Clam TS3S05 ,. Book /Ol S s_ Copyright}! . COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT: SHREDS c ->> *«. THEN WE SEE A RIDERLESS HORSE DASH BY, A LADY S SADDLE Page fiO OTOTUUTOOT^ SHREDS BY Margaret L. Corlies ILLUSTRATED PHILADELPHIA PRESS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 1905 LIBRARY of CONGRESS Two Copies Received DEC 12 1905 Copyright Entry CLASS. CL XXC. No, copy m w 0-7 6r Copyright, 1905 By Margaret L. Corliks To MY DEAR MOTHER Whose love and appreciation will ever be my greatest inspiration csxsxsxgxsxgj CONTENTS PAGE GlARDINO KEALE 11 The Old Diligence 13 Misjudged 22 The Kiderless Roan 60 Luscious Fruit 67 A Mystery 71 On the Dock 83 Trapped 88 High Life in my Garden 95 A Reminiscence of Constantinople 98 Aurora 115 Snap 117 Transition 132 Signorina Camille Mina 133 Phantom Ships 138 ;m \$Wi&$M® LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE Then we See a Riderless Horse dash by, a Lady's Saddle. (A. B. Frost) Frontispiece 'Neath the Old and Quaint Little Bridges we Silently glided away. (Louise Wood) 10 My Portrait, the Portrait op my Fascinating Aunt. (M. Theodora Burt) 42 v Sentinel-like at the Garden Gate stands the Lily, Tall and Straight. (M. Theodora Burt) 95 Whirling Dervishes who Perform a Terrible Novitiate supposed to be a Eevival of Hindoo Mysteries 102 Superstition among a most Superstitious People will always Add to the Interest of St. Sophia 108 -> With the Beautiful Minarets pencilled so Grace- fully, we Wave you Farewell 114 , We loved Each other. That is saying All for Horse and Rider 122 9 ' NEATH THE OLD AND QUAINT LITTLE BRIDGES WE SILENTLY GLIDED AWAY M^ ^IT Vis? 7M" W" ^J^ * GIARDINO REALE BY the Giardino Keale we drifted And dreamily gazed at the sun As our gondolier ceased from his paddling, And we thought of the day that was done — , A day of unalloyed pleasure; One I shall never forget, And the dip and the drip from the paddle Eemain in my memory yet. A few loitering people in costume Passed the bridge where our gondola stood ; A soft strain of sweet music then reached us, And stirred more our souls, if it could. Then slowly descended the shadows, A beggar or two passed us by, But the sun had gone out of the heavens, Leaving just a faint streak in the sky. 11 GIARDINO REALE Our gondolier waited our order, But our spirits refused to say — Go. No place can there be like charmed Venice ; No place on this earth, that I know. In history, in art, and in music, In the snatch of a song from afar, A tune to our memory always, Will be Venice wherever we are. i ' Piano,' ' we said to our boatman, For 'twas over, this beautiful day, — 'Neath the old and quaint little bridges We silently glided away. 12 THE OLD DILIGENCE I sprang to my seat in the old diligence. "All aboard !" called the guard, dressed in green. In memory we'll cherish the sights we're to see, For you will go with us, I ween. DO you who have had the opportunity, and maybe discarded it, realize the intense enjoyment of a trip by diligence through ever-beautiful, refreshing Swit- zerland? Not with the luxury of a team of your own, but to go as thousands of Euro- peans go, — to stop where the diligence is obliged to stop, to collect the post from the little Swiss villages ; to see the eager, expectant small crowd, with upturned faces and blushing cheeks burnt brown by the sun, awaiting their turn to see if, mayhap, in that bag comes a message for them. Then, as we slowly start on again, our Tyrolean driver cracks his long lash, cocks 13 THE OLD DILIGENCE his green hat, and our horses get into their traces ; we feel the air freshening and our cheeks glowing with the prospect of our next furlough ; we wave a good-by to those intent and smiling faces watching us, and wish we had the name of each one we are leaving behind, with their regular round of household cares and duties, who, though rarely failing to see the arrival of the dili- gence, have never set foot in one or gone beyond their small domain. We heartily wish that we could send them each a mes- sage on the return trip, to gladden their hearts when, alas, we shall be so far away. We think of their honest, kind faces, brown arms and legs, and bare feet; the chubby little fellow in the door-way, with patched trousers of many hues, afraid to come out, holding in his brown, dimpled hand a big slice of white bread, covered with honey, and his little cheeks shiny with the sweet delicacy. Then we drift off into pleasant reveries. Once more we are rounding at a break- neck pace another of those wonderful 14 THE OLD DILIGENCE curves, and all is lost to sight behind ns; before ns stretch far and far away the bine, bine sky, snow-capped peaks, and bits of the winding road we are to travel, — green grass, tiny hamlets, stray sheep, and bleating lambs. Does any grass look as green as the grass in these passes? Is anything more restfnl than this refreshing calmness ? Not a clond is in the sky to-day, and were it not for the fine breeze that is blowing we shonld call it warm. We are descending the Grimsel, nnder the most ideal condi- tions and having everything onr own way. The curves are short and sharp, bnt the horses never slacken their speed, and all brakes are down. We have barely room enough to slide miraculously round each well-made turn; sometimes we think the leaders will surely go over into these deep abysses, and hold our breath as we watch the river Aare, surrounded by wooded mountains, foaming and dashing below us, and see the gigantic peaks of the Schreck- horn, Finsteraarhorn, Frescherhorner, and 15 THE OLD DILIGENCE Galenstock, also Upper Valais, with its numerous ice streams, towering majesti- cally above us. Our Tyrolean driver is singing snatches of some songs fresh from the Tyrol, with the yodel refrain quite different from those we have become familiar with in Venice and throughout Italy. He is so big and strong that we are ashamed to think of fear, and decide to abandon everything to his care and lose ourselves in the en- joyment of each too quickly passing mo- ment, — forgetting the noise, the dust, and cares of our native city which we have left so far away. Yes, we have begun at last to live. Each care and anxious moment sinks into obliv- ion beside these glorious mountains and the breadth and depth of nature. We watch the wonderful Handegg Fall, with its dense cloud of soft spray made as it dashes unbroken one hundred and fifty feet into the abyss below, and rebounding fills the cavern with glorious mist on which the sun delights to make rainbows. We 16 THE OLD DILIGENCE stand lost in admiration and spellbound with delight as we watch it; all our un- necessary worries slipping away. Has some one done us an injury? It is forgotten. Have we been unsuccessful? We shall try again. Where have we failed? There is no such thing as failure. Grasp each moment of inspiration and look up. The road lies straight before us, smooth and white; there are still short, sharp turns to make, but there is no fear in our hearts now. The exhilaration, the pure air, the fear- lessness of everything around and about fill us with fresh vigor, as on, on we go. Now and again some peasant perched far up on the