Anson Mills

Travels West and East

We arrived at Fort Sedgwick on October 16th.

My quarters were half a knock-down double house, made in Chicago, the other half occupied by the adjutant, Lieutenant Potter.

When Nannie first heard the drums beat for guard mount, she called, "Anson, where in the world did all these officers come from?" referring to the gaily decked soldiers assembling for guard, showing how little she knew of the army. There were only half a dozen officers in the post.

The day we arrived, Mr. and Mrs. Potter asked us to luncheon. Potter sat at the head of the table facing a door opening into the yard.

While we were seating ourselves, a large yellow cat came in, jumped on a chair, and looked over the table. Potter excitedly raised his hands above his head, exclaiming, "Lizzie! Lizzie! Look at that cat. I hate a cat, but damn a yellow cat!"

Nannie as yet knew nothing of the army or the West, and I could see that she was about ready to run, impressed with the idea that Potter had gone stark mad. But my former classmate, though eccentric, was an excellent man and officer, and Nannie grew to like him as her acquaintance with him and the army progressed.

Potter's five-year-old boy often came to our dining room and invited himself to meals. He asked numberless unanswerable questions, one of which—while helping himself to the sugar, was "Why does a sugar bowl have two handles?"

The South Platte country around Fort Sedgwick is supposed to be that visited by Coronado in his far northward explorations from Mexico (see my address to the Society of Indian Wars).

It is also claimed by the Book of Mormon that here were the final battles between the descendants of the two lost tribes of Israel, supposed to have made their way to North America. Legend has it that one of the tribes developed into a highly civilized white race, the other into a dark-skinned race of roving habits, ancestors of our Indians. The two became enemies and the white race was exterminated; more than a million men, women and children being killed. The book claims this contest between the Indians and the civilized whites, who had built cities and made great advancement in civilization, continued for many hundreds of years throughout the continent with varying defeats and victories, but the final disappearance of the white race occurred in this part of the West.

We purchased a one-horse buggy, with which Nannie and I explored many miles in every direction through the roadless prairie country. The only road followed the North Platte toward Denver. The Indians were comparatively peaceable, and we went where we would, with an escort of two or three cavalrymen.

For household help, Nannie had a woman cook, and her soldier husband, Lenon, did many chores about the house, but otherwise Nannie managed the household; made my shirts, underwear and stockings, doing all the mending and keeping me neat. We apportioned certain allowances from my salary for necessities, cutting everything to the lowest possible cost. Table supplies purchased from the commissary were to cost no more than thirty dollars per month. It was Nannie's work to keep within the allowances, so that we might lay by money each month for a rainy day. She kept this rule throughout our equal partnership.

Although her education in household economy and management was incomplete, she was quick to learn. But her time was not all spent in housekeeping. The garrison of five companies of the 18th Infantry and two of the 2d Cavalry had an occasional dance or ball, which she greatly enjoyed and became prominent as a dancer and in the social life of the post.

There were no settlements for a hundred miles in any direction. Julesburg, three miles across the river, was one of the largest stations because of its proximity to the post. The river was a torrential stream, half a mile wide, and its quicksands made it almost impassable. In the winter, when ice crowded the channels, it was difficult to cross with any kind of vehicle. The nearest posts were Fort Omaha, Nebraska, three hundred and fifty miles east, and Fort D. A. Russell, at Cheyenne, two hundred and fifty miles west. These distant points were the only ones with a sufficient degree of civilization to entice visits. The Union Pacific, just completed to these points, with the capable assistance of the army, adopted the generous policy of giving passes to officers and their families desiring to visit these remote posts, so that during our six months' stay at Sedgwick we attended a regimental ball of the 9th Infantry at Omaha, and a regimental ball of the 30th Infantry at Fort D. A. Russell. These were about the only diversions we had from the monotonous life of the garrison at Sedgwick.

Nannie knew the expense of visiting home would be so great she probably would not see her family again for two years, and she did not; but she was sometimes homesick, and more than once I saw her with dampened eyes.

Feeling the necessity for a large army obviated by the nearly accomplished reconstruction, Congress passed a law decreasing the army from sixty to thirty thousand, in 1870. The law stopped promotions pending that event to absorb as many surplus officers as possible. In April, 1869, my regiment was ordered to Atlanta, Georgia, with five others, to be consolidated into three regiments of infantry. Half the officers of these regiments were on sick leave or detached service, but when it was announced that the officers retained would be those best suited for service, nearly every ill officer in each regiment immediately recovered! No one wanted to be ordered home for discharge, with even a year's pay and allowances.

We left by rail to Omaha, took steamboat to Memphis, and finished the journey to Atlanta by rail.

The influx of these six regiments, with almost a full complement of officers, rendered even the quarters of a complete regimental post insufficient. The unmarried officers lived in tents, the married ones crowding the houses. It often happened that eight captains with their wives would be quartered in eight rooms. This discomfort, added to summer heat, rendered life almost unbearable, but deciding who was to remain and who to be sent on waiting orders occupied time. Meanwhile, concentration of too many people caused various contagious diseases, especially typhoid, to become epidemic.

However, the consolidation was finally accomplished, the 16th merging with the 18th, retaining that designation, and I retaining my captaincy in Company H.

General Ruger was mustered out as General of Volunteers and assigned to the colonelcy of the 18th. A most excellent executive officer, he soon had us organized and assigned to comfortable quarters with nearly all the officers present. General Upton was assigned as lieutenant colonel. He was then developing his tactics and selected Captain Christopher and myself to review with him every Saturday the progress he had made, and to apply during the week his new principles of tactics in drilling our companies, and occasionally a battalion.

Nannie and I had now lived long enough together to discover our appraisement of each other was correct. We each had sufficient sentiment to make us permanent lovers and, better still, we each had such perfect digestions and such an intense sense of the humorous as to make us content with our surroundings wherever and whatever they might be. Best of all, we were each blessed with enough courage, self-denial and ambition.

I purchased foot-power lathes, drills, etc., to develop models of my various patents in belts and equipment. I installed them in one of her best rooms in each succeeding one of perhaps twenty posts, soiling the carpets with grease, filings and shavings, which would have driven most wives mad. Nannie not only endured patiently, but encouraged and assisted in the work. She was also my amanuensis for sixteen years, until I became proficient on the typewriter, I believe the first army officer to do so.

The Secretary of War ordered that any officers of the newly organized regiments of infantry and artillery who so desired could apply for transfer to the cavalry, to fill the vacancies caused by the stoppage of promotions. I was so restive and likely to be contentious that duty in the infantry, where I would have little to do, I feared might lead me into controversies. I thought the better opening for success would be in the cavalry, but as I knew the cavalry would be among the hostile Indians and farthest away from civilization, I left it to Nannie to decide whether our mutual success would be enhanced by the transfer and whether she was willing to make it. She decided that my prospects would be bettered by participation in the hazardous and more serious duties of the cavalry, so I applied for transfer.

After recovering from a severe case of typhoid that summer, Nannie, by her lively character and natural accomplishments, assumed a prominent place in the regiment, and was one of the chief organizers of the many dances, balls, and other social gatherings which we had during our stay at this post.

A large regimental ball was scheduled for December 29th, and Nannie invited her sisters, Lulie and Katie, to visit her in time for this event. In those days it was unusual for young ladies to travel long distances alone, and their parents were uneasy about the journey. They should have arrived at Christmas, but floods intervened, and they reached Atlanta on the 28th at four o'clock in the morning.

I wrote my parents-in-law immediately, handing the letter to Captain Ogden, who promised to mail it. Some days after, I received a telegram inquiring what had become of the two girls. On questioning Captain Ogden, I found he still had the letter in his pocket!

Lulie and Katie were beautiful, and in the prime of their girlhood, and were much sought after at dances and other social gatherings.

Among their admirers was Captain Kline of the regiment, an efficient but reserved young officer, who took a fancy to Lulie, and early asked if I would permit his attentions to my sister-in-law, to which, of course, I found no objection. On account of his reserve, he had more difficulty in speaking than I had in similar circumstances, and another embarrassment intervened when he was ordered with his company to Barnett, South Carolina, a full day's journey away. However, a court martial was being organized, and knowing how agreeable duty at Atlanta would be for him, friends procured his assignment to the court.

Still he was not entirely happy. We had only four rooms and a kitchen, and were therefore pretty crowded; and the hall was our dining room. Nannie, Katie, Lulie and I occupied the sitting room in the evenings, so his chances alone with Lulie were few.

The court, of which I was president, often had officers absent for a few days at a time. Regulations prescribed that a returning absentee retire until the case being tried was finished; the formula of the presiding officer being, "Those members of the court who have not participated in previous proceedings will please retire." One evening, when Captain Kline appeared rather early, and we were engaged in conversation in which Lulie and the Captain did not appear to be interested, I called out, "The members of this court who have not participated in previous proceedings will please now retire," whereupon Nannie, Katie and I sprang to our feet and retired to our room upstairs.

In one of her letters to her mother, Nannie wrote, "Doesn't the mother of Pauline say, in the 'Lady of Lyons,' something about 'losing a daughter, but gaining a prince.' Well, if being a mighty good, honest fellow is any claim to royalty, you will gain a prince surely when Major Kline becomes a son-in-law."

No two girls ever had a gayer time for the four months they were with us. They had a large mirror with a dressing table under it, and when they left we discovered they had worn out the carpet for a space of five feet in diameter in front of it, primping before the glass.

They left us reluctantly the first of May, much to the disappointment of the numerous unmarried youngsters. Lulie shortly after married Captain Kline. Katie married Mr. George H. Stewart, of Zanesville, where they still live.

Next autumn, with two months' leave, we went to visit my wife's parents, whom she had not seen for two years. Nannie was delighted when a passenger, surmising from our conduct that we were bride and groom, asked if we were on our honeymoon.

Mr. and Mrs. Cassel were happy to have us with them again. In these two months I made a most intimate acquaintance with my father-in-law. He took me everywhere, to his office in the daytime and to his clubs at night. An expert driver and an admirer of horses and horse racing, he often drove me behind fast trotting animals, sometimes to the races. Neither he nor Mrs. Cassel, like my own parents, attended church. All four greatly respected all religious denominations, but saw none they honestly believed was the only true church.

Mrs. Cassel was very affectionate, and her children were very near to her, so she was much distressed at Nannie's long absence. Mr. Cassel asked me if it would not be better for me to resign, offering to start me in his occupation, the milling business. He proposed to give me sufficient means and go with me to Kansas to establish the enterprise. I had seen enough of the world to understand the uncertainty and vicissitudes of business life compared to a commission in the regular army. So I thanked him, but said that, notwithstanding I knew it would be a great gratification to Mrs. Cassel, I was certain of my present calling for life, and although my compensation was slight, Nannie was satisfied, and loved the profession as much as I did. In this point of view he finally concurred, and Mrs. Cassel also became reconciled.

Returning to my regiment at Atlanta, I found my company with E Company had been ordered to Laurens Court House, South Carolina, because South Carolina was then in the throes of reconstruction, with carpetbaggers and Ku Klux Klan in full swing.

We had rail transportation to Newberry, but from Newberry the railroad had been denuded of rolling stock, so that our journey to Laurens was made on a handcar, propelled by two soldiers.

The two companies were quartered in abandoned Confederate residences. Nannie and I stayed at Mr. George F. Mosely's hotel. He was a kind and generous host, who took particular care to meet our wants. During the few weeks Nannie remained we made many acquaintances, being invited out to dine by the best people in the town.

One dinner was given by Col. Wm. D. Simpson (later Governor and still later Chief Justice of his State), previously in affluent circumstances, but now poor. In the dining room he remarked that as his servants had all left him he had devised a round center table which turned on its support to take their place. All the courses were arranged so, as a guest wanted anything, he could turn this table until the contents arrived opposite his plate!

We had been guests at the hotel for several weeks when a young man in the uniform of a captain of cavalry arrived at the hotel to see me privately. In my room he told me he was not an army officer, but a United States marshal, direct from the Secretary of War, with warrants for the arrest of about sixty prominent persons of Laurens County. He did not wish to arrest all for whom he had warrants, but only those most guilty of participation in the riots and murders. Under instructions from the Secretary he read me the names on the warrants and asked suggestions as to whom he should eliminate. Among these names was that of my host. As I had heard nothing to lead me to think him guilty, I suggested that his name be stricken from the list, which was done.

I immediately sent Nannie to Newberry on the handcar. At one place on the way the Ku Klux obstructed the rails with ties presumably to rescue prisoners that we might attempt to spirit away. At another place, where the highway was near the rails, she met General Carlin at the head of the 16th Infantry marching toward Laurens with the band playing martial airs. More than a thousand hilarious and frenzied negroes of all kinds, from the aged to babes in arms, followed the band. Nannie stopped the car to enjoy the amusing spectacle, and finally burst out in a laugh, when her servant, Maria, who had gone with her, exclaimed, in disgust, "Mrs. Mills, niggers ain't got no sense nohow!"

That night I arranged a room in the abandoned railroad depot for the prisoners, disposing my men behind cotton bales piled upon the platform to resist any efforts at rescue by the Ku Klux organizations. The marshal informed me that Lieutenant Colonel Carlin would arrive at about twelve o'clock with sixteen companies of infantry, and convey the prisoners to Columbia.

Two small detachments, under the command of Lieutenants Adams and Bates, made the arrests, while Lieutenant Hinton, officer of the day, took charge of the prisoners as they arrived. The marshal went first with one, then with another, detachment. Colonel Jones, the sheriff, was one of the first arrested, and by ten o'clock we had some fifteen of the sixty mentioned. My host, Mr. Mosely, appeared and said excitedly, "Why, Colonel, what does all this mean? Is it true that you have arrested Colonel Jones?"

"Yes," I said, "he is in the building."

"Well, Colonel, I want to see him."

Fearing some complication, I said, "Mr. Mosely, if you will take my advice you will go back to your hotel and remain quiet."

"But, Colonel, Jones is my brother-in-law. We are in business together. Are you going to take him away? I must see him if you take him away—no one will be here to attend to his business. I must see him. Does his family know he has been arrested?"

I replied, "I don't know," and advised him to go quietly to the hotel and remain there until the excitement subsided.

He became offended and said, "Colonel Mills, after all the kindness I have shown you and Mrs. Mills, I think it is as little as you can do in return to allow me the poor privilege of seeing my friend in his distress."

"Very well," said I, "you can see him," and calling the officer of the day, Lieutenant Hinton, I gave the necessary instructions. Upon Mosely's entrance, Colonel Jones called his name and proclaimed his pleasure in seeing him. The marshal pulled out his list and said, "Excuse me, is your name George F. Mosely?" Informed that it was, the marshal served the warrant and made him a prisoner. When I entered he burst into tears, declaring he was the biggest fool in South Carolina; that I had given him the best advice he had ever had, and he had not known enough to take it. He begged me to tell his family his condition, which I did.

Later, a Mr. A. Kruse, a United States commissioner, served a writ of habeas corpus upon me, demanding the body of prisoner S. D. Garlington. I had no experience with writs of habeas corpus, and was at a loss what answer to make. To delay him until Carlin's arrival, I questioned his authority as such commissioner. Courteously he informed me that he had a commission at home with President Johnson's signature. He left, and soon returned with the document. I invited him to my room, from which I had a view of the Newberry highway, over which Carlin's command would approach, and kept him there until I saw Carlin's command. Then I told him it was an army regulation that an officer, not in a permanent station, only commanded within a radius of one mile, and that I had a senior in the person of Lieutenant Colonel Carlin of the 16th Infantry, then approaching, the proper person on whom to serve the writ. Kruse accepted the situation, and I introduced him to Colonel Carlin, who, however, directed me to endorse upon the writ "refused, by order of the Secretary of War."

A Mr. Hugh Farley (brother of Farley of the U. S. Ordnance Corps), reputed to be at the head of the Ku Klux which gathered in numbers, approached Colonel Carlin frequently with requests to see different prisoners. As he gave no good reason, his requests were refused. He followed Carlin's command to camp that night, strenuously insisting upon another request; whereupon the marshal arrested him, his name on one of the warrants having been omitted at my suggestion.

Sixteen were carried to Columbia, South Carolina, and imprisoned in the State penitentiary, but I understood none of them were convicted.

Order being restored in Laurens, I was directed to take station with my two companies at Columbia. There being no public quarters, the quartermaster's agent took us to an old-fashioned southern building. It was comfortable and commodious, with outside quarters for the colored servants. This house had belonged to the late Dr. Gibbs, father of a classmate of mine, Wade Hampton Gibbs, who went South, joined the Confederates, and became a Colonel on the staff of General Lee.

Major Van Voast, 18th Infantry, with his wife, arrived two days later, assumed command of the post, and took quarters with us in the Gibbs House.

Carpetbagging was in its prime about this period. The governor, Chamberlain, had been appointed by the Federal authorities. Both senate and house elected under Federal laws were almost entirely colored. The president of the senate and the speaker of the house (Moses) extended the privileges of the floors of those chambers to Major Van Voast, myself, and our wives, and, partly to acquaint ourselves with governmental affairs and partly through curiosity, we often attended, the Major and I dressed in uniform.

The trouble at Laurens originated by the Ku Klux arming themselves and arresting and murdering the county officers. Carpetbaggers and negro supporters proposed a large army to protect them against the Ku Klux. While we were at a session of the house, a bill to create a State force of some thirty negro regiments and money to buy thirty thousand Remington arms was introduced. Seeing the folly of placing so much power in the hands of the colored people, some white man introduced an amendment that the colonels of these regiments should be selected from the regular army. A colored member denounced the amendment, protesting that the two army officers were present to promote this bill, and should be ejected from the floor. This placed us in a very embarrassing position. To leave the hall in indignation would betray weakness, so we sat it out for an hour, hearing many bitter and insulting references.

Knowing I wished to transfer to the cavalry, Colonel Carlin, who was going to Washington, offered me seven days' leave and to introduce me to the Secretary of War. But, Captain Mack had already arranged my transfer, and on January 1, 1871, I was transferred to the 3d Cavalry and ordered to the headquarters of the regiment at Fort Halleck, Nevada, and to proceed thence via San Francisco and San Pedro to Fort Whipple, Arizona.

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Nannie's Impressions of the West

In a letter to her parents from Washington, January 17th, Nannie describes our good-bye to our company, as follows:

I can not tell you how sorry I was to leave Columbia. I really had become very much attached to the place, and I believe like it better than any city I was ever in. I suppose one never knows how much one is thought of 'til they take their departure. The day before we left, Anson received a note requesting his presence at his company quarters. He went over, and saw a table nicely covered with a red cloth, and on it something which was covered up. The first sergeant then made him a little speech in behalf of the company and then, with a majestic wave of his hand, uncovered the article and presented him with a splendid pair of epaulets and a case containing two very handsome pistols, the whole costing nearly eighty dollars. On a paper inside was written "The compliments of Company H, 18th Infantry, to their beloved Captain, Anson Mills, 3d Cavalry." I went with Anson when he bade his old company good-bye, and it really was very sad. I cried, and Anson almost did. He went along shaking hands with each one. It is something to be very proud of when sixty men without one exception like their commander, and one of them told Anson that there was not a man in the company but regretted his going away. I do not believe there are many company commanders who have won the affections of their men so completely.

We could take but little baggage, so in Washington I asked a delay of thirty days to leave our belongings with Nannie's parents in Zanesville. General Sherman had, a few days before, ordered that there should be no more delays. When I applied, he said, "Well, Captain Mills, I can not revoke my order; but in your case I don't object to your taking a 'French,' and I don't think your colonel will make any trouble with you if you arrive thirty days late. Should he do so, refer him to me and I'll see that you get into no trouble in the matter."

The headquarters and band at Halleck were ordered to Fort Whipple via San Francisco, where I purchased an ambulance for the land journey.

We sailed February 2d on the Government transport Orizaba. We had never been to sea, and as it was a beautiful day and the waters of the bay were smooth as glass, we congratulated ourselves that we could hardly have a bad time. But when we struck the bar outside, the ship seemed to rise at least fifty feet, and otherwise moved and rolled in every possible manner. Nannie proved to be a poor sailor, which affliction she retained through life. I fared better, but was not immune and never have been.

Among the many military passengers was Captain I. M. Hoag, who occupied a stateroom next ours. As we passed down the smooth bay he claimed never to be seasick. I soon recovered sufficiently to take lunch, after which I took a chair by our stateroom to be near Nannie. The stewardess, passing, asked if she could not bring Nannie some "nice jelly cake," when Hoag's coarse voice broke out, "Jelly cake! jelly cake! Oh, my God, why does that woman want to come around talking about jelly cake! Give me my bucket. Give me my bucket!"

We arrived at San Pedro (Drum Barracks) near Wilmington, March 4th.

Nannie described the eventful march from San Pedro to Whipple Barracks in letters to her parents, better than I could describe it now, as follows:

March 5th.

My Dear Mother:

As you may imagine, we are very busy making arrangements for our wagon trip. Anson is having our vehicle fixed up 'til a queen might be proud to ride in it. He is having it covered with white canvas, and he bought an elegant green blanket to line the top to keep off the heat and protect the eyes. It has curtains all 'round to roll up to let the air in, and at night we can take out the seats, make up a bed in the bottom, and there is a large front curtain which shuts everything in and keeps out the damp. He is going to have pockets inside to put little articles in, and altogether it is as convenient and elegant a thing as one could imagine, and I am very proud of it, especially as he got it on purpose for me. We expect to have a very nice time on the route. There are quite a number of officers going, but no other ladies. I am very glad we are going with this party, as we would not have had as good a chance probably for a long time, and very likely would have had to go by stage, which would have been very unpleasant.

Anson is ordered on a court martial at Date Creek, which is on our road, so we will have to stop there. We received a letter from Lieut. Ebstein (you remember his picture in the group), who is at Date Greek, asking us to stop there.

I do not expect to get really settled this year, for there does seem to be some truth in the old saying about the first of January determining the rest of the year.

If possible I will write to you while we are on the march, but if I do not you need not be surprised, although I think I shall, but you know it is very hard to write after riding so far and getting so tired, but I shall try to write to you if it is only a few lines, so as to keep you from being anxious.

This place (Drum Barracks) is on the coast and twenty-five miles from Los Angeles, which latter place is said to be the paradise of the whole United States. A woman came here today from there, and she was carrying in her hand a branch broken from an orange tree, just full of large oranges, just as we at home might have a branch full of apples.

March 9th.

We actually did leave this morning, and made twenty-five miles, which is a pretty long trip for a first day's march. The day was lovely, and the road a nice, level one, nothing particularly interesting, however, 'til we neared Los Angeles, which has been called the garden of the United States, and then we came to the orange groves with the ripe fruit hanging on the boughs, peach trees in bloom, lemon trees, and we saw in one place some men harvesting barley. Rank green weeds grew all along the roadside, in some cases as high as your head, while pretty little red and yellow wild flowers covered the meadows, and the meadow larks sang so gaily that it inspired Anson to repeat a piece of poetry on the lark, not that I mean to say that my hubby dear mounted the little songster to spout forth the flow of poetic words, but the subject of the piece was "The Lark." My first day's experience in this line has been very pleasant. We are camped in a beautiful spot before getting to which we had to cross one of my much dreaded streams, which was nothing at all and wouldn't scare a chippy. Los Angeles is quite a town, and if any angels take a notion to visit this mundane sphere and namesake, I advise them to put up at the Pico House, where we went in to dinner. The house is a clean, nice place, Brussels carpet, lace curtains, mirrors, piano, etc., in the parlor, and a very nice dinner—fresh peas, cauliflower, etc.; but that which struck my fancy most was an open court in the center of the building in which a fountain was playing, and in a gallery running all 'round the second story, looking down on this fountain, were fastened numerous plants in pots and bird cages. As we left the house three Mexicans were playing on a harp, violin and flageolet, which completed a very romantic picture.

We invested eighteen dollars in apples, lemons and oranges, and Anson also found some fresh tomatoes, all, of course, grown in the open air, for it never frosts here. It looks strange to see the tropical fruit growing while snow-capped mountains look down on them.

Our tent is pitched, our bed made down, and everything is very easy; our only regret is that dear Lizzie did not come with us. Anson repeatedly expresses his regret that she did not.

Our carriage is perfectly splendid; in fact I don't see how people can possibly exist without a carriage.

I was made very happy last night by receiving a letter from home, the first one since we left. It was addressed to Drum Barracks. We have not as yet received those directed to Halleck, but they will be forwarded to us. We also got two newspapers, and one the day before, which were devoured.

March 12th.

We are camped in the loveliest spot you ever saw. A little mountain stream runs rapidly down on one side of us, the mountains on another, the wagon road on another, and on the other the valley stretches miles and miles away in the direction where lies our road. The ground (Cocomonga Ranch) belongs to a Mexican who owns a tract of land nine miles square, over fifty thousand acres. One hundred and seventy of it is planted in a vineyard. All of this work is done by Indians, civilized, of course. Anson brought one boy down to see me, or rather for me to see him. They jabbered away in Mexican together at a great rate. Anson can speak a good deal of Spanish, carried on a conversation very well, and is fast relearning what he had forgotten of it.

I forgot to tell you that we saw flying fish and porpoises while we were coming down on the steamship.

Last night Anson and I climbed a mountain, and a mighty steep one it was, but we were rewarded when we reached the summit by a most lovely view on all sides. I think the mountain is probably an extinct volcano, as something like lava was all over it. It also had quantities of wild flowers on it.

The nearer you get to the Indians the less you hear of them. There are no wild Indians this side of the Colorado River, and very few tame ones. It is perfectly safe to travel alone as far as the Colorado River, which is almost half of our journey; after that, an escort is necessary, although the mail coach travels almost all the way with no escort at all. You need have no fears for us, as even if they do not furnish a regular escort in the Indian country, there are enough of us to do without, as there are thirty men in the party. By the time you get this we will probably be at Date Creek, where we stop for a while on that court.

March 21.

When I last wrote to you we had gone ten miles on the desert; we have now gone one hundred and twenty-three miles over the same desert, only some was worse, and I suppose it is the same thing until we reach the Rio Colorado, which is now only forty-nine miles. To fully describe the trip since my letter would be impossible, for one can have but a faint idea of it unless they were to go over the same country. I had no idea that such a forlorn district was comprised within the limits of the United States. To begin at the beginning, after leaving the Sulphur Springs of which I told you, we traveled eighteen miles through deep sand, which is the hardest thing imaginable on the poor mules, for their feet being very small sink deep in, the last few miles being through choking dust. We reached Indian Wells, a large station consisting of one house, or, more properly speaking, hovel, where they sell water. There are some poor Indians here whom one can not help but pity. They had heard that the government intended moving them away onto a reservation, and when they found our train was coming said they wanted to see an officer. The chief and the interpreter (who spoke Indian and Spanish) came down, and Anson went over to talk to them. The poor old chief said he did not want to harm any one, but he was born in that place, and he wanted to die there, which assertion you would wonder at, could you but see the place and know that they have not even tents or huts to live in, but lie down in the sand. Anson brought them over to our tent to give them something to eat. The old chief was, I suppose, gotten up for the occasion, and was attired in a clean white shirt and a hat, that's all, which was at the same time unique and cool. They both shook hands with Anson on leaving, and trudged off, barefooted, through the sand and cactus to their home (?). It made me feel badly to see them, the descendants of Montezuma, reduced to such a state of humiliation. They have a strange custom in regard to their dead. They burn the body, and then break over the ashes all the oyas or earthen jars which once belonged to him. The next day we went eighteen miles through a dreadful sand-storm, which blinded and choked men and mules. After reaching Martinez, however, the sand stopped blowing over us, or we might have been compelled to eat for dinner the same kind of pies which we used to make when we were children—mud pies.

The next day we traveled 26 miles to "Dos Palmas," which means two palms; but someone burnt up one of them, so the name is hardly proper now. Anson told me to be sure to tell you that we have seen a real palm tree, and he went bathing under its foliage. It was indeed an oasis in the desert to see this beautiful tree standing alone in its glory. I wish you could have seen it, for it was most lovely. Something else there was not quite so lovely; we had some rolls baked by the man who keeps the station house, and for ten large rolls he charged three dollars in coin. The next day at half past five we were on our way again, traveled sixteen miles, where they rested and watered the mules, and then on again to a dry camp, which explains itself, there being no water for the mules. We could carry with us enough to drink, but in the morning we rubbed off our faces with a wet towel, for we could not spare water for a greater ablution. We were off very early next morning, for the mules could get no water 'til we had traveled twenty-four miles. There is a stretch here of thirty-five miles where they always have to make a dry camp. Three more days and we reach the river, where we rest a few days, and then only six more days. At Martinez, one of the mules had a great big piece taken out of its breast by a bull dog, and Anson actually turned Vet. and sewed it up, and did it well, too. A horse died at this place last night, and today the Indians are making merry over its carcass, eating it. I was interrupted while writing this letter by the tent blowing down.

March 28.

