Class t" S'^] ^ 
 
 Book - Yi ~j H- - 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
A MISSOURIAN IN THE FAR WESp' 
 
 OR 
 
 Jhe World as Seen by a Stranger 
 
 "It never pays 
 
 To fret and growl 
 When fortune seems our foe. 
 
 The better bred 
 
 Will push ahead 
 And strive the braver blow; 
 
 For luck is work 
 
 And those who shirk 
 Should not lament their doom. 
 
 But yield the play 
 
 And clear the way 
 That better men have room." 
 
 BY 
 
 Joel Strother Williams 
 
 Dbmochat Printing Company 
 Cabbollton, Mo. 
 
v/it 
 
 LIBRABY of CONGRESS 
 TwoGoDies Received 
 
 MAY 12 1906 
 
 y^^Copyrizht Entry 
 CLASS CL XXb, No. 
 
 .^Jf'^^ 
 
 Entered according to the Act of Congress 
 
 in the year 1906 
 
 by Joel Strother Williams 
 
 in the ofQce of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 I respectfully dedicate this book to Hon. Theodore 
 Roosevelt, chief magistrate of the greater part of North 
 America, commander-in-chief of the Army and Navy thereof 
 and leader of the anti-race suicide order of his native land. 
 I am led to this course because I believe Mr, Roosevelt is a 
 nice man; because he draws a larger salary than any other 
 civil officer in this country; and because I want him to pay 
 me the same tribute of recognition when he again condescends 
 to the insignificance of writing books and I rise to the prom- 
 inence of occupying the chair of the President of the United 
 States. 
 
P r^e: f a c k 
 
 Were it not for the tact that books meet critical eyes 
 and skeptical minds a preface to a work like this would not 
 be necessary; but as long as the sun has shone upon the ama- 
 teur's green field of energy no one has ventured to scatter an 
 edition of a book broadcast through the land without laying 
 down a few statements in the beginning to protect him from 
 the wild conclusions of a doubting world. If an author wishes 
 to be given due credit for that which he attempts, instead of 
 undue credit for that which he does not attempt, he must m- 
 sert his purpose to keep the wayward mmds of his readers 
 from going astray and to give all who may try to unravel any 
 tangled bit of matter a fair chance to see things in his own 
 original way. 
 
 Inasmuch as the material substance of this book was 
 gathered by the author from his personal experience and is 
 told in his own peculiar style, it is not to be expected that a 
 discourse of such dry facts will interest the public as would a 
 
PREFACE vii 
 
 work in which the briUiant imagination of a more accom- 
 plished writer is allowed to play upon the theme. Although 
 the author has indulged freely in imaginary circumstances and 
 fugitive assertions, he is painfully aware of his inability along 
 with his lack of patience and persistence; but as he lays no 
 claim to an ability to write a perfect book, he has no apol- 
 ogies to offer for his short-comings. If critics insist upon 
 reasons for the incorrect and incomplete appearance of this 
 little volume, they have but to turn to this page and read a 
 frank confession of ignorance on the part of the author, and 
 to consider the offending source accordingly. 
 
 In letting these leaves escape his hands the author real- 
 izes that he enters a dangerous field. He, and he alone, is 
 responsible for a production that must survive flattery or suc- 
 cumb to cynical criticisms, yet there is but one regret sent 
 out with this book. The world holds a profound respect for 
 the book buyer, and, it might be added, an equally profound 
 contempt for the book borrower; and it is feared that this 
 book will be read by some one who has not paid for it. The 
 book borrower possesses all the mean instincts of the potato 
 bug, the cabbage flea and the other low forms of life in the 
 pest kingdom, and in the battle of life makes about such a 
 mark as a Roman candlestick would make in an encounter 
 with a Krupp gun. 
 
 There are, however, some things that are irresistible to 
 literary ambition. When a young optimist consults his own 
 
via PREFACE 
 
 conscience regarding the success of a prospective venture he 
 is seldom dissuaded from his purpose. He sees a few bright 
 possibilities and ignores all the unfavorable probabilities, and 
 plunges recklessly to his doom. 
 
 So it is in the present case. This experiment is made 
 with implicit faith in the public, and with the hope that its 
 chapters may at least serve to amuse the minds and gratify 
 the curiosity of all who care to view their pages. 
 
 When the future historian of American literature appears 
 upon the scene it is hoped that "A Missourian in the Far 
 West or the World as Seen by a Stranger" will escape his 
 inspection, but if it shouldn't, let him write only "It was a 
 book that was never dramatized." 
 
LEAVING CARROLLTON 
 
 I was always fond of visiting new scenes, and observing 
 strange characters and manners. Even when a mere child I 
 began my travels, and made many tours of discovery into 
 foreign parts and unknown regions of my native city, to the 
 frequent alarm of my parents, and the emolument of the 
 town-cryer. As I grew into boyhood. I extended the range 
 of my observations. My holiday afternoons were spent in 
 rambles about the surrounding country. I made myself 
 familiar with all its places famous in history or fable. I knew 
 every spot where a murder or robbery had been committed, 
 or a ghost seen. I visited the neighboring villages, and added 
 greatly to my stock of know^edi^e by noting their habits and 
 customs, and conversing with their sages and great men. I 
 even journeyed one long summer's day to the summit of a 
 most distant hill, from whence I stretched my eye over many 
 a mile of terra incognita, and was astonished to find how vast 
 a globe I inhabited. — Washington Irving. 
 
 This habit of investigation is an heirloom of mankind, 
 
 and, therefore, is one of the unavoidable traits that distinguish 
 
 the human race from the less progressive inhabitants of the 
 
 earth. From time immemorial down to the present day. the 
 
 same ungovernable passion of boyhood has been handed down 
 
 from generation to generation, and I am inclined to believe 
 
2 A MISSOURIAN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 that those who yield to it do, after all, only obey their natural 
 instincts. I admit that the love for travel and adventure has 
 lured many a person from the paths of good judgment into 
 the treacherous byways of folly, but I decline to look upon 
 such a fate as a lesson to guide the footsteps of others. In 
 my mind, every person owes it to his welfare to be hopeful 
 and confident. I do not believe it was intended for anyone 
 to live forever in one place. It is his duty to observe the 
 works of nature, and mingle with the wonders of creation 
 
 At any rate, I long ago concluded that there is about as 
 much enjoyment in the world for me as for anyone, and I 
 have never let an opportunity pass without making an effort 
 to drink in some of its pleasures. 
 
 Such were my feelings in the summer of 1905 when 
 everybody was going to Portland; and at last I decided that 
 the great West was neither too good nor too distant for me 
 to see. This was a bold and perhaps a reckless conclusion 
 for one like me to form; but I could have no peace of mind 
 till the wild trip was decided upon, so I took the matter into 
 serious consideration. 
 
 My plans were rather tedious to make, for there were 
 many disadvantages to be conquered and a great risk to be 
 run in making the trip; but this fact did not deter me from 
 my purpose in the least— in fact, I did not seem to realize the 
 extent of the proposition. However, there were three things 
 to be dealt with before anything could be done. My parents 
 
A MISSOURTAN IN THE FAR WEST 3 
 
 would not have thought it prudent for me to start on a three 
 thousand mile journey alone; I was not flushed with money; 
 and I had a very inconvenient way of getting around. 
 
 I was not long in disposing of the dread of parental in- 
 terference. There are some people in the world who are 
 never so happy as when tasting forbidden fruit, and, unfortu- 
 nately, I am one of them. It was my willful determination 
 to keep my schemes a severe secret as long as possible, even 
 if in so doing I was compelled to leave CarroUton unawares 
 to all. 
 
 The money question was a more difficult problem. I had 
 only twenty dollars; and while I could easily have had more 
 for the asking, I preferred to rely on my own resources. It 
 was a good while before T could decide what to do. I wrote 
 to a Chicago book firm for agents' terms and complete outfit, 
 which I received three days later. The firm agreed to let me 
 sell the books for any price I might be able to get for them, 
 providing that they receive a dollar for each book they sent 
 me. I thought this was a pretty good offer, so I accepted it, 
 concluding to go as far as I could on the twenty dollars, then 
 to canvass. 
 