mountain, minding his sheep or cows, meets our sight; then we hear the well-known Swiss bell, and begin to wonder where the hut is that offers shelter. Alas, another turn in the ever-winding road, and he is lost to view. A government station is in sight. In 2 17 THE OLD DILIGENCE the lazy settlement some one seems to be hurrying, and as we draw nearer we see that our relays are in readiness; there seems to be no one about but the hostler, who relieves us of the post, and with the assistance of the driver makes the ex- change, and our five big brave browns are replaced by three roans, gaunt and thin, and a bay and a gray. We watch them as they are led away, feeling a pang of regret we cannot express, for they had become part of our present lives. The five new ones look tired out and worn, and our day is only just beginning. It was six o'clock when we left the Ehone Glacier, and now it is only ten. We somehow feel keen disappointment. Our fearless Tyro- lean driver has also disappeared. Where has he gone? We forgot we were not to keep him the whole way, and we all wanted to give him a "pourboire." Alas, we had no chance, though he had said that we should relay at the next halt, but we did not know that we should lose him. We shall miss the confidence he gave us, his 18 THE OLD DILIGENCE cheerful company, and the fearless, dash- ing way he managed to round the curves. He, as well as the horses, had become a part of our journey. We are not in harmony with our new driver, who is a much smaller man, of glum and serious aspect, and does not seem like a gay, fearless Tyrolean, but looks surly and does not sing or whistle. We lose all the confidence that we have gained; every- thing is changed, — the horses do not pull together, there is general dissatisfaction pervading the next three hours of our journey. We are glad when we relay again and have five bays and another driver. We do not care who drives now, — the start was the best. As we make the exchange, we hear some one say in French : "Pierre buried his wife and child yes- terday. We did not expect to see him on duty to-day.' ' Poor Pierre ! So in these beautiful, pro- tecting mountains there is still sorrow in life, — aching hearts, wounds that will take long to heal. 19 THE OLD DILIGENCE We wish that we had known before about Pierre. We feel that we have judged him unkindly, nay, harshly. We might have lightened his sorrowful burden. Now it is too late ; he too is lost to sight. We have been revelling in the mass of bloom of the Alpine flowers. The crocuses make the ground pink and white, and the forget-me-nots edge the roadside with dainty blue. We stop and leave our com- fortable banquette, and walk up the next hill, gathering bunches of the pretty blos- soms. How many things it recalls! We note with regret how it droops and withers as we try to cherish it, wishing we had not picked it, yet we cannot throw it from us. We pin some on our coats, put a spray in our card-cases, offer some to those who did not care to walk, then we jump on board again and are off and away. The next turn brings Meiringen into view. We realize with a sigh of regret that we have all too soon crossed the romantic Grrimsel, through these sunny peaks; and the simple life of the peasants, the l ' alpen 20 THE OLD DILIGENCE gluken" on, the Hospice, and blue sky, the flowers and green grass will ever remain with us as a bright refreshing memory. One tiny corner of enchanting Switzerland has forever enshrined itself within our hearts, carrying with it a sweet fragrance of peaeefulness, joy, and completeness, to uplift and refresh us when in the months to come, sitting by our big, open fire, listen- ing to the wind whistling, and hearing the snow against our window-panes, we know that it is drifting, drifting deep upon all these mountains, shutting from the peas- ants the sight of the diligence, and coating all with a pure white covering, which will sparkle like diamonds when the sun peeps from behind his hiding-place, casting his soft rays upon a world of unsurpassed loveliness. * 21 »>.. %i^ «... -.»<■ m^i -ng fjj -A4 -l«^ w -,»f fA# m -s|- |T ^| < ^w i juj, »^» ^I^TJIP JN' vtf 'm ^f 'JM Vtt 'Jvf 'Aff VfP m JT ?&$<> k> fa k> fa> §<> k> $&>$<> fc> fc> fa KSC^5D^K3K3K3 fafafafafafafafafafafafafafafa TRAPPED IN the heart of one of our large cities, palpitating with joy, business and in- terest, there is to-day a locality which one may visit by night, accompanied by a guide, to inspect the opium dens, the theatres, and churches for which it is world-famous. So novel and alluring is it to all visitors that one may spend hours there, unconscious of the flight of time, and even forgetful of all that makes life most desirable. The fascination, though revolting, is complete, and there are screened rooms innumerable which one dare not look into, unless permission so to do has been given by the guide, who never ceases by his vigilance to give satisfaction and deference to those inside, who own and guard every secret door, passage, and closet. Should a detec- tive enter, on any pretext, and be recog- nized, or should suspicion rest on those passing through, their penalty would be a 88 TRAPPED life of horror and torture, or a speedy death ; and yet so great is the curiosity of strangers that few persons visiting the place fail to avail themselves of a view by night, with a suitable guide, of all the strange sights it affords. Into this region, two or three stories underground, Mr. and Mrs. Venture de- scended, unattended by the necessary guide, feeling such confidence in them- selves that they feared nothing, nor could possibly imagine the dire calamity crawl- ing closer and closer like a serpent at their heels. Inspecting as they went each cor- ner and cranny, they never for one mo- ment imagined that their inspection was but a circumstance to the inspection of those who watched and waited their chance to commit the terrible crime which they were contemplating. Pausing for a moment before a screened door, they were accosted in English by a man asking very politely, i i Can I not show you the most noted den we have, — the great opium hall!" TRAPPED With delight at their good luck, and anx- ious to see all, they replied, with interest : ' l Certainly, yes ; we should be delighted, ' ' and started forward to accompany their supposed benefactor, who, with an apolo- getic wave of his hand and a seductive smile, replied: " Not madame, no. No ladies are allowed to enter, — only the gen- tleman. I will place a chair for the lady, right here. See, close to the door, where she may wait until we return. It will not take long. The gentleman can tell madame about it some day. ' ' The opium hall was filled with persons of all ages, — men, women, and boys, conscious, half-conscious, and just losing conscious- ness from the effect of the fell drug. Young and old of both sexes, with faces bearing the horrid, jaded expression of imbeciles, haggard and worn, and again others with the look of happy contentment on their faces as they began to smoke for the first time their opium pipes and to dream of happy days that would never come to them. The scene, though licentious and depraving 90 TRAPPED in the