gi'n up the skin, and so the matter ended."

"Ah! Billy," said Natty, shaking his head, "'twas a lucky thought in me to throw out the hide, or there might have been blood spilt; and I'm sure, if it had been your'n, I should have mourn'd it sorely the little while I have to stay."

"Well, Leather-stocking," returned Billy, facing the prisoner, with a freedom and familiarity that utterly disregarded the presence of the court, "as you are on the subject, it may be that you've no"

"Go on with your examination, Mr. District Attorney."

That gentleman eyed the familiarity between his witness and the prisoner with manifest disgust, and indicated to the court that he was done.

"Then you didn't feel frightened, Mr. Kirby?" said the counsel for the prisoner.

"Me! no," said Billy, casting his eyes over his own huge frame with evident self-satisfaction; "I'm not to be skeared so easy."


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 "You look like a hardy man; where were you born, sir?"

"Varmount state; 'tis a mountaynious place, but there's a stiff soil, and it's pretty much wooded with beech and maple."

"I have always heerd so," said Mr. Lippet, soothingly. "You have been used to the rifle yourself, in that country?"

"I pull the second best trigger in this county. I knock under to Natty Bumppo there, sin' he shot the pigeon."

Leather-stocking raised his head, and laughed again, when he thrust out a wrinkled hand, and said—

"You're young yet, Billy, and haven't seen the matches that I have; but here's my hand; I bear no malice to you, I don't."

Mr. Lippet allowed this conciliatory offering to be accepted, and judiciously paused, while the spirit of peace was exercising her influence over the two; but the Judge interposed his authority, by saying—

"This is an improper place for such dialogues. Proceed with your examination of this witness.  Mr. Lippet, or I shall order the next."

The attorney started, as if he were unconscious of any impropriety, and continued—

"So you settled the matter with Natty amicably on the spot, did you?"

"He gi'n me the skin, and I didn't want to quarrel with an old man; for my part, I see no such mighty matter in shooting a buck?"

"And you parted friends? and you would never have thought of bringing the business up before a court, hadn't you been subpnaed?"

"I don't think I should; he gi'n the skin, and I didn't feel a hard thought, though Squire Doolittle got some affronted."


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 him she bravely promised the dog that the next day he would surely come.

Many doubts had arisen in her mind; the possible failure of her letter to reach him or the chance that some mishap had befallen the old man on his long trip across the treacherous snow combs of the peaks.

She still dreaded the cry that sounded every few nights in the canyon but restlessness at last forced her away from the cabin in the daytime. She took long tramps with Flash, climbing to some commanding point from which she could scan the surrounding country. She explored their own immediate vicinity but not until a week after her arrival at the cabin did she venture into new territory.

Then one afternoon she turned downstream. The canyon gradually widened until it shaded into another at right angles a mile below the cabin. Here the two streams forked into one. The girl climbed the high ridge on the opposite side and looked down upon a still wider valley.

A sudden storm swept down across the divide, and she sought shelter under an overhanging ledge.

The rain fell in torrents and the lightning flashed and cracked until it seemed to play along

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 the rocks around her. Even Flash shrank from the terrific reports that hurt his sensitive ear drums and he burrowed his head into the folds of her walking skirt to protect them. She read this move as one of fear and it added to her own misgivings.

She felt no active fear of the lightning itself, but it shattered the control of overwrought nerves, and she buried her face in the dog’s fur and sobbed wildly.

Flash was strangely affected by her grief. His own plastic nature, subject to all outside impressions, responded to her emotion and his soul was wrung with misery.

For a time he whimpered in sympathy, but this mood was soon superseded by a desire to comfort her. He drew away and regarded her anxiously, then pawed at the arms which shielded her face. He confronted this, his first experience with a woman in tears, as helplessly as most men face a similar situation.

He wanted to help her—to fight for her, but he could not fight this intangible enemy. He snarled savagely at imaginary foes, clashing his teeth in vicious snaps. If the girl had not soon quieted he would have dashed away in a frenzy to kill the first living thing he met.

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 She regained her self-control and felt better for having relieved the nervous tension of the last few days. Flash’s mood changed with hers. He too felt better.

The steady downpour slackened to a drizzle. Heavy gray clouds scudded past, obscuring the hills beyond and the valley below. This in turn changed swiftly to a dense fog—one of the milk-white mountain fogs in which even seasoned hill men hesitate to travel when in a strange country.

As the girl started for home the tree trunks loomed vaguely a few feet away. For all she could see of it it might have been a forest of stumps, the trunks being invisible at a height of twenty feet.

Flash kept a pace before her, heading unerringly for home, and she followed him unconsciously, thinking that she chose the route herself.

The fog seemed to deepen and turn to purple instead of white. With a thrill of apprehension she realized that night was settling down over the hills. Before she reached the foot of the slope night had completed the swift transformation of the fog from milky white to oozy black which shut her in until she was unable to see two feet ahead.