 The next thing for consideration was my mode of getting 
 around. As I could not walk, I would be obliged to carry 
 my wheel along with me. But whether the railroad company 
 would accept such baggage, I did not know. Upon investi- 
 gation I learned that all railroad companies are compelled by 
 
4 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 law to carry wheeled chairs free of charge when the owner 
 rides on the same train. This was good news, and I began 
 to plan in earnest. 
 
 On the morning of June 21 I departed. The train left 
 the station at eight o'clock. My car was crowded with 
 Chicago tourists who were out for good times, and with whom 
 I soon became engaged in conversation; but the conductor 
 soon came along and called for my fare, which interrupted 
 our chat. Of the twenty dollars, I kept five as a reserved 
 fund to be used only in case of an absolute emergency, and 
 gave the remaining fifteen to the conductor, telling him that 
 I wanted to go as far west as that amount would carry me. 
 He took the money, smiled significantly and remarked that I 
 would play hobo getting to Portland on fifteen dollars. I 
 told him not to worry about that part of it, but he only 
 smiled again and passed on. 
 
 The curious passengers who had been listening began to 
 ask me all kinds of questions; but I tried to be pleasant, and 
 would answer their queries good-naturedly, but 10 my own 
 satisfaction. 
 
 There were more women than men in the car, and as the 
 book for which I had the agency was of the kind to interest 
 women, I thought I would just try my hand at the new busi- 
 ness on the train, realizing, however, that I would have to 
 exercise extreme care that I might not offend the newsboy, 
 who had the exclusive peddlers' right on the train. I passed 
 
A MISSOURTAN JN THE FAR WEST 5 
 
 my prospectus to a lady across the aisle, and asked her if she 
 would like to buy a copy. She looked at the book for a 
 moment and then asked the price, to which question I 
 answered "Three dollars;" whereupon she gave me twice that 
 amount, and told me to have two copies sent to her address at 
 Hannibal, Missouri. 
 
 I thanked her very kindly, and the next time the con- 
 ductor came through I gave him three dollars of the profit 
 made on the sale of the two books, which paid my fare in full 
 to Denver. 
 
 My great luck made my courage swell. Before we 
 reached Kansas City I had sold three books more, the last 
 time being able to get only two and a half dollars each. 
 
 By some means the woman directly opposite me, who 
 had paid three dollars each for her books, discovered my 
 schemes, and became hysterically envious of the other buyers. 
 She raved and snorted, she tore her flowing locks and disar- 
 ranged her bangs until the old car fairly rocked under her 
 awful rage. She demanded that I refund her money; but I 
 shook my head, and she swore that I was a demon, and kept 
 up her spasmodic behavior till the conductor told her that 
 there would be a derailment unless she subdued her manners 
 a little. 
 
 We pulled into Union depot about half past ten, and 
 when the train stopped every car took a vomit. 
 
 We remained here half an hour. Many of the passen- 
 
6 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 gers got off at this station and my car was filled with new 
 ones, a considerable number of whom were bound for Port- 
 land. 
 
 I was sitting next to the window about the middle of the 
 car as the train began to crawl out of the yards, when a 
 pretty, dimple-faced girl came tiptoeing down the aisle, and 
 asked me if I would share my seat with her. I told her to 
 sit down if it would do her any good. She seemed to be 
 very pleasant and good-natured, but I couldn't help feeling 
 strangely out of place sitting there beside a little duck that I 
 had never seen before. 
 
 Every time she would look at me I would turn my head 
 and look out of the window. Sometimes she would smile at 
 me sweetly, as if purposely to test my power to resist such 
 things; but I would only grin blankly and turn the other way. 
 As is generally the case, however, my nerve finally came to 
 my rescue, and I thought I could be as game as she; so I as- 
 sumed an air of dignity, and waited patiently for a bite. 
 Soon she broke the ice by asking me my name. I tried to 
 be polite, at the same time as stupid and silly as possible, 
 and I asked her to please excuse me. She expressed a sur- 
 prise, and declared I was the first nameless lobster she had 
 ever met. I let the conversation drag because the passengers 
 were laughing, and she made several remarks to which I did 
 not respond. I sat with my head out of the window half the 
 time, and feigned an intense interest in the country; but I 
 soon found this scheme wouldn't work. 
 
A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 7 
 
 The newsboy came waddling down the aisle with a big 
 basket of California peaches, and as I was peering out of the 
 window with all my might, she tapped me gently on the 
 shoulder, which I took to be a delicate hint for me to "set 
 them up." But I was innocent and did not betray my under- 
 standing, and pretty soon she called my attention to the fruit 
 again. 
 
 I blated out that she was peach enough for me. I 
 thought this would cook her, but instead, it seemed only to 
 aggravate the situation; for I had scarcely finished my sen- 
 tence when she puckered up her naughty lips with another 
 one of those overwhelmingly sweet smiles, and whispered 
 "And I presume you like peaches, do you not.-*" 
 
 This was getting entirely too familiar to suit me; but as 
 I had the inside seat, my escape from the scene of embarrass- 
 ment was not possible. I was tempted to crouch down on 
 the floor in some far corner, or to crawl under the reclining 
 chair in which I sat; but on a second thought, I knew that 
 the manifestations of my disinclination to talk made the girl 
 only the more anxious to tease me. There was but one thing 
 for me to do, and I resolved the second time not to let her 
 out-flirt me. 
 
 By this time we were well out of the city limits, and were 
 bounding along at a terrific speed. The old engine was 
 grunting and snorting, and everybody seemed to be jolly. I 
 had quite forgotten my business as book salesman, but as I 
 
8 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 had a few dollars in my pocket, I thought I would wait till I 
 got to Denver before trying to sell any more. 
 
 The girl in the chair beside me was certainly doing her 
 best to tantalize me. Her mere presence was very provok- 
 ing, but when she would take on one of those long, lingering, 
 oh-don't-you-wish-I-belonged-to-you expressions, the situation 
 would become too severe for my weak nature, and I would 
 have to open the window to get my breath. 
 
 She had a voice capable of appeasing the most ferocious 
 nature, and her deliciously red and juicy lips were simply too 
 tempting for the eyes of a poor creature like me to feast upon. 
 She continued to torment me, first in one way then in an- 
 other, until I grew so hopelessly desperate that I expanded 
 my chest with about twenty-five cubic feet of air, propped 
 my feet as high as possible on the back of the chair in front 
 of me, sank back, and let off a groan equal to John L. Sulli- 
 van in a round with Fitzsimmons. The girl uttered a little 
 shriek and began to fan me; and such fanning she did do! 
 
 "Poor fellow," she said, "are you dying?" 
 
 I made no reply, but walled my eyes like a sick ape in 
 the last stage of goodbyemonkeymalady, and went into a 
 spasm of new-born agony, jerking and quivering like a Shang- 
 hai rooster on a red hot griddle. 
 
 During my convulsions the porter bulged into the car 
 and bawled "Lawrence," then, turning to the girl, said 
 quickly, "Miss, this is your station." She left the seat and I 
 breathed the sweet air of relief once more. 
 
A MISSOURTAN IN THE FAR WEST 9 
 
 I straightened up and looked about me; I saw the pas- 
 sengers smihng and commenting on my strange conduct. 
 Evidently they did not know that it was all a sham; for one 
 man sitting near me asked me if I was subject to such spells. 
 I told him the fits were voluntary, but that they were likely 
 to occur in self-defense as often as necessary. Another man, 
 whose looks I did not like, tried to work up a conversation 
 with me, but as his manners were so very rough and un- 
 cultured, I was severely independent and made use of my 
 freedom by refusing to talk to him. He asked me my name, 
 and wanted to know where my home was, but failing to see 
 wherein such information would benefit or even concern him, 
 I told him that I was a Wall street financier from New York 
 and that I was enroute to California where I intended to 
 spend my vacation. He then wanted to know what I meant 
 by traveling alone. I gave hini to understand that that was 
 only my business, which rebuke had the desired effect. He 
 walked away and left me alone. 
 