extreme, was weirdly fascinating, and partook of a color qnite different from anything Mr. Venture had ever experi- enced. Time and time again conviction came to his mind that he had seen enough and must breathe fresher and purer air; and when at last they turned to leave the hall, Mr. Venture found an hour had flown, and feared that his wife would be weary from the long delay. Passing out, as he supposed, at the same door by which he had entered, and expect- ing to be greeted with a slight rebuff for his long absence, he found that he was quite alone. No trace of his wife was there, and though he spoke her name aloud, there was no response. A feeling of numb- ness paralyzed every muscle, and cold per- spiration broke out in great beads upon his forehead. " Where is my wife?" he asked. And a dozen or more voices came hissing out from behind numerous screens : "How 91 TRAPPED do we know? We did not see where she went. ' ' A conviction too horrible to think of flashed across his mind, and he knew that he himself might at any moment be placed in confinement. Realizing the terrible posi- tion he was in and that his imprisonment would mean total inability to help her, and being now well assured that he was the victim of villanous intrigue and that his only chance to save her was escape, that he might procure the best detectives and lay his case before the authorities, with feelings akin to madness he groped his way along the dark and dirty passages, through innumerable small dens, where no one gave heed to him, all being in drunken stupors, until after what seemed hours to him he at last, after climbing a forlorn staircase, saw the lights of the street and breathed fresher air. Thank God! there was an officer just opposite, and hastily crossing the street to where he stood he told of his terrible ex- perience, expecting sympathy and help and 92 TRAPPED prompt action; but to his horror was greeted with a surly shrug and these words, which turned his blood cold : ' ' You should not have gone there without a guide. I can do nothing; there is no help in that mad hole. They only permit persons with guides to go through because they give them large sums of money, and they want money.' ' ' ' I will give you anything you ask ; take it to them and bring her to me here," he replied. "No, I could not; there is no help," he reiterated. i ' No help, ' ' cried Mr. Venture, in agony. "Are you mad and drunk, too, or am II Do such things exist in a civilized com- munity? " Springing into a cab, he ordered: "To the chief of police. Drive for life or death, man ! ' ' Alas, the misery and wretchedness of it all! Can you believe it? There was no redress; and after two years of fruitless search and hopeless expectation, in which 93 TRAPPED the thought of saving her alone kept him from absolute madness, he returned to his dear native town. One year later he was told by a friend, who had visited the place with a guide, that he had accidentally seen his wife by open- ing a forbidden door; she was entirely demented; and his forwardness had almost cost him his life ere he had reached the street; and that now, even though ac- companied by a guide, no one could enter the accursed locality of sin, iniquity, and debauchery. He returned at once, hopeless, weary, and maddened, to try and procure, if pos- sible, the assistance of the authorities to exterminate forever such a blot in the heart of a great city and to give him back his wife. Alas, he waited ; and is waiting, he real- izes, in vain! graces is* 94 SENTINEL-LIKE AT THE GARDEN GATE STANDS THE LILY, TALL AND STRAIGHT BXSXSXSXSXSJ HIGH LIFE IN MY GARDEN SENTINEL-LIKE at the garden gate Stands the lily, tall and straight; While close by, on the other side, Her stiff, cold mate I also spied. Then growing nearer, close to the ground, Head graciously bent, a pansy I found. A bright little pansy, to all of us dear, Its tiny sweet face carrying thoughts of good cheer. The lily looked coldly, ungraciously down, And on her stern visage she carried a frown. The pansy looked up, for she hoped to find Some pleasant companion of cheerful mind. But never one bit does the lily unbend ; And the pansy grieved for one stanch friend. Then turning her face to the other side, A large ranunculus there she spied. 95 HIGH LIFE IN MY GARDEN "You, too, are bigger than I!" she cried. " But, please, make friends with me," she sighed. And the sturdy ranunculus bowed and bowed, Making the heart of the pansy proud. II Then the pansy talked in her pleasant way, And old ranunculus grew quite gay, And smiled all over when pansy told, "That a lily's heart should be made of gold; For the two big lilies, tall and white, Have put me in a terrible plight; While you, ranunculus, in plain homespun, Are everlastingly full of fun. ' ' * ' They are vain and proud ; but the world is wide, So let them pass on the other side, ' ' Was the sage advice of ranunculus brave, Who from trouble his friend would save. "Others there are like the lilies, I'm told; They have a place in their world to hold. 96 HIGH LIFE IN MY GARDEN And what I know may be out of date, But who ever cared for cold-hearted prate ? You can hold your own, I've always heard. Their being stuck-up is quite absurd. Take heed to my saying, — wise and seer, — They can't hold a candle to you, my dear." 97 A REMINISCENCE OF CONSTANTI- NOPLE WE are passing Adrianople, our train guarded by officers sleeping at our doors, also five on the locomotive, and eagerly awaiting the sight of that city of seven hills, like Eome, the Sweet Waters of Europe, and the novel and alluring sights that will greet us on every side. Our train comes to a stand-still at last. "We see many dark, strange, handsome faces awaiting us, but are on the lookout for our dragoman, Demetrius Coufopoulos. We see him at last, with a white flower in his button-hole, — the signal agreed upon, — and he also recognizes us as the party by whom he has been engaged, as we too have a white flower placed in the book we carry. He greets us in his own native fashion, takes one small hand-bag, and directs a Turk standing by to relieve us of our other traps. We are too much interested to 98 CONSTANTINOPLE know just what happens. We are walking towards the carriage, seeming to see noth- ing but Turks, Turks, Turks, of such mag- nificent physique and dark eyes. The poor, noisy, vociferating hamals are waiting to carry on their backs our trunks to the hotel, and for this purpose a sort of saddle is strapped upon them. We turn away from the sight, for they are bent double, resting their hands upon their knees as they walk. We see any number of these poor creatures with all sorts of household necessities piled high upon their backs and staggering beneath the enor- mous weight. We cannot realize how they can carry so much or how it is possible for them to stand erect when the burden is re- moved from them. It takes but a few minutes to reach our hotel, and we see much to interest us as we turn street after street and pass the Rue Pera, and at every few steps halt to make way for the countless number of mangy, half-starved pariah dogs, with which the city is overflowing. The unearthly cries of 99 CONSTANTINOPLE