now. Outside of my duty to the nation, she is all I have to make life worth living. If I survive, I shall return to her after the war, and then-" his voice died away in a broken murmur. For some distance our trail wound along the river, now close to its limpid waters, quivering and sparkling in the moonlight and arabesqued, here and there, with the waving shadows of the trees, regal with midsummer foliage, and again rising over the crest of some rocky bluff, whither the tumult of the waters below rose like the sound of human voices, wierd with laughter, song and shouting.

When Buckstone broke silence again he was repeating Poe's matchless lovesong, "Annabel Lee," and never had I so fully realized the wild, unearthly charm of its mystical sentiment and thrilling melody. Even now, as I lift my pen for a moment and pause in reverie, that strange scene comes back to me the beautiful moonlight, the voices of the waters, the shadows and the trees, and again I hear, as if it were the golden interpretation of the spiritual mystery of the scene, that wonderful song:

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-

And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
For the moon never beams, without bringing
me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

As we crossed the creek and turned in the direction of Maya's tent, Buckstone stopped. "Why," he exclaimed, "this is strange! There is no light in the tent. Maya must have grown nervous at our protracted absence and sought refuge with some of her people."

When we reached the tent Buckstone halted again at the entrance and called the Indian girl by the name, once, twice, thrice. There was no answer. The waters of the stream murmured softly down among the willows and the silent tents shone white and spectral in the moonlight. The old woman, muttering something in her own language, stepped forward quickly and threw back the canvas flap which formed the door of the

The

tent. There, on a low couch, in the white stream of the moonlight, stil dressed as we had last seen her, lay Maya, fair as a gold-tinted lily in her graceful attitude of repose, as though busy with the wreath of wild flowers that lay close to her limp little right hand she had suddenly fallen asleep.

Rushing forward, Buckstone called her name again, in quick, sharp, startled tones. Still there was no answer. Then

with a low, sobbing, awful cry, he flung himself on the couch and took her drooping head on his breast. She was dead. As yet her poor old mother did not realize what had occurred, I was kneeling at Buckstone's side when something on one of the little hands he was pressing to his heart, attracted his attention. He held the hand out for a closer look. On one of the slender fingers a jeweled ring sparkled in the light.

"My God! What mystery is this?" he cried: "Adrienne Wainwright won that ring from me on a wager-how did it come here on her hand?"

No one could answer him. When we came later to question some of the people in the neighboring tents, only one young woman knew anything that had the slightest bearing toward a solution of the mystery. In passing the tent about ten o'clock this young woman had heard some one talking inside. It was a woman's voice, she thought, but not Maya's, the flap of the tent was down and she had seen no one. That was all.

About one year after the war, while engaged on the reporting staff of a Portland, Oregon, newspaper, I chanced one day to pick up a New York City exchange. I found among the society news a detailed report of the marriage of Col. Edmund Buckman and Miss Adrienne Wainwright. You may judge my astonishment when I recognized in the portraits given of the happy pair, my old friend Sergeant Buckstone, of Fort Yamhill and-Alma Rutlege!

Had she secretly visited Maya in her tent, told her own story and given the ring to Maya in renouncement of her claim? Had the shock of discovery killed Maya?

End.

TH

HERE is no country where pleasant social intercourse between people of culture and refinement, without regard to birth or position, is so possible as in America, and likewise no other country where a greater number of persons so qualified are hungering in vain. for just such association. Why is this Why is this true, and where is the remedy?

To deal with the subject intelligently it is necessary that we discover the limitations as well as the advantages of our present social system, and a comparison, therefore, of our class distinctions with those of an European nation might be profitable.

We see the evils of caste in England, for instance, and rightly criticise customs which make it possible for the vulgar to have the entre of the highest set which excludes from it those fitted in every way to adorn it, for no better reasons than that the former happen to be of an old and aristocratic house while the latter have the misfortune to be without title or family, and are, perhaps, engaged in trade. And yet this system is not without its compensations, for when stata are not continually shifting there is much less danger of social upheavals and the confusions resulting therefrom. The inexorableness of the situation alleviates its misery, so that while one may not be content with his lot, he must of necessity be contented in it, because he cannot change it. A man is born in a certain station and that determines his social position. He may resent the fact that he belongs to the laboring class, but he does not dream of assuming to himself the rights and privileges of the aristocracy. If he is sensible as well as ambitious he strives to dignify his calling by becoming a superior laborer, and, having succeeded in acquiring more than the usual amount of education, is finally recognized as a power among his fellows for good or evil; still there is no misapprehension in his own mind, or in the minds

of others, as to where he belongs in the social world.

On the other hand, it is said that in our great Republic birth counts for very little, and whether this is true or not, the fact remains that here, more than anywhere else, a man has the freedom of deciding what his social status shall be, and has greater opportunities for attaining his ideal standard. In other words, it takes nothing but quality to make a gentleman in America, and a man may possess this distinguishing qualification, so easy to recognize but so hard to define, without title, or family, or wealth, or even education (in its most technical sense). As our wise Autocrat expresses it, "Our social arrangement has this great beauty, that its strata shifts up and down, as they change specific gravity, without being clogged by layers of prescription."