 The next station was Topeka. It was two o'clock when 
 we reached this place, where we stopped twenty minutes for 
 dinner. 
 
 Being tired and hungry, and not bemg used to high- 
 priced meals, I was rather extravagant in my orders; and 
 when I had finished eating the depot matron told me that I 
 owed her seventy-five cents. I tried to jew the clerk down, 
 but he politely reminded me that the dining hall was run by 
 
10 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 the railroad company and that railroad companies can not be 
 jewed, so I had to dig up. 
 
 There were many people in the hall, and I seemed to 
 create quite a bit of curiosity frisking about with my rubber 
 tired wheeled chair in which I cut all kinds of shines while 
 we waited for the time to enter our cars again. I felt as gay 
 as a yearling colt in a fresh field of clover. Nothing except 
 the high price of grub worried me, and after a while I even 
 ceased to worry about that. I resolved to be as swell a sport 
 as any of my fellow tourists so long as I had a cent of money. 
 
 When we boarded our cars again I did not get the seat 
 that I had been occupying; in fact I had a hard time finding 
 any kind of a seat, for the train was crowded to its utmost 
 capacity; but after a good deal of trouble I found a vacant 
 chair in the rear. 
 
 We rattled along the track at a rapid rate, and it wasn't 
 long till the continuous rumbling of the iron wheels beneath 
 the squeaking trucks had overcast my spirit with a feeling of 
 drowsiness; so I very soon tumbled back into a deep sleep 
 from which I did not awake until three o'clock the next 
 morning. 
 
 The engine bell was ringing dolefully when I looked out 
 of the window and saw the dim signs of day in the far east. 
 We had stopped at a little way station to take water, but it 
 was some time before I could realize where we were. The 
 porter, who was swinging his lantern as he passed through 
 the car, told me that we had just crossed the state border. 
 
A MISSOURTAN IN THE FAR WEST 11 
 
 I rubbed my eyes in hope of becoming wider awake, but 
 when we began to move again I was soon buzzed into an- 
 other nap. At half past eight the porter woke me and said 
 the next station was Denver. I rubbed my eyes and yawned 
 lazily until we stopped in the yards of Union Depot, which 
 point we reached sharply at nine o'clock. 
 
 «K 
 
12 A MISSOURIAN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 A DAY IN DENVER 
 
 Denver was far from what I expected to see, or rather, 
 my expectations lacked a good deal in being Denver; but as 
 it is quite impossible for one who has never been so far west 
 to form a correct conclusion of the real greatness of a west- 
 ern metropolis, I was much surprised when I saw the real, 
 the ideal Denver. 
 
 The day was gloriously fine. The air was strangely rare 
 and balmy, and the atmosphere was in that serene state of 
 clearness which is characteristic only of Colorado climate. 
 In the yards of the station a dozen long trains lay like great 
 spotted dragons hissing and panting, and anxiously awaiting 
 an opportunity to escape from disagreeable surroundings. 
 The streets were wide and well paved, level and very clean; 
 but in some places were clouded by a confusion of electric 
 wires that swung between the tops of the great buildings like 
 massive cobwebs suspended in midair. I could not but feel a 
 degree of triumph in that Denver was now mine to see and 
 enjoy; but mingled with my triumph was a feeling of awe and 
 consternation for the terrifying whir and whiz of metropolitan 
 industry. The thoroughfares were thronged with people 
 hurrying to and from their various places of business; cars 
 
A MISSOURTAN IN THE FAR WEST 13 
 
 chased each other up and down the streets as far as I could 
 see; horses, carriages, moving vans and automobiles of every 
 description swept by one after another; and the busy hum of 
 traffic and commerce rose on every side. 
 
 After being shaved by the depot barber — I should say 
 after he was paid, for he charged me fifteen cents which was 
 a big item to me then — I took a car on Seventeenth street 
 and went about two blocks toward town to a restaurant for 
 breakfast. I can hardly call it breakfast, either, for it was 
 ten o'clock when I reached the restaurant; but as I had missed 
 my last supper and breakfast, I thought I would just try a 
 ten o'clock lunch, anyway. I could have eaten at the depot, 
 but the fear of Topeka prices made me realize that I had had 
 one railroad dinner, and I thought I would seek another 
 place this time just for a change, if for nothing more. 
 
 I had to wait several minutes for my time to be served, 
 and in the meantime it was my supreme delight to make the 
 acquaintance of a former citizen of Carroll county. He was 
 a Mr. Levan, of Missoula, Montana. He sat on the opposite 
 side of the table waiting to be served, and we put in the time 
 talking. When I told him that I was from Carrollton the 
 first thing he said was "Do you know Bob Lemon.^" Of 
 course, I had to laugh at the suddenness of the question, and 
 when I told him that everybody in Missouri knew Mr. Lemon 
 he wanted to know if Bob was still a Democrat. I do not 
 remember the exact answer I made him, but I tried to create 
 
14 A MISSOURIAN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 the impression that Mr. Lemon stumped the state for Joe 
 Folk during the last campaign. The man laughed as if he 
 knew better, and related several funny incidents connected 
 with his intimate acquaintance and former business relations 
 with Mr. Lemon. 
 
 At this moment the waiter appeared with my order, and 
 close behind him followed another waiter with a tray for Mr 
 Levan. The bill of fare consisted of steak fried tender with 
 onions; hot buns; French fried potatoes; and two or three 
 other dishes that I thought I would experiment with. I ate 
 like an epicure and disposed of things with remarkable rapid- 
 ity; but Mr. Levan was through and gone before I finished 
 eating. When I left the table the clerk refused to accept 
 any money, saying that he would stand sponsor for what I 
 had eaten. 
 
 I then went back to the depot to sell books. There 
 were not many people in the waiting rooms. I saw a police- 
 man standing near the rear entrance. He was a rough, ill- 
 natured looking fellow, and it was with difficulty that I sum- 
 moned courage to ask his permission to sell my book in the 
 depot. He at once gave me to understand that the depot 
 was no place for vagrants, and wanted to know where I 
 hailed from. It was such an insult to me to be called a 
 vagrant that I made him some kind of an impertinent reply, 
 and darted ofT into the smoking room to count my money. I 
 found that I had only six dollars of my own, but I was not 
 the least bit discouraged. I was too mad for such foolishness. 
 
A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 15 
 
 For a time I was at a loss to know what to do, or what 
 step to take next. I had a dull headache due, perhaps, to 
 excessive sleep; my throat was sore and I felt ill. Other 
 things seemed to be conspiring against my progress. But 
 my courage proved to be a good friend, and when the people 
 in the rooms began to increase in number and to mingle more 
 friendly with each other, I felt more like myself. 
 
 I looked at the clock. It was almost noon, and I hadn't 
 sold a single book! This was a very disagreeable fact to 
 think about; but when the clock struck twelve and the old 
 "cop" who had forbidden me to canvass in the depot went 
 off the shift, and turned his duties over to a man of very 
 different manner and temperament, who assumed authority 
 over the station. 
 
 When the new officer saw me he walked up and com- 
 menced to talk to me. At first I was rather shy of him, but 
 a few minutes' conversation with him convinced me that he 
 was a genteel fellow. He asked me where I was going, and 
 I answered by letting him know the whole truth: That I was 
 out for a good time and that I was pressed for money. He 
 seemed to have great sympathy for me, and wished me good 
 luck on my journey. 
 
 He had turned away and was about to leave when I 
 drew my prospectus from my pocket and asked for the free- 
 dom of the depot for the sale of books, which he cheerfully 
 granted. He looked at the pospectus for a moment, then 
 
16 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 bought a book, giving me his name and address and three 
 dollars, which was the price I asked for the book this time. 
 