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 She groped forward, feeling her way. Her mind recoiled from the thought of the mile-long trip before her; every foot of it seemed fraught with perils. She remembered the one horrible night she had spent alone before Flash, like an answer to a prayer, had come to her on the second night. But then she had had a fire.

The wind was at their backs and not until they turned into the canyon, and started up the trail did Flash scent the menace ahead. His hair bristled and he turned back. But the girl was now sure of her ground and went on. Flash ran around in front of her, pushing to turn her aside. Not until he growled did she understand that there was danger lurking near.

The scent came plain and it was that of men. He could hear voices which the girl could not. A sudden thought assailed her. Flash must have detected the presence of the beast whose chilling cry she had often heard at night, but she hurried on. It was all she knew—to reach the refuge of the cabin at all costs.

Flash knew these scents and voices were those of some of the men who lived near Two Ocean Pass. To him they meant danger, even death, and as he followed her he bristled uneasily. That

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 they meant danger to her he was not so sure. The ways of men with men had always baffled him. Men whom he trusted associated with those he knew to be dangerous in the extreme. Of the way of men with women he knew nothing at all. Perhaps these men that meant death to him would not harm his lovely mistress in the least.

The sounds which he heard so clearly did not reach the girl until she rounded a sudden bend in the canyon. She heard a man’s laugh at the same instant that she saw the dim, wavering light of a fire gleaming through the fog. It appeared far off but was in reality only fifty feet. It meant but one thing to her. Kinney had come at last and some one else was with him.

In her relief at escaping the imaginary dangers of the night she hurried toward the very real one at the fire. The voices which covered the sound of her approach ceased suddenly as she appeared like a wraith out of the night. The group of half a dozen men around the fire stared incredulously. She too, was startled by the unexpected number and the absence of any familiar face. Kinney was not there.

“I’m lost,” she said unsteadily. And she saw the hungry gleam leap into the eyes of one after

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Wikisource:Administrators/Archives/CalendulaAsteraceae

2024-03 admin
I would like to nominate CalendulaAsteraceae for the admin role at the English Wikisource. The user has been here for over three years now, and has participated constructively in all of our namespaces, having clear experience with both the transcription process and site maintenance. She is respectful, thoughtful in discussions, and is overall a constructive contributor with a vast technical knowledge. She has been making quite impressive improvements to important templates for some time now, and it would be nice if she could do this at more ease, which the admin role would provide among other technical benefits. It's tradition that you accept the nomination before it begins. SnowyCinema (talk) 03:56, 8 March 2024 (UTC)

 * @SnowyCinema: I accept, and thank you for your kind words! —CalendulaAsteraceae (talk • contribs) 03:58, 8 March 2024 (UTC)

 * as nominator SnowyCinema (talk) 04:03, 8 March 2024 (UTC)
 * --EncycloPetey (talk) 04:33, 8 March 2024 (UTC)
 * Surprised to learn she is not already an admin, seems to do the things an admin I would do with or without the bit...which could only help. -Pete (talk) 07:32, 8 March 2024 (UTC)
 * --Jan Kameníček (talk) 15:39, 8 March 2024 (UTC)
 * Mpaa (talk) 16:59, 9 March 2024 (UTC)
 * -- Zyephyrus (talk) 23:11, 13 March 2024 (UTC)

Appointed per consensus - BD2412 T 17:51, 15 March 2024 (UTC)


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 another of the group. The firelight revealed faces that were hard and desperate.

These men had long denied the society of women. This appearance among them of a beautiful girl was like the smell of meat to starving beasts of prey. Not a man there but would have murdered his friend in order to own her for an hour.

From beyond the circle of light thrown by the fire a pair of yellow eyes watched this tableau. Flash sensed the menace to his Goddess, satisfied at last that she was unsafe among these men.

There was one man whose cold brain never failed him in an emergency.

“Where are your friends camped?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, some inner voice prompting her to lie. “But somewhere close. I stayed under a rock—and out of the rain—not far from camp.”

As her voice trailed away the man arose.

“I’ll take you to them,” he offered. “Just come with me.”

“Leave it to Harte to think first,’ said another. He rose also. “I need exercise. I’ll just go along with you.”

Every last man leaped to his feet and leered

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 at her. These men stood in awe of Harte but the beauty of the girl had inflamed them beyond caution. One man crowded closer to her.

As he moved, a silent shadow out in the fog moved with him, crouching low to the ground.

Harte’s own blood pounded hotly from her nearness, and he knew that he could not control the lawless impulses of the others yet his brain functioned as coolly as before.

“Think it over,” he advised them calmly. “You know what it will mean to have a fight with a party of hunters in here. In a week we’d have posses scouring this whole country.”

