» MEMORIES SOME OF MANY BY ANNIE V. FINN r" GIFT OF A. F. Morrison in \\.\\ci^ uiiiiiiiiiiinMiiunniinininiiiiiiinnniHiiiiiiiiiiinHiiiiiiMnniinHininiirHmuiiimiiiHMiniiiiiiiiiniiuriiNmunuriMirHiininiiiuiiHiintnuiniiiiininiiiiiiiMiiniriiniuiiiiMi S i I s s I i i I i i i MEMORIES SOME OF MANY By ANNIE V. FINN H. S. HOWARD PUBLISHER AND PRINTER BERKELEY. CALIFORNIA 1920 I I 1 I S E s auMiummiiimiHmHimiiumiiuiuiNmHmiuiMiiiHiiatHiiuiiinimmnumimniMmmiimimiMUttHHiumiiiHitnHHiiiiimmumimmHimHHiiiHimiiiiim^ F^7 GIFT OF ^ >■ c TO YOU MY BELOVED M94364 ^^C^c^?^^^^ iMmmmiMimiiiiiiitimihnimHniimiwinwMiwMitiiHiwiimiwHimiHiHMWWMiitiWMnMMWiHitwwMimHiHitmitwiMiiiBiiiwwwuHiwimimHMHi wH imM W JOHN FOWLER FINN (July 4, x83«3-~January i, 1913) The judiciary of San Francisco was honored, and the social and political life of the city was enriched, during the decade of 1870 and 1880, by the notable and manly citizen who has lately passed away. Judge John F. Finn died at Pasadena, California, on New Year's Day, 1913, at the age of seventy- three. His father, Lawrence Finn, was a New York merchant, of Irish descent, whose place of business was where the Equitable Building on Broad- way now stands. His mother was of English birth and belonged to an old and honorable family of Somersetshire. His father had large interests in the "West Indies and in the summer of 1839 was, with his family, in Cuba, and John was born there. The son's early education was in Brooklyn, New York, where was situate the family home. In 1852 the father died, embarrassed in estate, and thereafter the son was compelled to rely upon his own exertions. While still very young he had attained an important place in a mercantile house in New York, but he had such strong desires for the legal profession, in which he was encouraged by his employers, who recognized his talent, that he early began the study of law, completing his education therein by graduating from the Law Depart- ment of Harvard College with the class of 1860, Thereafter he practiced his profession in New York City, in the ofifice of Niles & Bagley, one of the leading firms of lawyers of that city. Soon after establishing himself he was married to a daughter of a family whose ancestors settled in the Mohawk Valley in 1638. His descendants have ever since lived, and still reside, in the ancestral homestead. A more ideal relation of husband and wife that began with this marriage I have never seen. In 1864, and shortly after his marriage, he joined his sister and brother in Virginia City, Nevada, and practiced his profession there for a year. In 1865 his wife joined him in San Francisco, where he became connected with the^ late Judge E. D. Wheeler. He made a specialty of probate practice and it brought him such a handsome income that early in 1870 he considered him- self justified in taking a vacation. With his wife he traveled in Europe and the Eastern states for a year and a half. Returning to San Francisco he resumed practice and became well known as an honorable, able, and high minded lawyer and good citizen. When the new Constitution was adopted in 1879 it did away with the old District Courts and provided for a Superior Court with twelve judges for San Francisco. The manner of the election at one time of twelve judges aroused great interest in the city. A general meeting of the bar was called iiiiiiiiiininiiiiHiiiiiniHiiiiiiiiinitMiiMiiiinninmiuiniiuninniiuiiuiiuiiiiiiiniuuinniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiHiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiumiuiiminiiiiiiiiiiin for the purpose of recommending for the people candidates for the ofHce of judges of the new court. After some discussion it was decided that each law^^^r prQsjjrLt ' sihpuld vote for twelve and that the voting should be by ballot'. Judge "William P. Daingerfield, a most popular judge, and then in- jciiyiibent' of the Twelfth District Court, received the highest number of votes, 'but next to him came' John F. Finn. Both were elected by a very large popular vote. The judges had to draw lots for terms and Judge Finn drew the short term of one year. In 1880 he was re-elected for the full term, and again in 1886, by large majorities. He served continuously for thirteen years, but when his third term expired his health was not good and he declined re-election. Since then he continued to regard San Francisco as his home, but spent most of his time abroad. A ripe scholar, a student of history, a connoisseur in art and music, but above all a reader and lover of poetry, his resources of enjoyment were unusually large, while delicate health made the turmoil and stress of active life distasteful. For that reason, although keeping up the liveliest interest in San Francisco and her people and retaining his citizenship therein, he did not return to active work. The late Judge J. V. Coffey was an associate of his on the bench and when Judge Finn declined re-election Judge Coffey became his successor in the probate department of the Superior Court. Speaking in open court of the loss he personally felt in the departure of his longtime friend and asso- ciate, Judge Coffey said : "I wish that I might write in imperishable marble my opinion of Judge Finn. His merits entitle him particularly in this tribunal to a perpetual memorial." The same Judge, on another occasion said: "I have said many times that Judge Finn's retirement from the Bench was a distinct loss to the public service. His dignity of demeanor, candor, frankness, and sincerity, added to special learning and natural ability; his sympathetic consideration for those in distress, balanced by an innate sense of equity, made him an ideal Judge. For more than two score years I had been observant of these traits, which compelled the respect of all who knew him. Prior to his transfer from the bar to the bench, I had had occasion to note the qualities in him that after- wards in judicial association for years were illustrated in his conduct as a man devoted to duty and fearless in its discharge; seeking truth for its sake alone, and anxious only that justice might be done, and yet always that it be tempered with mercy and apostolic charity. "I have often had occasion to regret that Judge Finn had not remained in the position that he so eminently adorned and for which he was so ade- quately equipped by temperament and by education, and all of his brethren who served with him and who survive concur with me. "Before the Fire of 1906 I had in the Court House framed a group of the Judges who preceded me in probate, all men worthy of admiration: Judges Blake, Wright, Myrick and Finn. I should like to have those pictures amimmiiiiiiimmiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiimmiiiiiiiiMnnMiunnininiiinuiniiiiiiiiiiiimnininuniniiinniiiuiiiiitiiinniniinuniiiiiininniinniiiniiniiiniinitiiiirmiiiiiiM restored as a reminder to the younger generation of those who in their time have done so much for the profession and the community, none more so than the Honorable John F. Finn, whose memory I shall ever cherish as that of a good citizen, an honest lawyer, and a Judge without stain and without reproach." Another associate of Judge Finn, namely, Judge John Hunt, who has been a Judge of the Superior Court since its organization, paid a tribute in open court to his deceased friend, saying: *']udge Finn was not only a well read lawyer, but he was also a ripe scholar. His delicate health made necessary his retirement from the stress of active professional life, but he delighted in the pursuit of literature and thus agreeably occupied the time spent in retirement. He was a man of engaging manners, of untiring industry, and of legal ability. While upon the bench he was engaged in the trial of many important cases, and his judicial learning, probity of character and kindly manner endeared him to all who knew him. He was a lovable man, a generous man, generous without ostentation, but to his compassion no needy hand was ever extended in vain. He had a heart open as day for melting charity. He was gifted with a fine sense of humor ; not the humor the shafts of which are barbed with malice, but a generous, genial and kindly humor, which found expression in brilliant repartee. He was the gentlest of men; cheerful, courteous, brave and self-reliant." To those of us who lived and worked in San Francisco during the time that Judge Finn honored us with his presence and friendship his departure is an irreparable loss. WARREN OLNEY. FROM A PAINTING AT TWO YEARS OF AGE miiiiiiiiiiiiniiniriiiHiiiiitniiiiiiminiiitiiiiHiiimiiHinniiniiirniinHinmiiiiiMiuiiHimiumiiiiiiiMiiiiiuiHmiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiuHiiiiinnmiittiiiiniiiimiiiiiin MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY iiininuiiiMMiniutuiiiHinimiuiuHiiiitiiMiniiiiiiiiiniriMiiiuiimiiiiiiiiiiiitwiiiiHiuiuiHiuiiiiiniiiiiiHriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiuniiiuiiiimiiiuiiuniuiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiii^ January, 1914. PART ONE UTTERLY cast down and full of "the wild unrest that lives in woe," looking down a vista of years to come, unlighted hy the lamp of love that had burned so brightly for me in the past, unspeakably lonely though with those who were near and dear to me, and to whom I was near and dear, I sat brooding, disconsolate and full of despair. I took up a book and opened it by chance at the letter Alexander Dumas fQs wrote to his Father after that Father had passed away from this World. "My Dear Father: "In the World to which you are gone, does memory survive and retain a recollection of things here below? Or does a second and eternal life exist only in our imagination? Is memory vouchsafed only to those who remain on Earth? Or is it true that the bond of love which has united two souls in this World is an indestructible tie, not to be severed even by death? "Wherefore then not knowing where you you are, do I in- dite this letter to you? It is because when we have lost those we love, although they are gone from the place that knew them, they are still and always with us. It is therefore to what is ever with me, within me, that I address this remembrance and this homage which will assuredly reach you wherever you are." I had often read the beautiful letter, and now in my sorrow and loss it held for me a deeper meaning in that it expressed so much of my own thought and feeling and put into my mind the idea of writing this book. And why should I not address "remembrance and homage" to you, my Beloved? There is comfort in the very thought and mayhap the work will lighten my heavy hours. "Remembrance and homage," my heart and soul are full of it ! If I could but give expression to the homage I feel in words that are worthy! If I could but present in fitting form some of the wealth of my remembrance! One year has passed since you left me. One year! what a very fragment of time it seemed when my heart was light and my horizon boundless. And now how differently I measvu-e time! The long Page Thirteen iiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiMininniriniiiiiiiinnHiMniMiitininiinniiMniMHiinMiimiininintMnnnniiiniinniiinMininiiinniuinniinitnniiniiiinniiiiniiinniiiiiiiiilimn^^^ MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY iiiiiiimiiiiniimiiiminiimmiiiiiiiiiiniHiiniiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiHimmiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiniiininiNniiiHiiHniiiniiiiiiiiunniiitiiiiiii summer days that you so loved have come and gone, and again the inverted season of the year is here, and through that year, in a dazed, unreal way I have lived, hopelessly, helplessly, vainly trying to solve the problem of the re-adjustment of my life. 'Mirage of the heart and memory" how near it brings that far off day when first me met, a boy and girl on the threshold of life. A few years later we were married and hand in hand we started blithely up the hill. O Youth! O Love! O Happiness! O Years! when joy ran a golden thread through all the gray homespun of everyday life. Youth fled but love and happiness endured, and hand in hand we passed over the broad, pleasant table land of middle life, and hand in hand we were journeying down the hill, when suddenly, "glittering and bare the long- veiled hand stretched out of the immutable heavens, claiming that which was Its own." O! Heart of my Heart and Soul of my Soul! how did I live through the anguish of that time? Surely grief does not kill, else had I not lived on when all that made life worth living had been taken away, and the brightness and sunshine of existence forever blotted out! You were so much a part of me, so woven into my real self that it was like rending asunder my very being to give you up. You were my World! You were my best and truest friend; you were my confidant, the only one I ever had; you were my sunny, phil- osophical comrade; you were my counselor whose advice I could always rely upon; you were my loving, devoted and tender com- panion; you were my all-in-all, the light of my life, yea, the very life of my life and "only God and my own heart know" how lost I am without you. Life without you! — ^A World without you! — It seems incred- ible! — It seems impossible! — There is always with me the wild, uncontrollable feeling that you must and will come