We camped at Ehrenberg four days, during that time had two dreadful wind-storms. Anson had great big stones piled on all the tent pins, as the ground was not very hard, but the tent shook and flapped until it would have been almost a relief to have had it go over. We went to bed, however, and in about fifteen minutes after, a terrific gust brought the whole thing down with a crash. The worst feature of it was that it tore a piece out of the tent so that it could not be put up again, so we very coolly slept under the ruins all night. This is Tuesday, and we expect to be at Date Creek on Saturday. They say they are making great preparations there, and are going to have a dance, and expect some ladies down from Fort Whipple.

March 29th.

We came twenty-eight miles today. Wind-storm part of the way, which is heavy enough to make us fear another blow-down, so we are going to sleep in the ambulance. Anson has taken out the seats and we will have the bed right on the floor, which is large enough to be very comfortable. I am in it now and feel perfectly satisfied, as I have none of that nervous, uncomfortable feeling, which the flapping of a tent in the wind is sure to give one.

Date Creek, April 1st.

Although this is All Fools' Day, what I am going to tell you is no joke, but sober reality. Yesterday found us forty-five miles from the creek, and as Captain Meinhold, Mr. Kimball, one of the wagons and four mounted men were going to make it in one day while the rest of the party would have to be two days, we concluded to go on with the small escort, as everyone assured us there was not the least bit of danger. We rode gaily along, and were within eleven miles of the post, when Anson saw one of the horsemen ride up to something, stop and, taking out his carbine, cock it. He looked again, saw a lot of wagons, and said, "there is a train." We rode a few yards farther and found that a train of five wagons and forty-eight mules had been attacked by Indians (as we afterwards learned only a few hours before we got there). Three miles before we reached there I forgot to tell you that we heard a wailing sort of sound and saw a stray mule. This sound was undoubtedly a signal from an Indian sentinel to the party robbing the train, giving them warning that another party was coming, and for them to get off. The Indians were no doubt at work on the train when we heard this noise. Imagine the feelings of all. We did not know but that Indians were lurking behind every bush. They had cut the harness from all the mules and captured all of them excepting three. They had emptied out sack after sack of flour and carried off the sacks to make clothes, leaving the flour piled all around. Boxes were broken open, and it really was a dreadful sight, when the position of affairs which we were in was thought of, and my being there was the first thing that they all thought of. They concluded to turn 'round and go to meet the rest of the train to give them warning, as well as for the safety of ourselves. For one moment I wanted to cry, the next I laughed actually a little bit, and after that I was not in the least afraid. Anson directed me not to shoot until they got pretty close, if we came across them. I laid the pistol on the seat of the ambulance, and my hand on the pistol, ready to cock it at a moment's warning, and I feel sure if Mr. Lo had made his appearance I should have hurt at least one of them. They supposed by not seeing any bodies lying around that the men had escaped to the post and sent men out after the Indians. We met our train, and camped for the night. The next morning (today) we started for the post. When we came up to where the attack was made we found that soldiers had been sent and were guarding the place. I should have been glad that all this scare happened in order to teach everybody caution, but that it came too late to teach one poor fellow, and perhaps another, for one teamster was killed and another badly wounded, and they were both lying somewhere near when we came up, but the wounded one must have been unconscious or he would have heard us and let us know he was there. There were eight men with this captured train, plenty to have defended it had they been prepared, but in an Indian country, they were traveling with but two guns and three rounds of ammunition. It has taught me one good lesson. I shall never go outside of the post without a sufficient escort, and when we get to Whipple I never mean to go even to Prescott, which is only a mile distant, but mean to stay inside of the post 'til we change stations. Everybody has felt so safe all about here, and ladies from this post would ride with only one gentleman for miles and miles over the hills, but they are well scared now. This train was mostly filled with government stores, and I am very much afraid that the papers will make a big talk about it, and as it was so close to ours, you will think it was ours, and worry unnecessarily about it before you receive my letter. You need have no fears about our safety, as there is no danger of their attacking soldiers that travel in such numbers as we will hereafter.

We were very happy in getting a lot of letters today which had been sent down from Whipple. We got three of home written to Halleck, one from Texas, Washington, Kentucky, Columbia, London, Fort Shaw, Fort Laramie. Quite a variety, and as another mail comes in tonight, we expect some more in the morning.

I am sorry to hear of dear mother's being so sick after we left, but glad she is well again.

Mrs. Ebstein has her sister with her. They are very pleasant and very kind to us. They tell us that Whipple is one of the healthiest of places, and also has about the best quarters in the territory.

I forgot to tell you that one of the savages dropped a quiver full of arrows as he was hurrying off with his plunder, and one of the soldiers gave it to me. The quiver is an ugly thing, but I shall bring you one of the arrows when we come home next time as a memento of our first, and I hope last, Indian scare.

April 21. (Fort Whipple, Ariz.)

We have been here a week, and both of us like the post very well, although it is far from being a handsome post either on the outside or inside, but you know one's content is measured in a great degree by comparison with others that surround you, so we are more than contented with a log house, when we remember that Fort Whipple is one of the few posts in this territory where they have any quarters at all, almost all being quartered in tents, men, women and children. We have fixed up very comfortably, have the carpet on the parlor and gunny sacks on the dining room and bedroom. We have the damask and lace curtains up at the parlor windows, which are arranged so as to hang a good piece from the windows, making a sort of bow window (bowed the wrong way, however), and as it stands a good way into the room it helps fill up, which is a very good thing, as articles of furniture are very scarce at present; the company carpenter is busily at work. He has made us one table and a place to hang clothes. He was fixing the latter, and after he had finished I gave him some newspapers to read and some oranges, when he informed me that he could make anything I wanted, that he hadn't much to do and might as well do that as anything else. I suppose you would like to see how our house is arranged as to rooms, so I will make a plan of the ground floor, and if you can find any other floor you are smarter than I. I wish I could draw, and I would send you a sketch of the view from our window, which is very beautiful, mountains covered with pine. The wind roaring through the pines sounds just like the cars. Anson has laughed a great deal at me because I vowed that never would I leave Fort Whipple 'til we changed stations or went home, and actually I hadn't been in the post twenty-four hours before I was off for town with Mrs. King, and have been down town once since then. There is no danger between here and town, as it is only a short distance, and before one gets out of calling distance of the post the hospital is reached, and before you get out of sound of that the town is reached. There is not much in Prescott to tempt one, and well it is for our pockets that this is so, for the price of some things would make your hair stand on end, although other things are quite reasonable. Luckily for us we can get anything we want almost in the commissary, as it is excellently supplied. Everything has fallen in price even in Prescott, and flour there is now only thirty-six dollars a barrel; it was forty-two a short time ago. We only pay seven dollars in the commissary. Butter is two dollars, eggs the same. I saw some of the commonest kind of heavy Delft soup plates marked fifteen dollars a dozen. We bought a lamp in San Francisco for which we paid seventy-five cents. Mrs. King has two just like it which cost five dollars each, and a parlor lamp like that which cost us three dollars in San Francisco was sold here for twenty-five dollars, and kerosene oil is only five dollars a gallon. Mrs. King tells a good joke on the chaplain. She went with him to town one day to assist him in making some purchases. After buying some things and paying for them he spied some quart cans for filling lamps, empty, of course. He wanted one, so asked the price. He was told "seven dollars." The chaplain put down his bundles and money, raised his hands, heaved a deep groan and uttered his favorite ejaculation, "tre-men-jious." There is only one lady here besides myself, and fortunately she is a very pleasant one, Mrs. King. Tell Gussie Porter I met her friend Mrs. King at Camp Halleck, not the Mrs. King who is here, but another one. She met Gussie at Lancaster, and is now in our regiment. She was very pleasant.

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Nannie describes this journey so completely I can add little to it.

Mr. Lummis, librarian of the Los Angeles Public Library, asked me, in 1908, as one having something to do with the development of the country, to write something descriptive of its wonderful growth, to be placed in an album for strangers visiting the library. I contributed the following:

In 1871, as Captain 3d Cavalry, with the headquarters and band, my wife in an ambulance, I traveled from San Pedro to Whipple Barracks, Prescott, Arizona. The route lay through Los Angeles, then a small adobe village, where we stopped March 9th at the Little Pico House, then by the now beautiful City of Redlands, at that time a waterless cactus desert, and through the Salton Sink.

In all the tide of time I think there has not been a more instructive example of the efforts of man to "replenish the earth" than shown by the brave men of Southern California in the intervening thirty-seven years.

To those who may look over this volume of autographs in the future, I think this simple statement of facts will be more interesting than any literary effort I could possibly render.

The desert over which we traveled, purchasing water at twenty-five cents a bucket, is now productive and beautiful. The Salton Sink, through which we passed, is a depression in the earth one hundred and fifty miles long by seventy-five wide, with its lowest point two hundred and fifty-six feet below sea level. It was formerly the northern end of the Gulf of California, but ages past was cut off by the sand and silt deposited by floods of the Colorado River, the water evaporating in the arid atmosphere and extreme heat. Immense deposits of salt from evaporated sea water were visible, and we saw on the foot of the adjacent mountains the water-mark of the sea level.

We arrived at Fort Whipple on April 14th, only to be ordered to Fort McDowell on the Verde River, one hundred and twenty-five miles distant, over an almost impassable road. Nannie tells the story of that journey:

May 12 (New River).

Our first three days' travel was very pleasant, as we had good roads, and it is much better to travel with one's own company. We have four mules in our ambulance, the back seat of which I occupy alone in my glory as Anson rides his horse. We have five six-mule wagons, a teamster, of course, to each, and over seventy men, so you see we have a very large escort. Our fourth day's travel was a little the worst of anything I have ever seen. Anson and Mr. Wessels have traveled a great deal and over very bad roads, but they both say that this was the worst one that they have ever seen. You may judge how bad it was when we were from seven o'clock in the morning 'til six at night going about fifteen miles, and the wagons were an hour later. The first nine miles was over rocks that jolted the ambulance so that I could hardly sit in the seat, and I was almost wearied out. The rest of the road was up hill and down hill, and the most terrible hills that I ever saw—they were almost perpendicular. I walked several miles, because the hills were so bad I was afraid to ride. Anyone living in the States would think it an utter impossibility to take vehicles up some places where we went. One wagon was upset, and that of course caused a delay. You would have been amused to see how they brought one wagon up a hill. The wagons were all lightly loaded and had six mules; they put an extra pair of mules in, one man rode one of the wheel mules, another walked on one side with a whip, and two boys were on the other with stones, pelting the mules, and with a volley of oaths and cracking of whips, up they came. One wagon was eased down a hill by twenty men taking hold of a rope behind, and another was helped up with the men's assistance. It was a wearisome day for men and mules. This morning, when we were about a mile out, the lead bar of our ambulance broke, which caused another delay to fix. Mr. Wessels' horse got lame, and a horse kicked one of the mules so badly that they couldn't use him. We have had a chapter of accidents for two days, and in addition, today we ran across a fresh moccasin track, evidently made today.

May 18th (Camp McDowell).

We reached here on the 15th, being just seven days on the road. The day before we got in we rested a day, as one of the men who had been over the road said there was a thirty-five miles march without water, and the weather being warm the men and animals can do with less water by traveling at night, so we left our last camp at about five o'clock in the evening and traveled 'til midnight, then rested for four hours, spreading our bedding in the sand and with the sky for a covering, then at four in the morning starting again, and got in the post at six, finding that the man had made a mistake in the distance, as it was only twenty-three miles. One of the mules strayed away and was not found again.

We lived very well on the road, as we had quails, fresh fish, and best of all, Anson shot a large deer with his revolver. It was a mighty good shot, as the deer was a hundred yards off. It weighed over a hundred pounds dressed. We had one hind quarter, kept the other one for Major Dudley, who is in command here, and the rest made a meal for all the men, teamsters and laundresses, so you see it was a pretty large one. I told Anson father would have enjoyed it. You know you thought it would be so unpleasant for us to be without vegetables, well today for dinner we had peas, lettuce, and young onions out of the government farm. Anyone can have a garden here if he chooses to take the trouble.

Our quarters are very comfortable; the houses are built of adobe and have three rooms and a kitchen. On first entering the quarters you would say, "It would be folly to put down carpets or attempt in any way to fix up here, for it would only serve to make the rest look worse," but you have no idea how much good a little fixing up does. The floors are mud, which is as hard and as dry as a bone. I have spread the curtains out to hide as much of the wall as possible, and as there is only one window I have arranged the remaining curtains in festoons over and around the front door, which is half of glass. The parlor is only twelve by twelve, so I ripped off one breadth of the carpet and turned it in over a yard on the length. The post is almost destitute of furniture, so we have a large barrel covered with a board, then a red blanket which, with Anson's desk on top, makes a respectable piece of furniture; then a chest with the ambulance cushions on top and covered with the carriage blanket, does duty as a divan, which, with two tables and three chairs furnishes (?) the parlor, the bedroom being luxuriously filled with a bedstead and a washstand, and the dining room being amply furnished with one table. The worst of it is there is no lumber in the post to make any of. I have sent by one of the wagons that went back to Whipple for a few articles of furniture I left in the house, as they have plenty of wood up there to make more. I do not know whether I will get it or not, as it is not customary to send furniture from one post to another. They have also sent there for lumber, so we will be able to have things made.

---

En route we stopped to examine an ancient fort of eight rooms with embrasures on all sides for defense probably for bows and arrows. The walls were twelve feet high, but the roof had been destroyed. Inside one of the rooms was a scrubby cedar tree, perhaps a hundred years old. While walking around on these walls, which were made of thin broad granite rocks, evidently once held in place by mortar, I displaced a stone which rolled down the mound, frightening a large deer, which I killed with my pistol. Tied to my horse's tail after the fashion of the Indians, I dragged it to the train. It is this deer of which Nannie writes.

At Cave Creek, where there were many cougars (Mexican lions), I found in a cave near the spring, which was some distance from our camp, the remains of many deer which had been caught by these lions, dragged into the cave and devoured, some of them being only partly eaten.

McDowell was the most unhappy post at which we ever served. Its commander was of an overbearing, tyrannical disposition, and much addicted to drink. The post traders abetted him and brought about many quarrels between the commander and the officers so that, in the garrison of five companies, there were few friendships.

At this unhappy station Nannie lost about twenty and I thirty pounds in weight.

One day she said to me, "Anson, I am going to Europe some day."

"Whom are you going with?" I asked. It was a joy for me to see her so much more cheerful than I.

"You," she replied.

I never had any such hope, but, as will be seen later, she actually accomplished it. (Text, 178.)

Nannie was for about a year the only lady in the post. On December 1, 1871, to our great relief, we received orders to exchange posts with the 2d Cavalry, at Fort McPherson, Nebraska, the regiments exchanging horses to save transportation.

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Western Experiences

Just as we left Arizona a new second lieutenant, Schwatka, joined me. He served with me for eight years, one of the most interesting officers Nannie and I ever met. He afterwards gained a national reputation in his search for the remains of the Franklin Expedition.

Three companies and the band went by wagon train to Fort Yuma, where we sold our ambulance to Captain Taylor, 2d Cavalry. Here we embarked on a river vessel for Puerto Isabel at the mouth of the Colorado, where we took the government steamer Newbern for San Francisco.

So disgusted with our Arizona experience were all the officers that when the boat pulled out from Yuma, we took off our shoes and beat the dust of Arizona over the rail, at the same time cursing the land.

The bore created by the contraction of the north end of the Gulf of California forces tides, sometimes eighteen feet high, along the lower Colorado, and the river is so tortuous that the distance from Yuma is three times what it is in a straight line. On our trip down, there being a very high tide, the captain endeavored to make a cut-off over the sand bars to save twelve miles. But the tide stranded the boat several miles from the main channel, and when morning came we could see no water. We remained until high tide the next night.

After a long but eventful journey we arrived at McPherson January 17, 1872, General Reynolds, who had been serving as general of volunteers in the reconstruction of Texas, assuming command of the regiment.

May, 1872, I was assigned to the sub-post of North Platte, in the fork of the North and South Platte Rivers on the Union Pacific Railroad. Here we met Spotted Tail, chief of the BrulÉ Tribe. (Appendix, 397.)

In July, 1872, General Sheridan ordered two companies of my regiment to escort Professor Marsh, of Yale College, with thirty students of that institution, on a paleontological expedition in the Bad Lands along the Niobrara River (one hundred miles north of the North Platte). We spent two months on that very interesting and successful duty, recovering from the washing sands of the steep banks of the Niobrara several wagon loads of prehistoric bones.

On December 2, 1872, Nannie and I spent three months of leave with her parents in Zanesville, during which we purchased an elaborate and very fine ambulance, shipping it to North Platte.

Next year General Sheridan detailed me to escort Lord Dunraven and three friends on a hunting expedition on the Loop River. Accompanied by Buffalo Bill (Cut, 154), the party was very successful in killing many elk, deer and antelope, remaining out about six weeks. One night Lord Dunraven came to my tent and we talked until long after midnight. I have never forgotten his declaration that the possibilities of the development of the American Republic were greater than any ever known in history; adding, "the curse of my country is its nobility."

In 1873 the agent for the Ogallala and BrulÉ Sioux gave permission for a large party of those sub-tribes to hunt buffalo on the Republican River, southern Nebraska, near the Kansas line. Unfortunately, the agent of the Pawnees gave a large party of that tribe permission to hunt in the same direction. These tribes were traditional enemies. I warned both agents of possible trouble, but without avail. The Pawnees arrived first; placed their women and children in camp and started out for the buffalo. When the Sioux arrived, their scouts discovered the Pawnee families, attacked the camp and killed one hundred and twenty-five, all save one or two children and a squaw, found by Captain Meinhold of the 3d Cavalry, sent out from Fort McPherson the next day. These were so badly wounded that they died.

The Pawnees, inferior to the Sioux, were compelled to return in sorrow to their reservation; the Sioux continuing their hunt.

W. F. Cody (Buffalo Bill).
(Text, 153.)

Jim Bridger. (Text, 107.)

Jack Robertson.

In September, 1874, the Sioux entered the parade grounds at Forts Fetterman and Steele, and killed several soldiers (Appendix, 399). General Ord selected me to take five troops of cavalry, and two companies of infantry by rail to Rawlins, Wyoming, thence to Independence Rock, cross the Rig Horn Mountains, and destroy a camp of hostiles supposed to be near old Fort Reno. Unfortunately the Indians discovered our movements, and moved north beyond our reach.

April 14, 1875, General Crook ordered me to take command at Camp Sheridan, Nebraska. This march (Nannie accompanying me in her ambulance) was through a roadless, sandy country, with many streams and difficult crossings, practically unexplored.

Relieving Captain Sutorious of the command, I found Spotted Tail, chief of the BrulÉs, with about five thousand Indians at his agency, some of them Ogallalas. All were much excited at the encroachments of the whites on the reservation, and the scarcity of food. Spotted Tail declared the agent, Mr. Howard, deprived them of their governmental rations. The winter had been very severe and the snow very deep, driving the game out of the country.

Finding his statements true, I complained to the agent, who said he gave them all they were entitled to, and if they starved it wasn't his fault. There was no telegraphic communication, so without authority, I issued them several thousand dollars' worth of bacon and hard bread, telling the agent and reporting it to the War Department. Very shortly Jesse M. Lee, a first lieutenant of infantry, arrived with his appointment as Indian agent, dispossessing Howard.

Reef was issued by driving it in on the hoof, but flour, which was the principal ration, supplied by a contractor in Baltimore, was shipped to Cheyenne by rail, and there loaded onto wagons.

On the plea that so long a wagon journey would break single bags, and spill the contents, 100 pounds of flour was covered with three sacks. At Cheyenne a Federal inspector marked and weighed the bags.

The Baltimore contractor arranged with this inspector to stamp each sack "100 pounds." This trebled the weight, as the agent emptied the flour into vessels brought by the squaws and kept the sacks as evidence that he had delivered three times the actual weight. Lee, finding that flour was delivered unweighed, looked at the sacks, found they were certified to contain one hundred pounds by the inspector, reported the trick and the contractor was arrested, tried and convicted.

Many of Spotted Tail's young men were getting up war parties to drive back the miners and settlers who were organizing on the Missouri River to enter the Black Hills. It was a violation of our treaties with the Indians, and it was part of the duty of the army to see that the treaties were respected. Captain Fergus Walker, 1st Infantry, wrote me from a point eighty miles east of Wounded Knee, May 15, 1875, that he had captured one such invading party and sent it under guard to Fort Randall, but that his thus greatly weakened force was unable to cope with others, particularly Major Gordon's mining company. He asked me, accordingly, to co-operate with him in this work, and arranged for the Indian scout by whom he sent the letter to intercept him on the Niobrara River with my reply.

General Sheridan's General Order No. 2, of March 17th, directed commanding officers in Indian reservations adjacent to the Black Hills "to burn the wagon trains, destroy the outfits and arrest the leaders, confining them at the nearest military post," of trespassers found on a reservation. Accordingly, with two companies of cavalry and a battery of gatling guns, commanded by Lieutenant Rockefeller, I marched to relieve Captain Walker.

Arriving at Antelope Creek at night, I sent two men in citizens' clothes to Walker's camp to tell him I would at daylight surround Major Gordon's mining company. At daybreak I threw my companies into line, the battery in the center, and when Walker's force appeared, Gordon's men, wakened by the noise, found themselves utterly helpless. Gordon's camp was in a river bend, between precipitous bluffs, with only a few hundred yards' space for entrance or exit.

Seizing Gordon and putting him in a bull pen, I ordered his second in command, Mr. Brockert, to parade his men and surrender their arms. While doing this, one of their guns went off. I called out they might have the first shot, but we would have the last, when they submissively declared they would make no resistance.

The prisoners were sent back to Fort Randall under Captain Walker, except Gordon, whom I took to Sheridan, where he was put in the guard house.

Both the newspapers and the public at Sioux City made complaints about my "arbitrary and unlawful act," and the grand jury found true bills against me, but I never had service.

Gordon was a Mason, as was my post trader at Sheridan. They concocted a scheme for Gordon's release. One Sunday morning the post trader approached and read me his commission as United States Commissioner, serving a writ demanding the delivery of Major Gordon. I told him if he did not tear up his commission I would put him in the guard house with his friend Gordon, as there was not enough room in that post for a commanding officer and post trader who, as U. S. Commissioner, would attempt to dominate the action of the military authorities. He destroyed his commission. Later, Gordon was transferred to the guard house at Fort Omaha, Nebraska, and was there held under indictment for violating the Indian non-intercourse laws. What finally became of him I never knew.

The government contemplated building a permanent post (the one then occupied was temporarily constructed of logs) and furnished a saw mill, lathe, shingle machine, sash and doors, and thirty skilled artisans to take timber from the pine forests, and construct the post as rapidly as possible.

While absent on this expedition, General Crook, who had relieved General Ord, appeared at the post with some of his staff on inspection. He left an order for me to select a new location for a five-company post and construct it after my own plans, which I did.

Having an excellent quartermaster in Lieutenant Rockefeller, we accomplished the most expeditious post construction in the history of the army. Each captain constructed his own barracks and quarters, after plans I prepared, dividing the skilled artisans between them. As the men were anxious to get into their new homes, trees felled in the morning were often part of buildings before sundown, Lieutenant Lemly of the cavalry being particularly active, and all the officers strove hard to complete their quarters as soon as possible. We were comfortably housed before the first of October. All the buildings were constructed as a shell of upright inch boards around a framework, lined with the ordinary sized unburnt bricks, dried in the sun and plastered inside.

Meanwhile, Nannie formed an agreeable acquaintance with Spotted Tail, whom she liked from first sight. He was a fine-looking man, with engaging manners, perfectly loyal to the government, a lover of peace, knowing no good could come to his people from war with the army. He had the highest respect for and confidence in officers.

There was a sub-chief under Spotted Tail named No Flesh, a weakling, not thought much of by the head chiefs. Nannie frequently invited Spotted Tail to dinner, sometimes with other most respected chiefs, and No Flesh tried in every way to establish friendly relations with her. He proffered his services to paint her some pictures of his exploits as a warrior, for which she paid him. In one of these pictures he represents himself engaged in a great battle with U. S. Cavalry, killing a captain. I regret I can not reproduce his detailed description of his heroism.

Courtesy, Smithsonian Institution.

BrulÉ Chief Spotted Tail.

Courtesy, Smithsonian Institution.

BrulÉ Chief No Flesh.

No Flesh Battle Picture.

The shod horse tracks in the picture represent the cavalry, and the unshod pony tracks represent Indian ponies. The faces on the margin are the attacking cavalry. It will be seen that he killed a soldier before he killed the captain.

Engaged in this work, he would remain at the house for hours, hoping to gain favor with Nannie.

Observing Nannie had great influence with me and with Spotted Tail, and noticing she bought fruits and paid for them herself, he knew of course that she was no squaw, and that she had authority.

One day Captain McDougall and several officers of the 7th Cavalry arrived at the post, with a scouting command to rest for a few days and secure supplies.

Nannie invited the officers to dine with Spotted Tail, Standing Elk, and White Thunder, but, as usual, did not include No Flesh. No Flesh learned the news rather late, but, a few moments after we had taken our seats, announced himself at the door and was seated in the parlor by the orderly.

When dinner was over we returned to the parlor and shook hands with No Flesh. Having held his seat during the dinner in the hope that he might at least be invited to a second table, he was somewhat sullen. After a while he exclaimed, "Well, you must have had a great deal to eat."

"Why do you think so?" I asked.

"Because it took you so long to eat it," he rejoined.

Seeing he was not likely to receive an invitation, and convinced from Nannie's demeanor toward him that the fault lay with her, he shook hands in a very dignified manner with everyone in the room save Nannie. She was sitting near the door, and when he came near he drew himself up in a most scornful manner and passed quickly out.

This amused not only the officers, but the Indians.

Soon after, when strolling together through the Indian encampments, I remarked, "Suppose we call on No Flesh." "Very well," she said, "I would just as soon."

No Flesh appeared much astonished, but he invited us in his tent, asking us to be seated on the ground, which we did. Two squaws and several children were present. He looked sternly in my face for some moments, and then exclaimed:

"You—no chief!" pointing to me with his forefinger. Then pointing with his left forefinger to Nannie, he held it up vertically, thus,hand as representing her; and pointing to me with his right forefinger, held it up thus, hand as representing me. He then placed them vertically together, thus, handhand as representing our relative standing in authority.

All nomadic Indians have a common sign language and communicate with each other without the use of words.

No Flesh intended the most absolute insult one man could give another. We burst out together in laughter. This greatly puzzled No Flesh, who could not conceive how any man, much less a soldier, could brook such an insult. It was with great effort, stoical as the Indian is, that he preserved his equanimity.

One day while overlooking the construction of the post, Spotted Tail said through his interpreter, "Well, I have been wondering if you were going to stay; now I know you are." I asked him how he knew, and he replied, "I have been among white men long enough to know when they put rocks under their houses they are going to stay."

The old commanding officer's quarters, the best in the old post, was preserved intact, with all its furniture, cooking stove and utensils. When we moved to the new post I formally presented this house to Spotted Tail, in the name of the Great White Father, with General Crook's authority. He and his wives and children were very thankful in their hope for better comforts in the future. A short time thereafter, I saw the house was vacant and found Spotted Tail was again living in tepees under the cottonwood trees in the midst of his village. Asking him why, he replied his squaws found it impossible to keep the house clean. They threw the bones and refuse on the floor and could not learn to sweep out or wipe up, so that flies and maggots became so intolerable they were compelled to move. They could move tepees in a few minutes to fresh sward, as had been Indian habit for generations. With all my knowledge of the Indian habits, this surprised me as I suppose it will surprise the reader.

One day Spotted Tail brought Lone Horn, a Minneconjou chief, to my tent, asking me to show him some courtesy. He had never been in a military post or on an Indian reservation. The trader supplied a can of lemon sugar and I made some lemonade. Lone Horn had ridden far, on a very hot July day. He emptied his glass; then Spotted Tail exclaimed, "Have you drank all that? You had better lie down and hold on to the grass, for the whole world will begin to turn over in a few minutes."

Lone Horn, seeing the rest of us had drank only a portion, was really alarmed and imagined he felt the influence. I mention this to show Spotted Tail's humor, notwithstanding the popular opinion that Indians have none.

Efforts to enter the Black Hills had excited the entire Sioux confederation, and they began to talk of war. The leading chiefs of all the tribes except the Minneconjous and Ogallalas tried to restrain them, but it was difficult. In each reservation the young men organized war bands and went ostensibly to hunt but really in hope they would find opportunity to attack and destroy emigrants, prospectors or stock-men unawares, which they often did.

The great unrest among the Indians and the settlements adjoining their reservations alarmed the Indian Department. Before the winter had fairly set in, the President authorized the War Department to chastise some of the war-like tribes that were encamped not far from their reservations in the West, ostensibly for hunting purposes, but really to organize war parties for depredations in the spring. General Crook was therefore directed to begin a winter campaign. He organized a command at Fort D. A. Russell of ten companies of the 3d Cavalry, including mine, several of the 2d Cavalry and four of the 4th Cavalry. I was stationed at Fort D. A. Russell for the winter, Nannie accompanying me.

