The Lampasas Daily Leader. (Lampasas, Tex.), Vol. 8, No. 3161, Ed. 1 Tuesday, February 13, 1912 Page: 3 of 4
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Unexplored Country of the San
Bias Indians.
NEW YORK’S FIRST POLICEWOMAN
Mysterious Land Forbidden to White
Men Peopled by Savage and War-
like Natives, Where No One
Dares Go.
lsew York.—“Looking for the smok-
ing room, hombre?” asked the com-
fortable looking old gentleman in the
white linen tuxedo, according to Pana-
ma correspondent. The uncomforta-
ble looking young man in white flan-
jnels shook his head. |
“I’m looking for the way out,” he
jreplied. “This isn't Panama; it’s I)u-
jpont Circle, Washington, D. C."
Within the 10th infantry band pound-
led out “Our Director,” while bronze
engineers, soldiers of fortune and once
jproud naval lieutenants begged pupils
or the zone high school for half an ex-
Itra. Estimate the distance' between
|the awkwardest fourteen-year old and
|the local Mrs. Hawksbee and you can
[figure out how far the young North
(American in white flannels found him-
self from the center of the stage he
(holds so firmly in musical cdmedy.
: “Next time 1 come down here I’ll
[bring a dress suit,” he said.
They always do, the second time/’
(said the old gentleman soothingly.
“Sit down and cool off. Ten years ago
we danced in pajamas and. watched
the government revolve every twen-
ty-four hours, but now we’re nice and
civilized.”
My son,” added the gray hair-
jed isthmian, “I’ve heard that farewell
romance and last frontier \Wish since
before you were weaned. But there
are plenty of last frontiers in this
world that will last a good while and
you re sitting on one of them right
(now.
The country I mean lies partly in
the republic of Panama, partly in the
!republic of Colombia, and doesn’t give
ja for either of them. It begins
I within thirty miles of where we are
(sitting and runs for 400 miles or so
(down into South America. Just how
•far I can’t tell you, for no white man
jhas ever made the trip.”
“Region too unhealthful?”
. “For our kind, yes. Full of little
hot drafts from behind trees. And
then word is passed out to your
friends that the senor died of Chagres
fever, With no witnesses to the con-
trary.”
“But who does all this murdering?”
“They call them the San Bias In-
dians. And I shouldn’t call them mur-
derers if I were you until I’d heard
the whole story.
“When the Spaniards hit these parts
in the old days it was h—1 for the na-
tives. You needn’t look any further
Vthan the wood cuts in any edition of
(Las Casas to learn that,
i “The first governor of Panama/ Pe-
\ drarias too, stepping past that window
with that pretty trained nurse
from Ancon hospital—has a million
murders to his discredit, and he and
thp oth§r conquistadores wiped out ev-
ery native tribe but one. This outfit
living in a country that is Satan’s pet
hothouse and soon getting hold of
smuggled firearms, managed to keep
their independence. They are as free
today as before Columbus came over
and as exclusive as Tibet before
Younghusband’s expedition.
“Nobody knows how numerous they
are, for the census taker has never
called. In appearance they are stocky
little chaps not much above five feet
high, with big round heads and coarse
black hair.
WmT
•WM aX
H
<sP>Z&a <z7bffacS. Gtsos&y
A BUNCH OF VIOLETS
* * *
By CLARISSA MACKIE
'THIS is Mrs. John S, Crosby, president of the Women’s Democratic clul
* of New York, who has accepted the badge of deputy sheriff from Sheriff
Harburger. “My club has always advocated policewomen,” she said, after
getting the badge, “I will do anything I am expected to do in the preser-
vation of peace and morality. I am a suffragist, but that will have no bear-
ing on my work as deputy sheriff. I would arrest a suffragette just as
soon as any other person if she were breaking the law. If they try break
ing windows, I’ll pull them in.”
JAIL IS PARADISE
Luxuries Enjoyed Where Mc-
Namaras Now Dwell.
San Quentin Is Like a Summer Resort
-—in Institution on San Francisco
Bay Offenders Are Treated
, With Consideration.
Seek to Remove Age Limit.
Chicago.—At a great meeting of
middle-aged women it was determined
tdt start an active campaign to remove
hie bar against women over forty-five
eaars old, who seek employment.
Los Angeles, Cal.—Incarcerated in a
prison de luxe, where the cells are car-
peted, where they have access to a li-
brary, are allowed to roam on a breeze-
swept Island, granted the right to play
baseball, swim, engage in athletics
and promenade and smoke, James B.