the muleteers, donkey-drivers, and hawk- ers of all sorts, yelling at the top of their voices, add to the din and confusion every- where. What would Constantinople be without these dogs? We wanted to kill every one of them, and the same desire still remains with us. They make the streets filthy by day and hideous at night by their snarls and growls, but are looked upon as the guardian angels of the city. They can never be understood, with any accuracy, by those who have never seen them. Oh, strange and fascinating city, interesting and absorbing; never quiet even at night, when all the natives turn out for their holiday, singing and whistling, calling out their wares, accompanied by the full or- chestra of dogs, which are always fed at midnight. You cannot picture it; do not attempt to. Go and see for yourself, for all words of mine would prove superfluous. Byron, Shelley, great men and women of every age have brilliantly pictured its charms, the magnificence of its mosques, 100 CONSTANTINOPLE mausoleums, and palaces. This pen would prove feeble indeed were it to attempt to describe what is known only too well to all those who have experienced the delight of a visit, or the pleasure of the literature of all ages. We are most comfortably settled and have had the ever vigilant and willing guidance of Coufopoulos. Have paid nu- merous visits to the exquisitely beautiful mosques, been entertained at Dolman Baghcheh Palace, had a row in the Sultan's caique with his four oarsmen from Bu- meli Hissar to Sweet Waters and back to Galata Bridge, watching the natives eat something like hokey-pokey, and enjoying their holiday drifting about, the women with half-concealed faces and the men strong and dark. The Constantinople streets are narrow, dirty, miserably paved alleys, and through these daily we went, either on foot or by carriage, for there are few sidewalks or pavements. The garbage is placed on the street, in front or back of the houses, and 101 CONSTANTINOPLE Allah's assistance is invoked to send rain to wash it away. If Allah declines to re- spond, then it is a sign that Allah does not wish it removed, and it remains until Al- lah graciously consents. Alas, modern sewerage is unknown. Through these alleys we threaded our way one day to see the Whirling Dervishes, who perform a terrible novitiate, supposed to be a revival of Hindoo mysteries, — a gyrating dance lasting one hundred and one days. However, these Dervishes cannot compare to the terrible and revolting sight of EufaM and Badavi, or the Howling Der- vishes, where mere infants are brought in at the close of the whirling, howling per- formance and the head Dervish actually walks upon the bodies of these poor chil- dren, whose screams rend the air. But as this is supposed to immune them from sick- ness, their parents smilingly see the torture the poor beings suffer. This part of the service takes place after the Dervishes have howled, jumped, and shaken themselves until they are ready to foam at the mouth. 102 en Z ffl 1 - H pa *a o o TJ W i a -i 03 Jt 5 J CONSTANTINOPLE All visitors wait until the performance is over. I shall not attempt to do justice to Dol- mah Baghcheh Palace, or can I omit speak- ing of it. Gorgeous beyond description, with its chimney-pieces of malachite, crys- tal candelabra with two hundred and fifty candles, porcelains from Sevres. The great stairway is inlaid with wood and crystal; the bath-rooms for the sultanas are built entirely, tubs and all, of Oriental alabaster. The mosques, of course, claimed a great deal of our attention. Here the most rigid decorum is expected. On entering, each one must put on a much-used and dirty pair of slippers, which are provided, or you may bring your own. The worshippers kneel upon entering, then salaam while three priests slightly raised above the others in- tone the prayer. They form in rows of four or five, prostrating themselves when Allah's name is mentioned. We went to St. Sophia on Friday at noon, and remained during the entire service, this being the particular day of importance, ex- 103 CONSTANTINOPLE cept during Bamazan. This mosque is known to exceed in magnificence all the other mosques which have been built upon the same model. One hundred architects were employed, each one having under him one hundred workmen; five thousand working on the right side, and five thousand working on the left ; each wing vieing with the other for the completion of their work. A curious superstition is that this whilom church is haunted every Easter eve by a chorus of angels. There are still to be found Greeks and Mohammedans who aver that they have heard this angelic chorus. However, as the Emperor had given it to be known that he had conversed with an angel in a dream, and that she had told him where to procure all the costly ma- terials for the decoration of the mosque, it is not surprising that superstition among a most superstitious people will always add to the interest of St. Sophia. Ivory, amber, cedar, and silver play a prominent part in the building, while nearly every kind of marble known is to be found here, — the 104 CONSTANTINOPLE green marble from Laconia, the white, black- veined Bosporus marble, the white Phrygian marble, with its beautiful pink streaks, and many others from Europe and Asia Minor. The mosque of Sultan Bayazid, or ' * Pig- eon Mosque,' ' has a most beautiful court- yard, and here street-venders of Oriental perfumes, rosaries, letter-writers, and seal- cutters may be found, also the pigeons may be fed, as at San Marco, in Venice. During Eamazan, stalls are erected for the sale of Persian and Egyptian sweets. The "Kiosks' ' are numerous and attrac- tive. Here they serve tea, preserved rose leaves, and sweetened water. We have gone dressed in our best, which is necessary to the Salamlik, which is a most brilliant spectacle and compares to a levee at Buckingham Palace. We were obliged to wait two hours to obtain a win- dow. The troops appeared and took their position, cavalry and infantry followed — magnificent specimens of men; then the Sultan's favorite wives drew up, closely 105 CONSTANTINOPLE guarded, and their carriages stopped near the entrance to the mosque ; next the Sultan arrived, being driven in an open landau, with Asma Pasha facing him. The bugle sounded, and the high priest in the mina- ret called them to prayer, and, with his troops and ministers on horseback sur- rounding him, he stepped from his carriage upon a magnificent silk rug and entered the mosque. The horses were taken from the car- riages in which sat the sultanas, closely veiled and guarded by eunuchs. We were served with coffee and tea dur- ing the hour the Sultan remained in the mosque, as a mark of courtesy from him to his visitors. At last he appeared. Stepping into another carriage, drawn by two magnifi- cent white horses, and, taking the reins, drove himself back to the Seraglio. The marvellous effect of the sunlight on the wonderful silver trappings beggars de- scription. Our dragoman told us the Sultan ex- 106 CONSTANTINOPLE pected his guests to cheer him as he passed the house occupied by us, the Visitors' Pa- vilion, which had been provided by him for foreigners. This