So many troops made Cheyenne a large and interesting post, Nannie becoming prominent in the garrison. One day she took me to a meeting of the officers and ladies at the post hospital to organize an amateur theatrical company. The call was issued by Major Dubois, who announced the object of the meeting, when, to my surprise, I was called as permanent chairman, the first time, I believe, I ever presided. Three young second lieutenants were appointed to devise a program and name the actors for the monthly meetings. Later a program was sent around in which I, who make no pretensions to theatricals, was designated to act Sir Toby Tittmouse, a leading part.

Nannie and these youngsters had entrapped me. I told her I could not in months commit to memory the long part I was given, but Nannie reminded me I had, as presiding officer, approved the proceedings and that I could not back out! She rehearsed me and taught me to play my part, sitting up many nights, conscious that Sir Toby's loud and turbulent language would impress the help in the kitchen that we were quarreling. Taking an interest in it I found it not so difficult after all, and Nannie rigged me up in a costume that would have surprised Sir Toby himself. She constructed a remarkable wig of angora wool, and made me knee breeches and large buttoned coat, which, with a cane, fitted the character so well that when the play was produced, my own colonel, Reynolds, declared that he did not know who was playing the part. This gave me courage, and I afterward acted a principal part as Mr. Potter in "Still Waters Run Deep."

Early in 1875, the campaign intended to subdue the rising war spirit of the Indians took definite shape, and our command left Fort D. A. Russell and proceeded towards old Fort Phil Kearny, where it was reported some outlying bands were located on Powder River.

We took thirty days' beef on the hoof, which was issued as rations. Two days from Fort Fetterman, crossing Cheyenne Creek, the command was surprised by some Indians; every head of cattle was driven off, one of the herders killed and one or two soldiers wounded, leaving the troops without any fresh meat. When we reached Phil Kearny, we abandoned every wheel, resorting to pack mules, and struck out for Powder River.

There had been a deep snow some weeks previous, and cold weather succeeding warm created a crust that would sometimes hold a horse. The night after we left Phil Kearny there came another severe snowstorm with high, intensely cold winds. The drifting snow and hard crusts rendered it difficult for our animals to travel.

We followed Otter Creek, which runs into the Yellowstone, parallel to Powder River, to an abandoned Sioux camp, thirty miles from Powder River, in which we found the remains of a captured and killed Blackfoot Indian.

Scouts reported a hunting party of Sioux in the direction of Powder River, in what in their opinion was a village. General Crook directed Reynolds to take eight troops with two days' rations (leaving him with the pack train and two troops to follow), and capture the village if he could find it.

At daybreak, on the banks of the river, the scouts reported the village. Preparations were made to attack.

Owing to the age and feebleness of Colonel Reynolds and the bitter feud that existed in the regiment (similar to that in the 7th Cavalry between Colonel Sturgis and his friends and Colonel Custer and his friends, that proved so disastrous at the Little Big Horn), this attack on the village on Powder River proved a lamentable failure. Reynolds disobeyed Crook's order to hold the village until his arrival, abandoning the field and retiring in the direction of Fetterman. It is perhaps better not to go into details here in regard to this humiliating failure, further than to say that several officers were tried for misconduct.

We were out of rations and other supplies, so there was nothing left but to return without successfully accomplishing the object for which we had been sent.

Through agents the Indian Department then took a hand and endeavored to quiet the Indians, but with little success. On June 18, 1875, Mr. Ed. P. Smith, the Commissioner of Indian Affairs, organized a commission to treat with the Sioux. It was composed of very distinguished men. Senator William B. Allison was the president, and General Terry among the thirteen members who met at Fort Robinson, September 20, 1875. I commanded the escort, consisting of my own and Captain Eagan's white horse company of the 2d Cavalry.

The majority of the Indians refused to enter the post, declaring they would make no treaty under duress. The commission agreed to meet in a grove on the White River, eight miles northeast of the post. Spotted Tail, who accompanied me from Fort Sheridan, warned me it was a mistake to meet outside the post, and kept his best friends around my ambulance.

The commission sat under a large tarpaulin, the chiefs sitting on the ground. Senator Allison was to make the introductory speech, and Red Cloud and Spotted Tail were scheduled to reply favorably to the surrender of the Black Hills for certain considerations.

There were present perhaps 20,000 Indians, representing probably 40,000 or 45,000 of various tribes. Probably three-fourths of the grown males of the consolidated tribes were present and might have subscribed to a new treaty in accordance with its provisions, that it be with the consent of three-fourths of the Indians, which supposedly meant the grown people, although the treaty did not so state. The Indians were given to understand that the whites must have the land, so that they became alarmed, and most of them threatened war.

Eagan's mounted company, drawn up in single line, I placed on the right of the commission, my own on the left. Allison began his address, during which hostile Indians, well armed, formed man for man in the rear of Eagan's men. "Young-Man-Afraid-of-His-Horses," a captain of a company of friendly Indians, asked permission to form his men in the rear of the hostile Indians, to which I consented.

When Red Cloud was about to speak, "Little Big Man," astride an American horse, two revolvers belted to his waist, but otherwise naked save for a breech clout, moccasins and war headgear, rode between the commission and the seated Indian chiefs and proclaimed, "I will kill the first Indian chief who speaks favorably to the selling of the Black Hills."

Spotted Tail, fearing a massacre, advised that the commission get back to the fort as quickly as possible. General Terry consulted with Allison, and then ordered the commission into the ambulances to make for the post. I placed Eagan's company on each flank and my own in the rear of the ambulances. At least half the men warriors pressed about us threatening to kill some member of the commission.

One young warrior in particular, riding furiously into our ranks, frenziedly declared that he would have the blood of a commissioner. Fortunately we reserved our fire.

A friendly Indian soldier showed him an innocent colt grazing about one hundred yards away and told him he could appease his anger by killing it. Strange to say, he consented, rode out and shot the colt dead, and the whole of the hostile Sioux retired to the main body at the place of our meeting. Thus ended the efforts of this commission to formulate a treaty.

Failure of both Crook's expedition and the efforts of the commission made it certain that hostilities would be resumed in the spring, so that General Terry, commanding the Department of Dakota, and General Crook, commanding the Department of the Platte, were instructed to organize large commands for the purpose of pursuing and punishing all Sioux found away from their reservations.

The Commissioner of Indian Affairs instructed his agents to warn the chiefs to call in all Indians away from the reservation, notifying that all found away would be punished. This only excited the war-like young bucks and caused them to move in the early spring as far west as they could go. At that time the buffalo were driven by encroaching settlements and the railroads from their southern grazing grounds into the country west and north of the Sioux reservation.

Crook first met the Indians in a slight engagement on Tongue River, Montana.

Terry, meanwhile, so separated from Crook by distance and hostile Indians as to prevent communication, had searched for the hostiles on the north. He discovered their trail on the Yellowstone at the mouth of the Rosebud, and organized an expedition under General Custer with the entire 7th Cavalry to pursue it.

General Crook's expedition is described in detail (Appendix, 400), save what occurred after his separation from General Terry's command.

The hostile Indians separated, some going to Canada and others turning eastward. General Crook determined to follow the latter, depending entirely on pack mules for transportation. With scanty rations, he undertook a long and distressing march through the dry and barren country, with little knowledge of its streams and trails. Both men and officers became restless and many of the horses were shot for want of sustenance.

When near the Missouri River, Crook turned southwest toward the Black Hills, crossing the North and South Cannonball rivers. Here many officers and men became dismounted, and it was feared they might perish for want of rations. There was no game, many ate horse flesh, and had no knowledge of woodcraft, course, or direction.

On the 8th of September, as I was bringing in the rear squadron of the command, having shot seventy horses that day, General Crook, in consultation with General Merritt, directed me to select one hundred and fifty of the best men and horses from my regiment, take Chief Packer Moore, with fifty pack mules, to Deadwood, in the Black Hills, and bring back supplies to the command. His last words were that should I encounter a village I should attack and hold it. It was nine o'clock before I could collect my command, and I left so hurriedly that no medical officer was sent with me. The night was very dark. I took with me Grouard, one of the best scouts we had, especially proficient in woodcraft.

Although there were no stars and insufficient light to see the surrounding land, somehow Grouard took us in the right direction. About midnight he lighted a match and showed me the fresh tracks of ponies on the banks of a little lake. We were close to the Indians. It began to rain as we lay down, holding the lariats of our horses, and it was with difficulty that we obtained a little sleep.

It was still raining at daylight, but we were early up and off, seeing by the mountain ranges we were going toward the Black Hills.

In the afternoon Grouard signaled a halt, saying we were near an Indian village. He had observed Indian hunters with their ponies packed with game. We were on the banks of a small stream, which Grouard said was near Slim Buttes. We hid under the banks and cottonwood trees, drenched with cold rain, until three in the morning, when I determined to attack. I did not know its strength, but was willing to take my chances in view of General Crook's positive orders.

Moving as close to the village as possible, I left the quartermaster, Lieutenant Bubb, with the pack mules and twenty-five soldiers. My plan was to dismount fifty men under Crawford and fifty under Von Luettwitz, retaining twenty-five mounted, under Schwatka, to charge through the village and drive the ponies away as soon as we were discovered, when Crawford would attack them on the right and Von Luettwitz on the left.

The Indian ponies near the village discovered us by smell and stampeded into the village. Schwatka charged through the village, driving the horses as far as he could, and Crawford and Von Luettwitz carried out their instructions and drove most of the Indians pell-mell from their tepees, which were laced on the side facing us. These lacings, being wet, were so hard to untie that the Indians cut their way through on the other side of the elkskin tepees and ran to the rocks on the opposite side of the stream, taking only their arms with them.

Von Luettwitz, standing near me on a slight elevation, was shot through the knee; I caught him as he fell. We found the village rich in fruit and game, and I despatched three couriers at intervals, to inform General Crook that we would hold the village until he came.

The Indian Chief, American Horse, was mortally wounded in the stomach. With some of his followers, mostly women and children, he took refuge in a cave in a ravine, where they entrenched themselves with the soft clay. There were fifty tepees in this village and probably two hundred and fifty Indians, mostly warriors. Grouard got into conversation with some and tried to persuade them to surrender, but they said that they had dispatched runners to the main body of the Sioux, less than eight miles distant, and would hold out until they were relieved.

The leading part of Crook's command, those with the best horses, arrived about 11.30. The rest of his command appeared soon after, at the same time the Indian forces arrived to relieve their distressed comrades. They came in great numbers, but when Crook deployed almost an equal number, the Indians retired and we held the village.

Some of my men, entering the village, discovered a little girl three or four years old, who sprang up and ran away like a young partridge. The soldiers caught her and brought her to me. She was in great distress until I assured her, by petting her and giving her food, that she was in no danger, when she became somewhat contented.

After General Crook's men had persuaded the Indians hidden in the cave to surrender, there being many killed and wounded among them, I and my orderly took this little girl down to see the captives and the dead. Among others, the soldiers had dragged out the bodies of two fine looking half-breed squaws, only partly dressed, bloody and mangled with many wounds. The little girl began to scream and fought the orderly until he placed her on the ground, when she ran and embraced one of these squaws, who was her mother.

On returning to my station on the hill, I told Adjutant Lemly I intended to adopt this little girl, as I had slain her mother.

The Indian chief was taken to one of the tepees and the surgeon told him he would die before midnight. He accepted his doom without a blanch or shudder, and soon died.

Crook told me to take the same command and at daylight proceed to the Black Hills and execute my mission. Before starting, Adjutant Lemly asked me if I really intended to take the little girl. I told him I did, when he remarked, "Well, how do you think Mrs. Mills will like it?" It was the first time I had given that side of the matter a thought, and I decided to leave the child where I found her.

We arrived at Deadwood at nine the next night. Everyone was in great excitement, because communication with the outer world was shut off by the surrounding Indians. All readily assisted me in collecting supplies sufficient to load the fifty pack mules. With fifty head of cattle, we met Crook's command, the second morning, forty miles distant. They were in practically a starving condition, having subsisted on the ponies I captured at Slim Buttes.

Some time in June, 1914, the historian of South Dakota, Mr. Doane Robinson, sent me a volume in which he published the reports of the Battle of Slim Buttes, and also a map of the battle-ground by the State engineer, which purported to give in detail the topography in Section 27, Township 17 north, Range 8 east. On examining it, I could not recognize it as representing the location.

Meanwhile, Mr. W. M. Camp, editor of the Railway Review, had called on me to get some details of this fight, stating that he was writing a history of the Indian War of 1876. Showing him Mr. Robinson's book, I told him that, having no faith that he had made the proper location, I had invited General Charles Morton, who was present at the fight, to go with me in July and try to find the true location, and asked him to go with us, which he readily consented to do.

We invited Mr. Robinson to accompany us to the battleground in order that the question of location might be definitely settled. He agreed to join us on the train at Pierre at midnight on July 14th. Mr. Robinson failed to keep his engagement, but, at Belle Fourche, his son, a boy of about twenty years old, reported to us, stating his father had asked him to go with us. He was of no assistance, however, as he knew nothing about the matter, and did not seem interested in it.

After several days' search, we found the location described in Mr. Robinson's history in the map before referred to, but neither General Morton nor I could reconcile the topography represented on the map with the location as we remembered it. There were no evidences of a fight, no rifle pits, which we remembered well to have made, and which could not have been obliterated. We spent several days trying to find the true location, but were eventually compelled to abandon the search, the conditions being exceedingly unfavorable to the investigation because of poor roads, rains, and excessively hot weather.

Mr. Camp and I both corresponded with General Charles King, also present at this battle, and who Mr. Robinson claimed had furnished him with the map from which he made the location. General King replied that he had never furnished Mr. Robinson with a map sufficient to make the location and, after examining the map in his book, said it was not the correct location.

I am now in receipt of a letter from Mr. Camp, dated June 21, 1917, in which he informs me that he went on another expedition and, after considerable search, found the true location on June 19th, in Section 10, Township 18 north, Range 8 east, which is on Gap Creek, one of the main branches of Rabbit Creek, about three miles from Reva Gap, three-quarters of a mile from Mr. W. W. Mitchell's house, and nine miles north of Robinson's location. Mr. Camp found the rifle pits and many other convincing evidences of the fight, including numerous empty shells, much broken pottery and other Indian utensils, all of which corresponded to my own and other reports of the battle.

Crook stayed in the Black Hills recuperating for several weeks, when, the campaign being closed, the whole command proceeded to Fort Robinson, where it was disbanded and the various organizations sent to their proper posts. I was transferred to Camp Sheridan, where Nannie joined me and where Chief "Touch the Clouds," of the Minneconjous, came in and surrendered (Appendix, 412).

During our second stay at Sheridan, many interesting incidents occurred. Spotted Tail gave a dog feast in Nannie's honor, which she gladly attended and danced freely with the squaws, to their great delight. They boiled many dogs in large kettles, but Nannie did not have the courage to partake of the feast, which she ever afterwards regretted.

One afternoon a Sister of Charity from a Kansas City convent drove to my quarters with a novice, stating that she had been sent to me by General Mackenzie, then commanding Fort Robinson. She was on a mission to procure subscriptions for the erection of a hospital at Kansas City.

Sister Mary remained with us for several days. A very intelligent and entertaining woman, she was a welcome guest to both Nannie and me. Expressing a desire to see Spotted Tail, we prepared a little entertainment and invited him to the house, together with a few ladies and officers, Lieutenant Schwatka, who afterwards became famous, being one. The refreshments consisted of cider, cakes and apples.

Spotted Tail appeared in full Indian dress, accompanied by one of his wives and his daughter, Shonkoo, an interesting girl of seventeen. Sister Mary, dressed in the conventional robes of her order, conversed with Spotted Tail through the interpreter for some time before we passed the refreshments.

After all present had been provided with a glass of cider, Sister Mary danced gaily to the center of the room and announced that she would like to clink glasses with the great chief Spotted Tail. Upon hearing her request, Spotted Tail, quite as gracefully and gaily, danced up to her. This wild country could hardly show a stranger spectacle than a Sister of Charity, in her peaceful robes, and a savage warrior, in his war-like paraphernalia, clinking glasses!

The conversation lasted for some hours, the squaw and her daughter saying little. Finally it occurred to me that it might be interesting to Sister Mary to take this young girl back with her to the convent, and I made the suggestion to her. Her eyes sparkled with delight as she said that it would be a feather in her cap. "Is it possible that we can arrange it?" she asked.

On making the suggestion to Spotted Tail, his face also beamed. He would like nothing better than that his daughter should live among the white people and learn their ways and customs, and he had great confidence in the Sisters of Charity. While the matter was thoroughly discussed by Sister Mary and Spotted Tail, I watched Shonkoo and her mother.

The mother appeared delighted, but Shonkoo was expressionless. I suggested to the interpreter that it might be well to see what the daughter had to say, but when this was communicated to Spotted Tail, he said, "That is all right. She will go."

I arranged to furnish the transportation to the railroad, a distance of about one hundred miles. They would be ready to depart in three days, Spotted Tail stating that he would bring his daughter then to my quarters and place her in charge of the sister.

The morning the start was to be made, everything was ready but Shonkoo. In her place came a message from Spotted Tail to Sister Mary and me to the effect that Shonkoo had eloped the night before with a young Indian by the name of Lone Elk, and Sister Mary returned to her convent despondent, empty handed, and minus the feather in her cap, so far as her efforts to civilize Shonkoo were concerned.

---

Detail to Paris Exposition

In 1876, being senior captain of cavalry and expecting promotion, I obtained six months' leave of absence, but, on organization of General Crook's expedition to the Powder River I surrendered my leave until the Sioux trouble should be ended. When I returned to Camp Sheridan, the six months' leave was renewed, and we started for Washington. I met General Crook at Fort Laramie. We stopped a day or two before proceeding in our ambulance toward the railroad at Cheyenne. We were twelve miles from Laramie when the Adjutant General, Nickerson, overtook us, with a message from General Crook, who had not known of our departure, stating his appreciation of my services during the campaign, adding that he felt under more obligations to me than to any other officer in the campaign, and that if there was any official favor possible for him to obtain, I had only to ask. Sure of my majority in a short time, I could see nothing to ask that he might procure for me, but, after Nickerson departed, Nannie assured me that she could find something, and jokingly referred to her remark while in Arizona that she was going to Europe with me some day. So, when we arrived in Washington, she said, "There is to be an international exposition in Paris next May, 1878. Why don't you ask the General to recommend you for a detail there?" I took her advice and made application to be so detailed, to the Secretary of War.

Colonel Reynolds, of my regiment, had been retired, and Colonel Devin, whom I had never met, joined the headquarters at Fort D. A. Russell.

I sent my application to the Secretary of War through the adjutant, Johnson, who knew my history, supposing that General Crook would endorse it favorably. But, in spite of the fact that everybody in the regiment knew I would be promoted before my leave expired, the papers were endorsed by the Colonel, "Respectfully forwarded disapproved. This officer's services are needed with his company." It was successively endorsed by General Crook at Omaha, General Sheridan at Chicago, and General Sherman at Washington, "Respectfully forwarded disapproved."

These advices to the Secretary seemed to me unfair. I was introduced to him, and told him I had been unfairly treated. He encouraged me to explain, which I did, adding that I had served in my proper command more constantly since I entered the service than any officer in the army. I knew little of the record of my colonel, but I asked to have our records examined, and that if he had not been absent from his command two days to my one I would withdraw my application; but that if I were correct I asked to have the colonel's unfavorable endorsement and those influenced by it ignored. A day or two afterward the Secretary sent for me. "I am more surprised at the result than by your statement," he said. "It is short of the facts, and I shall consider the endorsements valueless; but," he added, "why do you suppose the President will send an attachÉ to that exposition?"

"Mr. Secretary," I replied, "because he ought to. The President sent McClellan and other attachÉs to previous expositions, such as the Crystal Palace Exposition in London. Officers who have served in the Civil and Indian Wars are as much entitled to such benefits as General McClellan." The next day a note from him stated the President had decided to appoint three attachÉs, one from each arm of the service. This announcement in the press immediately prompted numerous applications, but Secretary McCrary assured me my appointment would issue shortly.

Nannie and I sat at a table at the Ebbitt House next to that of General Sherman. As we went in to dinner that day, General Sherman stretched out his hand to Nannie, saying, "Mrs. Mills, I want to congratulate you." Nannie diplomatically replied, "What for?" though she knew well. "Why, you are going to Paris. The President detailed your husband as military attachÉ to the Paris Exposition today." Nannie replied, "I thank you, General Sherman." General Sherman then stated in his frank and noble way, "Don't thank me, Mrs. Mills; I had nothing to do with it."

These details show Nannie was my inspiration. She approved of every move made in the matter and was more elated than I at the result.

We sailed in March, 1878, on a Cunard steamer. My insurance policy required that I obtain permission to visit a foreign country, but at the offices of the Knickerbocker I was told that the company would issue such a permit only if I agreed to forfeit my policy should I enter any city in which there was an epidemic. I told them to "go to," that I would live longer than their company, and surrendered my policy, on which I had paid eleven assessments.

Within three years their company went into bankruptcy, and I am still living!

We had an uneventful passage, although very distressing to Nannie on account of sea-sickness. During a two weeks' stop in London we visited Nannie's relatives, Mrs. Langworthy, at Guys House, Maidenhead, near Windsor Castle. The Langworthys were delightful people and our acquaintance a very agreeable experience, although it began in a rather embarrassing way.

Neither of us had much experience in "high society," or had the money to flourish in it. We carried to Guys House no other clothing than that in our traveling bags. At the depot, a great retinue of lackeys clad in knee breeches, and coach and baggage wagon apparently waited for some great personage. But Mr. Edward Langworthy, the son, introduced himself, and asked for our luggage, when we rather shamefacedly confessed that we had only our two valises.

We were dressed simply, like most Americans, but we had America's courage, and met the situation without much chagrin. The Langworthys dressed for dinner, but we had to make the best of what we had. We had a bedroom lit by candles and without fire, although it was March and the weather very cold.

In the ante-room the next morning I saw a large washtub in the middle of the bare floor, two-thirds full of water, and a chair containing some towels and soap. I remarked, "Nannie, look at that. Do they expect us to bathe in that cold room in that cold water? I will not do it."

Nannie replied, "Well, I am too proud to have them think we do not wash," and, seizing the soap, she made a lot of lather and sprinkled water on the floor to leave conclusive evidence that we really were civilized.

Mrs. Langworthy asked me, "How do you get about in London?" I replied that we used the omnibus, as Nannie thought the "Hansom cabs" unsafe, and refused to ride in them. Mrs. Langworthy said, "You shouldn't do that. Only tradespeople and banker's clerks ride in omnibuses."

Before going to Paris my commission as major in the 10th Cavalry arrived. A military tailor made me a uniform, which, with the gay attire Nannie bought in both London and Paris, satisfied Mrs. Langworthy on our second visit, made after returning from Paris, that we Americans could do right after all! We enjoyed our visits in their beautiful house, a fine English estate, and always recalled our acquaintance with our delightful English relatives with much pleasure.

We were in Paris at the opening of the exposition, where we met the other attachÉs. Among the Americans we met Lucien Young, a very interesting naval officer, in whose carriage Nannie and I rode to the opening. Our uniforms conformed much with the Prussian style, especially my helmet. Leaving the exposition immediately behind the Prince of Wales' entourage, the French took us for Germans, and looked upon us very coldly. Some bright Frenchman, discovering on my helmet the words, "E Pluribus Unum," called out to his countrymen that we were Americans, when we received almost as many cheers as the Prince of Wales himself.

Invited by President McMahon to a review of thirty thousand cavalry, I was informed that a French captain would have a mount for me in the Bois de Boulogne. There were eight American officers in Paris, most of them in official capacity, and when I arrived they were all there. As the senior, they insisted I approach the French officer. Speaking little French, I was somewhat embarrassed. But with the assurance of an American, I called out to the dapper young French artillery officer, "Good morning, captain; do you speak English?" "No, I do not," he replied, "but I speak American, which is much better. I spent four years as military attachÉ in Washington, the most beautiful city in the world."

It is needless to say that his diplomacy made us all his friends.

As Nannie had anticipated, this year's service at the Paris Exposition was the greatest practical and instructive education of my life. A practical skilled mechanic, I understood the intricacies of mechanics, and here in one building was assembled all the latest and most novel machinery of the world. The sewing machine was then in the height of its progressive construction. England, hitherto the foremost nation in machinery construction, was fast losing its place to America and France. The English machine was distinguished by its clumsy, angular and heavy parts and the difficulty of keeping it in order. The French machines were better, but the American machine stood first in all that made it handy, graceful, symmetrical and useful. And so it was with all the other machinery. Electric light and power was in its infancy, but here, as in all else, the best appliances for its use were American.

I started out in the hope of learning a great deal from the foreign nations in my conceived invention and construction of a woven cartridge belt and other web equipment, which I felt sure could be made as strong and of as firm consistency as leather, and much better than leather because it was lighter, more flexible, did not require oiling, and was less likely to break in the process of wetting and drying when exposed to the weather. However, after visiting factories in France, England and Germany, I found that they knew less about weaving such fabrics than we did in America.

Nannie and I traveled much during our stay abroad.

France had been humiliated by Germany's conquest and exaction of the then unheard of indemnity, but she was not despondent. In the dining room of our boarding house, 44 Rue de Clichy, were two female figures on pedestals representing Alsace and Lorraine, tears streaming down their cheeks; and when the proprietress, Madame Thierry, would speak of them the tears would roll down her cheeks, too. The sympathy of Americans was generally with France.

In Germany we found a remarkable condition. In one sense unspoiled by her great victories, so cheaply bought, and the acquisition of so much wealth in indemnity, the nation was just starting two propagandas. One was to organize productive industry and encourage the sciences and arts, with the object of making their nation foremost as a commercial producer. At the same time, Germany planned to carry her products to the four corners of the earth, in which, for forty years, she was entirely successful.

The second, as unholy and unrighteous as the first, was praiseworthy, was militarism, in which the rulers of the nation sought to make the profession of the soldier universal, with the deliberate and cold-blooded purpose of conquering the rest of the world, as Alexander, Hannibal, CÆsar and Napoleon had planned before. Germany had in view also the creation of a navy which could overcome England's, so she might rule the world on both land and sea. But for the heroism and self-sacrifice of the little kingdom of Belgium, with only eight millions of people, they would have succeeded.

We saw many idle soldiers lying on the grassy parapets of their forts smoking, while near them women dressed in rags carried dirt in wheelbarrows to form additional parapets. Nannie instinctively foresaw the future. She even then denounced those people as barbarous and inhuman, and for the rest of her life she hated bitterly German militarism.

In England we found the people divided into numerous classes, royalty, nobility, gentlemen, tradespeople, and common people. Many of these latter, for want of the ambition and self-reliance necessary to bring about success, had become sordid and drunken.

There were hundreds of street cars in Paris and its environs broad-mindedly labeled "American Railway," but hardly one in England.

In Manchester (then a larger city than New York), an apparently intelligent Scotch policeman, recognizing me as an American, proudly pointed to a brand new street car with one horse, and remarked, "I suppose you don't have anything like that in America?" When I replied that every city in the United States having twenty thousand population had a street car system, he evidently regarded me as a sort of American Baron Munchausen.

The upper classes relied upon their control of the sea by the largest navy in the world, indirectly to extort taxes from their millions of subjects in their vast possessions, governed without their consent. Suppressing ambition for democracy and restraining maritime commerce of other nations, is perhaps not as cruel and barbarous as the intended control of the world by Germany, but is quite as unrighteous and has been and still is detrimental to the progress and advancement of weaker peoples.

Of all countries we visited, Switzerland seemed to possess the best free democratic government and the people were the happiest. They looked you in the face with a cheerful smile wherever you met them and were content with their condition, as they have been for over three hundred years.

The difference between Europeans and Americans we found to be marked. For instance, on one of the Lake Geneva passenger steamers from Vevey to Geneva we found a thousand passengers, composed about equally of Americans, English, French, Germans, Spaniards, and Italians. While talking to a well-dressed American of perhaps twenty-five years of age, a band of about thirty Italians appeared on the upper deck, where most of the passengers were assembled.

Most of the passengers, especially the English, would not speak to each other without a formal introduction, so social greetings were few. When the band had played a few minutes, this American took off his hat and placed a handkerchief over it and carried it through the crowd, remarking, "Something for the band, please." He approached every passenger on deck. Europeans stared, astonished at the action of this man from the "Woolly West," but Americans smiled encouragement. He obtained probably the largest contribution the leader had ever received. He proceeded to the band and every man and woman was gazing at him in perfect silence when he turned over the handkerchief to the leader, until some American clapped and every American joined in. We were all proud of our countryman.