“What of it? The Hole is twenty miles from here,” said one, his eyes resting hungrily on the girl, “I’ll have my taste of her before she goes.”

He threw his arms around her and as he touched her a demon apparition with flashing eyes and fangs split the curtain of fog and drove straight for his throat. The teeth sank deep in his upraised shoulder and the force of the drive bore him to the ground.

The blank wall of fog had swallowed both the dog and the fleeing girl before a man of them fully realized what had occurred. Before she had

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 run twenty feet up the game trail they were after her. The pupils of their eyes, accustomed to the firelight, were not readily readjusted to the velvety black under the trees and they stumbled blindly.

When the foremost man stretched forth his hand to seize her something struck his extended arm with such force as to almost shear it off. He tripped and fell.

“The dog!” he screamed. “She’s got a dog! Look out for him.”

The next man fell over him and pulled his gun as he scrambled to his feet. He bounded ahead—and teeth with the grip of death clamped his leg from behind and a backward wrench slammed him down across a log. As he fell the red spurt of flame from his gun streaked the night and the man close behind cursed him for a fool for shooting almost point blank in his face.

Love transcended fear in Flash and, in his rage against these men who would harm the girl, he conquered his dread of guns. Always it was the man ahead, the one nearest to her, that felt his teeth. Human flesh could not endure against this silent, unseen fiend that slashed them and

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 was gone. By common consent they had all turned back before the boldest had made fifty yards from the fire.

Retreat turned to rout for Flash followed them back, striking swiftly and leaping away from the shot he feared would follow. They shot blindly after him, endangering their own lives more than his. The last man he heeled as he would a cow and threw him.

When they burst into the circle of firelight they found Harte seated on a rock calmly smoking a cigarette.

“You’re a bloody looking crew,” he observed. “I’d like to own that dog.”

One man extended his left hand, exhibiting a ragged flesh wound between thumb and forefinger.

“Some fool shot me,” he growled. “It was either Seely or Cole.”’ Both men profanely denied this charge. Harte laughed scornfully as he looked them over.

“Mistaken identity,” he jeered. “Clay Siggens, shot by a pal who mistook him for a dog in the Battle of Hide and Seek.” They scowled down at him.

“I was out with Jarrat and Hanlin this spring,”

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text: Coming of Age in Samoa/Appendix 1

title: Coming of Age in Samoa/Appendix 1


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 he went on. “Jarrat belongs in a coop for the homicidal insane and Hanlin’s a thick skulled brute—but even so, when it comes to brains they have this layout cheated seven ways from the deuce.”

“You wanted the girl yourself,” said Cole. “You aimed to take her off somewhere alone.”

“What of it?” Harte shrugged. “I wouldn’t have made a mess of it. Tie up those rents in your hide and let’s go.”

“Go!” Cole exclaimed. “Go where?”

“Anywhere,” said Harte. ‘Do you poor brainless apes expect to bed down here and sleep? There’s a hunting party of the girl’s friends camped around here close. They’ll have guides. When they hear the girl’s story they’ll be looking for us and pick us off like rats as we lay asleep around the fire.”

As always, his logic was convincing. They started to apply what rough first aid they could to the deepest cuts. As they moved, a beast with dripping jaws circled round and round the fire, waiting for one to venture out into the night.

When they left they started downstream in the opposite direction from the girl. Flash let them go and went back to her. He followed her warm

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text: Page:Floral poetry and the language of flowers (IA cu31924068941578).pdf/55


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 trail for almost a mile before he found her stealing cautiously along the game trail.

She believed Flash was dead. She knew he had fought desperately to give her time. He had not come back to her after the shots. It was a stunning shock when, without a sound to warn her, a cold nose was thrust suddenly against her hand. The eager whine which followed told her it was Flash, alive and safe. She dropped to her knees and threw her arms about him, whispering her gratitude in broken sobs.

She started ahead once more, urged on by the thought that they still followed her. Flash turned from the trail, and whined for her to come and she felt her way through the down timber of the slope and entered the cabin.

As she closed the door behind her the rain began to fall, blotting out whatever trail she might have left. She jay on the bunk, straining to hear any sound of pursuit. She heard nothing but the rain and near morning she slept from sheer exhaustion.

When she opened her eyes it was light. Flash seemed calm and peaceful and she knew from this that the men could not be near. He scratched at the door and she let him out.

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 Flash started at once for the scene of the fight. He circled cautiously, testing the wind. The rank odor of the drowned camp fire was all that reached him. The rain had washed out all but the faintest trace of human scent.

As he drew near he snarled and bristled his back roach at the smell of blood that haunted the wet spruce needles where he had slashed at them the night before.

He followed their cold trail for a mile, then left it, satisfied that they were far away, and started on a hunt for meat. An hour later he turned up at the cabin carrying a grouse.

The girl would not leave the cabin again, not even descending to the game trail along the stream. The scant store of provisions was running low.