 As I had not yet reported to the book company for the 
 books I had sold on the train, I thought it best to do so while 
 I had an opportunity. So I secured paper and pen at the 
 news-stand, and sent in the six orders. 
 
 Things seemed to be very dull for a while; but when the 
 trains began to come in with their great numbers of passen- 
 gers the rooms were crowded with impatient travelers, re- 
 lieving the situation somewhat. Among the people in the 
 depot was an old colored woman who found it convenient to 
 locate near me. She carried in her hand a bird-cage which 
 contained a small Brazilian parrot that was enraged over 
 something. Evidently the bird had just recovered from a 
 bath, for its feathers were still damp and its actions reminded 
 me strongly of a small boy pouting after a face-washing by 
 his mother. I do not think the bird could do anything but 
 swear, and I doubt if a Dago this side of the sea ever had a 
 bigger stock of cuss words than this little growler made use 
 of here in the depot. 
 
 Some one pointed me out to another person near by as a 
 mutton-headed idiot from Missouri, the home of the buzzards. 
 The parrot took up the slander with appalling originality, and 
 started an outburst of profanity that forced all the modest 
 women to retire from the room. I was the target for the 
 oral bullets; and after the little, green devil had bemeaned me 
 
A MISSOURTAN IN THE FAR WEST 17 
 
 to the lowest standard imaginable, he repeated the gag on 
 my native state in such humiliating terms and with such fury 
 and rage that I was compelled to leave the building in order 
 to maintain my self-respect. I got on the observation car 
 and rode till five o'clock, visiting nearly all the interesting 
 neighborhoods of the city. 
 
 When I returned to the depot, it was just fifty-five 
 minutes till train time. I bought a ticket after selling one 
 book more, then left on the first train for Cheyenne. 
 
18 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 AMONG THE COWBOYS 
 
 When I reached the capital of Wyoming I thought if 
 there was a jumping off place in the world I certainly had 
 found it. There were no cars, no lights in the streets, and 
 the depot was closed. The question how to dispose of myself 
 for the remainder of the night was a serious one, and one 
 that had to be dealt with immediately. It was midnight, 
 pouring down rain, and very cold. I went to the waiting room 
 and banged on the door till the windows on the opposite side 
 of the building began to rattle, but I couldn't raise a soul. 
 
 I was just about ready to give up hope when I heard a 
 yell in the distance that made my hair stand straight. A few 
 minutes passed, and I heard the clatter of horses' feet not far 
 away. Another moment, and a cavalcade of cowboys dashed 
 across the tracks in front of the depot. One of the boys 
 caught sight of me sitting on the platform of the depot, and 
 began to yank his bridle; but his plunging broncho went 
 several yards before being brought to subjection. The fellow 
 rode back, looked inquiringly at me, and asked, "What's the 
 trouble, pardner.?" 
 
 "Hard luck," I answered. 
 
A MISSOURTAN IN THE FAR WEST 19 
 
 '•Where are you from?" he continued. 
 
 "Missouri," was my reply. 
 
 "Then the game is up," he said with a smile. "Can 
 you ride horseback?" 
 
 I nodded that I could, and he told me to climb on. 
 After some heroic scrambling and a good deal of puffing and 
 blowing I managed to get into the saddle. Although I hadn't 
 the least idea where the cowboy would take me, I was willing 
 to leave that matter entirely with him, for well I knew that I 
 would not land in a place more disagreeable than the plat- 
 form of the depot. But the horse, too, seemed anxious for a 
 say-so in the determining of my destination. His hind feet 
 left the earth as soon as I fell into the deep saddle, and for a 
 time I had a starry prospect for a free trip to the Milky Way 
 rather than for a pleasant sojourn in Cheyenne. Perhaps all 
 that averted this rank violation to the law of gravity was the 
 strength of the saddle girt; and goodness only knows what 
 would have happened had I been left to the mercy of the 
 beast. Fortunately, the man had not yet given me the reins, 
 and he swung bravely to them till the animal relented. He 
 then pulled his overcoat off aud spread it over the willow 
 back of my chair to protect the chair from the rain. We 
 started down the railroad track in the darkness of the night 
 through the blowing rain, the man leading the wild horse 
 with one hand, and pushing my inanimate companion before 
 him with the other. 
 
20 A MI8S0URIAN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 After goings quite a little way down the track we came to 
 a camp where a dozen or more cowboys were sitting together 
 under a large tent, with a fire burning brightly on the outside. 
 They were drinking freely, and were in just the right stage to 
 be foolish. As we were passing, one of the boys ran out from 
 the camp and flopped himself into my chair which my good 
 friend was so willingly pushing along. This, of course, 
 brought us to a stop, and then the other cowboys ran out, 
 flourishing their revolvers in the firelight, and carousing 
 around in a rough manner. The man who was in charge of 
 the chair, the horse and me, had a hard time trying to get 
 the ruffians to allow us to proceed, and not until he had ex- 
 plained my condition and situation fully were we given the 
 freedom of the highway. 
 
 As we went on our way, the fellow in the front of me 
 began to talk. He told me that he, too, was from Missouri, 
 and that he was taking me to a camp where he and one of 
 his companions had been staying for the last two months. 
 
 I could tell from his talk that he had not been in the 
 West long enough to take on the wild customs and conduct, 
 yet it was plain to me that he was not a fresh arrival from 
 Missouri. He was very inquisitive, but I was glad to answer 
 all his questions. In a few minutes we came to a great hill 
 which was too steep for any horse to climb. We wound 
 around the mound until we approached a large excavation 
 made in the side of the hill. Here my friend lived. The 
 hole in the bank was his house. 
 
A MISSOURTAN IN THE FAR WEST 21 
 
 I slid off the horse into my chair and went in with him. 
 In one corner of the strange dwelling I was struck by the 
 sight of a pair of dirty overalls, a saddle and a rawhide whip, 
 a skillet, a few unwashed dishes, a can of beer, and a spit- 
 toon — all piled together in a most repulsive heap. The room 
 was dimly lighted by a little six-inch pocket lantern hanging 
 sleepily by small cotton cord from the center of the ceiling, 
 the dimness of the rays depriving me of a full appreciation of 
 my surroundings. I saw a long pine plank extending the 
 entire length of the room, with each end resting between the 
 logs of the walls, and supported in the middle by a poker 
 propped uprightly under it; this was their dining table. "Get 
 up, pal," shouted my new companion to a fellow who was 
 snoozing peacefully on his bunk behind me. 'Get up, we've 
 got company from old Mizzoo." I turned to speak to the 
 dreamer, who only threw back the cover and yawned. My 
 friend called him again, and succeeded in rousing him. He 
 turned toward me and greeted me in his habitually rough way, 
 asking me if I was hungry. I told him that I had not yet 
 had my supper, and he assured me very kindly that he 
 would soon have the irons hot and kettle boiling. 
 
 One of the boys kindled a fire while the other sliced off 
 a chunk of venison; and while we waited for the things to 
 cook, they kept me busy answering questions. I was per- 
 fectly free with them, and they seemed to enjoy having me 
 with them quite as much as I enjoyed it myself The more I 
 
22 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 saw of the boys the better I Hked them; yet I couldn't help 
 feeling strangely out of place in their hut. They insisted 
 upon my taking a drink of beer, but I was firm in my refusal. 
 In a very few minutes the fragrance of the frying steak was 
 working upon my appetite. 
 
 Talk about your cooking schools! Don't stand it girls, 
 for what's the use, when a cowboy can fix up such a tempting 
 meal in fifteen minutes? Talk about teaching the women the 
 art of home-making — it's nonsense. Any girl who marries a 
 cowboy and lets him do the cooking will feast the rest of her 
 days. 
 
 I felt wide awake after partaking of the wild, Wyoming 
 supper, and I think both of the boys did too, for sometimes 
 they would ask me a dozen questions at once. Finally I told 
 them that CarroUton was my town, and one of the boys — 
 the one whom the other called Jack — threw up his hands in 
 surprise and exclaimed, "CarroUton! Why, that's where my 
 old sweetheart lives. Do you know her.'' Her name is 
 Agnes." 
 