back, — that I shall again hear your dear voice speak my name in the old, fond way, — that I shall again look in your tender love-lit eyes, — that I shall again feel your dear arms around me and clasp you in mine. I pray God that I may learn to say. Thy will be done, but as yet I cannot. A friend tells me that I have had my full share of happiness and should try to forget myself. Forget myself! It is not self pity that oppresses me, but grief at thought of the "pleasing, anxious spirit" that was embodied in you; snatched away from love and light and Page Fourteen iiiiininiiiniiiiniiiinniiiiniinniiinMiMHiiiniiiMiiMiiMniiiinninininiiiniuwininiiiimiiiiiinMiMnnniiniiiinininMiinuNuiiiiuiiiiiniuiniiiiiiiiinniniiiiiuiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiininiin MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY iiiniiniiiiiuiinniiMiiiiuiiiuiMnniiinniiirMniiriiiiiiiiininiiHiiiiiininiiiiiiiiiMniininrniiiinuinHiuMinniiininuininiuiiiuiiiiuiiiiiiiiniiiiuiniitiiiiiiiuiinMiiinniiiiiiuiinuin warmth, and the sweet, fresh air that you so loved, — from the "warm precincts of the genial day," and a World that was so beautiful to you. That I grieve because your tender, loving heart is still and cold, and that none shall ever again hear the greeting of your voice, or feel the friendly clasp of your hand, — that your generous nature, your active, eager mind, your interesting, attractive personality no longer exist, — that you, my Beloved, are no more to be numbered among men! It is Nature, but oh, how cruel and terrible Nature is in doing her allotted work! How can we resign ourselves to it? Accept it without murmuring? Submit, and say — It is well! To be given this pleasant, familiar thing that we call life ! To be placed in a world full of beauty, of interest, and of charm! To be given the senses to enjoy, and the intelligence to appreciate! To be given affections! To love, and be loved, and then, heralded, or un- heralded, comes the Shadow that has been waiting — "Dreaded of man, and surnamed the Destroyer;" and the dear body so cared for and watched over ; the warm, sentient, pulsating body lies unresponsive, and motionless and lifeless, and the tender, cherished Earthly ties forever severed. I thank God my Beloved that you were not first bereft of me. That you were not the one called upon to bear the anguish of sepa- ration, — ^to know, "The hunger and thirst of the heart. The frenzy and fire of the brain." To and from your resting place I go and come, a lonely com- rade wrapt in dreams, struggling with the phantoms of imagination, the phantoms of fear and doubt. Flowers bloom around you; above you, birds sing in the tree tops, and the waving branches set the shadows dancing on the greensward beside you ; the piping quail, followed by their little brood, run to cover as I pass. Human sorrow, human loneliness, human helplessness set against the careless joy of nature that takes no note of loss and separation; but the sacrifice of earthly possession is not separation. "There is only one separation and that is when the heart turns away and memory forgets." Memory! That is now my life! Memory of the happiness we had in living in and for one another through so many years in that blessed World of Two ! Page Fifteen ■iiiiiniiiiiiiininuimniiinMiuiiMiiiiiumiiiMriiMiiiiiiitiiininirimiuiiuuHuiiwHnHiinHiiniiHuiiiiiiiiMiiMi»HiiirniiMHminiMiiHiminiiiHiiiiiiiminiitiiriiniiM MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY mnimiiniiiiHiinumuiHiiiiiuiiinMiiiiiiuinirHmimiiiiiriinmmmnniuuwiimimiiMiiiuniiiiinnuiinmiiiiiiiiiinHiniiiiiitniinininiiniiiiiiHUiiiiiniiiiuiiiiiiniiniHU Oh, that World of Two ! That wonderful and beautiful relation- ship between two people whom God has joined together! There is something almost divine, in the complete surrender of one human heart to another, and the faith and trust and devotion that go with it! Perfect faith, perfect trust, and love stronger than death! Two beings, yet one in their joys and sorrows, their hopes and aspirations, their desires and sympathies. Children following the order of nature sooner or later find, "A dearer one Still, and a nearer one Yet than all other." But Husband and Wife! as the years pass, growing closer and closer in thought and sympathy; ever nearer, ever dearer; ever need- ing each the other more and more. Husband and Wife! for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, — forsak- ing all others, — till death do us part. When Lady Scott passed away, Sir Walter wrote in his diary, "She is sentient, and conscious of my emotions, somewhere, somehow — where, we cannot tell — how we cannot tell, yet would I not renounce the mysterious, yet certain, hope that I shall see her in a better World, for all this World could give me." So often I feel, my Beloved, that you must he conscious of my emotions; — and I do believe that we shall meet again, and that the tender, invisible bond that held us so closely together on Earth is not forever broken. Here, my happiness was the aim of your life and the wish of your heart, and now! can you give me no sign? No word to quiet the wild unrest and questioning that ever besets me; until I cry out with Tennyson, "Oh Christ that it were possible. For one short hour to see The souls we loved, that they might tell us What, and where they be." Tennyson had no doubt concerning immortality. "Believing where we cannot prove." No, we cannot prove; but who is there that can disprove? Even though the future be held forever in the realm of speculation and mystery. That unfathomable mystery ! The flight of the spirit when the body is left untenanted! Through all time, since the first Page Sixteen 'OiiuiNiiiiiiiinmiiniiiiniiMiiiinimiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiMmimiiiimiiHuiMiiMiiiMiniiiiiiiiiiiiitMiiniiniiirniiinnininiiniiiiniiniiiiiininiuin MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY amniiiniiiHiHiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiumniiiuiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiniiMuiiiiiiiiiiininiJniiMiiitnituuinininiiiJiiMniiMiiiinnniniiniinnjniiiiniiiniiiMinnnininHininniMHnMJMiniiii^ mourner bent in grief over a beloved body, the mystery has remained unsolved. Followers of different religions, of philosophy, theosophy, mysticism and occultism, all indulging. "This pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality." All asking the question that remains forever unanswered, "What, and where, they be." If that exists for which we aU hope and through faith believe, I have no fear for you. You were, "Perplexed in faith, but pure in deeds," "There is more faith in honest doubt. Believe me, than in half your