we did, and he saluted us in return. Added to our novel surroundings were the beautiful, tall, spiral minarets tower- ing white and impressive wherever you turned, and the calls from the top at stated intervals lent a double charm. This remarkable chanting in a loud voice is singularly fascinating and is as follows : "Allah Akber, Allah Akber; Essehadou Allah il laha il-allah; Essehadou Allah il laha il allah; Essehadou anneh Mo- hammadan ressool ul-lah; Essehadou an- neh Mohammadan ressool ul-lah, Haayah- allah sal-lah Haayah allah sal-lah; Haa- yah al ul-f ellah Haayah al ul-f ellah ; Allah Akber, Allah Akber; La il lah il Allah/ ' Great one, I avow there is no God but God. I avow that Muhammad is his Prophet. Let us go save our souls. Let us go and pray. God is great. In the name of God the only God. 107 CONSTANTINOPLE This prayer is chanted five times in every twenty-four hours by the " Muez- zin/ ' or deacon, who occupies a gallery near the top of the " mine rah' ' chanting in as loud a voice as possible. Alas, the day is drawing near when we must say "au revoir" to all these strange charms and customs and in memory carry with us the fascination that we felt dur- ing our visit. This is the beautiful side of Constanti- nople, the dark, treacherous side is too black to picture. Innocence is preyed upon and disappearances are of frequent oc- currence. Our dragoman was watchful and careful, and a few days before our depart- ure, which was hastened on account of the severity of the earthquake shocks, I was anxious to procure some photographs; so dressing earlier than was my wont and not caring to breakfast, I hastily left the hotel alone, and passing on to the Eue Per a, en- tered a photographic shop, where I found a large number of pictures displayed. Se- lecting those I desired, I was about to de- 108 SUPERSTITION AMONG A MOST SUPERSTITIOUS PEOPLE WILL ALWAYS ADD TO THE INTEREST OF ST. SOPHIA CONSTANTINOPLE part with my purchases when a lady and gentleman entered who had occupied the next compartment to ours on the outward journey. We knew each other by name and exchanged some pleasant words. I have every reason now to believe that this chance meeting saved my life, or kept me from a life worse than death. As I was about leaving the shop a door opened at one side, where there was a short flight of steps, and a Frenchman descended, and coming towards me, asked, — " Would not mademoiselle like a picture taken in Constantinople ? ' ' The idea appealed to me, and I assented very willingly, and following him up the steps, we entered a fine, large gallery. A chair was placed for me to stand by, but to my horror I noticed that one of the three men who were in the room locked the door by which we had entered and placed the key in his pocket. The picture was taken, and a door thrown open leading to a small ante-room, where I might rest, they said 109 CONSTANTINOPLE until they ascertained if the negative were good. I replied I was not tired, and would stay- where I was. To this they made no objec- tion. My mind and eyes were upon that locked door, and every wit in my head was at work. I knew that absolute fearlessness and calmness were my only safeguard, and when one of the men again entered the room and pronounced the negative excel- lent in his seductive French voice, I arose preparatory to leaving, only to be detained by the request, — " Would not mademoiselle like to have a photograph of herself in Turkish costume ? Please step into the other room and change your clothe s." "I have not time to-day,' ' I replied, thinking only of that locked door and not realizing what I was saying. Stepping very close to me, he insisted, saying — "It will not take long." The other two men then entered the no CONSTANTINOPLE room, and all desired the same thing. I was now fully aware of my dangerous posi- tion. In Turkish costume it would be easy to remove suspicion from me and my whereabouts, and all traces of me would be completely obliterated. While viewing the situation as calmly as I might, a happy thought came to me, which I made use of promptly. "I have friends downstairs who are waiting for me. I will come to-morrow," I continued. A dark, angry flush overspread their features, and in a language I did not rec- ognize they parleyed for a moment; then the man who had locked the door took from his pocket the key and allowed me to pass through, saying, — "Oh, you have friends downstairs. Only because you promise to come to-morrow without friends will I allow you to pass. To-morrow,' ' he repeated. What was my horror on descending the stairs to find the two travelling companions gone, whom I had hoped to see; but my in CONSTANTINOPLE exit was easy, and I hastened to return to the hotel. Alas ! when I reached it I found faithful Coufopoulos wringing his hands and every one crazed with suspicion. "I should have been obliged to give my life for you had you not returned," said our faithful dragoman. "Oh, mademoi- selle, never do such a thing again. It was terrible. We have spent an hour watching and praying. No one knew where you had gone. You might never have come back. Many people go like that." "I only went for a few photographs of the mosques, ' ' I replied. However, I did not venture out of sight of Coufopoulos again. Now the ancient bridge to Stambul no longer exists, but another takes its place. There we spent many hours. It is a mar- vellous kaleidoscopic view. Venders sell- ing every street sweet-meat known to mankind. How we enjoyed the macaroons, as big as saucers, so deliciously seasoned with sweet almond and so molasses-candy like. They were sold on large sheets of 112 CONSTANTINOPLE white paper, like old-fashioned white and pink mint drops. "We never passed a certain vender with- out getting a sheet or two of them, and he got to know ns so well that we conld not have avoided him if we had wished. I fancy I can see tears in his eyes now when he missed ns, and realized that no more " paras' ' from ns wonld fall into his dirty, capacious pockets. The last macaroons we bought from him, we threw in some extra coins, and tried to explain that we were going away the next day; but he would not understand, and said, — 1 i You come to-morrow, I speak English. ' ' In memory how one can drift to Constan- tinople. Far away one's thoughts can travel, on and on, and then come back with a joyful bound to where we are, and the glad realization that all the delights that we have read about are ours to see and realize. How fortunate we are, without a care worthy of mention, to be able to indulge ourselves in these pleasant luxuries, drift- 8 113 CONSTANTINOPLE ing wherever our fancy may dictate, know- ing we can return home whenever we wish, or wander miles and miles away. Oh, the glorious sunsets, the enchanting moonrise, with the beautiful minarets pen- cilled so gracefully. We wave you fare- well, bustling, noisy, absorbing, bad-smell- ing Constantinople, we shall never say good-by to you; for when one has once lived with you they can never part from you. Nay, it is impossible to say good-by. We take you with us wherever we go, and some day we shall return. So au revoir, Constantinople. Most interesting and fascinating of Oriental cities, au revoir. 