Our democratic institutions, therefore, while admitting of no social classification of the people, have offered to the masses a sacred privilege which other nations guard with jealous care, and our European critics are only too ready to characterize the result as chaos. Nor is this criticism wholly unjust. Exulting in our freedom from the restraints imposed by an arbitrary classification of the people, we are too apt to forget that this very advantage over other nations robs us of a safeguard possessed by them.

One of our greatest stumbling blocks is that grand old sentiment first uttered by the founder of democracy in this country and immortalized by him through the Declaration of Independence, "All men are created free and equal." It is an axiom, a self-evident truth, to every loyal American. does it imply social as well as political equality? Our cook who considers "servant" a term of approbrium and resents the application of the expression to herself, seems to think so and consequently

But

calls herself a lady, thereby confirming the statement of the wit who said, "There are no servants in in America, 'scrubladies' clean our houses and 'gentlemen' drive our carriages."

This false idea colors the vision of the American girl to such an extent that she prefers any situation rather than that of cook or house-maid in a private family. A position in store or factory with wages barely sufficient for boarding her in a cheap lodging house, with undesirable. people as associates, is preferable, in her eyes, to living in a pleasant home where she has at least wholesome food, and, in most cases, a cheerful room and the opportunity of saving her wages. She is a servant, to be sure, but there is nothing degrading in the position. It is the way in which it is filled that determines whether it shall be one of dignity or abasement.

It is this mad struggle for social equality that is overcrowding our cities and leaving our farms deserted. If a country boy is a little above the average he imagines himself a Lincoln and dreams of becoming a future President. Of course a farm is too narrow a sphere for the embryo statesman, and forthwith he leaves it behind and sets out for the nearest city where he begins the study of law. Then one of two things usually happens; either he succeeds in getting a sufficient smattering of legal knowledge to admit him to the bar, thereby becoming an inferior member of that tribe whom Shakespeare has characterized as

Windy attorneys of their clients woes,
Airy succeeders to intestate joys;
Poor breathing orators of miseries.

or, he fails in his attempt and returns to the farm utterly unfitted for its simple duties and cares, feeling that he is an eagle whose wings were cruelly clipped. If only he had realized his limitations he might have been a posperous farmer, and. by using his talents and superior abilities have become pre-eminent in his own line.

We need brains and first-class qualities in our kitchens and on our farms. Education should not unfit one for his station in life, but only enable him to fill it more nobly, more intelligently, more

successfully. Great opportunities do not have to be sought: they come to the man who is capable of higher things.

We conclude, therefore, that Ameri-. cans are born socially equal only in respect of privilege; that is, any man may scale the social ladder unhampered by the disadvantages of an obscure or humble origin. But only insofar as we prove to other nations that socially, as well as politically, the voice of the people insures the prestige of the best, the most select element, do we demonstrate the superiority of the rule of the many over the rule of the few.

What, then, are the qualities which should entitle one to social pre-eminence in America? Refinement, culture, and above all, that delicate preception which enables one to recognize these attributes in another, no matter what his environment may be; these, together with the generous qualities and the gentle manners which prompts him to accord to that other his proper position without the least suspicion of patronage. Without these fundamental qualifications no amount of ability or wealth or influence should enable a man to secure for himself admittance to the charmed circle of American patricians. The last expression, seemingly at variance with the spirit of our institutions, I have used intentionally, not to describe any exclusive and select set of newspaper notoriety, but as a brief characterization of those individuals who possess the true nobility which I have tried to define above.

Granting, then, that there is need of reform in this direction, where should the good work begin? I should answer with Mrs. Birney, "In the home lies the only solutions of the problems which confront the world today." For it is only after settling this point, as well as all others, as individuals and then as families, that we can decide for the world at large what is the best way to promote intelligent association among people of culture and refinement.

In pursuance of this thought I have decided to follow the fortunes of an American family through their experiences of social life, first in a large Eastern city, later in a village of the Midland states, and finally in a small city on the

Western coast. The practical knowledge gained by them through personal observation of the trials and difficulties to be met with in keeping their social circle ideal, may help others in dealing with the same problem.

The Trenants were often spoken of as exclusive people, which was probably accounted for through the fact that they never identified themselves with any particular set, though they had the entre of all. Their wealth alone would have secured their admission to the highest set, while the fact that they could trace their descent from one of the "first families of Virginia," entitled them to a prominent place in that more select circle whose members pride themselves upon their ancient lineage and affect family

trees.

Mr. Trenant's birth and training had united to make him one of those unusual individuals in whom aristocratic feeling and democratic principles seem perfectly combined. His wife was a woman of rare personality whose force and beauty of character had made her a power in the home and a prominent factor in shaping the lives of her husband and children. During her early married life there was little time for social pleasures, but, believing as she did, that woman's loftiest sphere is the home, and her highest duties those of the wife and mother, she did not crave other associations than that afforded by her family and the small, but well chosen, circle in which she had moved as a girl. Between her husband and herself existed that mental and spiritual affinity which makes a perfect marriage, and their children grew up in an atmosphere of intellectual thought and refinement which is the highest culture.