She could not help but associate these men with Dad Kinney’s failure to arrive. Her worry over him inspired a like uneasiness about a man she had never seen—Moran, the owner of Flash.

On that other trip when Flash had crept up to her in the moonlit park Kinney had told her that the dog would never leave Moran yet Flash now stayed with her. Her chief fear had been that Flash would leave her any moment and go back to him. But he had stayed. It now occurred to

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 her that he would not so easily desert the man who had raised him from a pup. Something had happened to Moran.

The thought persisted and she often referred to it in her conversations with the dog.

The frequent repetition of Moran’s name struck some chord of memory in Flash. He had by no means forgotten Moran, but his recollection of him was more of a vague longing than a definite picture.

Man’s most dependable sense is his sense of sight and he carries the memory of absent loved ones by a mental visualization of their faces. Dogs, instead of a mental likeness, retain a mixture of sight, scent and sound, the latter two being the predominating elements of animal memory. It is this which sometimes causes a dog to bark at the approach of his master who he can plainly see but cannot recognize until some familiar scent or sound identifies him.

It was sound—the name of Moran—that stirred Flash. Each recurring time it came from the girl’s lips it quickened the half dormant longing that was in him. And it was sound that one day caused him to drop all else and investigate a distant note with a familiar ring.

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 He had rambled far up the slope of the main divide where he often hunted. Something beat faintly against his ear drums, and he knew it was a far off sound of man. His ears pricked forward and he moved excitedly from spot to spot. It was a man who whistled and the air was one of the few little tunes that Moran had whistled endlessly as he wandered alone. Flash started swiftly along the hill in the direction of the sound.

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text: The Cross Pull/Chapter 10

title: The Cross Pull/Chapter 10


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HE love of the beautiful is of celestial origin. It is the holy offspring of an affection for the good and true. The myriad phases of earthly beauty that spring up in life's humblest pathways, are visible symbols of the infinite, ineffable beauty of diviner spheres. How affluent is the exuberant earth in revelations of loveliness! They burst into life beneath our feet, in

they beat the air with iris-tinted pinions above our heads, stretch out enchanting vistas before our eyes, dance on the crest of the impetuous waterfall, slumber upon the bosom of the tranquil stream, gaze at their own images in the mirror of the glassy lake, look down from the effulgent stars, unfurl their orient-hued banners at the waving of Aurora's hand, shoot their meteoric lights before wondering eyes, arch the prismatic bow in the blue canopy above, start into life whenever Nature

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text: Floral Poetry and the Language of Flowers/Hymn to the Flowers


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here was one man who had given many interesting facts to the world. He had unravelled the half-century old mystery of the lost herd. All that men knew of the swift-fox was through his research. He had definitely linked the buffalo gray with the so-called lobo wolf.

Great beasts had come down out of the north and it was rumored that for the first time moose had been seen in the beaver swamps of the Thoroughfare. This man was now on his way to the Land of Many Rivers to determine whether this new western moose was a distinct type or merely a detached band strayed down from their northern range.

Far up Seclusion Creek Moran lay rolled in his blankets, his head propped up on one elbow as he listened to the night sounds which he loved so well and had not heard for so long a time. A cow elk barked from the timber; from far down the stream came the shrill staccato of a coyote, and another

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 answered from above. An owl on the rim-rocks overhead hooted his whereabouts to a far off mate. These sounds, the very essence of loneliness to most men, were the voices of old friends to Moran. He read in them more of primitive love and understanding of savagery.

There was a sudden hush, and for a space of minutes no living creature raised its voice. Moran had heard no sound to indicate the reason for this but he knew that the wild things of the hills could hear things much too distant to be detected by the ear of man. This sudden suspension of all animal communications, the absolute cessation of every note, meant but one thing to Moran. As unerringly as if he himself had heard it he knew that somewhere a wolf had howled. Yet Moran knew too, that this high country was not infested with wolves. This one must be a straggler passing through.

Moran had stopped for the night at the lower edge of the snow line and when he rolled his pack in the morning it took him less than an hour to climb out of the spruce belt above: the timberline. He worked his way on up the divide and before noon he stood in the Rampart Pass. The serrated masses of the Rainbow Peaks, the ragged

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 saw-teeth of the Tetons, and the other distant ranges that walled in the Land of Many Rivers showed up in miniature, clear cut and distinct, broken only by the dark rents which marked each wild gorge through which the rivers rushed on their way to the low country.

The south slope of the divide was streaked with brown where the more exposed spots were free of snow. Moran chose a long ridge that swept down far below timberline, its bald crest looming above the trees and splitting the solid green of the spruce belt, and followed it down the far side of the divide.