McNamara and J. J. McNamara, whose
dynamiting operations cost twenty-one
lives, are escaping the prison hardships
like those of Sing Sing.
The San Quentin prison, in which
they are serving their terms of life
imprisonment and fifteen years, re-
spectively, is the prison de luxe of the
United States, if not of the world. By
some it is called the “criminals’ para-
dise” and likened more to a summer
resort or country residence than a
prison.
In this prison de luxe the inmates
are confined in the cells but eleven
hours a day. The rest of the time
they are either making jute bags in
the factory that is a part of the prison
or playing baseball/ swimming, read-
ing under shade trees, while at the
same time enjoying a smoke, or else
roaming about tile island and enjoy-
ing the view of passing steamships.
In the evenings they are allowed to
have a candle with which to read in
their cells, and if they desire can cook
a rarebit for themselves.
Hard work is unknown. The pris-
oners, numbering 1,800, Including the
McNamaras, are obliged to make so
mimy jute bags between the hours of
7 in the mbrning and 5 o’clock in the
evening. If they make the required
number in less time they are allowed
to spend the time they save in enjoy-
ing themselves on the prison grounds.
Dozens of those imprisoned there, In-
stead of awaiting with glee the hour
of their freedom, witness its approach
with misgivings, for they realize they
will have to go forth to battle in a
competition that will afford them few
of the pleasures and luxuries common
in the prison.
The “criminals’ paradise” Is official-
ly designated the California state pris-
on. It is maintained by California.
The federal government sends prison-
ers there, but pays the state of Call-
ifornia for their maintenance. The
prison is situated at San Quentin,
which projects out into San Francisco
bay. It is reached by boat in an
hour’s ride’ from San Francisco,
Comedians and tragedians among
the prisoners weekly give a theatrical
performance; the prison band, Consist-
ing of sixty pieces and composed of
the inmates, gives concerts; the base-
ball teams play for the championship
of the prison league; the handball ex-
perts battle for the championship in
that line; the athletes of the cinder
path, the hurdles, the hammer and the
like regularly engage in competition.
They have an extensive farm. They
raise chickens and ducks.
MANY NOBLES ARE COMING
'I'lmmlgrants de Liixe” Will Enter Can-
ada In Spring Seeking the
“Simple Life.”
London.-—Canada Is now waiting an
migration de luxe,” which is to take
ce this year. Several members of
e British peerage are going to take
j farming in Canada in the spring,
d a large number of peers will make
eir annual tour of inspection of their
nadian estates.
he explanation of the titled exodus
Canada is due in part to modern
ation and in part to the fact that
affords freedom and natural
btainable in England, it is
resulted in a long list of
e known as “gilt-edge set-
nd “emigrants de luxe” being
red.
fe are enough titled persons
n Canada, or interested in the
to open a house of peers
own,” said a leading railway
“and, with the duke of Con-
as governor general, we have
all the material to go ahead and start
a colonial kingdom.
“The duke and Duchess of Suther-
land will take up their residence for
the coming autumn in their bungalow
at Brooks, Alberta. It is a cozy little
weather-board house In the middle of
their prairie holdings.
“Earl Grey keeps a hunting lodge
in the Columbia Valley, B. C„ and
Lord Aberdeen owns one of the finest
and most profitable fruit farms on
the Pacific slope, the Coldstream es-
tate.
“Lord Clanwilliam is a large land-
holder, and, with Hon. Edward Cole, is
interested In the Saskatchewan Invest-
ment and Trust company, which
owns the leading hotel at Saskatch-
ewan.
“Lord Hinli^ is the landlord of a
vast area of prairie and British Co-
lumbia land and* Lord Desborough is
interested In the timber and lumt :r
trade.
“Lord Sholto Douglas is, or was, un-
til recently, fruit farming In Brit-
ish Columbia, and the earl of Stan-
hope frequently visits the Dominion.”
Wolves Attack Horse.
Pierre, S. D.—Wolves, hungered by
the scarcity of food, are becoming dan
gerous in the West River country.
Johnson brothers, who live near Davi
son, in Butte county, had a full-grown
horse pulled down by a pack in broad
daylight In sight of their home. The
wolves would only leave the carcass
after several shots were fired.
The wolf pelts are valuable and
there is a moderate state bounty, so
that it is a frequent occurrence for a
settler to add considerably to his an
nual income through this source.
NOT A SILVER FOX AT ALL
Prize Catch of the Season at Miliburn
Was a Pomeranian Purp—Woman
Claims Dog,
Miliburn, N. J.—The silver fox which
Ansil Snow captured a few days, ago
in the woods back of the plumber’s
shop where he works was not a sil-
ver fox at all, but a pet Popaeran-
ian of Miss Louise Bannister of Spring-
field.