 "I know a great many Agneses, but what is your Agnes' 
 last name.''" said I. 
 
 "Guess," said he. 
 
 I named over all the Agneses that I ever heard of, but 
 the list did not include his lady. He sat with his mouth open 
 in anxious suspense ready to swallow her name, and looked 
 disappointed because I failed to mention the right one. 
 
A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 23 
 
 He drew a letter from his pocket and told me to listen. 
 
 Carrollton, Mo., June 22, 1905. 
 
 Dear Jack: — I have been thinking about you all day, and 
 wondering how you are passing these long summer days. 
 More than one of the boys here have been trying to strike up 
 a flirtation with me, but they don't succeed, because I re- 
 member my beau of former days. I want to see you give up 
 your one bad habit; quit getting drunk, and be the dear great 
 fellow that you really are. If not for the sake of your own 
 soul, be good just for me, won't you? 
 
 Oh, yes; there is a sensation in Carrollton and vicinity. 
 Joel Williams left for parts unknown yesterday morning. It 
 is known that he started west, and perhaps you may have a 
 visitor. If you see or hear anything of him be sure to write 
 me, for telegrams are flying thick and fast to ascertain his 
 whereabouts. 
 
 Hoping that I may soon have a letter, I bid you be good, 
 asking you to think kindly of your little correspondent, who 
 will certainly remember you in her prayers tonight. 
 
 Your faithful friend, 
 
 Agnes. 
 
 My curiosity was wrought up to a high pitch, but I could 
 not persuade the boy to tell me Agnes' last name. He 
 seemed to regard her with much love and reverence, and per- 
 haps thought it was none of my business. 
 
 As I have said, I did not feel well in this dugout, but I 
 talked with the boys till daylight when one of them suggested 
 that we go to Cheyenne to a dance which was to occur among 
 the cowboys who had come in from all the surrounding hills 
 and plains for this special occasion. The motion was carried, 
 
24 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 and after a second breakfast shortly after sunrise, the boys 
 began to primp and tog themselves out in their very best 
 apparel. 
 
 A fellow came along the road in a lumber wagon, and 
 we all got in and rode to town. As we drove through the 
 streets of the rude city, my attention was attracted by the 
 unusually large number of policemen; but I was told that an 
 extra force was necessary to maintain order when one of these 
 dances was in progress. We stopped and got out in front of 
 a tall building where a large number of men had collected. 
 I wanted to be on time, so I took an elevator and ascended 
 to the ninety-ninth story, and landed in a large, luxuriously 
 furnished hall, where I found a dozen young ladies playing 
 cards. They looked at me curiously for a moment; then one 
 of them, with a sneering elevation of her nose, remarked, 
 "H-m, I'll bet that guy is from Missouri." 
 
 "But ladies," I tried to explain, "I came only to see the 
 dance." 
 
 They went on with their card-playing as though I had 
 not spoken, and I imagmed that they had not heard me. I 
 accordingly gave vent to a terrific verbal explosion of my 
 presence with a violent and prolonged repetition of my excuse, 
 but I failed to lift the fog of indifference that hovered between 
 the girls and me. An Irish dynamiter could not have blown 
 away the cold mist of such a frigid welcome. My frantic 
 efforts to avert the calamity of being totally ignored were sad 
 
A MISSOURTAN TN THE FAR WEST 25 
 
 and futile. The frosty reception that I had undergone made 
 me feel like a minus quantity, and as weak and wanting as a 
 fellow who had lost something he never had. My case was 
 hopeless, and I retired to a remote corner of the room and 
 returned thanks that I had not been tossed out of the window. 
 
 While I was sitting there with my head down and my 
 hands over my face I happened to look up, and noticed that 
 the girls had laid their cards aside and were preparing for the 
 dance. There was a pitcher of beer sitting on the table, and 
 one of the girls was thoughtful enough to wonder if I would 
 not like to have a drink. She poured out a glassful and 
 brought it to me, asking me to partake of the frozen broth. 
 I took a sip for politeness' sake and gave the glass to her. 
 
 *'What made you slobber in the goblet.?" she demanded 
 severely. 
 
 "I do not slobber, madam," was my cool and emphatic 
 reply. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, sir, " she continued, "but you did 
 slobber; for there is more beer in the glass now than there 
 was in the first place. But I guess you are not poison, and 
 I'll just drink the beer myself, slobbers and all." 
 
 She lifted the glass to her lips and drained it dry. 
 
 "My, but you think you're some!" said I to myself, as I 
 watched her totter under the influence of the liquor. 
 
 In a short time she was foolishly drunk, and I thought I 
 would have some fun by starting a conversation with her. 
 
26 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 "What is your name?" 
 
 "My name is Vita." 
 
 "Is that your first or last name?" 
 
 "My last." 
 
 "Well, then, what is the first part?" 
 
 "Malta." 
 
 "Oh, this is Malta Vita, the celebrated breakfast food, 
 is it?" 
 
 "I suppose so." 
 
 "Do you ever go hunting in the hills?" 
 
 "No; I'm afraid a wolf might eat me up." 
 
 "Hee, yum, lordie! Wouldn't that wolf have a good 
 mess, though?" 
 
 "Confound you, man," said the girl, as she sprang to 
 her feet boiling with fury, "if you don't shut your impudent 
 mouth I'll hurl you down the elevator shaft and come down 
 with a tub and a case knife, scrape you up, and work you 
 into a batch of soft soap." 
 
 Such a threat! You just better believe I shut up, and 
 that, in a hurry. I saw one of the girls in the rear of the 
 room rise and lean forward over a small table where she had 
 won a large sum at a game of poker. Silver dollars were 
 scattered all over the table before her, and she held a roll of 
 bills firmly in one of her hands. She stared me fiercely in 
 the face for a moment, then placed her other hand on the 
 bright handle of her revolver that was swinging from her belt. 
 
A MISSOURTAN IN THE FAR WEST 27 
 
 "Don't shoot, oh don't shoot!" I cried reproachfully, 
 thinking she was about to fire at me in defense of her wild 
 sister, whose displeasure I had incurred by the boldness of my 
 tongue. 
 
 "Oh, don't be scared; I wouldn't hurt you for anything, " 
 said the girl lightly, which frightened me more than ever, and 
 made me think that she was talking for effect, or rather, to 
 gain a favorable opportunity to mete out a horrible revenge 
 on me for being so trivial with her tipsy chum. 
 
 I was allowed to reflect for a moment on the danger of 
 my situation and the gravity of my whole predicament. 
 Although it was distressing to me to be shut up in such a 
 place, I was afraid that, if I made any move toward leaving, 
 I would be followed by a volley of bullets from the guns of 
 the drunken women; and I deemed it wiser to grin and face 
 my peril. 
 
 By this time all the girls were dead drunk. They cursed 
 and swore like old hands at the business, and talked about 
 the boys they had scared to death. Some of them played 
 with their cartridges and revolvers while the others stood be- 
 fore the mirrors fumbling with the iuzz on their upper lips, 
 and trying to develop an improvement in the art of chewing 
 gum. 
 
 One of the girls pressed a button on the side of the wall. 
 This was a signal for the boys to come from below. Three 
 or four loads came up on the elevator, and the others came 
 
28' A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 stamping up the stairway like a herd of Texas steers on a 
 stampede. After the boys were seated the house was called 
 to order by an unusually ugly little woman who entered 
 through a side door. An attempt to describe her would be a 
 huge undertaking, but I remember that she was almost bald, 
 was cross-eyed and dish-faced. Her ears stuck out like a 
 dollar's worth of tea on each side of her head, which, from 
 all indications, was as devoid of substance on the inside as it 
 was on the outside. I shall never forget the appearance of 
 her mouth. It was exceedingly high in the middle and 
 dropped at the corners, and looked more like a new moon 
 than anything else I ever saw. 
 