When well down among the trees three jays flew above him, rending the air with weird squawks. He watched them pitch down into an opening in the timber. An eagle swooped grandly down out of the sky, and a string of chattering magpies flitted from tree to tree toward the same spot. Two ravens winged down from a cliff face, one of them croaking hoarsely and the other emitting a series of clear tenor whistles, each note ending with a click as if a sharp rap on the beak had chopped each whistle short.

Moran knew what this feathered conclave presaged. The meat-eating birds of the hills were

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text: Floral Poetry and the Language of Flowers/The Shepherd to the Flowers


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 assembling to the feast. He would find some carcass in the opening, and he turned aside to investigate. The carrion hosts flapped away at his approach, protesting raucously at this interruption of their banquet. Out in the open spot he could see a dead cow elk.

Moran knew there were but three beasts in the hills who could kill an elk; the grizzly, the mountain lion and the wolf. The fact that the elk lay in open country eliminated the first. Few grizzlies are killers and those who are invariably stalk their prey in dense, down-timbered spots. They must creep close enough for a short rush and then tear and hammer down their meat by sheer strength. The mountain lion launches himself for the back, strikes his talons deep through skin and flesh and rides his victim to death, his teeth buried ever deeper in the neck.

As Moran drew near he had no slightest doubt as to the identity of the slayer. The severed hamstrings convicted the wolf.

The birds had hopped about and obliterated most of the other signs. In a spot of moist earth he could make out one track and whistled in surprise at its size. He wondered if it was possible that one last buffalo gray still lingered in the hills.

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 ever passing in long procession before their mental vision. Better still, they are constantly moved by an irresistible impulse to make Beauty and Use clasp hands. As Linnæus constructed a dial out of flowers, and, by the expanding and closing of delicate blossoms, told the time of day as accurately as if it had been chronicled by the intricate machinery of a watch, so the passing hours of those who inherit this beautifying temperament are marked by the blooming and folding of life's choicest flowers.

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 He had come down from winter to spring. Here each open spot was green and the drifts only laid in the darkest, most sheltered spots in the timber. As he walked under the trees Moran whistled cheerfully.

He had a sudden feeling that something watched him—followed him. Many times he had tried to analyze this feeling. All men who live in the open are familiar with it. They variously speak of it as a “feeling” or a “hunch.” Others, slightly more learned, refer to it as intuition or class it as some mysterious, subtle sixth sense. Moran strove always for some natural explanation of all things.

Often when hunting or rambling in the hills he had suddenly known that game was near him. He could not tell why he knew. At times he had even known the kind—bear, elk or deer as the case might be. Later, upon investigation, he frequently found a fresh bear track or the warm bed of some elk or deer if the animal itself was gone. There is a strong odor that lingers for hours about the deserted bed of a large animal and when very close to it even the nose of man can easily tell the difference between the scent of deer and elk. It was this fact that had first started Moran’s mind

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 working along one certain line until he had finally evolved a satisfactory theory of his own.

In the dim ages of the past man had undoubtedly used his senses of scent and hearing as keenly as the beasts, else he had not survived. From long centuries of disuse these senses had become dulled yet they still functioned slightly. Some faint scent or sound, the snapping of a twig or the soft pad of a distant footfall, too elusive to make a distinct impression upon the consciousness of modern man, was communicated to some long dormant brain cell which now only reacted sluggishly and the warning was manifested by this vague feeling, hunch or intuition that all hill men know.

This was Moran’s solution and as he walked he kept his face straight to the front, glancing to the right and left without turning his head, seeking ocular proof of the presence he felt. His patience was rewarded by one brief glimpse of a long gray shape that slipped between the spruce trunks a hundred yards up the slope and that one instant enabled him to identify the animal as belonging to the wolf tribe. His thrill of satisfaction was accompanied by a shock of surprise.

Moran knew that the tales of animals who stalk men through the hills originate mainly in the too

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 imaginative minds of novices in the woods. Animals who had lived in localities little frequented by man had sometimes approached him out of curiosity. He had seen deer draw near and stamp excitedly at this strange two legged beast—many such evidences as that—but to be followed was something entirely new. To be followed by a wolf, the one creature who avoids man scent like a pestilence, was almost incredible to Moran. It upset all the convictions formed by years of study.

This beast must be a dog. Moran turned back until he reached a long drift that stretched far up the slope along the sheltered side of a gulch and started up to find the track where the wolf had crossed. The tracks of dogs and wolves are so similar that even experts can not always be sure. The wolf track is slightly, almost imperceptibly longer than that of some dogs but the large, wolfish types of dogs incline also to that shape of track.

One thing Moran knew. A wolf’s track would be evenly spaced and placed one directly before the other in a straight line and show no trace of the wavering, scrambling gait of the dog. But some of the wolfish breeds of dogs inherit this wolf gait and the one glimpse had proven that the animal was of that kind.