It was the desire of their children for the society of congenial young people that first confronted them with the problem of how such association was to be brought about in these days, and at first sibht it seemed difficult.of solution. The children of their own friends had been swept into the whirl of fashionable society whither, as yet, the young Trenants had not cared to follow, but now, at last, they were yearning for a larger social circle and their parents were filled with

something like dismay.

67

They, themselves, had always gloried in "the right of social discrimination of all persons and things according to their merits, native or acquired," which is the peculiar privilege of every American, and should they deny this liberty to their children? After all, it is only the exercise of a power that can develop it, and unless in youth one acquires the ability to discern between persons and things that differ, he will lack the true judicial faculty which should crown mature age. So this wise father and mother decided to allow their sons and daughters to learn for themselves the limitations and possibilities of American society, trusting to the instincts with which they were born and the principles engendered by their early training to guide them in distinguishing the true from the false, the best element from that which is mediocre.

These young people exercised, therefore, the new and sacred "right of discrimination," not only in the great general world, but also in those special cliques whose chosen few were supposed to have run the gauntlet of society and to have come out unscathed at the end.

It mattered not, to them, that the B-'s were social leaders and immensely rich. They did not come up to the standards of the young Trenants intellectually or morally. Therefore the latter refused them recognition as equals. The C-'s were moral enough, but exceedingly vulgar and ostentatious. The M-'s were snobs whose affectations and pretentions marked them as mere parvenus. The W-'s had the advantage of education and travel, but were so fearfully conscious of their money and the influence and position it brought them that they were simply unsufferable. The L-'s, who were grasping madly for a culture. they were incapable of acquiring, were almost worse than the others.

So these young people were deciding "that all is vanity and vexation of spirit" when Mrs. Trenant offered a new suggestion. Why not try that exclusive circle of old families who boast of the generations of blue blood that runs in their veins, and never allow upstarts among them?

They grasped the idea immediately.

Here, at least, where poverty was often a badge of honor, one would not meet with the vulgarity of the nonveau riche, and these enthusiasts rejoiced that they had the qualifications to enter the charmed circle. They were received with open arms by the colonial dames. When they had time to look around them carefully they realized that an American aristocracy, founded on birth alone, was not only the worst of all aristocracies, but supremely ridiculous. Not only did these. people lack the enterprise that a new spirit imparts, but many of them were without the ability, brains and even education which had won for the persons they affected to despise a prominent place in more general society. They were allowing their pride of birth to become a mania which warped their judgment of people to such an extent that a man's ancestors could cover a multitude of sins in himself.

The result of this last experience was a family council in which it was concluded by all that they knew no class of people which, as a whole, possessed all the qualities necessary to congenial association. What, then, should they do? Forego social pleasures altogether and form of themselves a little exclusive circle where they could gain the mental and spiritual refreshments so necessary to all lives?

Better to be alone in a rare atmosphere than to be stifled by the pressure of false conditions. But they had to acknowledge that this plan would not be ideal in all respects, for, if they followed it, they would lack the advantages that only the contrast with other personalities can give. They might even grow as narrow and self-centered as the "old families," and that was not to be endured.

Here Mrs. Trenant again came to the rescue with the happy thought-why not constitute of themselves a nucleus around which all could gather who wanted just what they had been seeking, and, like themselves, had failed to find?

The idea was received with enthusiasm, but what special qualities should they require in persons who wished to join them? Mrs. Trenart was ready for this question and answered it promptly.

"Refinement and culture, of course, are essential qualifications, but these alone will not suffice. There are many, especially among the 'old families,' who would answer to that description exactly, but they would never be capable of acknowledging that the same qualities could exist in persons who are not as well born as themselves. Then, among new families of the fashionable set, are those in whom education and travel and their innate possiblities have developed these same characteristics; but these, while recognizing culture and refinement in obscure and unknown people, through selfishness and fear of criticism, would fail to accord to them their true position, and, forgetting that no real lady or gentleman could ever give or receive such patronage, might treat them with condescension. These two classes of individuals could not get along together and would exclude from our circle many other persons whom we want in it. It is clear that every one whom we admit ought to possess that measure of appreciation which will enable him or her to judge another for what he is, not for what he has."

Unanimous in praise of this plan, they were intensely eager to put their theories into practice, and so the circle was born. It was surprising how rapidly it grew, and how many charming people they found to increase their number. These were culled from all grades of society, but no one ever asked about another, "Who is he?" It was sufficient to know that every man was a gentleman and every woman a lady. "One never meets and other kind of person at the Trenants', 'who exercise wisely the right of selection and believe in the 'survival of the fitest' in the field of social life," said a friendly critic. Everyone seemed hungry for just such association, from the popular author-that lion of the dayto Miss Jones, the governess, who was a lady to the finger-tips, though so far she had met with little social recognition which was not patronizingly given.

From this time forth the teas, receptions and dinners at the Trenants' home were delightful affairs which were looked forward to with pleasure by all who were