 "Gentlemen of the ranches," said she, "Miss Jones will 
 pass her beer while the fiddlers tune. Let everybody drink 
 and be merry." 
 
 This was quite enough of Cheyenne for me. I took ad- 
 vantage of the first opportunity to escape from the dancing 
 apartments, and after selling a few books I left the town for 
 other fields. 
 
A MISSOURTAN IN THE FAR WEST 29 
 
 RIDING WITH THE INDIANS 
 
 Although the shortage of money compelled me to stop 
 and sell books twice, my trip as far as Cheyenne was without 
 any serious inconvenience. But such luck was not to attend 
 me throughout my merry chase. The deserts of Wyoming 
 and Idaho which next confronted me are very sparsely settled, 
 and the stations along the railroads are many miles apart. 
 In many cases these little villages are inhabited only by small 
 colonies of Greek or Italian section workmen in the employ 
 of the railroad company, and they seldom consist of anything 
 more than a few tents, two or three saloons and a flower 
 garden cultivated at the expense of the railroad company. 
 
 Not being acquainted with this condition of the country, 
 I left Cheyenne with only my ticket to Greenriver, Wyoming, 
 and the small sum of fifty cents, relying upon my success at 
 book selling for my support. I had fallen into the thought- 
 less habit of carrying my chair with me without having it 
 checked; but acting upon the suggestion of the depot master, 
 when I was ready to board the train for Greenriver I checked 
 the vehicle as my baggage. 
 
30 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 My train was a local, and was almost empty. Green- 
 river is a many-mile run from Cheyenne, and I was forced to 
 invest the contents of my pocket in a meal at supper time and 
 when I arrived at my destination, I was without a penny. 
 
 We were two hours behind the schedule, and did not 
 reach Greenriver till two o'clock Saturday morning. This 
 place happened to be the end of a railroad division where all 
 the trains changed crews. My chair was in the baggage car 
 checked to this point, and, of course, it was taken off; but in 
 their haste to redeem the train of its tardiness, the new con- 
 ductor and brakemen neglected to help me from my car. As 
 it was dangerous for me to undertake the task of getting off 
 without assistance, there was but one thing for me to do, 
 and that was to remain on the train and leave my chair in 
 Greenriver. 
 
 When I was called upon for my fare I told the conductor 
 that I was riding against my will, and that I didn't have any 
 money. At first he was indifferent to my explanation and 
 threatened to treat me "as he treated other hobos" by put- 
 ting me off at the next station; but when I produced a dupli- 
 cate of the check number of my chair he smiled apologetically, 
 and said he either would provide me with a return ticket to 
 Greenriver, or would see that the chair was brought to me at 
 the next station, Granger. I preferred not to retrace my 
 steps, and when we reached Granger he telegraphed for the 
 chair to be sent on the first train. 
 
A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 31 
 
 I suppose the lonely hours that I spent in that little 
 depot waiting for the train will linger in my memory as long 
 as I live. The morning was clear, and the stars were spark- 
 ling brightly in the firmament. Good old Father Moon was 
 missing from his high place in the heavens, but the crystal 
 eye of each member of his great family appeared to be wink- 
 ing in vain for a smile of recognition from the cold, dark face 
 of the earth. 
 
 I was compelled to sit in the waiting room of the depot 
 two hours for the arrival of the next train with my chair, 
 without which I was powerless to seek a better place. 
 
 The spot was deserted. The wind whipped madly 
 around the building; the shutters rattled mournfully at the 
 windows and the danger signal outside the door creaked and 
 made me think the place was being haunted by ghosts. Yet 
 there were moments of deathlike stillness which generated all 
 kinds of hot currents of resistance in my nervous system, and 
 so intense was the voltage of terror that no thought was too 
 horrible to flash like lightning through my frightened brain. 
 Through the window, I thought I could see the green eyes of 
 a hundred coyotes rushing down the mountain side toward the 
 depot. I imagined I heard a hungry wolf already sniffing at 
 the sill outside the door. My chest throbbed convulsively 
 with fear, and with such vehemence that I finally lost control 
 of my sense of reason and broke into a sudden desire to yell. 
 I thought if Daniel Boone could repel the attacks of the 
 
32 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 Indians in his early day by making a noise in his tent, I 
 could stay the on-rush of a wild beast by repeating the pro- 
 cess; so I began to whistle. 
 
 The keen discord of my shrill notes pierced the dark air 
 far and wide, and I soon felt well fortified against wild beasts 
 and "varments." I suppose the rats and other rodents in the 
 attic of the depot thought I was trying to serenade them; for, 
 in its efforts to locate the source of the conflicting strains a 
 little mouse ran up my sleeve and became entangled in the 
 lining of my coat. You may be sure it felt as big as a prairie 
 dog to me as it scratched at my arm, and that I proceeded to 
 my own rescue as well as to the mouse's without delay, by- 
 unbuttoning my coat in order to give it plenty of room to 
 escape; but in less time than it took the mouse to get into 
 my sleeve, it nipped a hole in the cloth and emerged from 
 the linen prison. 
 
 Day was beginning to dawn, and I heard the sharp 
 shriek of a locomotive which soon drew a great train alongside 
 the little platform. I thrust my hand into my inside vest 
 pocket where I kept a little day book which contained the 
 names and addresses of my book customers, but the book 
 was gone. I felt a small roll of paper in my pocket, and I 
 drew it out to see what it might be. I recollected that I had 
 put the package into my pocket some days before, but I could 
 not recall what it contained, I began to loosen the cover. 
 When I unfolded the wrapper, oh joy! what do you think I 
 
A MISSOURTAN IN THE FAR WEST S3 
 
 found? There it was, just as fresh and green as ever — the 
 five dollar bill that I had laid away for hard times on the road 
 between Carrollton and Kansas City! 
 
 I looked out of the window and saw the baggageman 
 lifting my chair from the express car; but I raised the sash 
 and told him that I would go with him if he would help me to 
 the car steps. He loaded the chair into the train again, and 
 assisted me in getting into the chair car. 
 
 It fell to my lot to ride with a tribe of Indians. There 
 was only one vacant seat in the car, and I was forced to sit 
 beside a squaw who was nursing a sick papoose. The squaw 
 was drunk, and was as dirty as any human being I ever saw. 
 She was short and thick in stature, and bore a striking facial 
 resemblance to that famous cartoon character, Mrs. Katzen- 
 jammer. Her child was about two years old, and, like his 
 mother, was coated with a six months' accumulation of dust 
 and grease. 
 
 I gave the conductor four dollars. He seemed to under- 
 stand that that was all I had, and took the money without 
 asking any questions. The porter came along, and I gave 
 him the other dollar and ordered him to go into the dining car 
 and bring me a first class breakfast. 
 
 While the meal was being prepared I had several scraps 
 with the red youngster, who kept me busy protecting my face 
 from claws and my hair from his long fingers. He was not 
 very sick, but his mother thought he was almost dead, and 
 
34 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 was giving him her undivided attention. She tried to be the 
 boss, but the young imp was master of all ceremonies, and 
 when she would try to force him to swallow a mouthful of 
 the "great spirit tonic" he would siege the spoon and sling it 
 to the other end of the car. 
 
 The porter soon brought me my breakfast which con- 
 sisted of everything a king could wish for. It was the finest 
 meal that I had tasted since I left Carrollton. In fact, it 
 was just such a meal as one gets when he dines with Robt. 
 Miles, George Schaffer, Ed Creel or — oh, I might mention a 
 hundred. 
 
 I salt the tray in my lap and unfolded the white cloth that 
 covered the dishes. At this moment the sick baby went into 
 one of his spasms and kicked over a cup of hot coffee, scald- 
 ing himself and his mother. The porter, who was looking 
 on, immediately hurried the squaw and her papoose into the 
 smoker and brought me another cup of coffee which I was 
 permitted to sip at my leisure. 
 