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176 their combination, are the iron spur which has driven the race on to all which it has ever achieved, and the fact that population ever advances, yet advances against a barrier which resists more stubbornly at every step of advance, unless it is removed to a new distance by some conquest of man over nature, is the guarantee that the task of civilization will never be ended, but that the need for more energy, more intelligence, and more virtue will never cease while the race lasts. If it were possible for an increasing population to be sustained by proportionate increments of labor, we should all still be living in the original home of the race on the spontaneous products of the earth. Let him, therefore, who desires to study social phenomena first learn the transcendent importance for the whole social organization, industrial, political, and civil, of the ratio of population to land.

We have noticed that the relations involved in the struggle for existence are twofold. There is first the struggle of individuals to win the means of subsistence from nature, and secondly there is the competition of man with man in the effort to win a limited supply. The radical error of the socialists and sentimentalists is that they never distinguish these two relations from each other. They bring forward complaints which are really to be made, if at all, against the author of the universe for the hardships which man has to endure in his struggle with nature. The complaints are addressed, however, to society; that is, to other men under the same hardships. The only social element, however, is the competition of life, and when society is blamed for the ills which belong to the human lot, it is only burdening those who have successfully contended with those ills with the further task of conquering the same ills over again for somebody else. Hence liberty perishes in all

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 Moran found the trail across the drift, true, straight and evenly spaced; still he was not convinced. A sudden thought flitted across his mind.

“Flash!” he called. “Flash! Come out of it, you big gray rascal. Come on out here.”

He knew that Flash’s body had never been found after the shooting at the Bar T ranch. The Wind River wolf had never reappeared on the range and it was presumed that Flash was dead. There was just a chance that he had survived.

Moran called again and again.

Out in the timber Flash thrilled and trembled. First the sound of the whistle; then the familiar appearance of the man he followed and the scent he knew for Moran’s; now the much loved voice; all senses coordinated and Flash knew that this was Moran. He longed to go to him but hard experience had taught him that all men, even former friends, now sought his life.

He circled several times clear around the spot where Moran sat on a log. Moran caught occasional glimpses of him through the trees. It was Flash!

Each circle was drawn closer. Flash heard the glad note in Moran’s voice. Moran carried no rifle but there was a holster at his hip and Flash

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 had learned to dread all guns. At last he stood in plain sight, standing rigid fifty yards away down an aisle through the trees.

Foot by foot he approached. He whined and this was the first sound Moran had ever heard from him. When he stood within ten feet of Moran his conflicting emotions were so powerful that he writhed his head from side to side and clashed his teeth in savage snaps to relieve the inner strain, baring his fangs terribly but whining eagerly at the same time.

When at last Moran touched him all doubt was gone. In his frantic joy he abandoned his usual dignity and threw his weight upon him so recklessly that Moran braced himself to keep from being overthrown.

At the end of an hour Moran started on and Flash stayed so close as to almost touch him. When they reached a spot where several canyons branched off, Flash trotted ahead and stood in a break in the rims through which a game trail pitched down over the lip of a deep gorge. He looked back expectantly at Moran.

“You think that’s the best one to follow down, old boy?” said Moran. “All right, we’ll try it.” And Moran started along the trail that tacked diz-

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 zily down the nose of the canyon. After striking the bottom it followed a tiny stream which grew steadily larger, fed by springs and melting drifts.

After a mile of this Moran noted wolf tracks in the trail. It was padded thick with them.

“You old rascal, you’ve been holding out here for a long time,” he said.

Flash turned aside and started up through the down timber of the slope. Moran was not surprised. He had a sudden hope that Flash was mated and that he would find the den under a windfall or among the rocks at the base of the cliff. It was late for pups to remain at a den but wolves sometimes mated late. This was no place for a wolf den but it was possible.

Flash watched Moran. The man kept on as if he had not noticed. Flash whined after him. He ran around in front and once more turned up the slope.

“What’s up there, Flash?” asked Moran. “What do you want to show me?” He smiled as he thought of the consternation his appearance would occasion a she wolf if the den were really there. He turned and followed Flash up the slope.

He stopped and stared incredulously at the

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 cabin. It was old and moss covered. The occupant had left no tracks on the game trail. This must be the refuge of some hermit—some fugitive who avoided men.

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text: The Cross Pull/Chapter 11

title: The Cross Pull/Chapter 11


text:
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192 social policy, pursue the effort to realize more completely that constitutional liberty for which we have been struggling throughout modern history, or shall we return to the mediæval device of functionaries to regulate procedure and to adjust interests? Shall we try to connect with liberty an equal and appropriate responsibility as its essential complement and corrective, so that a man who gets his own way shall accept his own consequences, or shall we yield to the sentimentalism which, after preaching an unlimited liberty, robs those who have been wise out of pity tor those who have been foolish? Shall we accept the inequalities which follow upon free competition as the definition of justice, or shall we suppress free competition in the interest of equality and to satisfy a baseless dogma of justice? Shall we try to solve the social entanglements which arise in a society where social ties are constantly becoming more numerous and more subtle, and where contract has only partly superseded custom and status, by returning to the latter, only hastening a more complete development of the former? These certainly are practical questions, and their scope is such that they embrace a great number of minor questions which are before us and which are coming up. It is to the science of society, which will derive true conceptions of society from the facts and laws of the social order, studied without prejudice or bias of any sort, that we must look for the correct answer to these questions. By this observation the field of sociology and the work which it is to do for society are sufficiently defined.