Miss Bannister sa wthe story In
the papers about Snow’s capture of
the fox and in the description she
recognized her dog. A member of her
family visited Snow and claimed
the pet.
Snow was much concerned about
what he was going to do with his cap-
tive. As it was out of the hunting sea-
son, he did not want to kill the fox
without the consent of the state game
commission. Had he received that con-
sent, he might have killed the prize
and prepared a meal of fox fricasse
out of the Pomeranian pup. He is
glad Miss Bannister sent for the
dog.
It was one of those uptown cross-
streets whose dividing line is Broad-
way. No. 87, west, was one of many
handsome stone dwellings, while No.
87, east, was merely a shabby board-
ing house given over to the accommo-
dation of working girls.
Esther Mason wearily climbed the
stairs of No. 87 east, and paused as
Mrs. Beggs’ shrill voice called her
name from the hall below.
“Here’s something for yon—a boy
left it a few minutes ago—flowers, I
guess! Suppose your beau sent ’em,”
said the boarding house mistress as
Esther descended the stairs.
The girl’s face flushed as she took
the square box and examined the ad-
dress on the violet an<J gold cover.
“Miss Esther Mason, No. 87 East ——
sixth street.” Surely it' must be for
her, and yet—who would send her a
box of flowers on her birthday?
All the home folks had passed away
to another and more beautiful country
two long years before Esther had ta-
ken her small patrimony and gone
bravely to the great city to make her
way among thousands of wage-earners.
The investment of her money had
brought her a business education, and
she had slowly, worked her way up-
ward until now she could loolr forward
to the time when an increased salary
might permit of a more congenial
home. In the meantime the little
bank account must grow larger.
She lifted the cover-and gazed with
delight upon -an immense bunch of
violets.
Still mystified and yet with a feeling
of relief that she might not be obliged
to return the gift to some unrecog-
nized donor, she arose with the quick
decision that was characteristic of her
and changed her gown for the pretty
pale gray that was her best.
When the large gray hat with its
single long gray feather was perched
on her pretty head and the fragrant
violets were pinned ah her waist,
Esther ran down the stairs and knock-
ed at the door of Mrs. Beggs’ sitting-
room.
“I am going out to dinner/ Mrs.
Beggs,” She called softly.
It was after 6 o’clock and the streets
and shops were brilliantly lighted. Es-
ther hummed a little song as she turn-
ed into Fifth avenue and made her
way toward a large and fashionable
hotel.
Ten minutes later she was seated in
ia quiet corner of the immense restau-
rant with hundreds of tables glitter-
ing with silver and cut glass.
As she ate the delicious meal, the
payment for which would drain her
purse to the bottom, her beautiful eyes
took In the varied charm of the scene.
The handsome gowns of the women,
the quiet well bred air of the men; the
lovely girls, most of thenrher own age,
to whom this dinner was a common
occurrence.
At the next table to Esther’s sat an
elderly woman, gowned in soft black
lace with a jeweled butterfly quiver-
ing above her snow white hair. With
her was a tall young man with serious
gray -eyes and handsome face.
’’You are not wearing my violets
Aunt Esther,” said the young man
after a while. “You said you wanted
violets.”
“I haven’t received them, Dick/’ re-
turned his companion; “I supposed
you had forgotten them.”
“They were ordered—let me see, I
bought them in a little shop just off
the avenue—some German name,
Relnz, I believe—he said he would
send them over Immediately. Some
mistake, I suppose, for I distinctly
told him they were for Miss Esther
Mason, 87 West--sixth street.” The
young man lifted his eyes and encoun-
tered the gaze of a pair of startled
brown ones whose like he had never
seen before.
In wondering delight he noted the
brown of the eyes, and the distinct
black of the curling lashes and deli-
cately marked brows.
’What is the matter, dear?” asked
his aunt anxiously.
Nothing just a twinge,” he evaded
quickly.
“Gout?” Her tone was playful.
"No—heart,” he said grimly.
Esther watching them with flutter-
ing her, touched the bunch of cool
Tiolets at her waist with trembling
fingers. ,,-She had heard the conversar
tion about the violets and understood.
The name on the florist’s box had been
“Reinz” and there was another “Miss
Esther Mason” for whom the blossoms
hqfi been purchased. A stupid shop-
man and the mere difference of east
and west—and a singular coincidence
of names—had completed the tangle.
The violets were not hers. They be-
longed to that beautifully gowned
woman at the next table who was
drawing on her white gloves and pre-
paring for. her departure.