 I finished eating, and then the squaw and her baby re- 
 turned to their seat. The old woman was as mad as a hornet 
 because the coffee had stained her new, red blanket; but she 
 was too drunk to express her anger in any way but to shake 
 her fist at me. She sang her baby to sleep and she, herself, 
 soon began to nod. She was leaning toward me, and as her 
 nap deepened into sleep, she sank closer and closer to me, 
 until her head almost touched mine. 
 
A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 35 
 
 I found a pin in my coat and I decided that I would have 
 to use it. I stuck the sharp point of the pin through the red 
 blanket into the arm of the ugly Indian, who jumped up with 
 a yell and ran into the smoker with her papoose. 
 
 The other Indians in the car had not given me any 
 trouble. There were several intelligent looking half breeds 
 among them, and as soon as the squaw left her seat a young 
 man came to sit by me. He had some education and made 
 a good appearance. I sold him one of my books, and he 
 took the prospectus to the rear of the car and began to turn 
 the leaves and show the illustrations to the chief of the tribe 
 who was so well pleased with them that he, also, bought a 
 book. 
 
 All the Indians were dressed in blankets; none of them 
 could speak English fluently, and their communications with 
 each other consisted of words from both English and Indian 
 languages. It was a bit hard, too, for me to interpret so 
 many of the hand signs with which they tried to emphasize 
 their speech when they wanted me to get a minute under- 
 standing of some particular point in the course of their almost 
 wholly incomprehensible jabber. 
 
 We arrived in Pocatello, Idaho, about noon. The 
 Indians left the train, and the other passengers were given 
 twenty minutes for dinner. I got off and spent the time can- 
 vassing. My success was marvelous. One man, who was 
 boozy, bought a book for which I asked the moderate price 
 
36 A MISSOURIAN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 of three dollars; but he said he had more money than he 
 needed, and insisted that he would as leave pay five dollars 
 as three. You may be sure that he did not have to insist 
 long. I put the money into my pocket, took his name and 
 address hurriedly and went on with my canvassing, making 
 another sale before the train was ready to leave. 
 
 Not long, and I was on my way again in gay spirits, and 
 feeling exceedingly fine. The car had been cleaned, the 
 seats dusted, white cloths pinned across the backs of the 
 chairs, and the whole interior of the coach made to look fresh 
 and inviting. Many new passengers started from Pocatello 
 to Portland, and as all the red men had left the train, my 
 associations were pleasanter and much more congenial than 
 they had been during the morning and forenoon. I counted 
 my money again, and found that I had fourteen dollars, ten 
 of which was all my own. I was hungry, and ordered my 
 dinner to be sent in from the dining car. As there was no 
 papoose to upset my coffee or spill my tea, I ate leisurely and 
 enjoyed every mouthful to the fullest extent. 
 
 "Riding in a Pullman, and swallowing a dollar three 
 times a day!" I soliloquized, as I munched hot biscuits and 
 fried salmon, "Joel Williams is certainly putting on airs once 
 in his life, if he never sees the Fair." 
 
 When the porter appeared for the dishes after I had 
 finished eating, he asked me what it was that I was selling at 
 the depot in Pocatello; and when I replied that I was a book 
 agent he asked me to show my goods. 
 
A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 37 
 
 This porter was not a negro, but a handsome little Ger- 
 man, who seemed to be very popular with all the passengers. 
 While he sat on the arm of a chair turning the pages of the 
 prospectus and asking questions regarding the nature of the 
 book, the big fat conductor who had taken charge of the train 
 at Pocatello, tipped up from the rear of the car where he had 
 been sitting in conversation with one of the passengers, and 
 leaned over the little man's shoulder. 
 
 "What's on hands now, John?" asked the conductor. 
 
 "A book agent," quickly replied the porter. 
 
 "Is he the fellow?" pointing to me. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then we must all patronize him because he looks like 
 he is a Missourian. Shell out your money." 
 
 In only a few moments I sold three books more, netting 
 me the handsome sum of six dollars, which I proudly de- 
 posited in my safest pocket. 
 
 We slowly puffed our way upgrade through the barren 
 tracts of land, steaming through narrow cuts and ravines, and 
 winding along the curves in the crooked road, until I could 
 restrain myself from sleep no longer. I lowered the back of 
 the reclining chair, and was soon deriving full benefit from its 
 soft cushions. 
 
 I slept soundly several hours. I was aroused from my 
 stupor by the bright, red rays of the setting sun shining 
 through the car windows. The train had stopped, and the 
 
38 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 passengers were walking restlessly up and down the aisles of 
 the car. I felt very strange. 
 
 "Who am I, where am I, and what am I doing here!" 
 I wondered. 
 
 "Oh yes, I know; this is Shoshone, and I must get off." 
 
A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 39 
 
 SHOSHONE 
 
 The experiences in my three days' journey prior to my 
 arrival in Shoshone had been full of lucky happenings. I had 
 been thrown into association with people whose habits and 
 customs were strangely different from my own, and I had 
 acquired that inquisitiveness of mind and tongue which never 
 fails to divulge the nativity of a typical Missourian when he 
 wanders from the borders of his own state. I had also seen 
 enough of the world to know that there were good reasons for 
 me to use every precaution against falling into close compan- 
 ionship with any of the smooth talking individuals who were 
 always trying to advise me where to go, what to do and how 
 to do it, and who might have various kinds of traps set forme 
 to fall into. I had never traveled extensively before, and I 
 realized that I was rather green along this line; but I was 
 confident that a little common sense on my part would do 
 more than all the suggestions of strangers toward piloting me 
 through this "land of unnumbered mysteries," and I very 
 naturally swallowed everything anyone might say; but I assim- 
 ilated a much smaller proportion of the cheap matter. 
 
40 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 I decided, when I reached Shoshone, that I had traveled 
 far enough in my happy-go-lucky uncertain fashion; and I 
 was ready and willing to settle down to hard canvassing, and 
 to earn a respectable amount of money before going a mile 
 farther. 
 
 I found the little city an ideal place for such work. The 
 town was not a large one —only three thousand inhabitants — 
 but the streets were so level and so smooth that I was afforded 
 easy access to every door in town; and I resolved to work in- 
 cessantly until I had gained enough to carry me on to the 
 coast. 
 
 "Come, go with me to the Columbia," said a half grown 
 boy to me, as I strolled idly up and down a street after my 
 train had left the depot. The speaker wore a red cap with 
 letters written on the crown to indicate his vocation; but it 
 was so dark that I could not read the words, and I was at 
 serious loss to know what to do. How could a Missourian 
 tell what "Columbia" meant in Idaho? It might mean a 
 saloon or a pool hall, but more probably, I feared, a ball 
 room. 
 
 "What is the Columbia," I asked, "a livery stable or a 
 dancing pavilion.?" 
 
 "Neither, my friend. It is a regular Missouri hotel," 
 replied the polite boy. 
 
 "Then pardon me," I begged, "and I will go with you 
 to the Columbia." 
 
A MISSOURIAN IN THE FAR WEST 41 
 
 The young man started in an up-town direction, and 
 walked so fast that I could hardly keep up. Two or three 
 other boys joined him at the first crossing, and they quickened 
 their pace and soon were almost a block ahead of me; but I 
 followed like a belated straggler from a flock of sheep, using 
 every effort to overtake them. After going several blocks I 
 came to the realization that I was losing ground every minute. 
 I stopped and shouted, "Wait a minute, lad, you're going 
 too fast." 
 
 Ail the boys except the one in the red cap went on; he 
 turned and walked back to meet me. 
 
 "You came from Missouri, didn't you.'" said the young 
 porter, as he put his helping hand on the back of my chair to 
 lighten my load, a smile of amusement playing over his boyish 
 face. 
 
 "How in the Sam Hill do you know where I came from.'" 
 I jisked in astonishment. 
 
 "Now I'm dead sure of it," said the boy, trying to evade 
 my question. 
 
 "What do you mean.'" said I, sharply. 
 