creeds." And in the words of the Psalmist you went "with clean hands and a pure heart." You know the secret that in time we shall all know. You have solved the mystery that sooner or later we all shall solve. You have gone on the journey from which none ever return. What is the secret. Dear? And what the mystery. I have my hours of fear and dread and doubt — dark, dark hours; and then, thank God, faith comes, the clouds vanish, and through the eyes of faith I see the journey that you have made, and the end. "It is but crossing with a bated breath A narrow strip of sea, To find the loved one waiting on the shore." "There was the Door to which I found no key; There was the Veil through which I might not see." So sang the Persian poet eight hundred years ago. Today many active, earnest workers of the Society for Psychical Research claim that the door is open and the veil rent asunder ; that communication is being held with those who have gone before, to the spirit World; that memory and affection are not limited to here, and now ; and that in the continuity of existence, intelligence and personality survive. Surely if there is joy in Heaven, memory and affection, and personality must survive; for who could conceive a Heaven without remembrance, and love, and personahty of the Dear Ones gone before. Page Seventeen tllMIMIIUIIIIMIIHIHHIIIinillHIIHIIIIIIHIIIHinillHHIIIIIIIinillllNHIHIIIIIIIIIIIIHIHNHIIIIHHtHIIIHHHI iiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitMiiiiritiiiiiiiiimniii iiiiii iiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiimiitiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiitiiii niiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiii iiimiiiiiiiiiin MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY aiiiinirniiiniiiMuiiiiiiniiniiiiinnniiiininiiniiuimiiiiniiiiiiiitniiiiuniiniiHiiiiHiiiiiriiiiiMiiiiniiiniiiimnuiuimiiiinuMiininnininiiunnnniiiininiiiinmiiiniuiiinHtii^ PART TWO A ND NOW, Dear Heart of mine, let us put aside for a while all ZA sadness and sorrow, and go together over some of the scenes and experience of that happy past of long ago. How often you have laughed at what you called my "ever-ready pencil" with which I dotted down impressions and events whenever or wherever we strayed from our familiar surroundings. Now by the help of that ever-ready pencil and the magic of memory, the scenes and experi- ence of that far away past become as fresh and vital as those of recent years, and I have, as it were, "collected the scattered embers that lie on the hearth of memory" and fanned them into life. Heredity, the pleasant experience of childhood, and an eager, active, observing mind, all combined to foster in you a strong desire for travel, and so it naturally followed that so soon as you had saved a little money, you should think of enlarging your horizon by jour- neying somewhere. The Hawaiian Islands were nearest and promised most, and one June day, on the Steamer Idaho, with Captain Floyd of pleasant memory in command, we sailed for Honolulu. That voyage, the first of so many we were to make together, was over a smooth, summer sea, where schools of porpoises and flying fish interested us by day, and at night under the star-lit sky we would watch for hours the silvery wake made by our vessel through the phosphorescent water, and trace constellations with the valuable aid of our genial, friendly Captain. On the morning of the twelfth day the picturesque mountains of the Island of Oahu came in sight. In good time we rounded Diamond Head and the Idaho was warped to her berth in a most primitive way by oxen and a windlass. Wreaths of flowers — leis — were flung about the necks of all the passengers as they stepped on a wharf crowded with natives. You quickly rid yourself of the foolishness but I wore mine until we got into a carriage. You were familiar with tropical countries, but for me what a fairy land of enchantment it was! The intense blue of sea and sky, the rich, luxuriant unknown vegetation, the strange fruits, the wealth of tropical flowers, the houses with broad verandas latticed and screened by flowering vines and shaded by flowering trees, the natives, handsome bare-footed men, bare-footed women and girls in loose, bright colored garments, with wreaths of flowers on their heads, and garlands of flowers around their shoulders — they were everywhere. Page Twenty-one MHIIimmiHIHHHIIH»HNIIIWIimiHIHHHimHH»HlimHimHltMimiHKHHNIimHHIHimMIHIIIIHHinHNIWIHHimlMm>mHHmHHHHMIHIIHHIIHmHmHHWm MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY nHIIHIIIHnHHHIHIIMUMIHItlimHIIUHMHHIIinHHinHI)HIIMMIMMMIIHmilllllUHtHniUIHIIIIIHIIIIIIIHIHIIIiniHllllimHIIIIIIMHHNIIIIIHIIIMMIMIIIIiniMllllnllMlimlHIHII»IIIIIIIIH full of animation, chattering and laughing like children, while others similarly bedecked were riding through the streets, sitting astride their horses, with the vivid hued, voluminous, picturesque saddle cloths streaming out behind, and riding with the dash and fearlessness of Hussars. There were no hotels in Honolulu, and it was our good fortune to have been recommended to a boarding house where we were excel- lently well cared for, and where we met many charming people; not only those in residence there, but others who came to call, among the latter being the gracious, amiable, deservedly popular Queen Enmia. Our kindhearted landlady was zealous in her wish that we should taste and enjoy all the products of the country, and the variety put upon her table during our stay, particularly of fruits, could only be understood and appreciated by those who had themselves visited that favored land. This good lady's family consisted of a daughter and a son, then in his early manhood, who later became a multi-millionaire, and has but recently passed over to the majority. At the time of which I write, I doubt if there could anywhere have been found, in a small population, so many kindly disposed, warm-hearted, hospitable people as were numbered among the resi- dents of Honolulu. Visitors were few, and those who were at all acceptable were made the excuse for every form of delightful enter- tainment. We had carried two letters of introduction to prominent families, and both letters brought us charming, cordial people with invitations to an eleven o'clock breakfast. These breakfasts were each served on a secluded veranda, embowered in vines and flowers, and were so perfect in every detail and appointment, and made so delightful by bright and interesting conversation, that the memory of them never faded quite away. In both cases the ready response to a letter introducing two young people without fortune or position was not only a