At 44 Rue de Clichy our son, Anson Cassel, was born on November 19, 1878. He was our joy for the next fifteen years. His birth delayed our return until March, 1879, when we took passage on a Cunarder. In Washington I received orders to proceed to the headquarters of the 10th Cavalry.

Out West Again

We traveled to Fort Concho, Texas, an uncomfortable and unprepossessing post, by ambulance from San Antonio, arriving April 11, 1879, and I served with the 10th Cavalry (colored) for twelve years, and was executive officer for Colonel B. H. Grierson, commanding the post, regiment and district under General Ord, department commander.

A big-hearted man, the only experience Grierson had in military affairs was as a general of volunteers, with which he was successful. With no experience in the regular army, even the best intentions did not fit him for the required discipline. He left the details of the post and regiment entirely to me, signing only papers which went to his superiors. He was too prone to forgive offenses and trust to promises for reform, which rendered the discipline and reputation of the regiment poor.

In May, 1881, Indian troubles took me with a squadron of four companies to Fort Sill. Nannie accompanied me the 225 miles, and there, on October 22d, our daughter, Constance Lydia, a joy and comfort to us both, was born. She was only eight days old when we were ordered back to Concho, making that trip, as we had the previous one, by wagon transportation, Nannie with her baby and little Anson riding in the ambulance.

In July, '82, the headquarters of the regiment was transferred to Fort Davis, when we again made a 225 miles journey with wagon and ambulance transportation.

Fort Davis was dry and cool, a most pleasant climate, but as hostile Indians occasionally made raids on the citizens, as at Fort Concho, we were kept busy. Fort Davis is near El Paso. My interests took us frequently to that city. Among other activities, jointly with Judge Crosby I built the largest hotel then in Texas.

April 1, 1885, the regiment exchanged stations with the Third Cavalry in Arizona. We made that long and distressing march also with wagon and ambulance transportation. Arriving at El Paso in a terrible sand-storm, we found the Rio Grande unfordable. The only bridge crossed into Mexico three miles below the New Mexican line. According to international law, we could not pass over Mexican territory without the consent of the two governments, so we were delayed a week most uncomfortably, awaiting the tedious international interchanges to enable us to cross. We finally arrived at Deming (in a terrible sand-storm), meeting most of the troops of the 3d Cavalry there.

I was ordered to Fort Thomas on the Gila River, next to Yuma, the hottest post in the republic and the most sickly, excepting none. It was one of the most desolate posts in which we ever served. The valley was very low and hot. The mountains on each side of the river were some six or seven thousand feet higher than the valley and only about six or eight miles apart, so what little rain there was fell on these mountains.

I have often seen a heavy storm pass across the river from mountain to mountain, and watched almost a cloudburst of rain falling from the immense height only to be absorbed by the arid atmosphere before it reached the valley. Here many of our soldiers died in an epidemic of a very malignant, burning fever, which the post surgeon, Dr. Edward Carter, was unable to check. Informed that if we had ice the doctor could save many lives, I made requisition for an ice machine to cost three thousand dollars. It was twice returned by the War Department disapproved, the principal reason being that the Quartermaster General and the Surgeon General could not agree which department should pay for the wood to run the engine!

Exasperated, I appealed to General Sheridan personally. General Sheridan gave the two chieftains his opinion of them in such strong language that the appropriation for the machine was soon furnished, the first authorized in the army.

Our little daughter Constance was taken with the disease, and Dr. Carter told us that she might not recover without ice. I wired Colonel Shafter, commanding Fort Grant, half way to the railroad seventy miles away, and he supplied me with two hundred pounds, rolled in blankets, within twelve hours. The day after the doctor reduced my daughter's temperature and she recovered.

While at Thomas the Northern Apaches went on the warpath, Geronimo and his wild followers devastating the settlements and killing many men, women and children, whom we buried in the post cemetery. This war lasted two years before our troops drove the Apaches into Mexico and, by agreement with the Mexican Government, followed them there, capturing Geronimo.

Contract Surgeon Dr. Leonard Wood, now the senior major general in the United States Army (who at one time attended my family), volunteered to act as surgeon in the expedition into Mexico, carrying his kit on his back while commanding a company of friendly Indians, which he did excellently. For this General Miles, commanding the department, became much attached to him.

To carry water into the post I had set the men to work building ditches, and also planted several hundred trees, which began to grow well. General Miles, visiting the camp on inspection, told me I deserved a better post. He relieved General Grierson from Fort Grant and placed me in command of that seven-company post. General Grierson recommended its abandonment for want of water, but General Miles said he knew I could get water from the mountains and make Grant one of the best posts. He supported me in requisitions for all the material and money I needed.

At a cost of sixteen thousand dollars I put in a most excellent water and sewage system, with a cement-walled lake in the middle of the parade ground, sixty by two hundred feet. Heretofore the parade ground and the officers' yards were bare of grass because of the extreme drought and the millions of ants which ate the grass. We put fountains all over the post, capable of throwing water one hundred feet high, as the reservoirs had four hundred feet pressure. I established a small water motor which sawed all the wood and ran all the machines in the carpenter shop.

General Miles visited the post after my work was completed and issued a very complimentary order which gave me a standing throughout the army as one capable of meeting unusual difficulties in my line.

Grant was in a most beautiful climate, about four thousand feet above the sea, with Mount Graham six thousand feet higher, three miles away. The climate, trees, foliage, flowers and rapid streams of this mountain were much like the Adirondacks, so we built a small log hut camp there for the ladies and children.

Nannie's description of a visit to this camp is better than any I can write.

In Camp, Near Fort Grant,

July 18, 1888.

My Dear Mother:

We left the post at a little after two on Saturday afternoon. Anson had a big mule to ride, little Anson had a horse led by an orderly, I had a pony with Constance on behind me. I was astride. We soon had to ascend and of all the trails you could imagine! I could not have undertaken it if I had seen it. I would just as lief ride a pony upstairs, indeed rather, for if he fell I should not have so far to go, but on the trail if the pony had made a misstep in some places we should have gone helter-skelter down a long way. I thought it was quite dangerous, but Anson would not let me dismount for he said if I walked once I would not want to ride, and indeed I could not have walked far, for we began to rise so rapidly that one gets out of breath soon. We zigzagged up the steepest places and at last reached the top, where it is perfectly lovely, the ground is covered with grass and some of the most beautiful flowers I have ever seen, and such quantities. There are loads of trees, principally pines. When we go back we shall have to walk about three miles, for it is very dangerous to ride down such steep places. We are all good walkers, however, and can do it nicely. I would not have missed coming up for anything, for the ride was an entirely new experience and one that I shall never have again. It is perfectly lovely in the camp, and though this is the rainy season and we have rains every day, it only lasts a short time and the sun soon dries things up. Yesterday it hailed.

When we reached the top of the steep road, we were about 8,000 feet above the sea, but we then began to descend in order to camp near water, so we are only about 7,000 feet or a little more above the sea. Graham peak, which is 10,600 feet elevation, is six miles from here and easily reached, that is, it is a perfectly good and safe road, but steep, and on account of the altitude the air of course is rarified and one so soon gets out of breath. We are going there in a few days, after we get used to the altitude. We all have immense appetites, and though our feet are wet sometimes for hours, take no cold.

I am so sorry Anson had to go down to Tucson, for it is extremely hot there. I think we shall soon know where we are going, and when. I forgot to say that Anson came up with us Saturday and went down Monday. Our camp is about six miles from the post, and it takes three or four hours to come, so you may know how steep it is. We are all in tents, as the log cabin that Anson had commenced is not yet finished. Our party consists of Mrs. Corbusier, her five boys, Mrs. Viele and her sister (a young lady), myself and two children and the chaplain. Across the pretty little brook which runs through the camp are four more tents occupied by several sergeants' families, and lower down the creek are the soldiers, who are felling trees and building the cabin. I forgot to say we have two cooks in our party, very necessary adjuncts when one considers the numerous and healthy appetites.

Your loving daughter,

Nannie.

Camp on the Mountains,

July 22, 1888.

My Dear Mother:

We have been here a week yesterday, and notwithstanding it has rained every day, we have had a good time. The rains do not last long and it soon dries up. There are the greatest quantity of beautiful flowers here. I have a large bouquet in my tent about fifteen inches in diameter and taller than it is wide. We have had bear meat, a young fawn and wild strawberries. The nights are if anything too cold. We have taken several tramps, one of them to an old hunter's camp. He comes over to see us often and enjoys the break in his loneliness. He is alone in his camp except for a dog, which is almost as dear to him as a child, and two or three ponies. He is going to show us the way to the top of the mountains. He came over to see us last night and sat by the big log camp fire, and while we popped corn regaled us with numerous tales, all of which I took with a grain of salt.

You would be surprised to see how comfortable we can be in camp with a very little. I have turned a box on one side for a book case, put another on top where I keep my writing materials, over it all I have thrown a large towel, and with the bunch of flowers I spoke of on top, it looks very well. I have another box for washstand, another for clothes, and with nails driven in the tent poles to hang clothes, medicine bag, little looking glass, canteen, etc., things are quite shipshape.

Your loving daughter,

Nannie.

Fort Grant, A. T.,

August 4, 1888.

My Dear Mother:

We were up in the mountains when I last wrote you. Anson came back from the court he was on and he and the doctor came up on the mountain. We went the next day on horses and burros to the summit of Mt. Graham. It was about four miles from our camp, and is ten thousand six hundred feet above the level of the sea. We wrote our names and put them in the tin can left by the surveyors. Anson and Constance Lydia both wrote their own names. It was a very pleasant trip. I rode a burro, astride, of course, as I shall never ride any other way. Anson is going to take my picture as I appeared. Anson came up to the camp on Friday. On Saturday we went to the summit. That same evening, in a pouring rain, a courier came in bringing a copy of dispatches from San Carlos saying six Indians had gotten away and the troops were after them. Of course we could not tell but it was the beginning of another big outbreak. The commanding officer of Fort Grant said he had already sent out some pack mules and might have to send out all the rest, but if we wished to come down to the post next day he would send us what animals he could spare. We immediately decided to come down to the post, for in case of an outbreak, the Indians could easily take our camp. We left the camp about two o'clock Sunday afternoon. Anson was mounted on a horse with Constance behind him. I had a big white mule with little Anson behind me. We rode about a mile and reached the steep part of the trail where I was afraid to ride down. Indeed the whole party, about thirteen of us, dismounted and walked down the steepest part. We could in places look down on the post which looked so green, like an oasis in the desert. Mrs. Viele, Constance and I walked for about two miles, as we did not care to ride over places steeper than a pair of stairs, but the rest mounted before we did. We reached the post about six o'clock, pretty tired. The next day, Monday, I was stiff and tired, but everything in the house needed straightening up.

Our Sitting Room at Fort Grant, A. T.

Tuesday Anson told me that General Miles would be here on Thursday. As the new commanding officer very kindly said we could keep this house till his wife came, thus saving us the trouble of a move, we had to entertain General Miles. We straightened up the house and expected him about eleven o'clock Thursday morning, when lo! he drove in at seven in the morning, before we were out of bed. We hurried to dress, and as he expected to go right on to San Carlos immediately after breakfast, I told Sallie to cook the chickens for breakfast that we had intended giving him for dinner. Breakfast was late, of course, as General Miles took a nap and a bath, and it was ten o'clock when we were through. I hurried to fix him a box of luncheon to take with him, and they would have started immediately but some telegram came which decided him to wait for further news. We sent to the butcher's for a roast of beef, as we had eaten up the chickens intended for dinner. He had no meat fit to roast, so Sallie chopped it up and made a meat roll. We had dinner at five o'clock, General Miles, Colonel Pearson and Mr. Jerome taking dinner with us. The latter is a cousin of Lady Randolph Churchill. We had soup, fish, claret, meat, vegetables, olives, champagne, pudding and coffee, a dish of flowers in the center of the table and flowers in the finger bowls. I should have had a salad, but there was no oil in the commissary. After dinner I rearranged the lunch, and they got off. I told General Miles he was like a flea, no one ever knew where to put one's finger on him.

He laughed and said, "About as disagreeable as one, also." He told lots of funny stories and was very pleasant. He praised the post which Anson has improved so much and which certainly looked at its best, all beautifully green, the lake full of clear water, the fine fountains playing and the sun shining through them. General Miles showed Anson an endorsement he had made on an official paper regarding him (Anson) which was extremely complimentary. In fact, he could not have said more, as he praised him to the skies.

I hope the Indian business will be settled soon. I was so sorry to leave the mountains. It was delightful up there, and we intended to stay three weeks longer. We were there only two weeks. It was so cool at nights we had to have a big fire and sleep under several blankets, indeed one or two nights I slept under four blankets and a buffalo robe.

Your loving daughter,

Nannie.

At this time, anticipating promotion, I took leave and, selling most of our belongings, we went to Boston. Here we bought a carload of household goods, shipping it by the Santa Fe. The car was burned at Deming, but the railroad company had insured it and we recovered the full value of our new goods. But among the losses which could not be valued was Nannie's diary, which she had kept in detail for eighteen years and from which she expected to write a book. That was one of the discouragements we faced in planning mutually to write our reminiscences.

In May, 1889, I was assigned to duty at Fort Bliss, Texas, as supervising engineer under Colonel Nettleton of the Geological Survey. I remained until April, 1890, when as lieutenant colonel of the 4th Cavalry, with three companies of that regiment, I was stationed at the Presidio, San Francisco, as executive officer under Col. W. M. Graham of the 5th Artillery.

This large post, adjacent to a very large and interesting city, was the most enjoyable station we ever had. The children enjoyed it, Anson going to school and Constance having a good teacher at home.

Numerous balls, dances and other amusements in addition to strenuous duties, kept us all busy and healthy. Here, again, we had the good fortune to have Dr. Leonard Wood, then a regular army doctor, as our family physician.

Col. W. R. Shafter commanded Angel Island in San Francisco Harbor and he, Colonel Graham and I constituted the first board under the new law for examination of officers for promotion. It was a very lively, and, I think, an efficient board. We examined some thirty-three officers.

When some members of the 4th Cavalry murdered a citizen, at regimental headquarters, Walla Walla, I was sent to command the regiment, the colonel being suspended for neglect. We liked Presidio, so this move was a disappointment. To our surprise we found Walla Walla among the most pleasant, agreeable and efficient posts at which we had ever been stationed. The officers and ladies were unanimously harmonious and the regiment, notwithstanding the bad reputation it had for this murder, was in every way the best disciplined and efficient I had ever served in.

Nannie, as usual, was one of the leaders in all the entertainments, which were patronized not only by the ladies and officers of the post, but by an equal number of citizens from the beautiful city of Walla Walla, at that time the wealthiest town in proportion to its population in the country.

The command was an interesting one because of the great number of semi-civilized Indians in the vicinity who were trying hard to make an honest living under great disadvantages. The citizens did not credit them with good intentions because of their inability to make a living out of the soil. They were driven from pillar to post, but always came to the army for relief, trusting, as all our North American Indians have always trusted, in the officers.

In July, 1892, with our two children, we made a most enjoyable tour of Alaska, by way of Seattle and the steamship "Queen," through the inner deep water channels with their still water and surrounding mountains covered with inexhaustible cedar. We visited dense forests of timber near Sitka, where the warm Chinook winds carry sufficient moisture to keep them damp through the entire year, so that no forest fires ever occur. The moss accumulated over fallen trees, which did not decay. Huge trees several hundred years old grow upon others, as large and as ancient, though dead. Fallen logs preserve so well that many are as available as the standing trees for lumber. Cattle live the year around on this constantly growing moss.

We stopped at Wrangell and Juneau, and spent some time at Sitka, visiting Treadwell, the great silver mine. We stopped
a couple of days to see the wonderful Muir glacier, traveling several miles over the surface of the solid ice mass. Twenty-seven miles long and several miles wide, it moves gradually downward to the sea by force of gravity, averaging seventy feet per day. As it moves, this great mass tears from the solid granite below huge masses of rocks, and pedestrians can hear the crushing of the rocks. On reaching the salt water, which is very deep, the ice begins to soften and disintegrate, and periodically falls in great shales, sometimes two miles in length and nine hundred feet deep, into the water, only two hundred feet being above the water line.

The captain stood off two miles from the glacier for us to see a berg break off, which happened in the afternoon. We could plainly see this immense body of ice fall into the water. It careened, disappeared, broke into many parts and finally appeared on the surface as bergs moving out to sea. The waves caused by this immense movement of ice rocked the ship as if we were in a storm.

I was promoted colonel of cavalry, not assigned, while I held command of the 4th. On the colonel's restoration, in February, 1893, I was assigned as colonel of the 3d Cavalry at Fort McIntosh, and joined February 28, 1893, where I had as adjutant Thomas B. Dugan and as quartermaster John T. Knight, both efficient officers.

The Garza Mexican troubles on the Rio Grande were then in full force, and my regiment was assigned to duty along the lower Rio Grande, leaving two companies of infantry at McIntosh.

Numerous bands of Mexicans, half from Mexico and half from the United States, committed depredations, stole property and killed Americans all along the river to Brownsville. This so-called Garza war kept my troops busy marching, and in the difficult effort to punish them we lost a number of men.

Another disturbing element between the two countries was the formation of large islands in the river. The shifting stream produced these "bancos," as they were called, which, when two or three hundred acres in extent, were claimed by the more excitable and lawless of both sides. They were used as a refuge by smugglers and other criminals denying the jurisdiction of both countries.

One of the bancos, Banco de Vela, was used by an American as a pasturage for about three thousand sheep. The Mexican customs authorities put the herders in jail and took the sheep into Mexico, as confiscated under their revenue laws. In retaliation the sheriff of the Texan county put the Mexicans found on the banco in jail.

Colonel Minero, commanding the 4th Mexican Cavalry, at the city of Reynosa, was opposite Banco de Vela. My regiment, the 3d U. S. Cavalry, was drawn up on one side to prevent further arrests and probable conflicts between the contending parties. This situation caused the organization of the Boundary Commission, of which I was later a member. (Text, 281.)

Ordered to relieve the 2d Cavalry under Colonel Wade, my regiment arrived at Fort Reno, June 24, 1893. I had always stated that if I ever became colonel and the authorities gave me an insignificant command of but one or two companies, the band and the laundresses, I would apply for retirement. A few days after reaching Fort Reno, one company was detached, leaving me but two companies of my own regiment. I wrote General Miles, commanding the department, my official and personal friend, that as regulations held me responsible for the efficiency and discipline of my regiment, I would prefer to take advantage of my right to retire on thirty years, unless I could be furnished with at least half of the regiment. For that purpose I asked six months' leave.

The general replied that he would, if it were possible, furnish me the half or the whole of my regiment, but the conditions were such that he could not. When I applied, he recommended my leave. Nannie, with Constance, had preceded me to Worcester, where I went to make arrangements to retire and devote my attention to my cartridge belt factory there.

But General Gresham, who knew of my familiarity with the banco troubles, told me the President had decided to appoint a Boundary Commissioner, and offered me the post. Supposing that it would only last a year or two, and knowing that I was well acquainted with the people of both sides and the nature of the questions involved, I decided to accept. Then it was discovered that I could not lawfully do so, unless I resigned my army commission, as no one could hold two government positions. The Secretary told me he was so anxious I should take the place, he would procure a resolution from Congress authorizing me to accept it as a colonel of cavalry, with pay and allowances as such, which he did. I entered upon this duty, not expecting it to last long, or to become a general.

As I look back over my military career I am impressed with the changes which time has wrought in the size of the military establishment. When I was made a colonel, there were but seventy-two colonels in the line, although forty-five States, represented by ninety senators, were then in the Union.

When I was made a general officer there were but nine general officers in the line of the army; while at that time the President of the United States had eight cabinet officers.

Since leaving active service I have retained my interest in military affairs, and have been so intimately connected with military orders as to be an ex-commander of the Loyal Legion, an ex-commander of the Order of Indian Wars, and am an honorary member of the Indiana Society of Engineers.

BREVET COMMISSIONS IN THE ARMY

Prior to the Civil War the Government established a satisfactory system of brevets, conferred on officers who distinguished themselves in action, so regulated that rights to promotion of those commissioned in special corps might not be infringed, while allowing the beneficiary to exercise rank and command by authority of his brevet whenever placed on duty with a mixed command. Thus, when a company of artillery and one of infantry served together, a junior captain with the brevet rank of major might assume and exercise command. (When a Captain I so exercised the rank of brevet Lieutenant Colonel, over a real lieutenant colonel by priority of date.) During the Civil War, however, the conferring of brevets was so overdone by political and other influences that in one or two instances a captain in a non combative corps acquired the rank of major general. The situation was so absurd and confusing that Congress passed a law declaring that under no circumstances should a brevet be exercised for rank or command. This rendered brevets practically worthless. The army became dissatisfied and secured another method of rewarding distinguished service, medals of honor, but this, also overdone, is becoming unsatisfactory.

As time passed those modestly breveted outgrew all their brevets, while those immodestly breveted were generally of the non combative corps stationed about Washington. In 1892, a bill was introduced in Congress to allow the restoration of the brevet "uniform" and "address."

I wrote the following protest:

Headquarters, 4th Cavalry,

Fort Walla Walla, Washington,

April 12, 1892.

To the Adjutant General,

U. S. Army,

Washington, D. C.

Sir: In the matter of Senate Bill No. 2699, for the restoration of brevet "uniform" and "address," I beg to make the following suggestions, and request that they be referred to the Committee on Military Affairs in the United States Senate, for such consideration as in its judgment they may seem to merit.

That all officers holding brevet commissions, whether above or below their present grade, may wear the insignia of their highest brevet rank on each side of the coat collar. Those conferred for gallantry in specific actions, on a red ground and those for faithful or meritorious service, not in action, on a white ground.

The reasons that impel me to this action are as follows:

It is well known that about the close of the war, brevets in many cases, by reason perhaps of propinquity to power, were given in such extravagant profusion as to destroy in a great degree their value to those of the deserving, and it goes without saying that as a rule a greater proportion of these highest grades by the promotions of time have worn out by covering over with other commissions a greater proportion of the modestly breveted.

It is also true that an officer holding a brevet below his present grade, and conscious of equal merit with his comrade who holds one above his present rank, will take equal pride in wearing the evidences of its appreciation if he be permitted to do so, especially if he can show that it was won in battle.

The proposed bill, however, as I understand it, will not permit him to do either, and will, I fear, rather tend to confuse by putting on the shoulder rank without command, with no easy method of determining the actual rank or right to command.

To illustrate the effect that this bill, as proposed, would have on the Army, that is, on the officers on the active list, a reference to the last Army Register will show a total of 391 field officers in the entire Army, most of whom hold brevets below their present grade, and would be ignored by the present bill; all but 67 of the 391 hold brevet rank above their present grade, distributed in corps throughout the Army, as follows:

Adjutant General's Department	9
Inspector General's Department	0
Quartermaster's Department	10
Subsistence Department	8
Medical Department	7
Pay Department	3
Engineer Department	6
10 Regiments of Cavalry	8
5 Regiments of Artillery	7
25 Regiments of Infantry	9
	—
Total	67

It will be observed that of the 67 total, the Line of the Army have but 24, while the Staff have 43; and as a rule, even in the Staff, the noncombatant corps lead in honors.

Of this total of 67 field officers, in the entire active Army, holding brevets above their actual rank, 26 hold the brevet rank of General, and of these the Line of the Army has but six, while the Staff Corps have 20, and of these 20 Generals in the Staff Corps the Adjutant General's Department has 6, the Quartermaster's Department has 5, and the Subsistence Department has 6.

I have the honor to be

Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

Anson Mills,

Lieutenant Colonel 4th Cavalry,

Commanding Regiment.

As a result, Senator Sherman, chairman of the military committee of the Senate, advised me he had induced the Senate to withdraw the bill, which it had already passed.

In Washington Again

Asked to select the secretary to the Boundary Commission, on recommendation of Adjutant General Ruggles, I picked Mr. John A. Happer, a beardless youth of twenty, a minor clerk in the War Department. The Secretary doubled his pay to comport with the importance of the position, and Mr. Happer at once procured what he considered to be suitable personal attire, which included a fashionable cane and very sharp-toed buff shoes. Walking down the street with me, he remarked, "Colonel, why don't you wear a cane?"

I replied, "For the same reason that you wear one."

"How is that?" he asked, "I don't understand."

"Well," I replied, "you don't need a cane, and vanity impels you to wear one. I need a cane and vanity impels me not to wear it."

Later, on our first visit to El Paso, at La Coste, beyond San Antonio, he saw some Mexicans loading cotton. Calling to me from the car door, he said, "Colonel, do please come here. What induces those men to wear those foolish sharp-pointed hats?"

"Well," I replied, "I suppose they were moved by the same logic that induced you to buy sharp-pointed shoes."

Soon after, the inherent good sense I knew him to possess when I selected him, led him to abandon both cane and shoes, and he has become a prominent and successful citizen of El Paso.

After President McKinley's election, General Miles asked me if I intended to apply for promotion. I replied that I never applied for anything unless I thought I had more than an even chance of getting it, but that, if anyone high in authority would give me that assurance, I would. "I believe you have more than an even chance," he answered. "There is but one colonel I will recommend before you, and that is Shafter."

I made the application the next morning. Adjutant General Ruggles made a detailed statement of my official services which I took to my friend, General Flagler, telling what General Miles had said. He promised me his help. In his office I met my classmate, General Merritt, then commanding the Department of the East in New York, who stated, "Mills, there is but one thing for me to do. When I return to my office I will also recommend you." I was soon promoted, but, according to the resolution of Congress appointing me Boundary Commissioner with the pay and allowances of colonel of cavalry, I had no additional pay for the nineteen years I served on that duty, holding the rank of brigadier general and receiving only colonel's pay.

Nannie and I, with our two children, stopped at the Richmond Hotel, in Washington, while we looked for the home we intended to rent or purchase. Senator White, now Chief Justice, also lived at the Richmond. Standing in the office one day, when Nannie entered and asked the clerk for her key, I saw Senator White was near her. She turned in her usual dignified manner to enter the elevator. Not knowing my relation to her, Senator White asked the clerk, "Who is that lady?" When he replied, "Mrs. Mills," Senator White said, "She is the most beautiful woman I ever saw."

While in El Paso on boundary business I received a telegram stating that Anson was seriously ill with appendicitis and was being operated on. I took the first train for Washington and arrived Sunday morning, but too late. Anson died during the night, February 25, 1894. He had been taken suddenly sick the Sunday previous, but, not knowing as much about the disease as they do now, the doctors deferred the operation until too late. It was the great sorrow of our life, and we could not help resenting all the rest of our lives the sad fate of one so young and promising.

Carefully preserved among his mother's papers is a letter from our son to me, and my reply to him. Shortly before she died, Nannie brought these to my attention, saying she thought them of sufficient worth to merit publication, considering that the boy was but fifteen when he wrote, but three weeks before he died. I append the two letters here:

Hotel Richmond,

Washington, D. C.,

February 4, 1894.

My Dear Father:

I received your letter of the 27th with the letter from Walla Walla, and am very glad to hear from you. I hope that the boundary work will not take as long as the Mexican commissioner thinks.

The newspaper gave a list of the West Point cadets who failed in the last examination, and I was glad to see that Carl was not in the list. I guess Carl will be able to pull through if he works hard.

I am getting along quite well in school, but I wish that the teacher would rush a little as I think that we are not progressing as rapidly as we might. I got excellent in the carpenter shop last month and as I couldn't have gotten any higher than excellent and there were only a few boys who received marks that high, I think that I have done pretty well. I am on good terms with the carpenter and always try to do what he says and he helps me along and is very nice to me.

The weather is very cloudy and rainy today and I hope that it will clear off soon. We went to see a play called "The Senator" last Saturday and enjoyed it very much. I saw Grover and Mrs. Cleveland in one of the boxes. Last night Mamma went to a reception at the White House and shook hands with Grover, it was the last card reception of the season and Mamma says that there was a very large crowd there.

This afternoon Mamma, Tootsie and I went out to Tacoma to see the Martins, they seem to think that Carl is all right, and I think Nellie expects to make a visit to West Point in the summer when Carl will be a 3d classman. I have made the acquaintance of two boys here in the hotel, but one of them went away yesterday so there is only one left. We generally play cards in the evening and have a good deal more fun than if we were by ourselves.

The other day I went to the dead letter office and saw the clerks sorting out the dead letters. They have show cases in which they put all the extra curious things that pass through their hands. They have live rattlesnakes and everything you can think of.

Mamma called on Mrs. Happer a few days ago and Mrs. Happer said that there has only been one meeting of the club since you left and I guess that is why they have not taken me there yet. Caldwell wrote me a letter the other day and said that you stopped to see him when you passed through San Antonio. Caldwell seemed greatly pleased with his new house and I hope that he will get along all right.