114 AURORA SILENTLY, fall the shadows, Silently, night creeps on, With its veil of sombre covering, To await the break of dawn. Hushed, the song of the robin, Hushed is the heavy tread Of the artisans home returning, Who toil for their daily bread. Peace reigns over the household, Peace is abroad in the air; Eest for the faithful watcher, As she wearily climbs the stair. She has known sorrow and sadness, And longs for the quiet of home ; But no word of complaint escapes her, As she enters her room, alone. 115 AURORA Poor, patient, care-worn sufferer; Take hold of that outstretched hand; Rest your burdens upon the Master, Who dwells in that happy land. Lovingly His arms will enfold you ; The dawn is beginning to break ; The clarion peals through the silence, Rise to its call — and awake ! A glorious radiance is spreading, The night is passing away ; The angels ' choir she faintly hears Welcoming the break of day. 116 CS2CSJK2tS3CS3KJ SNAP HE stands to-day as he did then, or this story would never have been written. I should have passed out of life possibly unheard of and unknown, and he too would have gone with his master. I had never tried or cared to make many friends. People had never filled any very important part of my life. It may have been unfortunate, — I never stopped to question the matter, — but in a short time they wearied and oppressed me, hanging like a weight too heavy for me to carry. I could not come into harmony with their narrow, cramped lives, thoughts, views, and aims ; they were rarely of any lasting interest to me, and I seemed not to be of any particular importance to them; so no one was apparently the loser. I wish them all the happiness in their lives that daily fell to my lot. Animals had always been my one absorb • 117 SNAP ing passion. It took them but a very short time to understand me ; and if it does not seem like placing too much confidence in my powers of divination, I might say I understood them at once. I had so far led a gloriously untrammelled life among my books, dogs, and horses, — never-failing companions. A crack of my whip was all the latter required, being ever as ready as I for anything that might appeal to our fancy. Alas! I dread to look back upon all that I have lost, when in the twinkling of an eye they were swept from me, and I never, never saw them again, my horses, dogs, and books. Oh, the enjoyment of those hours! How the memory overflows every fibre of my being ! However, I had my favorites, and among them was Snap, — a brown horse of power- ful muscle, marvellous endurance, and al- most human intelligence, cob-built, flat- boned, and as agile as a deer. There was nothing too difficult that he would not have done for me, and he perfectly understood my appreciation of him. Allowed to roam 118 SNAP where lie liked, his stable door was always left open. He was lord and master of his surroundings, and indeed at times of me also. Upon one occasion a villanous cat had jumped upon a prize pup I highly valued, and thrusting her claws treacherously in his flesh, would have scratched him to death, had not Snap come to his rescue, and sinking his teeth deeply in her fur, made her loose her hold, and promptly picking up the pup by the nape of his neck, carried him to a place of safety, namely, the man- ger in his stall. I hope his conscience re- warded him, for I had no adequate means of showing my approval of his act, and the row of prizes in my library are of sufficient eloquence to vouch for the value of the pup. He also had developed my dislike for cows. How many amusing anecdotes I could tell about his experiences in the meadows. He showed his absolute con- tempt for the herd by refusing to occupy the same enclosure ; no fence was of suffi- 119 SNAP cient height to keep him in a field where they pastured. The expression of his upper lip was proof enough of his inner feelings ; up it would tilt, until you could see his strong white teeth, then he would sniff the air, and over the fence he would come without further warning. There was no fear in his breast for them, as I had at first imagined; the only things he really feared were weasels. His eyes showed this only too plainly, and he would whinny and kick viciously when they would upon occa- sions attack the chickens. He made him- self master of the paddock as well as of the barnyard, but I never knew him to be guilty of a mean act. I have known him to walk for miles, like a docile dog, beside my carriage, when after a severe accident I was compelled to drive over my vast domain, — for Snap had never been invited to wear harness, saddle and bridle being his only equipment. During my convalescence he came trot- ting up to the porch one day where I lay in the hammock, enjoying the perusal of a 120 SNAP new book fresh from the publishers, and something about his whole bearing seemed to be pleading to me to come for a canter. He stood and looked at me with his great intelligent eyes, in which I fancied I de- tected reproof; at any rate, I realized I was falling short of his expectations. I think this act hastened my recovery, for I was getting somewhat lazy these days. Books and animals were vieing for the upper hand. It was incumbent upon me to get back into my accustomed ways or lose the respect of my horse. It seemed a reproach to me that I had been too long recovering. I was almost ashamed of being sick. From that day I took more exercise, and before another week had passed was again on his back. He never looked gayer or prouder as I stood watching his saddle being made fast, giving me his foot in handshake many times and pawing the ground in impatience when I failed to respond. At last I was in the saddle. Curious to say, he stood like a lamb while I mounted. Never before had 121 SNAP he behaved so well. Mounting was the only difficulty I had ever experienced with Snap, for at such times he would always take it into his head to turn round and round, ap- parently desirous of seeing me, but -most disastrous to mounting quickly. As a young horse I had not discouraged this bit of coquetry, for I was agile myself, and it never much annoyed me; it had grown with his years, which now numbered seven, and seemed to convey to my mind his willingness to permit only his master to ride him. To my knowledge no one else had ever tried. We loved each other. That is saying all for horse and rider. The sound of my voice was sufficient encouragement or re- proof, and I know he understood every word I said to him. Have you who see horses every day ever realized what the love for them may mean and the agony of being obliged to part with them when they have filled the larger, better part of your life? Many times have I ridden him without a 122 SNAP bridle, using my hand on his neck to direct him, and he never in all these years failed to obey my signal. My hand placed on his back was indicative of my desire to return home, which he sometimes obeyed too promptly. If my mood were in accord with his, he would trot gayly back; if not, he would walk and snort, as if inviting me to prolong our journey. We had been busier than was our wont one day, and when night came were well