kindness but a real compliment, particularly as the first invitation was followed by others, and during our entire stay these genial people made frequent calls, often bringing something espe- cially fine in the way of fruits or flowers. For an afternoon's entertainment croquet parties were much in favor, with refreshments after the exciting games were over, or per- haps partaken of during a sudden shower of rain. And there were dancing parties given in charming homes, where on verandas, and in the grounds Chinese lanterns glowing amid the bloom of brilliant flowers made a veritable fairyland. Indoors the rooms were festooned Page Twenty-two OIIIWIIHHIHIIHHUHIIIllWIIHmiHIHIHHIHHIIIIIIIIIIIHmHHIinmlHIWHHmmHWIHHHIHIIIimilMIIIIHmilinillHHmHimiHIIIIUIIUnHIIIIHIUIIHHmUHIIHI^ MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY MlnillimilMIHIHHHIIUIIIIIIIUIHUIIMIHIIIIIUIMHIIiniUIMIMIMHMIIIMIHIIIHtmillHUIIHIIMIIIIIIIIIIIHIHIIIIIIIIIHIMIIIIIIIirNIMIIIIIIIHIUIIHHIMItlHIIIH with flowers closely strung together, white, alternating with some vivid color, and as the ropes of white were composed of stephanotis, tuberoses, and double Cape jasmine the languorous air soon became overladen with perfume. Refreshments were enjoyed at will. Delic- ious, cooling drinks, fruit salads, ices, and a variety of dainty, delicate confections. One glorious night when the moon was at the full, Captain Floyd gave a reception on the Idaho, proving himself an ideal host, and the staunch, little steamer (his castle for the time) with flags and bunting, lights and flowers, music and dancing was a place of enchantment. Excursions of every kind were made on horseback, and for visits, ceremonious calls, and responding to invitations a light Victoria generally drawn by one horse was used. It was all very simple and delightfully pleasant ; far removed from the Honolulu of today. Passing away with the old order of things, there must have gone much of that whole hearted kindness and disposition to befriend the stranger that made our visit such a delight to remember. Every day we had some evidence of this kindness and disposition. From many instances I have selected one. A party of four ladies and two gentle- men were going from our house by invitation to visit friends who lived on their large sugar-cane plantation twenty miles away. To our great surprise it was suggested that we join the party. At first we would not listen to it. It was impossible! Go to the home of strangers to spend a night with a party that already numbered six? But every one of the six declared there would be plenty of room and vouched for the welcome we would re- ceive. Every objection we made was overruled, with the result that on the following day eight horses stood in front of the house, ready for a start, instead of six, and tied on the back of each saddle was a small waterproof roll, containing articles necessary for the night. Many of the party owned their horses; the others rode those reserved for their exclusive use. Of the two extra mounts, the one with the side-saddle intended for me was a handsome, spirited animal that you had been assured was perfectly safe. We were scarcely beyond the outskirts of the town when I be- came aware of an occasional action or motion of my horse, such as I had never before experienced, that gave me a feeling of insecurity in the saddle and made me nervous and uncomfortable. I mentioned it to the lady riding beside me. At once came the suggestion that we change horses. She was riding her own gentle, reliable horse. She Page Twenty-three imiiiiHiNniiuuiiiiHiiniiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiMiiniiiiiiiiHiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiniininniiniiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiniiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiim MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY AIIIIIIIIUUIIIIIIIIIIIMillllllllllllllllllMIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIMMIIIIItlMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIirilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllinilllll would consider it a favor as she envied me the mount I was on, and the change might mean for me the diflFerence between enjoyment and discomfort all the long way. She soon discovered a suitable place and unobserved by those in advance, we made the exchange. We were riding rapidly to join the party and had almost reached them, when, like a flash, I saw my companion thrown into the air over her horse's head and lying motionless by the roadside; explaining later that for a time she did not know what had happened to her. At my cry of distress every one turned back, and amid intense excitement, before any one could reach her, to the great relief of all, she sprang hghtly up declaring she was not in the least hurt, nor was she. Being a fine rider, resting only her toe in the stirrup, she had a clean, clear throw from the back of a bucking horse. I, always rid- ing with my foot thrust far in the stirrup might not have fared so well. When you heard it was my horse that had made the trouble you were excited enough! You declared no life or limb should be en- dangered by riding the brute again! You would tie him to a tree to be sent for, ride back for a carriage to take me home, and the party must continue on their way. While you talked and were argued with, the Captain of the party had put his saddle upon the bucker — quietly nibbling grass by the roadside — the side-saddle upon his own horse, seated the lady who liad been thrown, and springing to his saddle, announced, ''the caval- cade will now proceed/^ There was some fun at your expense, but you were well pleased with the result and again we were off. We were now in the Nuuanu Valley. On both sides lovely vine and flower-covered homes, with gardens of bloom, under beauti- ful, flowering trees. As the road ascended vegetation became less luxuriant and homes fewer. Rocks and boulders appeared on the hill- sides and tiny rills fringed with ferns trickled down the banks. More and more the valley narrowed, and sharper and higher became the points of rock until the Pali was reached and the wonder- fully beautiful view opened before us. An enthusiast has called it, one of the grandest, most superbly spectacular views on earth. Back of us, and on either side, perpendicular rocks with domes and peaks and pinnacles towered hundreds of feet above us, and before us a sheer drop of one thousand feet to the broad plain below, where pretty toy looking homes stood in the midst of a beautiful verdure; sugar-cane, groves of bananas, shade and fruit trees. Along the coast a fringe of cocoanut