Nearly all the boys around here want to go in the Navy, but I am going to stick to the Army. I don't see how anybody could prefer the Navy to the Army, but each fellow has his choice and if they want to go to the Navy it will leave that much more room in the Army for me. I am still anxious to go on that big game hunting trip to Maine and I guess this fall I will have to go on a good hunt if nothing turns up to mar it.

Uncle Tom has made me a new belt for my rifle and it is a very good one. As it is time for me to go to bed I will close. We all send our love and hope that you will be back soon. I remain,

Your loving son,

Anson C. Mills.

El Paso, Texas,

February 11, 1894.

My Dear Boy:

I have just received your long letter so nicely typewritten and can not tell you in words how interesting it is to me to learn so many things of you and from you, for my hopes and fears are now more centered in you than in anyone else in the world; not that I love Mamma and Sister less or that they are deserving of less interest, but from the fact that (as you are now old enough to understand) as the world goes more is expected of boys and men, so that if I were to die suddenly the future of both Mamma and Sister would depend much upon you. So do not fail in every way possible to arm yourself for this responsibility should it come.

My mother died when I was about your age and left me the oldest of nine children, and while I did the best I could I had much care, but as Father lived to manage the business I did not have as much as you may have if I go.

I am glad you are getting along well at school for that is more important to you than all else just now, in fact, for the next five years. Don't be impatient for the teachers to go along faster. You do well enough if you keep up with the course, only strive to be thorough and understand all well that you go over so that if you go to West Point,—as I intend you shall when you are twenty, if you then still desire to,—that you may not be rattled.

I am glad you put the "C" in your name for if you had been fortunate enough to have seen and known your grandfather Cassel for whom it stands you would never fail to put it in. He was one of the best looking and most graceful men I ever saw, as straight as an arrow, with quick gait and quick speech, but few words, and liked by everybody and so correct in business that the cashiers in the banks would doubt themselves before doubting him. According to the laws of heredity you should inherit some of these qualities and I have thought sometimes I have already seen them in you, though it is hard to see the man in the boy, lest I had known him as a boy, which, of course, I did not.

Of course, you are as likely to inherit the traits of my father whom also you were unfortunate not to know at an age when you would appreciate, but he also had none that you need fear the development of in yourself, nor had either of your grandmothers.

I want you to read carefully the enclosed clipping on "Individuality," and mark the words underscored, for I think you can now understand the thoughts and ideas of our bright namesake. I think it is true, as he says, that heredity counts a great deal, perhaps not as much as surroundings and teachings, and I think, too, that he might have added that all three, heredity, surroundings, and teachings come mostly from the mother and there is where your great good fortune lies, if you improve it as you should and I think you will.

I want you to mark well what he says about individuality. Don't be restrained from doing things that seem sensible just because a lot of machine made boys say it is not the thing, nor do things not sensible because they say so. I have often regretted that I did not let you sit up all night at Fort Grant for fear it may in all your after life repress your individuality in thoughts and actions, for almost everything that man does or refrains from doing is from an instinct or teaching, like the parent talks, and not from brave independent and noble impulse of thought and reason like Paul Revere or Franklin, Cushing, Jefferson, Lincoln, Jackson, and Edison, who did new things useful to man.

I hear that Judge Maxey went hunting at Brownsville the other day and that the party killed three deer. We will look out for them when we get down there and tell you how it is.

Kiss both Mamma and Sister for me and tell them I will write to them both soon, though it is a great labor now that I am without my typewriter.

Your affectionate father,

Anson Mills.

The day before Anson's death, Nannie asked him what he wished she should say to me from him when I arrived, when he replied:

"Tell him I can't show how much I like him. I'm not strong enough. It will look as if I didn't like him. Tell him I love him very much." Of which she made a memorandum which I still have.

After eight months we purchased No. 2 Dupont Circle, on the most beautiful park and in the best social surroundings of the city. My position in the diplomatic service led us into the best society in Washington; we were invited everywhere we wanted to go, and were able to entertain all those who invited us, so that Nannie was able to exercise her abundant ability in making friends. We had at our house during the next twenty years several hundred interesting people of the army, navy, marine corps, senators and members of the different embassies, who were our guests.

One of Washington's greatest attractions was the opportunity it gave of renewing old friendships. We were always glad to welcome such guests as Gen. and Mrs. Freeman, Col. and Mrs. Corbusier, Col. and Mrs. Shunk, Miss Florence Cassel, and many others, old and new friends.

Early in 1894 Nannie joined the Washington Club, which she greatly enjoyed and of which she was a governor at the time of her death. She was also on the board of managers of several hospitals, and belonged to many charitable societies.

Washington was our permanent residence for the next twenty-three years, although Nannie and I, with Constance and our relatives, spent some time in Chihuahua, Santa Rosalia, Monterey, Zacatecas, Aguas Calientes, Guanajuato, Guadalajara, Mexico City, Jalapa, Puebla, Orizaba, and Queretaro, all in Mexico. (See graphic map U. S. and Mex., page 216.)

It was my professional duty to go to some of these places two or three times, the better to qualify myself by learning from the Mexicans views relating to the important boundary question. After she had heard of the simple character of the people and the interesting antiquities and customs of the country, Nannie always wanted to go with me.

While at Aguas Calientes, bathing in the hot springs, Nannie, knowing the embarrassments of military courts in determining when an officer was drunk, brought me a copy of an inscription she had found on the wall of her room, probably left there by one seeking recovery from delirium tremens and at the same time preparing a test for the consideration of the members of the next court before which he might be brought.

Spending most of our time in Washington, we found members of both Houses of Congress were much misunderstood by the people. They are constant hard workers with small salaries and almost universally honorable, honest men, and not, as many people believe, as they do of the army and navy, idle and uninterested in the government's welfare. Public sentiment has compelled many legislators to abandon the profession for another where they are better understood and better paid.

Among these noble men, I want to pay a tribute to a few of the finest statesmen the country has seen since the War of the Rebellion; men who trimmed their sails to no passing breeze but stood steadfastly for that public policy which would in their opinion bear best fruits for the great republic in the future. First among them, I put President Cleveland, Senator Hoar and Senator Root.

Cleveland, I consider the Washington of his time. When special classes of labor, having in their trust the railroads, the principal utilities of the whole people, declared their purpose to strike and by force and violence make their class the ruling class, the President issued his famous executive order that "if it took all the money in the treasury and all the soldiers in the army to carry a postal card from New York to San Francisco, the card would be delivered."

Unfortunately this glorious example had no power in later years, when self-styled statesmen with greater opportunities cowered before a similar threat and surrendered the liberties of a majority of the people.

Hoar was the Franklin of his period. The Spanish War so inflated our military reputation "because a wretched kern we slew" as to cause a frenzy for "World Power"—when conquest, exploitation and subjugation of other lands and other peoples with their trade and commerce after the manner of other world powers was proposed. Hoar valiantly sought to prevent this fatal mistake by requiring that "the Constitution should follow the flag." He was defeated by but one vote (I think) in the Peace Commission, in the Senate, and in the Supreme Court. There is nothing more pathetic in history than his remark when called upon to assist in an appropriation for the restoration of Plymouth Rock, "Plymouth Rock was washed away by the loss of these votes."

Root, the Hamilton of his occasion, when chairman of the recent constitutional convention of his great State, sought to reform its criminal and civil jurisprudence, so that its courts should be instruments for the detection and punishment of crimes and disorders rather than for technical avoidance of that righteous end.

Though these three great statesmen failed of complete success, their noble and self-sacrificing example must surely inspire others. Meanwhile, "in the sunset of life which gave mystical lore," they have said figuratively to the American people as did Roman gladiators in another arena, "Caesar, we who are about to die salute you."

Many high school graduates have no better conception of the meaning of Jefferson's "Declaration of Independence" and the "Constitution" of Washington and Franklin than of the book of Mormon. They do not realize what our liberties cost, and how easy it is to lose or, once lost, how difficult it is to recover them.

On March 5, 1810, Mr. Jefferson wrote to his friend Governor Langdon of Virginia:

"While in Europe, I often amused myself with contemplating the characters of the then reigning sovereigns of Europe. Louis the XVI was a fool, of my own knowledge, and despite of the answers made for him at his trial. The King of Spain was a fool; and of Naples, the same. They passed their lives in hunting, and dispatched two couriers a week one thousand miles to let each know what game they had killed the preceding days. The King of Sardinia was a fool. All these were Bourbons. The Queen of Portugal, a Braganza, was an idiot by nature; and so was the King of Denmark. Their sons, as regents, exercised the powers of government. The King of Prussia, successor to Frederick the Great, was a mere hog in body as well as in mind. Gustavus of Sweden, and Joseph of Austria, were really crazy; and George of England, you know, was in a straight-waistcoat. There remained, then, none but old Catherine, who had been too lately picked up to have lost her common sense. In this state Bonaparte found Europe; and it was this state of its rulers which lost it with scarce a struggle. These animals had become without mind and powerless; and so will every hereditary monarch be after a few generations. Alexander, the grandson of Catherine, is as yet an exception. He is able to hold his own. But he is only of the third generation. His race is not yet worn out. And so endeth the book of Kings, from all of whom the Lord deliver us, and have you, my friend, and all such good men and true, in his holy keeping."

The Kaiser found Europe in a similar condition in 1914. England, Germany, Austria, Russia, and Italy had emperors by divine right, with royal families, lords and nobles, most of whom were either moral or physical and mental degenerates. The later George is so imbecile as not to require a straight-jacket, as did his predecessor, and the Kaiser, a moral degenerate, sought only to play the rÔle of Napoleon. When all Europe seemed in a peaceful and prosperous condition, he, by his foolish cablegrams, sought to distract George's and Nicholas' attention from his planning, while the secretive diplomats of England, France, and Russia on one side, and Germany, Austria and Italy on the other, blindfolded their people by many vari-colored state papers, and backed them over night into war, of which they knew nothing until armies were moving. Had proper publicity been given by any interested nation, war would not have ensued.

Our government, too, was somewhat responsible, in that we placed before our war college a statue of that greatest of moral degenerate rulers (not excepting Nero) miscalled "Frederick the Great," thus giving his successor, the Kaiser, to understand we approved his militarism. Strange that our people permit this statue to remain.

What the war is about the world's people have no intelligent conception. Yet unless the American people educate themselves to an intelligent understanding of the hazard of their liberties, we may become too entangled to extricate ourselves.

Every American should ponder these things and ask whether our citizenship has not become so diluted as to endanger the perpetuity of the great republic, and whether it is not now necessary to return to the high schools and colleges the careful study of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. Another great law-giver of three generations past, Dr. Lyman Beecher, evidently had in his sunset of life "mystical lore" to see these present shadows. I submit his words here for the people who may read this to ponder, and for study in the schools.

"We must educate! We must educate! Or we must perish by our own prosperity. If we do not, short will be our race from the cradle to the grave. If in our haste to be rich and mighty, we outrun our literary and religious institutions, they will never overtake us; or only come up after the battle of liberty is fought and lost, as spoils to grace the victory, and as resources of inexorable despotism for the perpetuity of our bondage.

"We did not, in the darkest hour, believe that God had brought our fathers to this goodly land to lay the foundation of religious liberty, and wrought such wonders in their preservation, and raised their descendants to such heights of civil and religious liberty, only to reverse the analogy of His providence, and abandon His work.

"No punishments of Heaven are so severe as those for mercies abused; and no instrumentality employed in their infliction is so dreadful as the wrath of man. No spasms are like the spasms of expiring liberty, and no wailing such as her convulsions extort.

"It took Rome three hundred years to die; and our death, if we perish, will be as much more terrific as our intelligence and free institutions have given us more bone, sinew, and vitality. May God hide from me the day when the dying agonies of my country shall begin! O thou beloved land, bound together by the ties of brotherhood, and common interest, and perils, live forever—one and undivided."

There were others following close on to the great men I mention; some I know more or less intimately, such as William McKinley, Charles W. Fairbanks, and Joseph Cannon and Champ Clark, in the legislature; in the army, Generals Sherman, Sheridan and Miles stand out, and in the navy, Admirals Dewey and Schley—all of them American patriots of the very highest order.

Many amusing incidents in our social life come back to me as I write. At a dinner given by Mr. Romero, the Mexican Ambassador, Mr. Cannon escorted Mrs. Mills to the table. I heard her say of some peculiar Mexican dishes, "Mr. Cannon, where do you suppose these come in?" He replied in his quaint and curious way, "Mrs. Mills, I spent my first twelve years in Washington trying to find out how they did things, and now I don't care a dom how they do 'em."

At a stag dinner of some eighteen guests at my house, Minister Wu Ting Fang sat at my right, and opposite sat Lieutenant General Young. General Young proposed the health of his host. All sat down save the Chinese Minister, who, after a pause, exclaimed, "Gentlemen, I think General Young has forgotten something." Young, not well acquainted with him, looked astounded. After a pause, the Minister went on, "I am a Chinaman, but I spent four years in London, two in Madrid, and I have been here now in America a short time. I know something about civilization, and know that no man ever got up this dinner. I propose the health of the hostess." The wit and humor of the Chinaman were loudly acclaimed. He became well acquainted with Nannie, visiting her frequently, and entertained her with interesting stories of his experiences at home and abroad. In turn, she was able to interest him in our large experience in the vicissitudes of the army and travel generally.

As evidence of Nannie's superior capabilities in administering household affairs it should be mentioned that she kept two servants, Menger Caldwell and Sally Caldwell, his wife, for eleven years, from 1882 to 1893, and at Washington, Dora Miller Kelly, fourteen years, from 1896 to her death in 1910, and her brother, Martin V. B. Miller, seventeen years, from 1900 to date. (Cut, 241.)

All these servants were so capable and satisfactory that their long service seems to warrant the appearance of their pictures in this narrative.

Our daughter, Constance, attended the excellent schools in Washington, grew up, and soon entered society, when our house was visited by a host of young people of both sexes. After enjoying this interesting period, she became engaged to a young officer of artillery, Winfield Scott Overton, and two years later, they were married at our home, on the 30th day of April, 1903.

Captain Overton graduated from West Point just before the Spanish War. He served in the Philippines and was seriously wounded at the battle of La Loma, March 25, 1899. He remained in the hospital in the Philippines for some time, and has been operated upon several times since, but never fully recovered, and in June, 1908, he was compelled to retire from the service. They have three beautiful children, Hannah Elton, six; Constance Elizabeth, four, and Mabel Helen, three years old. (Cut, 240.)

In 1908 Nannie and I visited my birthplace, Thorntown, Indiana, a beautiful but sleepy town of about two thousand inhabitants. An epidemic of typhoid fever was raging, caused by poor drainage and a layer of impervious clay about twenty feet below the surface, which caused contamination of the wells.

A prominent minister requested me to donate a library to my native town. Thinking more good could be done by building a pure water system, I said that if the town would maintain a fountain monument to the memory of my father and mother, I would build a water and sewer system.

A town meeting accepted my proposition. I employed Mr. Charles Brossman, a civil engineer, to draw plans and superintend the building of an excellent water system, which pumped pure water from far below the impervious clay, carrying it to an elevated tank sufficient to supply the whole city with water; also the main sewers of a system to carry off the impure drainage; and to erect a fountain in memory of my parents.

When the work was completed, the town gave a celebration in my honor, which I attended, together with my family and many of our relatives on both sides. About ten thousand people were present. I made a few remarks, presenting the works to the city, and my daughter, Constance, unveiled the fountain. Many speeches were made, the principal one by Mr. A. Morrison, representing that district in Congress.

The water-works and sewer system have proved a great convenience, and added to the health of the city. So far the city has kept its faith in maintaining the fountain beautiful, clean, flowing, and in neat repair.

In Washington we invested a large sum in U. S. two-per-cent bonds, the proceeds of the woven equipment business. The peculiar laws relating to the reserve of national banks forcing these bonds to a six per cent premium, we disposed of them at a profit. With this money we bought property at Pennsylvania Avenue and Seventeenth Street and erected the first steel-frame perfectly fireproof building in Washington.

After retirement, while I was conducting the cartridge belt factory at Worcester, Nannie spent much of her time in Gloucester, Mass. In 1910 she bought property on a rocky ledge eighty-four feet above and a half a mile from the sea and built a fireproof residence. In writing her sister Katie, she said, "We have called our place 'Bayberry Ledge,' a very suitable name, for it is on a ledge of rocks and has lots of bayberry bushes on it. Anson has deeded it to me, and it is the dearest spot I know in the world." For seven years, until her death, Nannie spent most of her summers here cultivating flowers and enjoying the freedom of the country life, where, too, she entertained many of her relatives and old army friends during the hot seasons, among them General John M. Wilson, my classmate, Miss Waller, General and Mrs. Geo. M. Sternberg, General Wm. H. Bisbee, Mr. and Mrs. Keblinger, Mr. and Mrs. Batchelder, Mr. and Mrs. Follett, and our favorite nephew, Captain Carl A. Martin, and our favorite niece, Miss Kathleen Kline.

By 1912 the only piece of property I had remaining in El Paso became so valuable that I tore down the two-story building then on it, and built a monolithic cement building twelve stories high, containing no steel beams, the concrete being held in place by steel rods interspersed through the walls, columns, floors and roof. There is no wooden floor in the entire building from basement to turret, even the wash-boards in the rooms are made of cement and on all sides not exposed to parks the windows are fireproof. This was said to be the first building of the kind erected in the United States, and, so far as I know, it is still the only one of that magnitude.

Consolidation of the El Paso and Juarez Street Railways

When the Santa Fe, Mexican Central, Texas & Pacific, and Sunset Routes were completed to El Paso, about 1880, the five thousand people of El Paso, and eight thousand of Juarez, organized four street railways, two in El Paso (one on El Paso Street and one on Santa Fe Street), connecting with the two similar Mexican roads on the Juarez side at the middle of the Stanton and Juarez Street bridges. Stock in these roads was subscribed in the East, but each road had a president, four directors and other officers, all of whom, to be popular with the public, made deadheads of the officials of the two cities, policemen, collectors of customs, revenue officers, and so forth. There was, therefore, great maintenance expense and little revenue for the stockholders, and the equipment soon degenerated into a most impoverished condition. When it became necessary to assess stockholders or go into bankruptcy, Senator Bate, from Tennessee, a personal friend, complained to me that he and his wife had twenty-five thousand dollars in stock of the El Paso street road. He was unable to pay his assessments and, as El Paso was said to be my town, he thought I ought to do something to relieve him. We went to El Paso and he had some stormy interviews with the managers of his road. Suggesting the possibility of a consolidation of the four roads, I told him that as I had the confidence of the Mexicans as well as the Americans of the two cities, if he was willing to come with me, we might encourage the stockholders in New York to give proxies for a majority of the stock.

We saw the principal stockholders in New York, one of them a cousin of J. P. Morgan, obtained proxies for a majority of the stock and power of attorney to represent the stockholders in the consolidation of the four roads.

The El Paso street road was advertised for sale under foreclosure. Authorized by its stockholders to purchase, I did so, and then obtained from the Mexican stockholders and others in El Paso proxies for a majority of the stock in the other roads. Calling a meeting of each of the four roads, I proposed a consolidation into one company, making the circuit through both cities, to be styled the El Paso and Juarez Traction Company, with charters from the States of Texas and Chihuahua. Governor Ahumanda of Chihuahua and the Governor of Texas both granted the charters. The four companies made a statement of their financial condition and expressed willingness to merge in the new international company. It had a capital of two hundred thousand dollars, distributed to each company in proportion to their annual gains for the past five years. The directors of the four companies elected officers for the new company. Messrs. Z. T. White, Jos. Magoffin, John A. Happer, Max Weber and I were elected directors, and by them I was elected president. There was some disagreement as to the stock to be allotted the Santa Fe Street Company, and the officers to be elected, so Messrs. White, Maxon and Gordon declined to enter the consolidation. It was agreed to run the roads jointly, but the Santa Fe company kept its own organization. The four companies were run under our management as one road, all deadheads were cancelled and the company soon prospered.

At this time Stone and Webster of Boston offered to buy the company at its stock valuation, two hundred thousand dollars, and, after some delay in correspondence, the sale was accomplished. The new company at once put in an electric system and it has since grown to be one of the best car companies in the United States, well managed, with two million dollars capital, and some sixty miles of road.

It can be justly claimed, I think, that this was a most material development for the cities of El Paso and Juarez. Too much credit can not be given those who joined me in the project, Messrs. Magoffin, Happer, Weber, and others. Printed proceedings of this consolidation may be found in the El Paso Library.

The Reformation of El Paso

The American War of the Rebellion and the Mexican Maximilian War left El Paso and Juarez almost destroyed. Neither recovered until the advent of the several railroads in 1881, when thousands of men, good, bad and indifferent, were attracted by the easier access by rail. Many had good intentions, but many were of that noisy, lawless character that usually drifts to cities under such conditions. Gambling, especially among the Mexicans, was soon a leading amusement on both sides of the river, and the saloon and red light districts for many years gave the two cities the just reputation of being among the most disorderly and lawless in the country.

No mayor could be elected unless he harmonized with and fostered all three of the above mentioned elements—some mayors lived in the red light district. Notwithstanding that righteous and well intending people were in a majority, the bravest of them were unable for many years to work any reformation, business and professional men being ostracised when demanding reform. Many cruel murders were committed, but it was impossible under the dominance of the three bad elements to procure convictions.

An experience of mine with an El Paso jury about eight years prior to the reformation will illustrate the task these reformers had.

While defending a suit for some $11,000 for liens on buildings, I received two anonymous notes asking me to bribe the jury. I handed them to the judge that he might make an example of the case. While he and the lawyers in the case were in consultation in chambers, a message was sent that a man wished to see me at a certain place. Suspecting the author of the notes, I suggested that if the Judge and attorneys approved I would try to entrap him. All consented, remaining in chambers until I returned. Compton, the "end man" of the jury, was the man who sent for me, and suggested that I pay him $3,000 for a favorable judgment, stating he had canvassed the jury and a majority had agreed. I replied that as a business man I could not part with so large a sum on the guarantee of one man. I asked to see them all privately, two at a time, after 9 p.m., at my room at the Sheldon Hotel. Compton agreed.

I told the Judge this, and placed myself at his disposal.

Calling in Sheriff Ten Eyck and Court Reporter McKelligon, he told them to report at my room at 8.45, and follow my instructions.

I secreted them behind a folding bed in a corner. When Compton came, he started to search the room. But I told him if he wanted to do business with me to sit down and do it, asking peremptorily where the second man was. He was down stairs, and when Compton brought him up I asked them to state plainly what they could do. Hunt, the other man (reputed to be a brother of Sarah Althea Hill, who married Judge Terry) (Text, 338), handed me a paper with the names of all the jurors with the sums a majority had agreed to receive, some as low as $50. I placed the paper in my pocket and after a little further talk to make sure they had been well heard, told Compton to bring up the next man. But he never returned.

This was Saturday, and all concerned were pledged to secrecy, but when Judge Willcox called court to order on Monday morning, there was not standing room to be had! The Judge said:

"Gentlemen of the Jury: Since last session the defendant in this case has handed me certain letters which I desire to read to you. The first appears to have been filed in the post office, El Paso, on the 20th day of June of the present year, and is as follows: 'Mr. Mills, if you want to win your case you must fix the jurymen in this case liberally or you will lose. A friend.' The second is as follows: 'Mr. Mills if you are going to do anything do it quick and have it money and nothing else. Go to the man at the west end of the jury box. It must be money or you will lose. A friend.'"

The judge asked each juryman if he knew anything of the letters. All denied any knowledge, the end men most vehemently.

Called to the stand, I told my story, omitting mention of the witnesses. When I read the amounts to be paid each juryman, a most respectable salesman and neighbor of mine who was named at a very low price, cried out, "For God's sake, Judge, stop this! My parents are respectable people, and when they read this it will break their hearts!"

In the midst of my narrative Compton violently declared, "You are a —— damned liar." The sheriff forced him back into his seat. Compton and Hunt were sworn, and denied all that I had stated.

The sheriff and court reporter then corroborated my report of the conversation which they heard concealed behind the bed.

Asked if they wanted to be heard again, Compton and Hunt hung their heads, Compton only replying, "No, it's no use; they were behind the bed."

The Judge announced a mistrial, honorably discharging all members of the jury but Compton and Hunt, who were confined in jail to await the action of the grand jury. True bills were found against them and they were tried, convicted and sent to the penitentiary.

This narrative is compiled from official records of the case which I possess.

Returning home one Sunday from a walk down El Paso Street, Nannie said, "Anson, we had thought to make El Paso our home, but if you do, you will have to live alone. I saw nothing but saloons and gambling dens with the cries of gamblers and singing of women among them!"

Not until 1905 did strength enough appear to overcome the lawless, when Horace B. Stevens (Cut, 254) took the matter in hand, assisted by such brave and self-sacrificing men as J. A. Smith, W. S. McCutcheon, R. B. Bias, William H. and R. F. Burges, H. D. Slater, Rev. Henry Easter, Felix Martinez, Waters Davis, Millard Patterson, W. M. Coldwell, Frank Powers, U. S. Stewart, and many others. Success was not attained until after many public meetings, Waters Davis becoming the head of an organization for that purpose. Mr. A. L. Sharp was elected to the legislature and at the request of his constituents procured a bill closing the gambling houses by injunction. This bill was prepared at the suggestion of Richard Burges by Judge W. M. Coldwell, and stood all court tests.

All these reformers were foremost among the builders of the now great city. J. A. Smith, who began with its beginning and never faltered either in successes or honest failures, either in statesmanlike politics or brave progressive business enterprises, is particularly a noteworthy figure. H. B. Stevens and Waters Davis, in this long fight, not only sacrificed their financial interests, but risked their personal safety.

The reform movement was so successful that El Paso today is one of the best governed cities in the United States. Notwithstanding the addition to its population during the past two years of fifty thousand United States soldiers (well disciplined men, however), it has stood the test of good, safe government.

Mexico

Youthful knowledge of our war of 1847 with Mexico, and a residence of four years at El Paso, where I employed many Mexicans in the construction of buildings and surveying, gave me a great interest in its government, its people and affairs generally. History told me Cortez in his conquest destroyed a civilization better than his own, leveling to the earth a beautiful city of five hundred thousand inhabitants, and rebuilding one less beautiful by the enslavery of its people, reduced from civilization to abject serfdom by Spanish authorities. For two hundred years these people suffered cruel wars before their efforts to acquire independence were successful. Later, Mexico was again victim of foreign nations, and finally America, too, was guilty, as I believe, of making a needless and unrighteous war upon her in 1847. In evidence, I quote the following from page 53 of Grant's Memoirs:

"For myself, I was bitterly opposed to the measure, and to this day regard the war which resulted as one of the most unjust ever waged by a stronger nation against a weaker nation. It was an instance of a republic following the bad example of European monarchies in not considering justice in a desire to acquire additional territory."

The peace treaty promised we were to pay Mexico many millions for territory acquired by force, but much of this money was withheld until a commission of our own people determined how much be finally kept in payment of claims alleged to be due our citizens—the pretext for the war. This commission could not find claims enough to exhaust the money withheld, so much of it was given back to Mexico.

My brother, W. W., lived on the border for fifty years, ten of which he was consul in Chihuahua. Another brother, Edgar Allen, after spending twenty years on the Rio Grande border, lived and traveled in various parts of Mexico in different business capacities from 1886 to 1901. He was employed at Escalon, the City of Torreon, Culiacan, the capital of Sinaloa, and the City of Jiminez, traveling through the states of Sinaloa and Durango to Jiminez, then to Sombrerette, and then to Gutierrez and state of Zacatecas, thence to Chihuahua. He found Mexico a tranquil nation with a people satisfied with their government; where a great majority of the foreigners were likewise satisfied with the government and their treatment, and where the people were glad to see foreigners and treated them well.

From all foreign nations, however, but principally from our own, came a disturbing element of ne'er do wells, itinerant visitors awaiting a hoped-for conquest and exploitation of that country to get their innings. Somewhat lawless, these people did much for which they would be arrested at home. Occasionally they were arrested by Mexican authorities. Many brought money procured from friends and relatives at home to enable them to establish themselves in a new country. They spent it rapidly, became troublesome, got into difficulty with the officials and made loud complaints to our government. These, perhaps, did not represent one-fifth of the American residents in Mexico.

Another class on the border of Texas, Arizona and New Mexico, were native citizens of Mexican descent, born on American soil, but good citizens of neither country, and continually in trouble with one or the other. Together with lawless Americans these fostered trouble from year to year.

Of the probable fifteen million inhabitants of Mexico, at least eleven million are pure Indians, with no admixture of Spanish or other foreign blood. These Indians are much as when Cortez found them, few speaking Spanish or any other common language, but speaking at least fifty-five different Indian languages. They have never taken any interest in what is known to us as politics; have no desire to vote, and do not know what it means. Yet they are, or were, as contented and happy as other peoples, satisfied with their governing classes, and as kind and gentle in their intercourse with each other as the people of the average nation.