fagged out, on account of being obliged to oversee many breaks made in the roads and bridges, occasioned by the recent heavy rains. A large dam near the house had threatened to give way, and I had ridden many times to take a look at it ; but every- thing seemed out of danger now, and all hands had turned in for a good night's rest. It must have been about three o'clock, for I had enjoyed a quiet refreshing sleep, when I was aroused by a most unusual oc- currence, — Snap whinnying sharp and con- tinuously beneath my window, seeming to presage danger. Eising, I drew apart the 123 SNAP curtains and looked out. All was dark and still, — a stillness I could feel, — and I too imagined some danger near. "What's the matter, Snap!" I asked. Again he whinnied, seemingly in excited pleasure, and I could hear him stamping the ground; and as my eyes got accus- tomed to the dark, I could also distinguish him, and realized that every nerve was alert with restlessness. "Wait, old boy," I said. "Ill be down in a moment." But he never ceased to whinny. Dressing hastily and descending, I opened the front door and passed out. Alas ! never again shall my foot cross that loved threshold. How uncertain is life; how much keener the appreciation of love when all is lost. Snap at once led the way to the stable, encouraging me to follow him, which I, like a docile dog, did. Being anxious to accede to his unspoken request and curious to know his wishes, I was somewhat interested 124 SNAP when he came to a standstill in the spot where he was accustomed to be saddled. "Want me to go for a ride, do you? Where, Snap ? What will you have me un- derstand, eh?" and I patted him on the neck. However, I placed the saddle upon his back by the dim light of the candle which I had lighted, and which stood upon an up- turned bucket, then I made fast the girths ; but just as the last strap was buckled, what was my horror to hear a terrible sound, like the roaring of many waters, and a cry of terror that will remain forever indelibly impressed upon my memory, though I did not understand then half what its meaning signified, or what the next few hours would bring to me. 1 ' The dam has broken ! Fly, every one, for your lives! Fly!" rang out through the intense stillness and pitch darkness of that night. Will you believe me when I say that my first thought was for Snap ? When I threw myself upon his back it was to save him, not 125 SNAP for self-preservation. This last thought followed my first impulse. Bridleless he dashed out into the darkness, carrying me with him, leaving the little candle casting its tiny flickering rays upon the hard, bare boards. How often I recall it, and how soon its pale light went out. The cries of the tenants ringing in our ears filled us with terror. On, on we dashed in mad, furious haste, whither I knew not. The ground seemed bad and uneven. It was impossible to dis- tinguish the well-known objects we were forever leaving behind us. On, on to de- struction, or what? Alas! What? The day will never dawn when I shall forget that wild, mad dash for life and the conse- quences of that fatal night. Now I can hear the splashing and gur- gling of water and realize that Snap is dashing through several inches of it, that it is rising higher and higher. Yes, it has overtaken us ; it is too late. Let some one who has been in a like position convey my thoughts to you. I cannot. I see nothing 126 SNAP as on goes iny noble, powerful, dauntless steed. How long can he hold ont against such terrible odds? Bravely he plunges- through, never missing his footing; his great, well-built, strong body firmly poised against the torrent that is now swelling and deepening at every step. We seem to be in the very heart of it. I am too appalled to do anything but hold on. I try to make my weight lighter. The darkness is in- tense. The heaving sides of my horse against my knees and the rushing water drown every other thought. The footing is getting worse and worse. It cannot be long now before all will be over for Snap and me. We seem to be wedged in by floating material all about us. What is this fresh sensation, new to me 1 Our motion has suddenly changed. Can it be that Snap has given up! Is he power- less to resist the struggle longer? We seem to be gliding so smoothly, yet everything is so treacherous about us. Where are we going? Oh, save me from this last appalling realization. He is be- 127 SNAP yond his depth, and the water is surging over me. Snap is swimming; swimming with all the strength of his noble limbs and stanch affection, and darkness is about us still. The current is growing swifter and swifter every moment and is carrying us with it. Yes, we are going with the tide; Snap is too clever to try to swim against it. Where are we now? What river is this ? If the creek close to my house, swol- len beyond all recollection, then where are the falls, — before or behind us? If the former, then speedy and certain death faces Snap — struggling on — and me. I lean forward slightly and whisper some encouraging, tender words to him ; but the roaring of the water drowns my voice. For the first time in his life he does not seem to hear me. His breath is coming quick and fast. I realize that all will soon be over, and I say, "We shall go together, Snap, — together. I shall not struggle when your noble head goes under, for I shall lock my arms about your neck, and together we shall enter the happy hunting-grounds. 128 SNAP Take it easy, Snap. Do not work so hard. Thud! What has happened? Has he gone down? Where am I? Where is he? We have struck something. Snap is struggling to his feet. I have been knocked from my saddle and am lying on a firm foundation. A light is breaking from the east, and I can see we are both on solid, dry ground. Snap is standing looking down upon me. We are on a little island, in the midst of the seething torrent. The roar of the water is dreadful, but we are safe. I cannot tell whether I am glad or sorry until I know that no harm has come to my noble steed. I place my hand upon his heart and put my face to his. He drops his head to mine, and I clasp my hands about his neck. He breathes fast and quick. For a few moments we ex- change silent love-tokens, then his breath comes more evenly and smoothly, and be- fore long he breathes more naturally than his master. I watch the sun as it rises warm and red, casting its rays upon such devastation as I 9 129 SNAP hope never again to be called upon to wit- ness. Nothing seems to be above the water bnt Snap and myself. Houses, barns, all I had in stock and pasture, are laid bare, gone in the torrent still raging about us, of which we two, seemingly sole survivors, are the only spectators. Slowly the sun rises higher and higher, bringing to light such desolation as would make your heart sick. Oh, the horror of it ! Men and women, too, and children are being tossed and twisted and buried in that moving mass of ruin in which we are pow- erless to render assistance. Fragments of houses, barns, and stables, struggling sheep, cows, and horses, and those that have already lost power to struggle, are being carried, in sickening numbers, rap- idly by us. Oh, the misery of