palms, then a long line of white surf Page Twenty -four miMimiiriiunHininiMiniiiinninMnMiuuiMiMiniiuiuniiHiiniuMiiiniHiniiiuimiiiHHiiinnMiNriHiiiiiniimniiiiiiitiiHiiinMiinniinnHiiiniiiinmHminiiiiMiiiMuiiniuiiiiinniiniii^ MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY winniiiuiimiHiniiiiiuiiiiHMUiiiiiinininiMiMiiNnniiiNnMiininiiiiiiininiiiiiinniniiiNinnniNnmiiiiiiiiiiniiiiniuiHiniiiiMniMiiiinuniiniiiimmiwiiininiiiiiii^ breaking over the coral reef and beyond, the blue waters of the Pacific. We were told that our destination lay many miles away over the plain below and that the road to reach it, was down the face of the cliiF on which we were standing. It was a frightfully steep trail with sharp turns and curves, and as we watched the first horse and rider begin the descent it did seem an extremely hazardous undertaking, and so it was. We were started one after another with a space of several feet between us, so that accident to one might not involve another. Gradually as the distance to the plain below diminished the feeling of danger wore off, but you and I, Dear Heart, freely and frankly admitted that we were thankful to stand in safety on the plain. Of the eight horses that went down the perilous trail that day none was so completely without any trace of nervousness, so sure of foot and certain of step, and did the trying work so patiently as the bucking horse. We took a long rest, and gave the horses a breathing spell with loosened girths and then rode on over the garden-like ex- panse. When we were within a half mile or so of our destination two of the party increased their speed (you and I surmised to prepare the way for us) which was done with tact and thoughtfulness, for when we alighted from our horses, without any formal introduction, the host and hostess came to us in the most cordial and natural manner, called us by name, and said they were glad we had come. The house was immense, low, rambling and picturesque. Inside, the passageways were labyrinths of twists and turns as they led to rooms built on when needed or as fancy dictated. Such was the room assigned to us, spacious and charming with windows on three sides well screened by vines that were masses of bloom. It was a merry party and we felt very much at home within it. There were a number of young people in the house, members of the family and their friends, and in the evening on the broad veranda they sang the plaintive, rather monotonous Hawaiian music to the accompaniment of ukuleles. The following morning we were all early astir. After breakfast we went to see the activities of the large plantation. Sugar-cane being cut, loaded on wagons and carried to the crushing mill. A large vegetable garden where we found peas, beans, asparagus, lettuce, sweet potatoes, melons, pineapples and strawberries, a luxury the Chinaman in charge said he could furnish every day in the year. Then came a long row of picturesque grass huts for the Natives Page Twenty-five •MmiiiiiiimHnHiiNiiiuiiiHiHimiiinm)miiiHimiiiHmH«imiimmuiiimHiiiiiHiHiHiHHiimiHii>HiHniiHiHHHiHmNHtMm>H«HHHiHUHHWN«mwNHHWHMm«wmimillWmHlimiNmH»HIWtlllHIHI»IMIUmilllHHimHIIIIIIIIH»IUIIUHUHimWWHIHIWIHMMmtMHINIUmHIHHIWIimmmHiMHmi»WHmtmimHuiiimHwiwmHmiHimMniniMiiHiHiirHmmHimiiiiiiiHrnHitHiiMuiMiHiiiMii»iiWHiHiHiuiiiiummMi)ituHHiitHiuHiimiiiHNnHiiirHiiiiiiiiMiiiwmmim>nmiHHiuum(mHtHNHiiiamKmiutiiiuiHiHHmmmiimHiiimHmH»uimHmiHuimimnimimirmmHmHm«atH^ MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY MmMiiiHwiiuwHUHmmiwiuiwtimHtuuniiHMHHimiHiHiiiHiHimHiHmuMmHmuuiuimuiwwiiHUHiiinuiiiiHnmiiiiimiuiniHHHiuiuiHWMiimHHiiiunmiHmHUiiiiHiHMMi^ and to each of the others you would give two-pence if they would stop behaving like highwaymen. After a little parley the terms were accepted and then they began quarreling among themselves as to their respective ages. At last that too was settled, but to our surprise, those in front began to walk on, and when you asked why they did not fire oif their guns, you were told "This is not the place! the place is a mile furtherer." We did want to be rid of them, for being in the midst of a dozen ragamuffins stumbling over a rough path, each with a loaded gun swung carelessly over his shoulder was suggestive of unpleasant possibilities. At last we reached the place — a bend in the Gap favorable to echoes. Here, two guns were discharged following closely upon each other. The reverberations were almost deafening and very remark- able. The stipulated sums were paid, one old man claiming as he held out his hand, that he was as old as the man that got saxpence. He looked it and his claim was recognized. We parted good friends, every rascal of them taking off his cap and saying, "I wish yees well," the young ones calling out after us that they were going to America. Poor fellows; they were neither degraded nor depraved, only desperately poor, and deep down in the groove and we could only hope that some helping hand might further their wish to go to America, where, you remarked, probably every city and town had its quota of prosperous Irishmen. From Killarney we went to Dublin. We looked at the fine buildings of the Irish capital, then took a jaunting car for a ride in Phoenix Park, but a drizzling rain set in and we returned to the Shelburne House where we found a cheerful fire burning in the draw- ing-room. We sat before it until we were warm, and our clothing dry, then out again. We went to St. Patrick's Cathedral where we saw the tombs of Dean Swift and "poor Stella," then under dripping umbrellas we stood before the shop windows perfectly fascinated by the cheapness of clothing — particularly gloves. I bought several pairs at thirty-five cents a pair that looked well and wore well, and you tried a pair at fifty cents. When we reached London we went to the Westminster Palace Hotel in the immediate vicinity of Westminster Abbey, the Houses of Parliament and many other objects of interest. We had been in our room but a short time when a clock began to strike the hour — ^loud, clear and with great deliberation. "Dear Heart," said I, "that is surely Big Ben," and going to the window, there, very near, was the beautiful illuminated clock tower of Parliament House. Arm in arm Page Forty-eight (iiHiuiiiiMtiHiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiitiiiiiiiMiiiiiiniiliNiinmiiMiniiiiHiiinimitniimNiiiHimiiiiiiiMiiniiiMiiniiiiiiitriiiMriinnMiMiiHinHiiiiiniitiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiii^ MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY iiiHiiiiiniiiiHitiiniHH>iiiniiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiininniuiiiiniiiiiiiiniiiiHiiiiiiinuiiniiMiiiiuiiiiHiniiuMiHHiiiiiiiiimiiiHiiiiiiiriiiiniitiiHiiiiiiiitiinmiiiiuii^ we stood at the window until the last stroke of midnight had sounded. I was too happy to sleep, and few were the hours and quarters of hours recorded by "Big Ben" that night, as the old thief Time car- ried them away, that I did not hear. The next morning while at breakfast we saw from the window the passing omnibusses bearing names of streets and localities with which from books we had been long familiar, and now we were going to see for ourselves these streets and these localities. How like a dream it all seemed! Our sight-seeing began with Westminster Abbey which we entered with mingled feelings of mystery and reverence. The vastness of the edifice, the long row of monuments on either side, the richness of color, the softened light from the great rose window all combined to make a profound impression upon us. To you, with your love of poetry, the "Poet's Corner" was a sanctified spot, and long we ling- ered there, where grave, and bust, and tablet bore names familiar as household words. We saw the beautiful Chapel of Henry Seventh, and the Coronation Chair of which my irreverent pencil wrote, "and a very ugly old chair it is." Leaving the Abbey we walked over Westminster Bridge, you quoting the line from Wordsworth suggested by the view, "Earth has not anything to show more fair." They were busy, happy, active weeks, those sight-seeing weeks in London. Picture galleries, museums, public buildings, parks, markets and shops; but first and foremost the pictures. The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, now one of the great picture galleries of the World, was then in its infancy, but it had a nucleus of fine pictures that stimulated the craving we both felt for the expression of art in its different forms, and now for the first time we had the opportunity of gratifying that craving, and no words could be too extravagant to express the delight the pictures gave us ; but it was fatiguing, exhausting work and after a few days of excess we limited the time we gave to pictures. "What is the best way to see London, Dr. Johnson?" asked a new arrival at the Metropolis. "The best way to see London, Sir, is from the top of a penn}'^ bus." And that is the way we became acquainted with the great city — from the vantage ground of a penny bus. We i*ode in all directions Page Forty-nine (lummiumiumimNHnmnmmiiiHnimiiiniitniHiiiimiiiuiMiiiiiiiiiHniMiuiiiiHUiMmiimMimiimwiimMiimiinmiHuiiiimiiniHniiiiiiimiHimiin MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY MiiHiiiinimiiiiiiiitniiiHiiHmimiiiHiiiiiiiiinMiiiinMiiiiiniitHiiiiiiiiinmiiiiitimiiiiiHmiiiiiiHnniNiiiiiinnuHinnniimiinuniiiiniiiimiiH and it was not long before you, with the advantage of a good bump of locaKty knew London streets as well as those of New York or San Francisco. If upon reaching the top of the bus we could not secure the seats we coveted near the driver, we had but to wait and soon the oppor- tunity would come. And what drivers they were! We always marvelled at the skill with which they threaded their way, steering the clumsy, ponderous vehicle through the congested traffic of the narrow streets. Their wages were low and a tip was gratefully received, while their quaint Cockney dialect was an entertainment in itself. Many were intelligent, some telling interesting things of the streets through which they drove, others were stolid, not knowing or caring to know. One elderly man had a fund of information that was sur- prising. He pointed out to us in Cheapside the site of the Mermaid Tavern where Shakespeare, Ben Johnson and that brilliant circle of friends were wont to meet. Where Milton was born. Where Sir Thomas More was born and where to find the Mitre Tavern fre- quented by Dr. Johnson, Goldsmith and Boswell. There is a saying, that "London is the only city in the world, where a well dressed person can eat a penny bun in the streets with- out being stared at" and in the vicinity of the Bank of England, where all traffic seemed to converge, it surely would be true. The Bank of England! That soot begrimed granite structure! Not a window in its outer walls! Immense and gloomy without, and lighted within from many courts and skylights; and how impressed we were by the head doorkeeper, that pompous personage, in impos- ing scarlet liverj^ with a glittering chain of heavy links around his neck and a staff of authority in his hand! Near by was the Mansion House, the Royal Exchange, and Guildhall. We went in and out of buildings, in and out of queer alleys and courts and crooked lanes, with odd sounding names; we hunted up places where great men were born, where they had lived and worked, where they had died and where they had been laid to rest. We followed the streets where Dickens beguiled the hours of night when he could not sleep, and hunted up the places identified with his works. Tabard Inn was still standing from where Chaucer's Canterbury Pilgrims set out. Temple Bar was there, with the same endless tide of humanity surging through its gates as when Dr. Johnson wrote, "It is my practise when in want of amusement to place myself for an hour at Temple Bar, and examine one by one the looks of the Page Fifty ilittwminininiiiiiHitiinni)iuMiiHiiiHi^ principalities the smallest and with its possession of Monte Carlo, the wickedest! Nine miles farther on we came to anchor in the small, picturesque harbor of Nice. During our stay of a few hours Nice did not show us her pleas- ant side. True, the sun was shining — shining with so intense a warmth that the shade was grateful, but a high wind was blowing, and clouds of white dust filled the air. We walked on the promenade along the seashore, and at noon took the train for Marseilles. As we came in sight of the sea, you said, "Well — do you realize that we are on the Riviera?" "Riviera," I repeated, "what a pretty musical name it is." "Yes," you answered, "Riviera di Ponente, the West, and by poetic license the Westerly wind and the setting sun; and Sestri- Levante is the East and by the same license the rising sun." Then we talked of the lovely scenes through which we were passing, little dreaming how familiar they would be in happy winters of the years to come. Lofty hills crowned by ruins; orange, lemon and fig trees; delicious villas embowered in flowers; vineyards, and old, old olive trees with trunks twisted and gnarled by father Time; and the bold indented picturesque shore, with rocks and cliffs and dear little semi- circular bays filled with the blue waters of the Mediterranean; so lovely, so vivid, so varying in color, that Tennyson described it per- fectly when he likened it to "the peacock's