More Mexicans, or people of the Mexican race, lived on the American side of the border in Texas, New Mexico, Arizona and California than on the Mexican side, because no American markets are available to Mexican producers. They could not afford to pay the duty required to enter the American market and compete with producers on the American side, so that most produce was raised on the American side to which adjacent population gravitated.

As a citizen in Mexico, an officer on the border in Texas, and as boundary commissioner for twenty years, I can testify Mexico possessed a tranquil government, and that my wife and family felt as well protected from violence on the streets of the great cities as they would have felt in the United States. My brother, W. W., also found in his official connection as consul, that this state of affairs existed.

In October, 1909, President Taft and President Diaz, by mutual agreement, met for greetings and congratulations at El Paso and Juarez, and gave each other dinners on each side of the river. Physically splendid men, it is a compliment to each to say they resembled each other, both in physical appearance, in language, and in gesture. In Juarez, I was a guest of the Mexican Government; in my diplomatic capacity, I sat near both Presidents, who were seated vis-À-vis. In their speeches the two Presidents seemed to vie with each other in congratulations on the good relations and tranquil governments on both sides of the border. The hundred guests in the great hall of the custom-house heard them with profound interest and respect. No one could doubt the sincerity of each; yet in a few months the two nations were practically at war. How it came about will be a mystery forever, but there is no disputing the fact that the rebellion against Diaz was organized, armed and equipped on the American side.

When the trouble began six years ago, as boundary commissioner, I advised the Government that our neutrality was so inadequate, or laxly administered, or both, that nearly all the insurrectos then in arms in Mexico were organized in the United States, and practically all the arms and munitions of war were unlawfully or at least unrighteously introduced from this country. Living in El Paso during much of the hostilities, I knew that many secret service men, detectives and others in the employ of the Government, were seeking something. But neither I, nor so far as I know, either of my brothers were ever approached regarding conditions in Mexico.

The original Francisco I. Madero, said to be of Jewish descent, as a young man lived near Matamoras, when General Taylor crossed the Rio Grande for Monterey. The army was unable to procure wagon transportation, and Madero suggested pack animal transportation to General Taylor as more feasible because of difficult sandy roads. Our Government gave Madero large contracts to transport the baggage and supplies of Taylor's army to Monterey and Saltillo, by which he accumulated a considerable fortune. After the war he received large concessions from the Mexican Government.

The family was very prolific, Francisco I having twelve or thirteen children, Francisco II about the same number, and Francisco III, presidential candidate, having many, as did nearly all his brothers, sisters, uncles and aunts. When the revolution against Diaz broke out, the Madero family embraced four or five hundred souls, nearly all more or less wealthy. Madero II was a Diaz supporter, as were about half his brothers. The rest were adherents of Madero III. The family is now dispersed and many have died.

I was personally acquainted with Francisco Madero III, and his father, Madero, Jr., was an extreme agitator similar to our Debs. The greatest qualification friends in each case claimed for their candidates for the presidency was that they had been confined in jail by their two countries for violations of laws!

Mr. Madero stated in all sincerity that he hoped to be to his country what Washington was to mine. I never met Mr. Debs, but I dare say he had similar ambitions and with about the same reason! Debs received relatively as many American votes when candidate for president as Madero did when he claimed election.

Our assistance given to such men as Madero, Orosco, and Villa in driving Diaz, the greatest ruler Mexico ever had, from his tranquil government to exile, set back for fifty years the advancement that Diaz had given in his twenty-seven years of authority. Until Mexico discovers another such noble man as Diaz, it will never have the tranquil and stable government it had. Some day Mexico will erect a monument to his memory as resplendent as that of Guatemozin or Montezuma. Were it not that our country is now so absorbed in the greater war in Europe, our jingoes might ere this have caused another war of conquest, subjugation and exploitation in Mexico.

I also knew Huerta personally. A graduate of their military academy, an officer of forty years' service in the army, I do not believe it possible that he had guilty knowledge of Madero's murder.

Equitable Distribution of the Waters of the Rio Grande

Because settlements in Colorado and New Mexico appropriated so much water from the Rio Grande in the flood season the river ran dry before it passed through the arid region around El Paso. Thus grapevines and fruit trees perished, and because it was impossible to cultivate vegetables, wheat, corn and other cereals, the settlers on both sides of the river were abandoning the country. In 1888, the city council of El Paso asked me to devise some remedy for their distress.

I recommended the construction of a dam three miles above the city, where the formation in the valley gave ample room for immense water storage. At the council's request I went to Washington and presented a statement of their distress to the Secretary of State.

I saw Mr. Bayard on the 9th of December, and on the 10th, at his request, presented the following communication:

Ebbitt House,

Washington, D. C., December 10, 1888.

Sir: Agreeable to promise at our interview this a.m., I have the honor to submit the following general outline of my projected scheme for an international dam and water storage in the Rio Grande River, near El Paso, Tex., for the control of the annual floods and the preservation of the national boundary to the Gulf, and for other purposes.

The Rio Grande, 1,800 miles long, rises from an unusual number of tributaries in the very high altitudes of southern Colorado and northern New Mexico, where the rain and snowfall is extraordinary, and the ice formed therefrom in the long winter enormous. As it flows southward the precipitation gradually decreases for 600 miles, when the Mexican boundary is reached at El Paso, Tex., where there is neither snow nor ice, and but 8 inches annual rainfall; from thence 1,200 miles south to the Gulf of Mexico the rainfall is only sufficient to compensate for the loss by evaporation (which latter is very great), and for these reasons the river has but few tributaries and no increase of flow below El Paso.

The annual floods, caused by the melting of snow and ice in the mountains, take place in May and last for about seventy-five days, during which period the average flow may be estimated at 200 yards in width by 2 yards in depth, with a velocity of 5 miles per hour, although in recurring periods of about seven years it is much greater. During the remaining two hundred and ninety days of the year the average flow is perhaps not over 30 yards wide by 1 yard deep, with the same velocity; and in the same recurring periods, in the intervals between the high tides, the river goes dry for months, as it is at this time—or at least has no current, with not enough water in the pools to float the fish.

There is at present popular opinion that this want of water comes from its diversion by the numerous irrigating canals lately taken out in Colorado and New Mexico, and while it is problematical what effect this may have, if any, I am of the opinion that most of this water returns to the stream again, either through the atmosphere, by evaporation and precipitation, or by the earth, through overflow and drainage, as from personal observation I know that these seasons of flood and drought were of about the same character thirty years ago.

After leaving the mountains the river passes through low valleys of bottom lands from 1 to 12 miles wide and from 4 to 8 feet above low-water level, of a light, sandy alluvium formed during annual overflows by sedimentary deposits from silt, which the water always carries in a greater or less degree.

In meandering along the Texan bank of the river as a land surveyor, from the New Mexican line to a point below Fort Quitman, in 1858, 1859, and 1860, I observed that the deposit was from one-half inch to 3 inches annually, that during the floods the bed of the river was constantly changing by erosion and deposit, and that in regular cycles it shifted from one of its firm rocky or clay banks to the other, as the deposits had raised the side of the valley through which it then flowed above the level of the opposite side. Generally this change took place slowly, by erosion and deposit of matter entirely in suspension; but frequently hundreds of acres would be passed in a single day by a cut-off in a bend of one channel, and sometimes the bed would suddenly change from one firm bank to the other, a distance of perhaps 20 miles in length by 6 in width. For instance, when surveying "El Canutillo," a valley a short distance above El Paso, the river was moving westward, and about the middle of the valley, which was some 6 miles wide. Old Mexicans who had lived in the vicinity informed me that in 1821 the river ran close along the eastern bluff, where its bed was plainly to be seen, as was also a less plainly outlined bed along the bluffs on the opposite side, where the river flows at this date, and gives evidence of returning abruptly to the eastern bluffs again at the next greatest high tide, to its old channel along the bed of the track of the Santa Fe Railroad.

In another case, more recent and extensive, in the great valley below El Paso, some 12 miles in width and 20 miles long, the river, as was plainly evident at the time I was surveying the land, had made a sudden change from the bluffs on the eastern or Texan side to the western or Mexican side of the valley.

Mexicans who had been residents continuously in that vicinity informed me that this change took place in 1842.

Again, in 1884, in this vicinity, the river swept suddenly from the Mexican side, crossed the Southern Pacific Railroad, and destroyed both track and bed for a distance of 15 miles, stopping traffic for a period of three months and causing the removal of the road to hills above the valley.

Though these are the most extensive changes that came within my personal observation, similar ones are being made annually, from El Paso to the Gulf, which not only prevent the settlement and development of such of the lands as are sufficiently above the overflow (were the banks and boundaries secure), but by reason of the river being the national boundary between the United States and Mexico for over 1,200 miles, cause fatal embarrassments to the citizens and officials of both Republics in fixing boundaries and titles to lands, in preventing smuggling, collecting customs, and in the legal punishment of all crimes and misdemeanors committed near the supposed boundary line, it being easy at almost any point in its great length to produce evidence sufficient to raise a reasonable doubt in the minds of the jurors as to which side of the line the arrest was made or the act committed.

At the last session of Congress the House passed a joint resolution (No. 112) requesting the President to appoint a commission, in conjunction with a similar one from the Republic of Mexico, to consider the matter above referred to. While surveying these lands in 1858, and prospecting for a crossing of the Rio Grande for the Memphis, El Paso and Pacific Railroad, which was then projected—and in fact in course of construction—I examined the pass about three miles above the present city of El Paso, and discovered that it had solid rock bed and walls, the latter but about 400 feet apart, and that the valley above which came close down to the spur of the Rocky Mountains which crossed the river and formed the pass was from 4 to 8 miles wide, with a fall of about 4 feet to the mile, so that it would be an easy matter to build a dam in this pass and create an immense lake.

The water coming through this pass for ages has deposited at its lower end a great mass of rocks, over which is formed rapids with about 12 feet fall, and the aborigines of prehistoric ages made use of this to carry the water on to the lands below, no one knows how long ago, but it is known that the Mexicans have used it for two hundred years under most disadvantageous and unsatisfactory circumstances.

I have witnessed, each succeeding year, hundreds of Mexicans piling loose stones on the top of this drift of rocks to raise the level to that carried away by the floods of the preceding year; and it has been estimated by a Federal engineer sent from the City of Mexico, that, had the labor thus expended been reduced to silver, the dam could have been built of the solid metal. The difficulty has been and always will be that there is neither bed rock nor solid earth in the bottom or banks, each being composed of quicksand.

In other places in the valley temporary willow dams 1 or 2 feet high are made at convenient places, and the water carried several miles below on to the lands that are above the usual overflow; but these dams are carried away annually and have to be rebuilt, and frequently the river bed moves miles away from the mouth of the ditch or acequia, rendering it useless; but even if these difficulties in carrying the water from the bed of the river to the lands are overcome in the usual manner, it is evident that by reason of a great overflow, say, every seventh year, and a dry river in a like period, no system of irrigation for the Rio Grande can prove satisfactory that does not embrace a grand storage system sufficient both to restrain, to a great extent, at least, the tidal flow and maintain a constant annual flow, especially since the great immigration and settlement in its valley is constantly doubling the demand for water.

Being on leave of absence in the city of El Paso recently, where I was a citizen before the war, having surveyed the first plat of the town and being well known to most of its citizens, I was invited by the city council to submit to it a plan for water supply and irrigation that would overcome the difficulties above referred to.

It at once occurred to me that as the Rio Grande was the joint property of the two nations, and especially as the Mexicans had used its waters since time when "the memory of man runneth not to the contrary," that any plan to be acceptable and satisfactory must be international in character, and the works, both before and after completion, under the joint federal control of the two nations, the more so as riparian rights in this country, so far as regards irrigation, are not well defined by law, and could be best brought about in this instance by treaty stipulations between the two countries.

The matter of restraining the tidal flow by storing the water, and thus protect the constantly changing national boundary, occurred to me—if it could be introduced into the project—as likely to secure encouragement and substantial aid in money from both governments.

And further, that El Paso, being now a city of over 11,000 population, and having every prospect of being a large manufacturing city at no distant day—there being no place within 500 miles likely to compete with it—the subject of water power ought also to enter into the problem, which of necessity is of such vast proportions as to require all incidental aid possible to attach to it to insure its success.

It will be apparent, from what has been written, that the Rio Grande is one of the first magnitude, not only in length and breadth, but for short annual periods in devastating flow of waters, and that its general characteristics, as compared with other rivers with reference to irrigation, are so abnormal as to require different or more heroic treatment.

I therefore projected a scheme which may be briefly outlined as follows:

To build a strong dam of stones and cement—say, 60 feet high—in the pass before referred to, and by submerging about 60,000 acres of land now subject to overflow and of little comparative value, create a vast lake 15 miles long by 7 wide, with a probable storage capacity of 4,000,000,000 cubic yards of water; place gates on each side of the river in the dam at the 50-foot level for waste-weirs and irrigating canals to supply each side of the river and keep up a flow in its bed which would bring the water in the canals 70 feet above the streets in the cities of El Paso and Juarez, respectively.

The gates at the 50-foot level would give an available reserve of water of 10 feet over the entire surface of the lake—over 2,000,000,000 cubic yards—which would be exhausted during the long season of little flow for the purposes of irrigation and other needs, as well as maintaining a constant stream in the river beds so arranged as to exhaust the reserve about the period of annual flood, which would be checked and held in reserve for the next season of little flow, and in this manner produce a comparatively constant and unvarying flow of water for each entire year below the dam, redeeming many times the number of acres submerged above in the lake from overflow below, and fixing permanently the national boundary, the banks of the river, as well as the boundaries and titles to private lands, and making it an easy matter to collect duties and prevent smuggling, detect crimes and misdemeanors generally, arrest and punish criminals, as it is along other national boundaries.

The assumed flow given for the 75 days of high-water will give about 6,500,000,000 cubic yards, and that for the remaining 290 days 1,500,000,000, making an aggregate annual flow of 8,000,000,000 cubic yards. If we allow 2,000,000,000 of this for loss by evaporation and other wastes, which former in this dry atmosphere is very great, perhaps 80 inches, we have 6,000,000,000 cubic yards remaining. This should be divided into three equal parts, one for each side of the river, for irrigation and other needs, and the third for overflow, through water motors, to furnish power to the future manufacturing cities on each side and to maintain a constant flow in the river below to the Gulf, as would no doubt be demanded by the people there as their right ere they would permit the scheme to be carried out.

The 2,000,000,000 cubic yards falling a distance of 50 feet over the dam, estimating the weight of a cubic yard of water at 500 pounds, and 1 horse-power the energy required to lift 33,000 pounds 1 foot in a minute, would expend energy equal to over 10,000 horse-power for 8 hours every day in the year, and produce a constant stream in the bed of the river 26 yards wide by 1 foot deep, running with a velocity of 5 miles per hour, to say nothing of the probability that the greater part of the other two-thirds would find its way again to the river bed through the earth and air, the whole flowing in a steady, continuous stream to the mouth of the river, to be used as required at any season of the year, instead of, as is now the case, three-fourths of the entire mass of the annual flow going rapidly to the Gulf in the short period of 75 days untaxed.

Estimating the amount of water required for annual irrigation at 20 inches, the water reserved for that purpose would be sufficient for 100,000 acres on each side of the river—all that could be reclaimed from the desert for 100 miles below.

To carry out this project I recommended to the people on each side of the Rio Grande that they petition to the executive authority of their respective nations for the creation of a joint commission to draw up the necessary treaty stipulations to protect the work and the rights of all interested in them, the fundamental feature of which should certainly be that each nation should have the right to divert no more than one-third of the flow at any period, and that one-third of the flow should be maintained in the bed of the river; and that this international commission have charge and control of the work after completion as well as during construction.

That the legislative authorities of the two nations be asked to appropriate, after complete investigation and estimates have been made, money sufficient to complete the work, probably $100,000 for the dam proper, $100,000 for the condemnation of the 50,000 acres of land to be submerged, and $100,000 for the removal of some 15 miles of the road-bed of the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railroad to bluffs above the old bed of the river, where the track now lies, subject to annual damage, and sooner or later total destruction, unless removed.

It will also be apparent that the waters of this great lake will be clear and fresh, the silt held in suspension in the current of the river being precipitated as soon as it enters the still water of the lake, doing away with the great trouble and expense now necessary in keeping the canals and ditches cleansed of sedimentary deposits, and a further great benefit derived from using water reduced in temperature by exposure for months in a warm climate far below that used in the early spring, which comes in three days from snow and ice and is immediately applied to the young and tender sprouting plants, chilling and checking their growth.

I know of no point in the Rio Grande between Albuquerque and the Gulf of Mexico where nature has provided both the natural basin and rim for a lake of such great dimensions, for, indeed, it can be made 100 feet deep if desired, and it may be questioned whether a depth of 60 feet, with 10 feet reserve to draw from, will afford sufficient storage to control perfectly the tide at its highest flow.

This project was well received by the people and has been earnestly discussed in the public press of the locality ever since with general approbation and a disposition to endeavor to carry it out as quickly as possible. The only question exciting any general distrust is that the sedimentary deposit in the lake, it is held by some, will shorten the life of the reservoir by filling the lake at such an early period as to render the scheme of doubtful expediency, and opinions differ very widely upon this subject, which is, indeed, a problematical one, and can only be determined, even approximately, by actual measurements of a great majority of the annual flow, for the quantity of sediment changes with flow and season.

That the bed of the river will eventually be filled, of course, is only a matter of time, but whether in fifteen or one hundred and fifty years can only be ascertained by prolonged, actual measurements; but even if filled in the near future it seems to me that the difficulty may be overcome by raising the dam, unless, indeed, that should be required too often.

The matter has already been referred to Major Powell, chief of the Geological Survey, who has sent Captain Clarence Dutton, of his Department, to El Paso to investigate and report on the feasibility of the scheme; but as the initial steps, should it be pronounced feasible, must come from your Department in the nature of international treaty stipulations, I have thought it proper to thus early acquaint you with the grand project.

I beg to refer you to Hon. Mr. Lanham, member of Congress from Texas, who is acquainted with me personally and my projected scheme.

Anson Mills,

Major Tenth Cavalry, Brevet Lieutenant Colonel,

United States Army.

The Secretary of State,

Washington, D. C.

In April, 1888, at the instance of Major Powell, I had received orders from the War Department to report to the commanding officer at Fort Bliss, with instructions to lend whatever aid I could to the Interior Department and its Geological Survey party, investigating the redemption of irrigable lands in the Rio Grande Valley.

Major Powell also wrote, asking me to act as advisory agent of the survey, and to give it my opinions and advice regarding this work, as well as to supervise a gauge station they were to construct for measuring the annual river flow, evaporation, etc.

The Geological Survey was authorized to investigate the feasibility of reclaiming arid lands by dams and water storage. Colonel E. S. Nettleton, of Denver, Colorado, was appointed supervising engineer of the southwestern district, and I was appointed his assistant, as supervising engineer of the district of El Paso, with money to employ engineers and other assistants to make plans and estimates for the proposed international dam at El Paso. With Mr. W. W. Follett, one of the best hydraulic engineers in the United States as my aid, I proceeded to carry out the work as speedily as possible. The Senate Committee on Irrigation, of which Senator Stewart was Chairman, intended to visit El Paso later and examine the location, plans, specifications and estimates, so that, if approved, they could recommend an appropriation to construct it.

While engaged in this investigation an apparently unrelated incident occurred which had a most unfortunate effect upon our labors.

The Secretary of War, Mr. Proctor, ordered me to Fort Selden.

Here an irrigation company, represented by Mr. W. H. H. Llewellyn, held a revocable license to construct a canal through the Selden Reservation. The Mexican citizens, assembled in force with arms, had forbidden the workmen to construct the canal, and I was to make a thorough investigation as to the trouble, and report to the Secretary personally in Washington.

After two days investigation I found the canal company charter authorized them to build their canal through and over the community canals of the settlements along the river, in use for over one hundred years, and compel the Mexican farmers to pay water rent for new canals. The farmers, having prior right to the use of the water, objected.

In Washington, the Secretary proposed a hearing on February 2, 1889, and asked a written report from me, to be read at the meeting, in which I recommended the license be revoked.

Senator Reagan, of Texas, the delegate from New Mexico, Mr. Llewellyn, and many others interested, were present at the meeting. After reading my report and a full hearing of both sides, the Secretary revoked the license and instructed the commanding officer of Selden to remove Llewellyn's workmen from the reservation. Mr. Llewellyn grew violently angry at me, and on my return to the hotel I found the following note:

The Ebbitt House,

Washington, D. C.,

Feb. 2nd, 1890.

Dear Major:

I have wired Messrs. Davis and Morehead to have their people keep out, that if there is no new ditch at Las Cruces there will be no new dam at El Paso.

W. H. H. Llewellyn.

Davis and Morehead advocated the El Paso dam.

When the committee reached El Paso, August 20, 1889, Major Powell, Colonel Nettleton, Mr. Follett and I explained our plans in detail. They and the members from that district and Mr. Lanham, who was much interested in the project, all approved.

Meanwhile the Mexican Government demanded compensation from the United States for the appropriation by American citizens of the waters of the Rio Grande, to which Mexico claimed prior right. A bill was introduced in both Houses of Congress making an appropriation for the construction of the El Paso dam by the United States, provided Mexico relinquished all claims for indemnity in return for half the water to be stored.

This bill was thoroughly discussed in both Houses of Congress during the session of 1889 and 1890, and was apparently satisfactory to all parties concerned, and it was generally supposed that it would pass. On April 26, 1890, having finished the duties required of me, the War Department relieved me and I rejoined my regiment.

When it was evident the United States was committed to building a dam at El Paso and dividing the water with Mexico, Dr. Nathan Boyd, of New Mexico, obtained a charter from New Mexico to build a similar dam at Elephant Butte, one hundred and twenty-five miles above El Paso, with the apparent intention of holding up the waters of the Rio Grande and the United States Government and compelling it to supply water to Mexico through his company. (See Colonel Engledue's address to the stockholders of Boyd's company, p. 343, vol. 2, Boundary Commission Proceedings.)

The Mexican Government protested in 1896, stating that before they could accept their share of the water to be stored by the proposed international dam at El Paso, as indemnity for their loss of water taken out on the upper river, investigations should ascertain whether there would be sufficient water in the Rio Grande to supply both dams. If not, measures should be taken to restrain the projectors of the Elephant Butte dam from using waters to which Mexicans had prior right.

This protest was referred to me by the Secretary of State, who asked my opinion.

I reported that in my opinion that it would be unsafe to rely on a sufficient flow to restore to Mexico the water to which she claimed prior right unless the Elephant Butte corporation could be restrained from the use of such water. Suit was instituted by the Attorney General to enjoin the company. So began a contest which lasted for many years, going three times to the Supreme Court of the United States, before the Elephant Butte Company was permanently enjoined from constructing their dam.

These complications delayed both projects for several years. A protocol, dated May 6, 1896, between the Secretary of State, Richard Olney, and Ambassador Romero, directed F. Javier Osorno and myself, Boundary Commissioners for Mexico and the United States, to continue the investigation and report on the following matters:

First, the amount of Rio Grande water taken by the irrigation canals constructed in the United States.

Second, the average amount of water in the river, year by year, before and since the construction of the irrigation canals.

Third, the most feasible method of so regulating the river as to secure to each country and its inhabitants their legal and equitable rights and interests in said water.

Captain George McC. Derby, U. S. Engineers, was ordered to report to me, and SeÑor Don J. Ramon de Ibarrola, engineer on the part of Mexico, was ordered to report to Mr. Osorno.

The Commission worked diligently on this investigation until November 25, 1896, when it reported its opinion that the most feasible means of attaining the ends desired was to construct the dam and reservoir projected by Mr. Follett and myself under the investigations made by the Geological Survey, provided Mexico could be protected in some way which would prevent the taking from the Rio Grande by dams and water storage of water to which she had prior right. I was authorized by the Secretary of State to formulate with Ambassador Romero a draft of a treaty to that effect, which we accomplished, submitting copies to the Secretaries of State of both nations.

The two nations were willing to consummate the proposed treaty. Congress appeared to be ready to appropriate the necessary money but, again, the unexpected happened. Making violent charges against me to the Secretary of State, Dr. Boyd demanded that President McKinley dismiss me from the Boundary Commission or he would defeat his re-election by his control of two or three western States; and threatened to horsewhip Secretary Hay if he did not do his bidding. Mr. Wilkie, of the Secret Service, reported Dr. Boyd to be a dangerous man, so he was denied further personal conferences in the State Department. (I knew nothing of this for years afterwards.) Boyd then strove to influence Roosevelt (who had become President) against me and the international dam. Mr. Roosevelt, without consulting the Commission having the project in charge, placed it in the hands of Mr. Newell, of the Reclamation Service, with directions to build the dam at Elephant Butte. After some delay another treaty with Mexico (concerning which I, though still Mexican Boundary Commissioner, was not consulted), was effected for building the dam at Elephant Butte. By the terms of this treaty Mexico is to receive a share of the water to be stored by the dam and relinquishes all claims for indemnity for the diversion of the waters of the upper Rio Grande by American citizens.

As Llewellyn threatened, there never was a "new dam at El Paso," largely owing to himself and Boyd. After twelve years, at a cost nearly four times as great as estimated for the international dam at El Paso, the Elephant Butte dam is complete; but it is doubtful whether it will ever be of any great benefit to the valleys near El Paso because of the great distance over which the water has to be carried through arid wastes. Full details may be found in my published reports under the head of "Equitable Distributions of the Waters of the Rio Grande, Vol. 2."

Mexican Boundary Commissioners.
(Text, 300.)

Boundary Commission

I have already explained how this Commission came to be formed and how I was appointed and entered upon the duties as sole Commissioner on the part of the United States (Text, 207). I have also explained the relation of the Commission to the international dam for the equitable distribution of the waters of the Rio Grande, the subsequent Commission by protocol of Commissioner Osorno and myself for the same purpose (Text, 263), and the later Commission for the equitable distribution (Text, 273).

The duty of the International Boundary Commission, briefly stated, is to apply the principles agreed upon by the two governments in the boundary treaties to the varying conditions caused by the kaleidoscopic changes in the current of the Rio Grande.

The boundary treaties of 1848 and 1853 make "the middle of" the Rio Grande the boundary, while the treaty of 1884 provides that the boundary shall "follow the center of the normal channel * * * notwithstanding any alterations in the banks or in the course" of the river "provided that such alterations be effected by natural causes through the slow and gradual erosion and deposit of alluvium and not by the abandonment of an existing river bed and the opening of a new one." Article II of this same treaty provides that "any other change, wrought by the force of the current, whether by the cutting of a new bed or when there is more than one channel by the deepening of another channel * * * shall produce no change in the dividing line."

The treaty of 1889, which established the International Boundary Commission, provides that "when owing to natural causes, any change shall take place in the bed of the Rio Grande * * * which may affect the boundary line, notice of that fact shall be given by the proper local authorities * * * on receiving which notice it shall be the duty of the said Commission to repair to the place where the change has taken place or the question has arisen, to make a personal examination of such change, to compare it with the bed of the river as it was before the change took place, as shown by the surveys, and to decide whether it has occurred through avulsion or erosion for the effects of Articles I and II of the convention of November 12, 1884."

The Commission was organized January 8, 1894, in the office of the Mexican Consul, in El Paso, as follows:

On the part of Mexico:

• Jose M. Canalizo, Commissioner
• Lieut. Col. E. Corella, Consulting Engineer
• Salvador F. Maillefert, Secretary

On the part of the United States:

• Col. Anson Mills, Commissioner
• Frank B. Dabney, Consulting Engineer
• John A. Happer, Secretary

The Commission recommended rules for its future government, which were approved by the Secretaries of State of both governments. Before we completed the first case referred to us, Commissioner Canalizo died, and F. Javier Osorno was appointed as his successor.

September 28, 1894, the full Commission again met at El Paso and proceeded to an examination upon the ground of the cases of Banco de Camargo, Banco de Vela, Banco de Santa Margarita and Banco de Granjeno.

These so-called bancos were formed by a combination of "slow and gradual erosion" coupled with "avulsion" in the following manner: Where the river passes through low alluvial bottoms with banks of fragile consistency and slight fall the channel continually changes from right to left, eroding the concave bank and depositing on the convex. This occurs in low as well as high water, though the changes are more marked during high water stages. These erosions are greatest where the water in a tangent from a curve strikes the bank at an acute angle, ceasing when the angle becomes so obtuse that the water is readily deflected by the consistency of the bank. When the curve forms a circle the radius of which is dependent on the consistency of the earth and the volume and velocity of the water, erosions practically cease and the river turns upon itself in a circle and forms a "cut-off," leaving the land thus separated (called a banco) somewhat in the form of a pear or gourd, with the stem cut by the river's current at the moment of separation. (See cut of the double Banco de Santa Margarita. Proceedings Boundary Commission, Vol. I, p. 191.)