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text:
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 holders), often owe their only experience with birth or death to the birth of a younger brother or sister or the death of a parent or grandparent. Their knowledge of sex, aside from children's gossip, comes from an accidental glimpse of parental activity. This has several very obvious disadvantages. In the first place, the child is dependent for its knowledge upon birth and death entering its own home; the youngest child in a family where there are no deaths may grow to adult life without ever having had any close knowledge of pregnancy, experience with young children, or contact with death.

A host of ill-digested fragmentary conceptions of life and death will fester in the ignorant, inexperienced mind and provide a fertile field for the later growth of unfortunate attitudes. Second, such children draw their experiences from too emotionally toned a field; one birth may be the only one with which they come in close contact for the first twenty years of their lives. And upon the accidental aspects of this particular birth their whole attitude is dependent. If the birth is that of a younger child who usurps the elder's place, if the mother dics in child bed, or if the child which is born is deformed, birth may seem a horrible thing, fraught with only unwelcome consequences. If the only death bed at which one has ever watched is the death bed of one's mother, the bare fact of death may carry all the emotion which that bereavement aroused, carry forever an effect out of all proportion to the particular deaths encountered later in life. And inter-


text:
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 course scen only once or twice, between relatives towards whom the child has complicated emotional attitudes, may produce any number of false assumptions. Our records of maladjusted children are full of cases where children have misunderstood the nature of the sexual act, have interpreted it as struggle accompanied by anger, or as chastisement, have recoiled in terror from one highly charged experience. So our children are dependent upon accident for their experience of life and death; and those experiences which they are vouchsafed, lie within the intimate family circle and so are the worst possible way of learning gencral facts about which it is important to acquire no special, distorted attitudes. One death, two births, one sex experience, is a generous total for the child brought up under living conditions which we consider consonant with an American standard of living. And considering the number of illustrations which we consider it necessary to give of how to calculate the number of square feet of paper necessary to paper a room eight feet by twelve feet by fourteen feet, or how to parse an English sentence, this is a low standard of illustration. It might be argued that these are experiences of such high emotional tone that repetition is unnecessary. It might also be argued if a child were severcly beaten before being given its first lesson in calculating how to paper a room, and as a sequel to the lesson, saw its father hit its mother with the poker, it would always remember that arithmetic lesson. But what it would


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hen Teton Jackson tore away from between two guards and threw himself from a moving train he left no trail.

The isolated mountain valley in the shadow of the Tetons, from which, as a boy, he had led his Robin Hood band to prey upon three states, still bore his name but the world never again found a single trace of the man himself. The valley of his name was settled by ranchers. Some few of the earlier settlers remembered him—and kindly, for no struggling squatter ever had cause to complain of his treatment at the hands of Jackson and his men.

Among all the outlaws that escaped during the next quarter of a century there were but few, perhaps a score, of whom no trace was ever found.

In prison circles rumor linked the names of these men together and there were whispers of some phantom rendezvous called “The Hole.”

No man seemed possessed of knowledge as to

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HERE could be no shadow were there no light, no eclipse were there no luminary to be obscured, no dark side to things spiritual and natural, were there no bright; and the former implies and testifies to the existence of the latter.

To discover that moon beneath its thickest shroud, to have perfect faith in the reality of this sunny side to all creation, to seek it out with unflagging hope, to draw it forth from the gloomiest abyss, until it rise radiant as Truth from the depths of her fabled well,—oh! that is one of the most joy-imparting, peace-producing, of all life's secrets.

Doubtless, Dr. Johnson meant to convey a very impressive counsel when he said that the habit of looking at the best side of every event was "far better than a thousand pounds a year," but we think he made a very low estimate of the value

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8 be observed that this ultimate unit is a group and not an individual. Every individual excludes every other in the competition of life unless they can by combining together win more out of nature by joint effort than the sum of what they could win separately. This combination is what makes groups and brings about industrial organization. When a man and woman unite in the most elementary group known, they do it for economic reasons, because they can carry on the struggle for existence better together than apart. In time this turns into a kin-group, united "by blood." This remains undivided as long as its organization gives advantages, but breaks up when it grows too big for the existing economic system. As soon as it breaks, the fractions begin to compete with each other. If by greater culture a higher organization becomes possible, two groups coalesce by intermarriage or conquest, competition gives way to combination again, and the bigger unit enters into competition with other composite units. Thus at all stages throughout the history of civilization competition and combination forever alternate with each other.