neck in hue." Over it all brilliant sunshine and an azure sky. Ah, Dear Heart of mine, what a delightful ride that was, and how we did enjoy it! As we neared Marseilles the country lost its attractive appear- ance. In driving from the station we noticed evidences of excite- ment everywhere, — guards of soldiers and bands of agitated men. When we reached the Hotel du Louvre we learned that on the pre- ceding day the Red Republicans had taken possession of the City Hall, cut all the telegraph wires, and that the City was practically in the hands of the insurgents. Our after dinner stroll was of short duration. A cold wind was blowing and the streets were deserted except by loud-talking, angry men, and groups of soldiers. The following day it rained steadily and as Marseilles was not a pleasant place to loiter in just then, we left by the night train at ten o'clock. Page Ninety-nine NiiiiiiiiinuiuiiuiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiuiininiiuniiiiniiiinHiiiiiiniHiiiiiiiiHMiiniiiiiiiiiimniniiiiiitniiiiiniMiiiiiiniinitMiniiiniiniiiniHniiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiniin MEMORIES — SOME O F MANY niiiiiniiiiiiiiiiniinMiniiininiinMiiniiiiniMUMiniiirnnuiuiMiiMMiuiiiiiiiiiniiuiiiuniiiiiniMuiinmiiiHiiiiiiuitiniuiininiuniniiiiiiniiunnininHHiuniiiiniiiiiiiiii At seven the next morning we reached Cette; after Marseilles the principal commercial port on the South coast of France. We rode through a pleasant country intersected by many canals and at two in the afternoon were at Toulouse. A neighbor who often called at our old home in Central New York raised a variety of fancy poultry and the geese whose ancestors came from this old French province were his especial pride, and fine birds they surely were. When he bid us farewell, he said, "If in your travels you reach Toulouse and see any of their famous geese you must let me know if they are finer than mine." We had reached Toulouse but felt there was little chance of seeing any geese. Trains packed with troops were a common sight in France at that tinae. Soldiers going to Paris to help in putting down the commune. Others that had been wounded, and prisoners of war re- turning from Germany to their homes. In a long train side-tracked near the town we saw many pale-faced boys who looked pathetically ill. Soon after leaving Toulouse, I was studying the guide book to be ready for the sights of Pau, when you said, "Oh — look out of the window." I looked, and there were the geese that I had wished so much to see, and a very pretty sight they were. In the space of a mile or two, we saw fully a dozen flocks. Each flock, numbering about twenty-five, plump, snow-white geese was in charge of either a young girl or boy in picturesque peasant costume, with a long wand. "Just as I have seen them in pictures," I said. We reached Pau ten o'clock at night. A tedious journey of twenty-four hours from Marseilles, and were glad to rest at the com- fortable Hotel la Paix. The following morning we were out early for a view of the Pyrenees from the famous "Terrace at Pau" and a glorious view it was ! For nearly one hundred miles we saw the splendid snow-capped range, with here and there a glittering peak rising above its fellows. The town was divided in two, by a small, swift stream, the Gave de Pau, flowing in a deep ravine. Crossed by many bridges it added greatly to the picturesqueness of the place. "Gave" (meaning a mountain stream or torrent) soon became a familiar word to us. The little "Gaves" fed by mountain snows, taking the name of every town through which they passed. In the Place Royale we admired the statue of the "White Page One Hundred •HHxii" i""i>i"i"iMiHniiniiiitiniiiiMniniHHniiiiniiiiiinMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinfliiiiiiiiiuiniiiiiiiiitiiHiniiiiiiiiliriiiiMiiiiinirtixriiffliiiiiAiMM«ii/liiiAiiiiiwtAiiiiiA MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY imHiiiiniiiMtiiiiiiiiiiiiiniMiniiiiiiiiiiNiiiiHiii(nniniHiiniiiiiimitiHiiiiiiHiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiMUiiiiiniinniiniiiiiiiiHninHiiiitnniiiimiiiiniiniimiiniiiiiiHn Plumed Knight" and walked in the fine Boulevard des Pyrenees to the Castle gardens. Indeed Pau with handsome hotels an elegant casino, the old castle, and delightful walks and \Tiews captivated us completely. With a crowd of tourists we were shown through the State apartments of the Castle, and the room in which Henry IV first saw the light, the cradle in which he was rocked, made from an immense tortoise shell, and a wonderfully carved old bed. Toward the end of the day we left Pau and four hours later were in Bayonne, an interesting, medieval city, divided by two rivers and united by many bridges, with narrow animated streets, roadways paved with cobblestones and old houses with long rows of arcades. Under the arcades were dark, little shops in and out of which men and boys, women and girls were bustling. The girls were pretty and wore small, bright colored handkerchiefs pinned over their abundant hair. We were only three miles from the sea and by climbing the Citadel Hill might have looked upon the Bay of Biscay but we were growing wise and did not do it. We found a delightful promenade next morning along a river bank, but deserted at that early hour. We strayed into a suburb of pretty homes with small orchards of blos- soming peach and apricot trees; and saw in a long avenue two very old men making rope, with the hemp stretched from tree to tree. At noon we drove from the Hotel du Commerce to the station. There we saw a party of Basques from an adjoining province, and how picturesque they were in their jaunty costumes! A dark blue woolen cap, — a velvet jacket so short that the wide crimson sash was seen all around, — dark knee breeches, — long woolen stockings and leather sandals or wooden shoes. Of their queer uncouth language we could not understand a word. Two hours after leaving Bayonne we crossed the Bidassoa river and were in Spain, and a mile or two farther on came to Irun, the first frontier town, where we changed cars, and baggage was exam- ined. We had each a large valise. The entire contents of the two were thrown upon the ground, and each article was carefully exam- ined before being returned to its place. Your valise gave no trouble, but in mine they found a bottle of cologne wrapped round and round with underclothing to prevent its being broken. The bottle was only half full but one after another official was called in to express an opinion. We thought it was going to be confiscated when an officer in elaborate uniform walking among the contents of many trunks Page One Hundred One umjiHr.inMm:Hi