In many cases through ensuing changes in the channel an American or Mexican banco would be entirely cut off even from the river and wholly surrounded by land within the jurisdiction of the other country.

The origin of these bancos was so different from our expectations that both the Mexican Commissioner and I, after deliberate consideration, concluded that their process of formation, their form and constantly changing character, could not have been contemplated by the conventions creating the treaties of 1884 and 1889. We both suggested to our governments the reconsideration of Articles I and II of the treaty of 1884, as far as they related to these bancos, to the end that provision might be made for transferring all such bancos to the sovereignty of the United States or Mexico according as they lay on the American or Mexican side of the present river channel, without disturbing the private ownership as it might be ascertained.

This treaty was negotiated and ratified in 1905 and has since then worked to the satisfaction of both governments and resulted in the "elimination" of perhaps 75 of these bancos and the maintenance of the international boundary line in the center of the running river.

Some of the difficulties under which the Commission did much of its work on the lower Rio Grande will appear from the following incident which occurred while the Commission was considering the case of the Banco de Granjeno, near Havana.

The day before the Congressional elections in Texas the Mexican Commissioner joined our camp on the river. Coming by carriage through Havana, he observed a procession of grotesquely clad Americans and Mexicans carrying a flag and beating drums. Mr. Osorno's first experience with United States election methods, the several hundred people in the little town of not more than 20 or 30 inhabitants excited his curiosity as to where all these people had come from. As Reynoca was a large city on the Mexican side, he suspected that many of them were from Mexico. A portly Mexican, much resembling Sancho Panza and clad very much after his style, carried the flag.

The Joint Commission had summoned nine witnesses to appear at our camp the next day at 9 o'clock and testify in the case. But the witnesses did not appear.

Two hours later a messenger from the village stated the witnesses were indisposed from the excitement of the night previous and would not be over until later in the afternoon. At 4 o'clock we observed a party headed by this identical flag-bearer. Not speaking English, he addressed himself to Mr. Osorno, stating that he had been summoned as a witness.

The Commission Regulations prescribe that the witnesses shall be sworn by the Commissioner representing the country of which the witness is a citizen. Asked to state his country, the flag-bearer said he was a Mexican citizen. Mr. Osorno looked astonished.

"Then, you a Mexican citizen?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," answered Sancho Panza.

"Did not I see you at Havana in Texas, yesterday, carrying an American flag?"

"Oh, yes, sir."

"How does it come that you would carry an American flag in Texas if you are a Mexican citizen?"

"Oh, it was election time."

"Election time," said Mr. Osorno; "what have you to do with elections in Texas?"

"Oh, we all go over there for elections!"

Understanding the habits of the frontier people better than Mr. Osorno, I suggested asking if he had voted. Rather reluctantly Mr. Osorno said:

"Did you vote in Texas?"

"Oh, yes, sir."

"Well, how can you be a Mexican citizen if you vote in Texas?"

"Oh," said Sancho, "if you don't believe I am a Mexican citizen I will show you a certificate of my consul!" pulling out a paper signed by the Mexican Secretary of the Boundary Commission, formerly Mexican Consul at Brownsville, certifying he was a Mexican citizen.

Though Mr. Osorno was a lawyer and well versed in international law and custom, he was much perplexed but finally administered the oath. During the course of the examination of the other nine witnesses examined we found six claimed to be Mexican citizens though admitting they had voted in Texas the day before, which explained the fact that although the registered voters in that county numbered but 650, the Democratic majority footed up over 1,200!

The population along this part of the river, on both sides, speak Spanish almost exclusively, and their habits, sympathies, and general characteristics are entirely Mexican. The people are the poorest and least progressive of any I have ever seen, except the North American Indians. The extreme drought for the seven preceding years had made them poorer than for generations, and their numbers were less than for the past hundred years. Most of our witnesses were unable to tell their ages, or where they had lived during particular years. Most claimed citizenship in Mexico, but voting rights in the United States.

The jurisdiction of the Commission included a great variety of cases involving questions as to location of the boundary lines as affected by changes in the channel of the river, "elimination" of the bancos, unduly projecting jetties or other obstructions in the channel of the Rio Grande, marking of international bridges, question of artificial cut-offs in the river channel, etc., etc.

The nature of the Commission's work can perhaps best be explained by treating two important and typical cases in some detail.

The Horcon Ranch case grew out of an artificial cut-off of the river channel. The Rio Grande at the Horcon Ranch near Brownsville, Texas, formed two loops. (Cut, 288.)

The natural course of the water appeared to be about to form a cut-off at A, whereby the upper loop would have been eliminated. The result would have been to deprive the American riparian proprietors on the upper loop of the water they had theretofore enjoyed for irrigation.

Among these was the American Rio Grande Land and Irrigation Company, which had a large pumping station at B, on the upper loop. To counteract the threatened danger the American proprietors, after vainly striving for months to prevent the cut-off at A by defensive works, dug an artificial channel at C, across the neck of the lower loop, straightening the river, relieving the pressure at A and averting the threatened disaster to the company's pumping station. This deprived Mexican riparian proprietors, on the lower loop, of the water they had been accustomed to use and to which they were entitled. The boundary treaties expressly forbid such artificial cut-offs and provide that they shall not affect the international boundary.

The Mexican Government brought the case to the Commission, which promptly held the cut-off a clear violation of the treaty. Not feeling clear as to its power to take the necessary remedial measures, the Commission reported its findings to the two governments and asked for instructions. The American State Department approved the findings, but thought the Commission had fully discharged its duty, and that subsequent proceedings should be taken in the ordinary courts. It asked the Department of Justice for an opinion. The Attorney General concurred in these views and at the instance of the State Department brought a suit in equity in the name of the United States against the American Rio Grande Land and Irrigation Company, asking a mandatory injunction to compel the defendant company to restore the river to its original channel, or, as an alternative, for the conveyance of land in the upper loop owned by the company to the Mexican riparian proprietors so they might have a river frontage, together with the payment of compensatory damages to these proprietors and both compensatory and punitive damages to the United States.

The President of the American Rio Grande Land and Irrigation Company, Mr. Edward C. Eliot, of St. Louis, and its general counsel, Mr. Duvall West, now a Federal District Judge, were men of the highest type. When the matter was brought to their attention they recognized the correctness of the position of the government. By agreement between the representatives of the Government and these gentlemen, the company admitted the cause of action and the truth of the material allegations in the government's bill, and submitted to the alternative relief prayed. An order was accordingly entered by the court which not only adjusted the matter to the satisfaction of the Mexican Government and the Mexican citizens interested, but brought home to the people of both countries along the river the intention and power of the two governments to live up to their treaty obligations. (For full particulars see the pamphlet published by the Boundary Commission, which gives all the important papers in the case, including the proceedings both before the Boundary Commission and before the Federal court.)

Further to illustrate the work of the Commission, I call attention to Chamizal case at El Paso, Texas. The Chamizal tract is a body of land of some 600 acres south of the channel of the Rio Grande as it ran when surveyed by Emory and Salazar in 1853 and north of the present river channel. In 1894 the Chamizal case was referred by the Mexican Foreign Office to the Commission on the complaint of one Garcia, a Mexican citizen, who claimed to own land in the Chamizal tract which had been cut off from his holdings on the Mexican side by the change in the course of the river.

The question at issue, under the provisions of the boundary treaties, as formulated by the American Commissioner and accepted by the Mexican Commissioner at the session of the Commission on November 6, 1895, was "whether or not the river in its passage moved over the land by gradual erosion from the Mexican bank and deposited on the United States bank, as described in Article I of the treaty of 1884, or by sudden avulsion, by cutting a new bed or deepening another channel than that which marked the boundary."

The case was tried at El Paso by Commissioner Osorno and myself; Messrs. Maillefert and Happer being the secretaries of the Commission, and Messrs. Corella and Dabney consulting engineers. We limited the witnesses to four of the most trustworthy of the older inhabitants on each side. Their testimony showed there was no basis for any claim that there had been any avulsion or cutting of a new bed. The change in the channel was clearly erosive, although at certain or rather "uncertain" times and places during floods the erosion had been much more rapid than others, and had been visible to the naked eye, since as the lower substratum of sand was washed out, the upper layer of clay along the concave or Mexican bank would cave in, sometimes in considerable chunks. The building up of the convex or American shore, however, had always been imperceptibly gradual.

The Mexican Commissioner reduced his argument to the following syllogism:

"Major proposition: Any change other than slow and gradual does not alter the boundary line (Article I of the Convention of November 12, 1884).

"Minor proposition: Since the change of the river in the case denominated 'El Chamizal' was not slow and gradual, but, on the contrary, violent and at periods of time of unequal intermissions (which has been fully demonstrated above).

"Conclusion: Thence, the change of the river at the lands of 'El Chamizal' does not alter the boundary line marked in 1852 by the International Boundary Commission (Article II of the Convention of 1884)."

I held that the treaty "clearly specifies but two classes of changes in the river," namely, erosive and avulsive, and that "any other unspecified change, as is implied in the major proposition of the syllogism of the Mexican Commissioner, we have no authority to consider, but that our respective conclusions must be in favor of one or the other, as specifically stated in the treaty."

I furthermore held that:

"The syllogism of the Mexican Commissioner must be rejected, not only because its minor proposition is not proven, but because it is abundantly disproven by every witness who testified in the case save Serna."

I further pointed out that in my opinion:

"* * * If the change at El Chamizal has not been 'slow and gradual' by erosion and deposit within the meaning of Article I of the treaty of 1884, there will never be such a one found in all the 800 miles where the Rio Grande, with alluvial banks, constitutes the boundary, and the object of the treaty will be lost to both governments, as it will be meaningless and useless, and the boundary will perforce be through all these 800 miles continuously that laid down in 1852, having literally no points in common with the present river save in its many hundred intersections with the river, and to restore and establish this boundary will be the incessant work of large parties for years, entailing hundreds of thousands of dollars in expense to each government and uniformly dividing the lands between the nations and individual owners, that are now, under the suppositions that for the past forty years the changes have been gradual, and the river accepted generally as the boundary, under the same authority and ownership; for it must be remembered that the river in the alluvial lands, which constitutes 800 miles, has nowhere today the same location it had in 1853."

Commissioner Osorno and I disagreed on the proper construction of the words "slow and gradual, erosion and deposit of alluvium" rather than on matters of fact. No decision could be rendered and the disagreement was reported to our governments, where the matter remained in a diplomatic state until 1910, when it was again referred to the Commission, enlarged for this case only by the appointment of a (presiding) commissioner, a Canadian jurist, to be selected by the two governments. The case was again brought to trial in El Paso in 1911, with the Commission constituted as follows:

Hon. Eugene Lafleur, of Montreal, Canada, Presiding Commissioner.

On the part of Mexico—

• F. Beltran y Puga, Commissioner.
• E. Zayas, Consulting Engineer.
• M. M. Velarde, Secretary.

On the part of the United States—

• Anson Mills, Commissioner.
• W. W. Follett, Consulting Engineer.
• Wilbur Keblinger, Secretary.

The two governments were represented as follows:

On the part of Mexico—

• SeÑor Joaquin de Casasus, Agent.
• W. J. White. K. C., of Montreal, Canada, Counsel.
• Seymour Thurmond, of El Paso, Associate Counsel.

On the part of the United States—

• William C. Dennis, Agent.
• Walter B. Grant, of Boston, Mass., Counsel.
• Richard F. Burges, of El Paso, Associate Counsel.

In the second trial, Mexico advanced a wholly different theory from that developed in the diplomatic discussions between the first and second trials. Mexico now maintained that the boundary treaties of 1848 and 1853 had laid down a "fixed line" between the two countries in the centers of the channel of the river as surveyed at that time by Commissioners Emory and Salazar, which boundary line remained immutable irrespective of any subsequent change in the course of the river, whether erosive or avulsive, until this was changed for the future by the treaty of 1884. Mexico contended this latter treaty was not retroactive but applied only to river changes taking place after 1884.

Driven to concede that in this view the treaty of 1884 had really no meaning, Mexico insisted the two governments were under a misapprehension when this treaty was negotiated, that it was inoperative and that the general rules of international law governing river boundaries had no application because the Rio Grande was in a technically legal sense not a river at all, but merely an intermittent torrential stream.

The United States denied that the boundary treaties of 1848 and 1853 established a fixed line, and contended the treaty of 1884 was retroactive in any event, and applied to the Chamizal dispute, and that this treaty was merely declaratory of the general rule of international law. Furthermore, the United States claimed the Chamizal tract by prescription.

The case was argued during sessions of the Commission extending over a month. The presiding Commissioner, Mr. Lafleur, rendered an opinion holding squarely against the Mexican contentions with respect to a fixed line and the non-retroactivity and non-applicability of the treaty of 1884. His discussion of these subjects is detailed and masterly. After holding against the American claim based on prescription, he appeared to assume that the treaty of 1884 contemplated some tertium quid aside from erosion and avulsion, which might perhaps be called "violent" erosion and which had the same effect as an avulsive change, namely, to leave the boundary line in the abandoned bed of the river. Applying this latter doctrine he found the erosion at the Chamizal tract from 1852 to 1864 had been gradual within the meaning of the treaty of 1884, and therefore the boundary during this period had followed the river, but that the floods of 1863 brought about a violent erosion, whereby the boundary line was left in the middle of the bed of the river "as it existed before the flood of 1863." He therefore awarded that portion of the tract between the channel of 1852 and the channel of 1864 before the flood, to the United States, and the remainder to Mexico.

The Mexican Commissioner filed a separate opinion dissenting from that part of Mr. Lafleur's opinion relating to the fixed line and the retroactivity and applicability of the treaty of 1884. Overruled on these points, Mr. Puga felt himself justified in joining with the Presiding Commissioner in construing the treaty of 1884 and therefore united in the award dividing the Chamizal tract between the two countries along the line of the river bed as it existed before the flood of 1864.

I filed an opinion dissenting from that portion of the Presiding Commissioner's opinion construing the treaty of 1884. I held the Commission was not empowered by the two governments to divide the Chamizal tract but was called upon to render a clean-cut decision in favor of one or the other government. I recorded my conviction that it would be "as impossible to locate the channel of the Rio Grande in the Chamizal tract in 1864 as to re-locate the Garden of Eden or the lost continent of Atlantis." And finally I pointed out, as I had in 1896, the impossible situation which would arise if any attempt were made to apply the principles of the majority opinion in other cases, concluding as follows:

"The American Commissioner does not believe that it is given to human understanding to measure for any practical use when erosion ceases to be slow and gradual and becomes sudden and violent, but if this difficulty could be surmounted, the practical application of the interpretation could not be viewed in any other light than as calamitous to both nations. Because, as is manifest from the record in this case, all the land on both sides of the river from the Bosque de Cordoba, which adjoins the Chamizal tract, to the Gulf of Mexico (excepting the canyon region), has been traversed by the river since 1852 in its unending lateral movement, and the mass, if not all of that land, is the product of similar erosion to that which occurred at El Chamizal, and by the new interpretation which is now placed upon the Convention of 1884 by the majority of this Commission, not only is the entire boundary thrown into well-nigh inextricable confusion, but the very treaty itself is subjected to an interpretation that makes its application impossible in practice in all cases where an erosive movement is in question.

"The Convention of 1910 sets forth that the United States and Mexico, 'desiring to terminate * * * the differences which have arisen between the two countries,' have determined to refer these differences to this Commission enlarged for this purpose. The present decision terminates nothing; settles nothing. It is simply an invitation for international litigation. It breathes the spirit of unconscious but nevertheless unauthorized compromise rather than of judicial determination."

Of course, I dissented from the award. When the award and the opinions of the three Commissioners were presented at the final session of the Commission, the United States agent made a formal protest on substantially the same grounds I had taken. My dissenting opinion and the protest of the American agent were sustained by the Department of State and the United States has declined to admit the validity of the award. The whole matter has therefore become the subject of diplomatic negotiations, which it is believed are progressing satisfactorily.

It is as much to the interest of Mexico as of the United States to reach an arrangement whereby the Chamizal tract divided from Mexico by the channel of the Rio Grande as it now runs, shall be definitively admitted to be American territory, because it forms an integral part of El Paso, upon which thousands of citizens have their homes.

During my service as Commissioner, Mexico was represented by four Commissioners: Mr. Canalizo, whose death has already been noted; Mr. Osorno, who participated in the first trial of the Chamizal case, and who subsequently resigned; Mr. Jacobo Blanco, who died after serving seven years, and Mr. Fernando Beltran y Puga, who sat at the second trial of the Chamizal case and remained with the Commission until our activity was suspended and he removed from office by the Madero government, leaving me the sole survivor of the four Mexican Commissioners.

These gentlemen were all equal in legal and judicial attainments to similar officials of our own government. They sought always to attain righteous decisions, and I think succeeded in the many cases that came before us.

Of my associates on the American section of the Commission, Messrs. J. A. Happer and Wilbur Keblinger, Secretaries, and P. D. Cunningham and W. W. Follett, Consulting Engineers, deserve special mention. Mr. Cunningham unfortunately lost his life in the service of the Commission through the overturning of his boat in the rapids of the Rio Grande near Eagle Pass in July, 1901. Messrs. Happer, Keblinger and Follett rendered invaluable service during many years, Mr. Follett in spite of a painful illness which would have incapacitated most men for work. Mr. Happer resigned to go into business in El Paso, where he has become a leading citizen. Mr. Follett died shortly after retiring from the Commission. Mr. Keblinger is serving with distinction as United States Consul at Malta.

Our proceedings were published in both languages, and the evidence, maps, plans and monuments were explained not only in scientific but in popular language, so that officials, surveyors, lawyers and judges of each country could readily understand the location of the boundary. (See Volumes 1 and 2, Proceedings Boundary Commission, Treaties of 1884 and 1889, and Equitable Distribution of the Waters of the Rio Grande, Roma to the Gulf, reports and maps, and many other reports on the same subject.)

I have presented copies of all my printed reports and maps and all proceedings published by both governments with respect to the Chamizal Arbitration, to the El Paso Carnegie Library, together with many reports and maps of the Barlow Commission and the Emory Survey, with the understanding that they will be kept as reference books subject to the examination of all interested.

During the sixteen years of our active service (the revolution in Mexico in 1911 having put an end to our activities), the Commission tried over one hundred cases of all kinds, disagreeing only in the Chamizal case, and preserved the peace and quiet of the entire Rio Grande border for these long years to the satisfaction of both governments and the people of the two nations.

Late Saturday afternoon, January 31, 1914, without any previous warning, I received by messenger a letter from Mr. Bryan, the Secretary of State, peremptorily dismissing Mr. Wilbur Keblinger, the Secretary of the American Section of the Commission, and appointing as his successor John Wesley Gaines, a discarded member of Congress, the bare mention of whose name to his former colleagues proved "a source of innocent merriment."

Mr. Gaines presented his appointment as secretary to me on Monday morning, stating he had been appointed associate Mexican boundary commissioner with me, and that he had been directed by Mr. Bryan to act as chairman.

He suggested I turn my books over to him, after the manner of a policeman who seizes a suspected culprit in the hope of finding stolen goods in his possession.

I informed Mr. Gaines that, while I recognized the legality of his appointment as secretary, I had theretofore been allowed to choose the American secretary of the Commission. As I had not asked for him, I told him he could go home and I would send for him when I wanted him in that capacity. I would not acknowledge him as an associate commissioner, as I was the only commissioner authorized by treaty, and told him he could inform the Secretary of State I would have nothing to do with him in that connection or his attempted authority over me as chairman.

Mr. Keblinger and I had already been summoned to appear before the Foreign Affairs Committee of the House at ten a.m. that day. I telephoned the Secretary of State for permission to take Mr. Keblinger with me as the official secretary. Mr. Bryan sent for me (it was the first time I ever saw him) and stated that there was no objection to my taking Mr. Keblinger as an individual, but I could not take him in an official capacity. I protested he had always appeared with me and greatly assisted me in my explanations to the committee; he was an honorable man and I felt the Secretary could not be aware of the great injustice he had done him. I told Mr. Bryan that Keblinger was too proud to appear voluntarily while under such unjust humiliation.

Finally the Secretary announced he might go with me temporarily in an official capacity. He turned upon me, and, "by questions dark and riddles high," charged me with prostituting my high public trust for purposes of private gain.

I told him I had served my government for fifty years as an army officer and in various capacities and in different departments of the government, and under eight of his successive predecessors in office—Secretaries Gresham, Olney, Sherman, Day, Hay, Bacon and Knox—without ever receiving from any one such language, and that I would not submit without resenting it. I invited him to put his best sleuths on my trail. While I was anxious to separate myself from official connection with him, I had been taught in the army it was not honorable to resign under charges. I told him I would not resign until he was able to state that his investigation found nothing wrong in my twenty years' administration under the State Department. I did not believe he could induce the President to dismiss me, and I told him I believed he had been deceived by such men as Dr. Boyd, who, during the administration of nearly all of his eight immediate predecessors had persistently made charges against me verbally, in writing and in published pamphlets. None of the Secretaries under whom I had served had thought it worth while even to notify me officially of these charges. I only learned about them in detail during the latter part of Secretary Knox's administration, when I found Dr. Boyd had several times been investigated by competent officers of the Department. Chief Wilkie, of the Secret Service, had reported him a dangerous man, when he had threatened in writing to horsewhip Secretary Hay. Thereafter he was denied the privilege of personal conferences with the Department.

Notwithstanding these explanations, Mr. Bryan appeared before the Foreign Affairs Committee, with Mr. Gaines, on the 5th. After a two days' hearing, in which I was questioned and cross-questioned regarding all my transactions for twenty years as Commissioner, my hearing closed with the following, which is quoted from the official report of the hearing:

"Gen. Mills: Mr. Chairman, I crave about three minutes, in which I hope to clarify this whole subject.

"I have met you here for the last twenty years. I have met also the committee in the Senate. And I have always been treated with such courteous consideration by the Department of State that I was encouraged to believe that my work was satisfactory, and it was desired that I should continue, especially so as after about sixteen years' service I was selected without solicitation by the Department as a member of a high commission to arbitrate the Chamizal case, and also that my dissenting opinion from a majority of the judges in that case was approved by the Department and by the President in his message, and I believe it is still maintained by the Department that kept me here. Had I considered my own personal convenience I would have resigned long ago. For obvious reasons I intend now to separate myself, if I can do so with honor, from this commission, and shall not have the personal pleasure of meeting you again. I thank you very kindly personally, and as I can not anticipate or hope to meet you again officially, I bid you adieu.

"The Chairman: Gen. Mills, I want to say for the committee that nothing has been done or said by the committee to tend to reflect upon either the character of your work or your intentions in disbursing the funds in your hands.

"Gen. Mills: I appreciate that, sir.

"The Chairman: We all realize that you have done a valuable work down there, and you have done it splendidly, but certain matters developed here that we were not aware of, and that you had been led into by the State Department, and we thought it our duty to investigate them and right them, and no reflection was intended upon you or Mr. Keblinger.

"Gen. Mills: Mr. Chairman, I want to say to one and all of you that I have been treated with the utmost fairness in all of my intercourse. My troubles are not here, but in another direction." (See printed report of the committee, containing sixty-five pages.)

Notwithstanding this absolute acquittal by an American jury—there were twelve members of the committee present, all intensely interested—Dr. Boyd's old charges, rehabilitated by Mr. Bryan's apparent support, led Senator Thomas, of Colorado, to deliver a two days' speech on the floor of the Senate. (See Congressional Record of March 23 and 24, pages 5984 to 6006, inclusive.) He mentioned my name fifty-two times, including such references as "this man Mills," charging me with the most disgraceful conduct with which an American officer can be charged. Called to my attention several days after its delivery, I brought it to Senator Root's notice, asking him to confer with Senator Thomas and see if an amicable adjustment could not be had by Senator Root's explaining I had served under him while he was Secretary of State, and could not be guilty of such misconduct.

Senator Thomas stated he had his information from reliable authority, whereupon Senator Root had my rejoinder published in the Congressional Record. (See pages 13424 to 13426, inclusive, of the Record of July 18, 1914.)

Mr. Thomas replied on the floor of the Senate (see Record, July 20, pages 13479 to 13480, inclusive), admitting he obtained much of his information from Dr. Boyd. He added, "My information comes, however, from the State Department and, until I am satisfied of its incorrectness, I shall insist that my statements are in accord with the facts."

I asked the State Department what their records showed upon the point in question. The matter was handled in the Department by the Honorable John E. Osborne, Assistant Secretary of State. He could have informed himself by a telephone conversation with an accounting officer of the Department. But he referred my letter to Mr. Gaines, who was absent. Followed delay, evasion, equivocation and confusion of the issue, the giving of unsought information about matters not in dispute, and withholding information needed for my defense, which it was the duty of the Department to give.

When finally cornered, after a four months' correspondence, Mr. Osborne wrote me the Department did not know the source of Senator Thomas' information. Mr. Osborne may have deceived himself into thinking that there was technical justification for his statements, but no one who reads the correspondence can have any more doubt as to the real situation than Senator Thomas, or as to the complicity of State Department officials in Senator Thomas' attack upon me.

When I sent the correspondence to the Senator he wrote me as honorable a letter of apology as could be expected, doing his best to let the State Department down easy, presented all the correspondence upon the floor of the Senate and asked for its publication, which will be found on pages 272 to 275, inclusive, of the Record of December 16, 1914.

I cheerfully acquit the Senator of everything except bad judgment. He felt justified by the information he received from officers of the Department to which he, perhaps not unnaturally, gave a credence proportionate to their official status rather than to their actual knowledge.

Mr. Bryan, however, has never offered any explanation. I am reconciled to the situation, believing he could write me nothing I would value in that connection.

The President accepted my resignation on June 24th, to take effect July 1st, on the conditions I stated, that the Department had found no evidence of neglect or wrong-doing on my part.

The President soon restored Mr. Keblinger to official favor. He suspended the regulations governing the Consular Service by executive order, in order to appoint this man, whom Secretary Bryan had summarily dismissed for alleged cause, as United States Consul at Malta, where he is serving with distinction, and where he was recently promoted. His defamers, Bryan, Osborne and Gaines, have returned, voluntarily or otherwise, to private life, while the Department of State is once more in the hands of gentlemen qualified by their training and ability to guide the foreign affairs of a great nation.

Woman's Suffrage

From what has gone before readers will understand that Nannie and I were always fervent advocates of woman's suffrage throughout our lives, and, as far as we could with respect to the popular prejudices of the day, tried to advance it.

Because of my diplomatic service under Secretary of State Gresham, the president of Indiana University, Dr. William Lowe Bryan, honored me with an invitation to the commencement of 1911, and showed me marked courtesy. My friend, Norman Walker, of El Paso, president of the class of 1906, accompanied me from El Paso and introduced me to members of the various classes.

The Indiana University is coeducational; of the 975 students, 231 were young women. Diplomas were given the graduates in the open air in a large sugar tree orchard in the presence of five thousand persons. When the president called the first name, a young lady in graduating garb presented herself. When several more young ladies followed I asked the president if he was calling women first out of courtesy to the sex. "Oh, no," he said, "they are honor graduates." Of the five highest graduates three were women. Asked how this was accounted for, the president said, "Because they are the best students. No one should suspect any partiality is shown them by their instructors. They deserve everything given them." This reinforced me in my lifelong opinion that women, if given an equal chance, were the equal of men in all the essentials of life's successes. I could but think how my mother would have felt if she could have survived to witness that scene, and when I returned home and told Nannie, it encouraged her to take a more prominent part in the cause of woman's rights generally, and especially woman's suffrage.

In February, 1913, a meeting of suffragists was held in Washington. Mrs. Carrie Chapman Catt was our guest, and a very interesting, well informed and courageous advocate of her cause we found her, as well as a most charming woman.

We attended several of their meetings in Washington and aided them materially. The association decided to hold a parade March 3, 1913. Nannie and I were members of the advisory committee, and about ten days before the date set Miss Paul, who had charge of that parade, told me that she was having difficulty in getting permission to march on the avenue. As I was personally acquainted with Mr. Rudolph, General Johnston and Colonel Judson, the District Commissioners, I introduced her to them. They treated her with the greatest courtesy; the chairman, Mr. Rudolph, both encouraged her and expressed his sympathy with her attempt to get permission and secure protection during the march, as did Colonel Judson. General Johnston was a little lukewarm; reasonably so, however, because he was not in favor of woman's suffrage. But they did not grant the permission.

General Johnston objected to the selection of the day before the Presidential inauguration, but others thought if permission was to be granted at all, it was better to have the two parades as near together as possible.

I advised Miss Paul to ask the Secretary of War for military protection from Fort Myer. Judson agreed, and, in his presence, Miss Paul made the application through the District Commissioners to the Secretary. Later she showed me a letter from the Secretary of War, declining to furnish the escort. Although the committee feared the parade would not be protected, most people believed the police would not so disgrace themselves as to fail to protect them from insult and humiliation, or to allow their parade to be broken up, as it practically was. Failing to get the permit from the Commissioners, Miss Paul applied to Congress, and the day before the parade Congress authorized it and made an appropriation for extra policemen. The parade was organized as systematically, as brilliantly and as efficiently as any parade of men ever held.