Esther paid the waiter and slipped
into her loose gray cloak. With a
graceful movement she crossed to the
next table and bent over her aston-
ished namesake.
* “I must ask your pardon,” said
Esther composedly, “hut I could not
help overhearing your conversation
about the violets. My name is Esther,
Mason and I live at 87 East --sixth
street. Tonight I received this beau-
tiful bunch of violets and as there
was no card—why I just thought they
came because It was my birthday. It
did not occur to me there might have
been a mistake—the address was so
plain on the box.”
As she spoke, Esther unpinned the
flowers and laid them on the table be-
side Miss Mason, but the older woman
thrust them back into her hands. ,
“No, no, my dear, you must keep
them; it is your birthday—-and I am
very glad that you have them.” She
smiled sweetly at the lovely young
face bent above her own and as she
looked, a puzzled expression came into
her eyes. She flashed a quick glance
toward the table where the girl hadF
been sitting, and then added: “You
are alone—here-1—tonight ?” 1 Perhaps
your friends are waiting for you.”
Esther flushed and drew back. "I
am all alone,’? she sa,id with dignity.
“I came here to dine this evening be-
cause it was my birthday and I want-
ed a treat—the violets tempted me-—*
they seemed to lure me into spending
one delightfully luxurious evening. If
you will not take the •'violets, Miss
Mason, let me thank you for them and
say good-night.”
She turned away with a slight in-
clination of the head/ but the older ,
woman’s hand caught hers and de-
tained her.
“Wait a moment, please. You did
not understand me, my dear. I asked
about your friends because I thought
I might recognize among them one.
whom I knew—your face is so famil-
iar—it is very like—someone I knew.”
Miss Mason’s own face was pale now
and her dark eyes shone strangely.
Esther hesitated an instant, then her
firm white chin went up never sp \
slightly. “1 am sure you cannot have
known my people, Miss Mason. You
see, No. 87 East is a boarding house
and I am merely a working girl. My
people are all dead.” Her lips quiv-
ered slightly, and Dick Redmond sud-
denly dropped his eyes from her face
and twisted his dinner card viciously.
Miss Mason leaned back a little
wearily; and dropped the girl’s hand.
“I am very sorry,” she^aid gently;
“but I was sure—you look so like Tom
Mason, he was my cousin.”
“My father’s name was Tom Mason
—Tom Henry Mason they called him,”
said Esther quietly. “You see we are
Maryland people. They are all dead—
every one save some distant cousins
whom I have never seen.”
Miss Mason arose quickly and
slipped her arm around Esther’s waist.
“My dear girl,” she half sobbed. “Tom
Henry Mason was my cousin—oh the
other side of the house, Dick—and T
really believe you were named for me.
There was a misunderstanding be-
tween us which was never cleared up.
Oh, you must come with u£ now, let
me introduce my nephew, Dick Red-
mond*-my cousin Esther Mason, Dick.
Is it $ot delightful that you made the
mistake about the violets?”
Dick’s hand closed around Esther’s
and his gray eyes sought hers eagerly.
We are on our way to the theater,”
explained Miss Mason as they passed
int«* the lobby and made their way to.
the street, where a handsome carriage
waited at the curb. “You must come
with us—it .is your birthday, you
know, and between the acts I.will ask
you about all your home people and
we will lay plans for the future.”
Dick, following them into the car-
riage, mentally decided that he, too,
was very lonely and that he would
make it his business to relieve his
solitary condition at the earliest op-
portunity.)
Perhaps |e felt a bit encouraged
when, as tie left Esther at the open
door of No. 87 East, he asked her for
some of the violets.
“I could not,” said the girl quickly,
clasping the hunch with eager hands.
“You see they mean so much to me—<
see what they have brought me to-
night!” She waved her hand to Miss
Mason In the carriage below and then
placed it in Redmond’s outstretched
palm.
He looked at her from grave eyes.
“The violets mean so much to me—
now—I would like just one,” he said.
With downcast face Esther pulled
out a little bunch of her precious
blossoms and gave them into his hand.
Then with a little murmured word of
farewell, she disappeared within the
door of No. 87 East.
But the look in her eyes as she flew
up the long stairs matched the look in
Dick Redmond's eyes as he rejoined
his aunt
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Vernor, J. E. The Lampasas Daily Leader. (Lampasas, Tex.), Vol. 8, No. 3161, Ed. 1 Tuesday, February 13, 1912, newspaper, February 13, 1912; Lampasas, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth889914/m1/3/: accessed June 21, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Lampasas Public Library.