it all ! With a little moan Snap stretches him- self on the green grass beside me. I has- ten to see if he is suffering, but his eyes are natural, there is still plenty of fire be- hind the languor, and I know that all he needs is a good stable, which I cannot pro- 130 SNAP vide, and nature's gentle restorative, rest. So I seat myself on the grass, and taking his head in my lap, I watch — while he sleeps — the rapidly-flowing, but now sub- siding, stream which winds like a sinuous snake all about us. When we are able to leave our place of safety, we wearily and sadly turn towards home. Home ! what does that word mean to me now? All is gone; the foundations only remain ; there are none of the old fa- miliar faces to greet us. Instead red clay and mud, with debris of all kinds covering everything several feet deep. My farm has suffered the most, being directly in the track of the overflow. I am too dazed to take cognizance of it all. Snap carries me gently, with drooped head; and in silent, kindred sympathy to- gether we look upon the ravages the water has made. Later I pitch a tent for Snap and me, and together we occupy it. Some day we shall have something better. 131 TRANSITION IN her dear cold hand there rested Just a pure white rose or two. Ne'er again she.'ll pick the posies, Glistening with the morning dew. They will fade ; but in our memory, She will live to cheer our way; Like the budding, fragrant flowers Coming in the month of May. Peace on earth. She brings the message. Crowned with joy her days have fled. Now I know the white-robed angels Bend in reverence o 'er her bed. Hush. Tread softly in her sanctum; The sun is touching that white rose, Fragrant with the breath of Heaven, Breathing peace and long repose. 132 !S3S3SXS3SXSi SIGNORINA CAMILLE MINA 44TDUON giorno Signorina, come s£a?" X3 ■ i Sto bene grazie. ? ' "Ed Ella?" "Audi* io sto bene grazie." Stop at Varese when next you visit Italy, and rest at the magnificent old chateau, with its great marble staircase and beauti- ful garden, and enjoy all its stately gran- deur, for it has been turned into a hotel for the comfort of visitors. Ask for Signorina Camille Mina, and study from her the Italian language, hear- ing her beautiful intonation, which you will treasure in memory, and the great charm of her winsome Italian manner. She will come to you each morning, in her snow-white, dainty frock, unspotted and unmussedj saying, — "Buon giorno Signorina, come staf " in an accent you will wish belonged to you. When the lesson is over and you know 133 SIGNORINA CAMILLE MINA she has some one as impatiently awaiting her, as were yon, she will make yon feel that she has been paying yon a delightful visit, that she takes no account of time, and that there is nothing easier to learn than the Italian language. Leaving you, she will say,— "Sono molto triste di lasciarla Sig- norina." When you hear these words from her lips you will wish the lesson were just begin- ning ; but your heart will be filled with far greater regret when you are obliged to leave the garden and the truly Italian vil- lage and Signorina Camille Mina. It is lamentable to imagine that French is the only language necessary in Italy, — though it will carry you through the beaten tracks. In the too grievously neglected and remote places, so fascinating and foreign, Italian is absolutely necessary if you would enjoy the seldom frequented, isolated parts which the real Italy offers. Go, then, to Varese, where you can rest in a truly Italian atmosphere, and, climb- 134 SIGNORINA CAMILLE MINA ing the marble stairway to your apartment, which you will have previously engaged, look out upon Monte Rosa and the setting sun, and catch glimpses of the picturesque country that you might more easily tra- verse if you only knew something of the Italian language. You will hasten to pro- cure some one who can teach you ; but you will be fortunate if you can find Signorina Camille Mina. She is of gentle birth, tenderly nurtured, with the manner of a little princess, and her lessons — if you find her — will be taught you among fragrant pastures and pleasant valleys, with not one unpleasant recollection. After five or six lessons, if you do well, which will assuredly follow, she will talk to you in Italian of her favorite composers, among them Fogazzaro ; possibly recite the following several times, making irresisti- ble music of each word, for she will expect you to commit it to memory, — not a diffi- cult task to try and accede to her request, — and you will be surprised to find that you 135 SIGNORINA CAMILLE MINA are reciting without any assistance, to your delight and hers, those lines she loves so well: " Quest acqua non ha pace, Quest acqua mai non tace; Ai sassi ognor si frange, E senza fine piange." You surely will promise to go to Varese and the interesting villages near by, and behind the great high stone walls take a peep at some of the Italian gardens, the most beautiful in the world. Ask for Sig- norina Camille Mina, and take all kind mes- sages from me. Maybe she will in parting give you, as she did me, a bunch of flow- ers fresh from her garden, Marechal-Niel roses, jasmine, and heliotrope, and by that time you will have learned to say, — "Grazie Signorina, sono molto triste di lasciarla. ' ' She will reply, looking at you sadly, maybe with tears in her sweet, pensive eyes — "Amo mia figlia." 136 SIGNORINA CAMILLE MINA You will take her hand tenderly in yours, saying,— "Mi spiace tanto d'essere obligata di las- ciare, mi spiace. Spero di ritornare." At this parting moment yon will not have the heart to speak to her in yonr cold Eng- lish tongue; you must perforce give her the pleasure and satisfaction of realizing that her efforts — if they can be called efforts — in your behalf have not been in vain. And as you drive reluctantly away from that old chateau, leaving Signorina Camille Mina standing watching you, her expressive Italian eyes, brimming with tears, you will clasp the loved flowers her hands have gathered for you, and leaning from the window of the "carrozza," will say softly, while your heart, too, beats quickly and sadly: * l Addio, mia figlia, spero di ritornare. ' ' 137 CS2CS2CS2CS2K2CS2 PHANTOM SHIPS O'ER the ocean, floating slowly, Rise and pass the phantom ships, As the mist, like fairy draperies, The snn so softly, faintly tips. Tips with color rich and golden, And the ships, with decks all torn, Rock and sway and drift asunder, At the breaking of the morn. Drifting, swaying, disappearing, Shrouds and topsails both uncertain, Gray and white against the pale sky Floats in bits the fleecy curtain. 'Tis your ship, come o'er the ocean, — Come to you across the seas. Oft in fancy, oh ! how often, Have we builded ships like these. 138 PHANTOM SHIPS Yet when morning breaks the vision, And we look far out to sea For the very richest cargo That may drift to yon or me. Misty, fanciful, but hopeful, Have we longed for just one sight Of those ships, in memory treasured, We have dreamed of in the night. DEC LSI 193 Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 PreservationTechnologies A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 16066 (724)779-2111