I believe that on that 3d day of March, 1913, woman's suffrage won its fight. Some of its members have acted foolishly since, as members of reform movements often do, but the day is won, and nothing but absolute reversion to barbarism can prevent women, as long as this country remains a republic, from having some voice in its government.

We both marched in the parade, Nannie with the homemakers. Another army officer, General Charles Morton, U. S. A., had the courage to march with his wife in this procession, as did a few Senators and members of the House. What happened is history. As it is fully related in Hearings Before Senate Committee, District of Columbia, 63d Congress, special session, under Senate Resolution 499, part first, wherein Nannie and I each testified, pages 101 to 116, inclusive, I will not relate it here.

But, notwithstanding the insults and humiliation heaped upon these brave and fearless women to the shame of many of the officials of the government, and particularly the Washington police, it was a proud day for women. Probably no marcher has ever regretted her participation in that parade, but is still proud.

Nannie enjoyed the victory to the utmost. While she continued to assist the society, she felt that the day of battle was past, and the problem would work out by the common sense of the men and women of this country, as it will.

It is remarkable that up to this time no candidate for President ever admitted any sympathy with woman's suffrage. Since that date, no candidate for President has failed boldly to announce (I hope sincerely) that he was whole-heartedly in favor of woman's suffrage. And I believe that in the future no candidate will fail to make this declaration.

Prohibition

Another cause in which Nannie and I were enthusiastic was that of prohibition, to restrain the intemperate use of intoxicants. We always kept liquor in the house and often offered it to guests, but we early learned to exclude it from the table when very young officers were present, because such an example might encourage them to form habits which they later would not be able to restrain. Unfortunately, Congress and the War Department authorized the canteen, an organization formed by the officers of military posts. Originally intended to dispense only such articles as were not furnished the soldier in the ration, clothing, and other allowances, it gradually came to dispense the strongest beverages, sometimes of a very poor and dangerous quality. Throughout the country, especially in States having anti-liquor laws, hostility to this privilege awarded to the army grew generally. Strong efforts were made to have Congress prohibit the canteen on the ground that the young soldiers, entering to buy ordinary supplies would be brought into the presence of comrades indulging in liquor and thus induced to participate.

The War Department ordered that the selling of beverages should be conducted in a separate room from that of other goods. This rule, however, was not generally obeyed. Politicians, employed by the liquor interests to circumvent the action which they feared Congress would take, would apply to the War Department to send circulars to officers of prominence asking his opinion as to whether it was to the interest of the army to allow the sale of beverages. The liquor interests selected copies of many favorable reports, together with a few of those that mildly objected, and published them throughout the country, carefully suppressing those vigorously opposing the use of liquor in the canteen. The canteen continued authorized for many years after the best judgment of the army decided against it, but Nannie and I both lived to see it entirely abolished, to the great joy and benefit of all save the conscienceless purveyor.

In like manner the highly taxed traffic was allowed among the people long after public sentiment disapproved of it, but thanks to the intelligence of Americans and the free discussion of the subject, Nannie and I lived to see it suppressed throughout much of our land. That it will soon disappear entirely, not only from this country, but from the whole world, seems assured.

Trip to Europe With General Miles

As General Miles had previously invited me to go with him to Europe, in 1906 I accepted an invitation to accompany him. We sailed on "La Provence" for France, and spent some two months in France, Ireland, Scotland, England and Switzerland, traveling most of the time by automobile.

Mr. Colgate Hoyt, of New York, president of the American Automobile Society and brother-in-law to General Miles, with his wife and daughters, Elizabeth and Anna, had invited us to accompany them on various journeys in their automobile, and we found them very enjoyable traveling companions.

Our most interesting sojourn was in Dublin, where we met the genial, strange, though interesting race of Irishmen. We were much interested in the jaunting cars, which are to this day the principal passenger vehicles of the cities of Ireland, and exclusively confined to Ireland. Curious to know why they were used there and nowhere else, we inquired, and found that the British Government, in their eagerness to collect all the taxes they could from such properties, levied a tax on vehicles per wheel, and on domiciles for window panes. To avoid this, the stubborn Irishmen would use nothing but two-wheeled vehicles and, unfortunately, they would put just as few panes of glass in their houses as possible, and this custom is carried out there to this day. The jaunting car, while not presenting to one unacquainted with it a very enticing invitation to ride, is, after all, when you become used to it, a very interesting vehicle, and General Miles and I invariably rode in them.

Our visit was at the time of the horse show and, being cavalrymen, we were interested in the exhibition and racing of the animals.

From Dublin we were invited by a Mrs. Galt-Smith, who was the owner of an old Irish castle, to visit her, and we spent some days as her guests at Kilwaughter Castle, in the north of Ireland.

Mrs. Galt-Smith took us around her neighborhood and we became acquainted with the peat bogs, which we had never seen before, where a great part of the fuel of the country was taken from dried up peat bogs, and, strange to say, the undried bogs were such that even horses became drowned when they tried to pass over them.

From there, we also visited the "Giant's Causeway," one of the geological curiosities of the world.

We passed from there through Scotland, through the country described by Sir Walter Scott, and saw in Edinburgh what is known as the "King's Inn," a national prison.

We traveled through the western part of Austria, adjoining Switzerland, where we saw the most unhappy people probably then on earth, poor and helpless, surrounded by soldiers on all sides and influenced by priests, who caused them to build wayside shrines at short distances from each other along the roads where the people would pause and make their obeisance to images. So unhappy and ignorant were these people that they would make grimaces at us while riding by in the automobile, and by gesture and physiognomy showed how much they hated those who were better situated than they were.

Returning, we visited London, stopping at the fashionable Carlton Hotel, where the people seemed less isolated from the world than on my former visit, less exalted in their estimate of themselves, and more appreciative of the progressive features of others, having adopted street cars, tunnels, elevators and electric lights, and become themselves personally more cosmopolitan, but they were still loudly English, proud of their Emperor, his empire and his royal family and accompanying dukes and nobles, so amusing to the rest of the intelligent world.

My Cartridge Belt Equipment

The invention, development and manufacture of the woven web ammunition carrier and its accompanying web equipment (which has taken the place of leather throughout the world), was my greatest material achievement. I only regret that they were not designed for construction rather than for destruction.

In 1866 our army adopted the breech-loading rifle with metallic ammunition, comparatively non-perishable by exposure to the elements. The almost cylindrical stem of the cartridge with the projecting flange on its head, made it possible to make a belt with closely fitting cylindrical loops, in which the cartridge was held in place by friction, prevented from dropping through by the flange.

When captain of the 18th Infantry, I equipped my company with my invention, using belts made of leather, with sewed-on leather loops. These did not prove entirely satisfactory. The acid in the leather acted on the copper in the shell, producing verdigris, causing the shells to stick in the belt or, after firing, in the chamber of the gun.

Belts of this character were submitted to every equipment board organized between 1866 and 1879, but so wedded were the authorities to the use of ancestral methods that no board even made favorable mention of my invention. Meanwhile, the cavalry and infantry on active service against Indians adopted these belts of this character, fabricating them themselves.

Becoming known at Washington, two ordnance inspectors were sent to inspect the equipment of the armies of General Terry and General Crook, confronting the hostile Sioux, in 1876. They reported it was impossible to compel soldiers on the frontier to use the regulation McKeever cartridge boxes, and recommended the manufacture of a uniform belt at arsenals. The Chief of Ordnance approved, and thirty thousand sewed canvas belts were made at Watervliet. Their uniformity and the facility with which they could be procured made them more satisfactory than those previously used, but the loops were still apt to rip and enlarge.

My experience with looms as a boy, gave me the idea of weaving the whole belt, body as well as loops, in one piece without sewing the loops, uniform in size and incapable of ripping or enlarging.

In search for advice as to the feasibility of this plan, I visited the Russell Manufacturing Company, at Middletown, Connecticut, and found Mr. Hubbard in charge.

I asked if he could not help devise a method for weaving the loops on the belt. He told me that thirty years' experience in textile fabrics told him it was utterly impossible, and that I should know that every string had two ends!

"You an army officer?" he asked; "Will you get angry if I give you some good advice?"

"No."

"Do you see that building?" pointing to the insane asylum. "Well, there are smarter men than you right in that building who got there by having just such things as this on their minds too long. I advise you to get it off."

Notwithstanding his advice, I did not get the matter off my mind until I had accomplished my conception.

In 1878 the War Department organized a board of officers consisting of Colonels Miles, McKenzie and Morrow, Major Sandford and Captain Benham, all officers of frontier experience, to consider the best method of carrying the new metallic cartridges.

They reported unanimously in favor of the belt, adding, "In this connection the board is very favorably impressed with the means devised by Major Anson Mills, 10th Cavalry, for weaving the cartridge belt and recommends it for adoption by the Ordnance Department and their manufacture."

This report was approved by General Benet, Chief of Ordnance; General Sherman, commanding the army, and the Secretary of War.

A few of these belts were made for presentation to the board on a hand loom manipulated by a skilled Scotch weaver, but we found it difficult to produce a web with loops of proper consistency and resilience. In spite of all we could do the web would be more or less fluffy or inconsistent (unable to retain its form), and was not satisfactory. I had more difficulty in producing webbing of proper consistency than in inventing the web belt and a loom to weave it all in the same piece. However, by procuring cotton of the very best fiber, twisted into multiple threads with such hardness of twist that neither the warp nor woof threads would break under a strain of nine pounds each, I finally produced a web with a better consistency and resilience than the best leather itself, notwithstanding the old adage that "there is nothing like leather."

Mr. George Crompton, of Worcester, the textile manufacturer, told me there was no hand machine which could not be duplicated by a power machine. So my next effort was devoted to making a power loom. I visited many textile factories in England, France and Germany, but found nothing to meet my requirements, and in a shop with two assistants I constructed the first loom, in Worcester, in 1879.

The Chief of Ordnance sent his senior officer, Colonel Hagner, to inspect the loom and report whether it was practicable to weave the loops on it. Its work was so satisfactory he recommended the discontinuance of the manufacture of the sewed belts made under his charge at Watervliet.

The Secretary of War adopted the belt for field service, continuing the McKeever box in the garrisons only. On August 24, 1895, the box was permanently abandoned and the belt became universal throughout the army.

Its superiority over all other methods for carrying ammunition are too apparent to need any general description here, but among its practical qualities may be named the easy access, the ready inspection, the instant detection of loss or exhaustion; the expressive martial purpose at sight, important in the suppression of riots, the ease with which it is carried, fitting closely to the body with weight so equally distributed as to lead the soldier almost to feel it a part of his person; the economy in weight and expense, neither being more than the leather belt to which the box, pouches, etc., of other methods were attached.

As an active army officer, I could not contract with the government to manufacture the belt.

On September 22, 1879, I offered, through the Chief of Ordnance, General Benet, to give the invention to the government if he would manufacture the belts in his department, thus advertising its worth to the sporting trade and to other nations. He preferred purchasing the belts in open market. The Gilbert Loom Company, of Worcester, agreed to furnish forty thousand single loop belts, paying me a small royalty. The forty thousand belts supplied the army for five years, so that neither Mr. Gilbert nor I received any large compensation. But we supplied a larger number to the sporting trade for different sized arms, rifles and shotguns, and so had sufficient income to keep the factory going. The Winchester Arms Company had the sole right to sell the sporting goods for five years, yet at the end of that period we received from both sources less money net than I had expended in the twelve years from 1866 to 1878 in perfecting and exploiting my improvements.

The cartridges for army belts were forty-five caliber. More than fifty loops on a belt for an ordinary man were not possible; yet, for rapid fire, it was necessary to have more than fifty cartridges on the person, and it was too cumbersome to carry two belts.

At the expiration of Mr. Gilbert's contract I entered into a contract with my brother-in-law, Mr. T. C. Orndorff, by which he was to devote his entire attention to building up the factory and perfecting the belt. He agreed that by diligent application and industry there was a fortune in the prospective improvements of the web belt and equipments and substitutes for leather, and entered heartily into the spirit of the work. He took over ten looms from Mr. Gilbert and the contract for furnishing the sporting trade from the Winchester Arms Company. I agreed to pay him an annual salary and ten per cent of the net profits. During the first three years, owing to difficulties with the trade and the Winchester Company, there were no profits; indeed, I advanced the factory a large sum of money. But he never lost courage.

Mr. Orndorff employed Captain Henry R. Lemly, U. S. A. (retired), to canvass the South American republics, and he obtained sufficient orders there to increase the net receipts. I was gradually regaining the money invested when the unexpected happened. The difficulty with Spain arose, and, on the passage of the "Fifty Million Bill," we received telegraphic orders from the Chief of Ordnance to equip a factory capable of turning out at least a thousand belts per day. The department wanted three hundred thousand belts as soon as possible. Orndorff contracted for equipping the factory for day and night work at a large expense, for which we had to go into debt.

We had about completed the order, but had delivered only two hundred thousand, when notice was sent that no further belts would be received. The ninety days' war was over! This put us in a practically bankrupt condition, a hundred thousand belts on hand and no market for them, and a large indebtedness. But we had no written contract and could not compel the government to take or pay for the belts.

Two Canadian regiments were assembling at Quebec to leave for South Africa and the Boer War. Orndorff and I concluded to make the two regiments a present of our belts. Hurriedly packing sufficient belts to equip the two regiments, he started for Quebec, October 28, 1899, consigning the shipment to Colonel Otter, commanding the contingent steamship "Sardinia-Quebec."

Arriving two hours before sailing, the colonels commanding the two regiments made much of Orndorff, gave him a dinner, and formally accepted the belts with many thanks in commendation of the "blood that is thicker than water."

In 1898 Mr. Hiram Maxim, of London, England, manufacturer of the one-pound automatic gun, wanted seamless belts for feeding his gun with large cartridges. He came to our factory, examined the looms and furnished riveted models for Orndorff's guidance.

During this visit I took Mr. Maxim and his wife to the Springfield armory and introduced them to the officers, whom Maxim hoped to get interested in his gun.

Then Maxim contracted with Orndorff to introduce our belts into the British army. Furnished with a number of samples to present for trial, both he and Mrs. Maxim went before the Army Board at Aldershot, of which Colonel Tongue was president, but the British army authorities were so wedded to ancestral methods that he failed in spite of eleven years of effort.

A Mr. Leckie, associated with Maxim, obtained some small orders for belts for the colonial troops in Australia, and Captain Zalinski, a retired artillery officer, tried to sell the belts in Europe, but in spite of energetic efforts, he failed. Orndorff visited Europe and applied at the British War Office before he ever saw Maxim, Leckie or Zalinski, but received no encouragement.

Orndorff bought much cotton yarn from Mr. William Lindsey, of Boston, who became familiar with our belt by visiting General Shaffer's army at Montauk. Seeing an opportunity, Lindsey solicited a contract to manufacture and sell belts to England, with exclusive rights.

We told him we had a tentative agreement with Messrs. Maxim and Leckie and, as they might claim compensation for any orders he might get, we expected him to stand between us and any claims presented by Maxim and Leckie, or either. Lindsey visited England and saw Maxim and Leckie, after which we contracted with Lindsey, binding him to expend a certain sum of money of his own in establishing and promoting the business. We loaned him a loom, furnished a skilled weaver, and sold him sufficient material to keep it going. On October 25, 1899, he sailed for England.

He possessed indomitable energy. Practically all his small fortune was invested in this undertaking of storming the British War Office, an impregnable fortress to most Americans.

The War Office soon learned that the Boers were equipped with our cartridge belt, save that they were sewed. The British troops were being defeated principally by the cumbersome, inadequate and heavy British equipment. By June, 1901, Lindsey had orders to equip the 300,000 British troops in Africa. The equipment gave such satisfaction that the War Office adopted the belt for universal use, and by the end of the year Lindsey established a large factory in London, and small ones in both France and Germany, making his venture as well as ours a complete financial success.

These factories have since been much enlarged, the buildings of the Worcester establishment now covering over two acres of ground.

The United States adopted a new magazine repeating rifle, after the Spanish War, with a thirty caliber cartridge, instead of fifty, but greater in length, necessitating carrying the cartridges in clips of five each. The loop belt was unsuited to cartridges in clips. It was necessary to replace the loops with pockets, carrying one or more clips. A bottom was woven in the pocket to keep the clips from falling through, and a flap was provided to button over the top to hold them in. Orndorff and I invented this belt. The belt usually has nine pockets, containing four clips of five cartridges each, which enables it to carry one hundred and eighty cartridges. When filled, these belts average about ten pounds in weight. It was found necessary to have attached straps, so the weight is partially carried by the shoulders.

For the marching equipment, we devised full kits of webbing so that no leather appeared in the whole outfit. Knapsack, haversack, and canteen are almost entirely of tightly woven waterproof webbing.

After the Boer War the British Government changed its single-loading rifle to a clip rifle and the double loop belts and bandoleers which Lindsey had manufactured became obsolete. The development of the pocket belt, however, enabled the foreign business to continue with a new product.

I gradually increased Orndorff's interest to thirty per cent of the profits of the business. Our long partnership was never marred by any friction or trouble. He had the harder part, as he had to submit to my dictation, I having the controlling interest. He was one of the most genial men with whom I ever associated.

After twenty-seven years' hard work, his health failed, and in July, 1901, he asked me to buy out his interest. I gave him a sum with which he was more than satisfied. Added to what he had accumulated, he had a competence greater than he needed during the rest of his life. He and his wife moved to Redlands, California, where Nannie and I visited them a year later. He was contented and happy, but he never grew strong again, and died in August, 1905. (Cut, 330.)

Twelve years ago, when I was offered enough for my factory and its good will to enable me to retire with a similar competence, I had the good sense to accept. I have not had one dollar's interest in it since September 11, 1905.

In twenty-seven years we never had a strike, never a serious discontent with any number of our employees, and we retain to this day the loyal good will of those who bought us out. The factory is still known as the Mills Woven Cartridge Belt Company, and my portrait is in the office with a legend telling of the foundation of the factory. Every article they make, now hundreds in number, is labelled and catalogued with my name.

Mr. Frank R. Batchelder, the present manager and sole controller, engaged in service with us in a subordinate capacity twenty years ago. He has made a fortune, which he has faithfully and honestly earned. He is very able and competent and as long as he lives will maintain the name of the factory in all its worth and integrity.

It has been my good fortune during most of my efforts to associate myself with young men, like Orndorff and Batchelder, of happy, sociable temperaments, able and industrious. I shall always remember them for the earnest, faithful and assiduous manner in which they forwarded my interests and at the same time afforded me a happy association with them socially.

Many connected with these factories at home and abroad are making more out of them than ever I made, but I have no envy. I received more than I expected or deserved, and am perfectly content. I enjoy the reputation more than the money.

To the day of her death, Nannie felt the same gratitude. In fact, it was she who first suggested that I had made enough, and that it was time to stop.

The League to Enforce Peace

On Saturday, May 27, 1916, Nannie and I attended by invitation, the national meeting in Washington of the League to Enforce Peace. Made an honorary vice-president and member of the executive committee, I attended its monthly meetings in New York. Officials of the society asked me to aid it by public speeches or written articles, and the editor of the New York Evening Mail requested my views on the League for publication. I referred a copy of my letter to the Mail, to the President, Mr. Taft, and Dr. Lowell, chairman of the executive committee. It was approved by them for publication over my name as a member of the League, although of course not as an expression of the League itself; President Taft suggested that I send a copy to Secretary Short for publication by the League as a part of its literature, which I did.

After making changes suggested by Dr. Lowell, the article which follows was published by the Mail:

November 28, 1916.

To the Editor of the Evening Mail:

Sir: Your favor has just reached me.

You ask my opinion "as to what should be done at once or in the near future, and what steps should be taken by the League to Enforce Peace to help the national government create an atmosphere wherein the voice of the American people may be heard and heeded."

To the first I answer—Nothing. There are at present, counting Greece, seventeen of the most powerful and civilized nations of the world engaged in the most causeless, vengeful and barbarous of all wars known to history.

There are perhaps actively engaged twenty-five or thirty millions of the most destructive soldiers that ever trod the earth, representing perhaps five hundred millions of the earth's best civilization, whose judgment has "fled to brutish beasts," and nothing this nation or its people can do will change its course or affect its termination one iota.

In fact, we have no remedies for our wrongs, more than a bystander in a street fight, and must bide our time, meanwhile playing the Good Samaritan under difficulties as best we can, leaving the various roads to the various Jerichos devastated and unpoliced.

The art and science of war has so enhanced the means of defense and taken the pomp and circumstance from war that all the world in arms can not again conquer and abjectly subjugate an enlightened, homogeneous and loyal people of fifty millions. This war can be settled only by exhaustion of many years and a truce of perhaps a year to compose many compromises.

We have an example in our own civil war, where England, France and Austria sought to intervene, to their own mortification and regret, and where we (but one nation then as contrasted now with seventeen) were as vengeful as the present combatants; but we were all patriots, and when there came a Lincoln, a Grant and a Lee we learned to know each other better, as in due time these hundreds of millions of the very best, most civilized and most patriotic people of the world will learn to know each other better when they have developed (as they will develop) their Lincolns, Grants and Lees, "with charity for all and malice toward none."

They have "taken many captives home" (perhaps near four millions each in fair proportion), but they can not as of old by slavery "their general coffers fill"; on the contrary, their care and keep will be a great expense and burden. Meanwhile the captives will be learning the language of their foes and earnestly preaching their country's cause and their own patriotism—none entirely without reason.

Our people and nation have much mixed up the preparedness frenzy—appropriating hundreds of millions for the best arms and munitions—paying little heed to the "man behind" them, who also should be the best. They, however, insult his intelligence by offering him $15 a month, while he knows that the nation employs as many policemen as it does soldiers, and pays (the lower grades) from $75 to $100 per month, and as many letter-carriers at similar rates. The soldier is as well worthy of his hire. Statistics show the soldier's pay to be about 14 per cent of the cost of our great wars.

Preparedness will be complete when the private's pay is $50 on entrance and graded upward. This would be less expensive than to "make his trade the trade of all" by universal conscription. Desertions, recruiting stations, guard-houses and courts martial will virtually disappear. The very best and most intelligent single men in the country will qualify and each captain will have a long waiting list of men who will need little training or discipline. We shall have a democratic army from which intelligent and efficient officers can be raised.

There is no such tangible thing as "international law." All real laws are "rules of action" entered into and agreed upon by communities of individual rational and soul-possessing human beings, where each individual surrenders some of his natural rights that greater good may come to the greater number, and where there is a latent police force (subject to call) with a moral environment of its soul-possessing members sufficient to make the call and enforce its mandates.

Without these two elements of the individual human conscience there is no community on earth so civilized and righteously inclined as to be able to conduct in peace and order a prayer-meeting, a bank, a fair or a public game, but with these two elements well developed, what is known as a "gentleman's agreement" could be carried out by the righteous soul-consciousness of public sentiment.

So-called international law has no such elements. Its rules are generally established by powerful nations in great wars who, in dire disaster, for self-preservation disregard and violate previously accepted rules to suit their success and also proclaim new rules not hitherto known or accepted, enforcing them to serve the same ends as far as they have the power, thus establishing precedents, leaving the wronged of the world no remedy against such might-made laws save the might-made remedy of war, and so so-called international law is created, the individual rational soul-possessing human being having no voice in its creation, repeal or enforcement.

These "precedents" are without the two essential elements, "latent police force" and "soulful moral environment," to compel observance. Hence there is no such tangible thing as "international law."

Perhaps the League to Enforce Peace would be in a better position at the close of this war to present its scheme had we adhered to the contribution of General Jackson to so-called international law. In 1818, when General Jackson with a punitive expedition after Creek Indians captured Pensacola, then under Spanish sovereignty, he arrested two British subjects, Ambrister and Arbuthnot (one a British army officer), and tried and executed them for selling arms to the Creek Indians.

This was accepted by England, then the ruling power of the world, and her predecessor, Spain, and approved by the United States.

In this present war it is obvious to all, combatants as well as neutrals, that we are luxuriously feasting on the blood and tears of all the combatants, and to some extent the neutrals. For a long time custom has approved this. Now envy and jealousy on the part of some and a conviction on the part of many that it is unrighteous, is bringing to bear upon us a widespread prejudice which will continue to increase in a progressive ratio until the war ends.

This may impair our efficiency as an advocate of a league to enforce peace.

Now, as to "what steps should be taken by the League to Enforce Peace." I know that it realizes the magnitude of its undertaking; but owing to the great international communication, general intelligence, and common interest of the people of the world, with the opportune conditions we shall have at the termination of the war—perhaps no greater an undertaking than that devolving upon Washington, Jefferson, Franklin and their associates of the convention of the thirteen former free and independent colonies, then thirteen free and independent states.

Their problem was then much as ours is today. That is to say, to form a community of individual states after the methods and manners of the communities of individual men above described, wherein each individual state was to surrender some of its minor natural rights for the greater good of the greater number.

There was then, as there are now, great misgivings and doubts even among ourselves. The rest of the world held, through the despotism of custom, the false doctrine that war was the natural state of man. Academic lawyers and diplomats held, as they do now, that there were "state's rights" and "non-justiciable interstate cases" more potent than the rights of human beings. So that outside America the scheme was ridiculed as visionary and impracticable.

Our people and the colonies (then states) had become so abhorrent of the devastation, blood and tears of a seven years' war that they decided, through the wise men of this convention, that the states would surrender to the general good the few rights "without remedies" they might have and, so to speak, charge them to "profit and loss."

This wise convention surprised the world with a constitution of "league of states" so perfect in all its detail of "legislation," "adjudication" and "execution" (reducing the loss of rights without remedy to the minimum) that for 128 years (with one regrettable exception) the nation had played the Good Samaritan for the natural afflictions of pestilence, flood and famine to all its people of the thirteen states (gradually increased to forty-eight), meanwhile preventing the unnatural afflictions of war and keeping open and well policed all the roads to all the Jerichos within them. In the case of the exception, the force provided proved sufficient and effective to restore order and contentment.

To a rational mind giving the matter reasonable study it is hard to conceive a conclusion other than that similar results may be accomplished with a similar league of the nations of the world.

Anson Mills.

While there were some forty-six members of the executive committee, it was difficult to get a legal quorum of fifteen and there were never more than twenty members present, almost all from New York City or New England. It was in fact a close North Atlantic seaboard corporation.

Believing we could not organize national sentiment in favor of the League's program with so sectional a representation, I moved that the next meeting be held at Kansas City, or some other central location, to obtain a better representation of the sentiments of the whole people. I was refused a vote, but the motion was referred to the committee on management, which smothered it.

At the meetings I attended never more than fifty minutes were devoted to the discussion of an intelligent propaganda solely in the interests of the League, but there was much discussion by a few as to inducing the President, Congress, or both, to intervene in the European war. The efforts a few of us made to declare the League an organization formed to maintain a neutral attitude regarding the European war, so that when peace should come the society might have greater opportunity to carry its righteous propaganda successfully to both victors and vanquished, were uniformly referred to the Committee on Management and never heard of again.

When the United States declared war the few members of the committee present declared the League not neutral but belligerent. My view, expressed in a letter to the Secretary, was that since our Government had accepted the gage of "Trial by Combat" it was the first duty of every American to put forth every energy to attain success, postponing nobler aspirations until flags of truce should be flying from both friends and foes. To that end I suggested we postpone our next meeting until victors and vanquished alike be so prostrated with wretchedness, poverty and shame for their cruelties and barbarities, that they would lend more willing ears to the propaganda we had so much at heart. This course not being taken, I notified the Secretary, that by participating in the war as an organization, the League had in my opinion so destroyed its capacity for good that my further attendance at the Executive Committee meetings could serve no useful purpose. My resignation was accepted.

In my opinion, the League made two serious errors: First, in Article III of its constitution where it excepted "non-justiciable" cases from the control of the proposed league. It is unsafe to devise any law or rule of action which permits of too numerous or too ill-defined exceptions. If criminal law exempted non-justiciable questions from the jurisdiction of courts, no criminal, even the most heartless murderer, could be convicted. The ingenuity of lawyers could always prove some non-justiciable element entered into the crime. The same would be true of nations. Those most powerful and best prepared for war would assume greater latitude in defining what was justiciable and would show less punctiliousness in endeavoring to establish their definition than nations smaller and less well prepared. Statesmen and diplomats working in secret would easily show any question about to lead to war as "non-justiciable" and not to be presented to the international court set up by a league composed of many nations too weak to be respected by the powerful.

The second mistake was to yield, as an organization, to the allurements of "Trial by Combat," and to endeavor, as a league, to induce our nation to intervene in the present war. Members might take this course as individuals, but, when they made it the act of a league for peace they stultified the league, and in my opinion, destroyed any great power for usefulness the league might have in the future.