These groups are independent of each other, their size being determined by their mode of life, because the number who can live together economically is limited by the possibilities of the food-quest. When a group outgrows this limit, it breaks up and scatters. The fact of former association is long remembered and there is a bond of kinship and alliance which may at times draw former associates together again for festivals and religious observances, but after they separate the tendency is to become entirely independent and to fall under the type just described; viz., scattered groups each with its individuality, yet in a certain neighborhood to each other. Their remoter relationship does not keep them from quarreling

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AVE you ever known days that were H black? Have you ever known days in which everything went wrong, as though some invisible hand turned your whole life topsy-turvy? Did you ever get up in the morning after the manner which the juveniles style "wrong side foremost"? Did you stub your toes with the first_ step you took? Did your strings tangle themselves into Gordian knots, your buttons fly off like rockets, your hooks mysteriously vanish, just when you were in the greatest hurry? Did glass and china break spontaneously beneath your most careful touch? Did the dress you fancied short, magically lengthen itself to make you stumble? Did every sharp instrument you handled, pierce or cut you, of its own accord? Did some undiscoverable individual throw your neatly-arranged work into confusion, and abstract the book in which you were deeply interested? Did the pen spatter, and scratch, and obstinately blot the paper, when you attempted to write? Did the current of your thoughts, which usually flowed with pleasant free-

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 hardly ever occur because of the large number of children in a household, all of whom receive the same treatment. Few children are weighted down with responsibility, or rendered domineering and overbearing as eldest children so often are, or isolated, condemned to the society of adults and robbed of the socialising effect of contact with other children, as only children so often are. No child is petted and spoiled until its view of its own deserts is hopelessly distorted, as is so often the fate of the youngest child. But in the few cases where Samoan family life does approximate ours, the special attitudes incident to order of birth and to close affectional ties with the parent tend to develop.

The close relationship between parent and child, which has such a decisive influence upon so many in our civilisation, that submission to the parent or defiance of the parent may become the dominating pattern of a lifetime, is not found in Samoa. Children reared in households where there are a half dozen adult women to care for them and dry their tears, and a half dozen adult males, all of whom represent constituted authority, do not distinguish their parents as sharply as our children do. The image of the fostering, loving mother, or the admirable father, which may serve to determine affectional choices later in life, is a composite affair, composed of several aunts, cousins, older sisters and grandmothers; of chief, father, uncles, brothers and cousins. Instead of learning as its first lesson that here is a kind mother whose special and principal care is for its


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Page:The Cross Pull.pdf/144

 the whereabouts of this place. Stool pigeons heard nought but rumors. These rumors were persistent and it was recalled that the majority of these vanished ones were of the outdoor type of bandit. At last the authorities inclined to the belief that some of these men were banded together somewhere beyond reach of the law.

As Moran viewed the cabin these things flitted through his mind. He recalled tales that men told of signal lights flashing from peak to peak. One sportsman who could read the wigwag alphabet claimed to have caught a portion of one message. Among the words he made out were the names of two men—the names of two of the most desperate escaped criminals alive. Moran dismissed these thoughts as absurd—absurd at least in so far as they concerned this particular spot. A number of men could not help but leave numerous telltale signs of their presence. This was the home of some lone hermit.

Flash preceded him and scratched at the door. It opened—and the scene was transformed for Moran. Any man would have pronounced the girl’s beauty exceptional and perhaps Moran’s surprise at this vision in the door added to his estimate of her. He was instantly aware that he had

title: Page:The Cross Pull.pdf/144


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Page:Margaret Mead - Coming of age in Samoa; a psychological study of primitive youth for western civilisation.pdf/250

 welfare, and a father whose authority is to be deferred to, the Samoan baby learns that its world is composed of a hierarchy of male and female adults, all of whom can be depended upon and must be deferred to.

The lack of specialised feeling which results from this diffusion of affection in the household is further reinforced by the segregation of the boys from the girls, so that a child regards the children of the opposite sex as taboo relatives, regardless of individuality, or as present enemies and future lovers, again regardless of individuality. And the substitution of relationship for preference in forming friendships completes the work. By the time she reaches puberty the Samoan girl has learned to subordinate choice in the selection of friends or lovers to an observance of certain categories. Friends must be relatives of one's own sex; lovers, non-relatives. All claim of personal attraction or congeniality between relatives of opposite sex must be flouted. All of this means that casual sex relations carry no onus of strong attachment, that the marriage of convenience dictated by economic and social considerations is easily born and casually broken without strong emotion.

Nothing could present a sharper contrast to the average American home, with its small number of children, the close, theoretically permanent tie between the parents, the drama of the entrance of each new child upon the scene and the deposition of the last baby. Here the growing girl learns to depend upon a few individuals, to expect the rewards of life from cer-