 "You told me to 'wait a minute,'" explained the boy, 
 "in Idaho they say halt; when you hear anyone using such 
 expressions as 'Sam Hill', 'ground hog case', or 'hog killing 
 time', you can set it down that he is a Missourian. 
 
 We changed the subject of conversation several times 
 before we reached the boarding house. The walks were 
 
42 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 rough in places, and I felt like swearing. As we passed 
 through the business section of town all the kids, ranging in 
 size from a two year old tot up, turned out and followed us. 
 At first I did not know how to take this; but I soon learned 
 that it was the chair, not I, that was so attractive. The 
 children had never seen anything on the order of this chair, 
 and of course I could not blame them for their inquiring sur- 
 vey of the vehicle; but their following me in growing numbers 
 every where I went was a different thing, and although the 
 scarcity of rats was conspicuous, I feared that I had suddenly 
 become the Pied Piper of Shoshone. But when we turned 
 on Front street, not far from our coveted destination, we met 
 a policeman; and one word from him scattered those urchins 
 as unceremoniously as a ghost would scatter big feet and 
 thick lips at a negro camp meeting. 
 
 After arriving at the hotel I was astonished to find that I 
 was about to register at the swellest house in town. I looked 
 about me in the large office, and met the gaze of a dozen 
 curious guests who stared at me as though they wondered 
 what had become of my attendant. 
 
 "Where are you from.^" asked a middle aged man who 
 was pacing up and down the long floor with an Havana cigar 
 in his mouth. 
 
 "I am from Missouri," I modestly replied. 
 
 "Carrollton.?" quickly inquired another man, looking up 
 from the paper that he had been reading. 
 
A MISSOURTAN IN THE FAB WEST 43 
 
 "Who are you?" I demanded rather rudely. 
 
 "I am a resident of Shoshone. I have just been reading 
 of a young man who mysteriously disappeared from Carroll- 
 ton last Wednesday morning. Great alarm is felt in that 
 city because of his untimely departure. Do you know any- 
 thing of him?" 
 
 "I confess. I am that fellow." 
 
 "And you left home without any money, did you not?" 
 
 "I started with twenty dollars." 
 
 'Plucky fellow! But how do you account for the long 
 trip that you have made on such a small sum?" 
 
 "Easy enough. The world is full of good people who 
 are always ready to help a fellow. I have been treated well 
 where ever. I have been." 
 
 "Where are you going?" 
 
 "To Portland. Is supper ready?" 
 
 The man who had detained me from my evening meal 
 by his questions proved to be the landlord. He conducted 
 me to the dining room through a series of intervening rooms 
 where a number of the guests were sitting at long tables play- 
 ing cards. I did not feel humiliated at finding myself in a 
 saloon; for in the West barrooms go hand in hand with all 
 hotels, and he who poses as a reformer would certainly have 
 a hard time finding a decent lodging place in Shoshone. All 
 that I disliked was the temptation that was thrown about me. 
 To be sure my surroundings were not as pleasant as they 
 
44 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 would have been in an eastern town; yet they were by no 
 means unendurable. 
 
 I passed on into the dining room, where the proprietor 
 left me in company with a Japanese waiter. 
 
 Even this little copper colored midget came in for his 
 share of sport at my expense. "Missouriko.-*" he exclaimed, 
 as he looked me over, a smile breaking out in his brown face, 
 and a pleasant expression beaming from his bright little eyes. 
 
 I did not understand what he meant, and he was not sat- 
 isfied. He walked to the end of the room where a map was 
 hanging. "Missouriko!" said he, pointing to my native state 
 with a grin. 
 
 The menu card was another thing that I could not trans- 
 late. It utterly stunned me. I did not know what dishes to 
 check, because I could not understand French, and I was 
 afraid that I would get something that I could not eat. As a 
 last resort, I told the little Jap who was standing near me, to 
 bring me something good, no matter what it might be. 
 
 "Greeny Missouriko! I knew it," said the waiter with 
 with proud satisfaction, as he fanned through the door into 
 the kitchen to bring my supper. 
 
 When I left the table I returned to the offtce, and after 
 writing a report to the book company in Chicago for the books 
 I had sold during the day, I went to the telegraph office and 
 sent a message to Carrollton announcing my safe arrival in 
 Shoshone. Returning to the hotel, I asked the proprietor 
 
A MISS OUE TAN IN THE FAB WEST 45 
 
 to show me my room for my eyes had become filled with sand 
 from riding so far in the deserts; besides, I was very tired and 
 sleepy, and wanted to get a full night's rest. 
 
 Sunday morning broke unusually fair. It was almost 
 eight o'clock when I arose. The sun was shining brightly, 
 and the air was soft and calm. When breakfast was ready I 
 felt that other peoples' fun had begun; and I was right, for I 
 had not been at the table a minute when the storm broke out 
 anew. 
 
 What a nauseating mystery to hear strangers say 
 "Puke" every hour in the day! Yes, I was from Missouri; 
 but how, oh how, did everybody else know so much.' 
 
 For a good while I tried to figure out what it was in my 
 personality that was such a traitor to my mother state; but I 
 soon learned that it was useless to try to solve this puzzle. 
 The more I studied about it, the deeper the mystery grew. 
 Hard as it was for me to do, I saw plainly that I would have 
 to adjust my sensitive nature to the will of the people of 
 Idaho, and that I would suffer if I did not take their uncom- 
 plimentary remarks good-naturedly. 
 
 Sunday was just the same as any other day in Shoshone. 
 The stores were open, the shops were running, and no one 
 appeared to know that it was the Sabbath day. I was in 
 Rome, and after a good deal of thought, I decided that I 
 would do "as the Roman does." As it was the custom for 
 the natives to go right on with their work, Sunday o no 
 
46 A MISSOURIAN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 Sunday, I could see no unpardonable s'n in an effort on my 
 part to sell a few books. Therefore, after breakfast I set out 
 to let the world know my business. I established a uniform 
 price on my book, and commenced with the guests at the 
 hotel, with whom by this time i iiad become an object of the 
 keenest interest. I sold four books before leaving, which, I 
 thought, was a pretty good starter for a Sunday morning 
 business. I next visited the business section of the town, 
 borrowing a little time from each merchant in the city, who, 
 in nearly every case either bought a book or hired me to go 
 away and leave him alone. Sometimes I would roil into a 
 store and meet the manager who would hurry to the register, 
 draw out a coin, and say, "Here, young man, is a half dollar 
 for you; now run along, we are busy today, and don't care to 
 buy any stuffed birds." 
 
 At first, these donations grated painfully on my sense of 
 pride. I was afraid the people were looking upon me as a 
 regular street vagabond; and if there is anything in the world 
 that stirs up my wrath it is for some one to get presumptuous 
 of me and act on his fore-drawn conclusion before giving me 
 a chance to assert myself. I realized that I might be reduced 
 to beggary at any time, but I determined to let charity be 
 my last refuge. 
 
 But another thought struck me. What a fool I would 
 be not to take all that was to be had without any solicitation 
 on my part! If I had gained favor with the people through 
 
A MISSOURIAN IN THE FAR WEST 47 
 
 lawful motives, there was certainly no disgrace in my profit- 
 ing by such favor. Besides, I thought to receive all the 
 money that was offered me would be a cute and clever way 
 to revenge those who might offer it on any supposition that 
 would detract from my dignity and good name. 
 
 After finishing my work among the merchants, I slowly 
 rolled down Guinea avenue where two telegraph linemen 
 stood entangled in loose wires discussing a question that 
 seemed to be occasioning some serious thought. As I neared 
 the scene, I heard one of them say, "Ask him." 
 
 "A chance to get even," thought I, as I noted their 
 rough appearance. 
 
 "Say, mister, are you much of an electrician.^" asked 
 one, as I was passing. 
 
 "No, thank goodness," I replied impudently, as I in- 
 creased my speed and darted by, "I am a Missourian." 
 
 "Hold on," said the same fellow, after I had left him 
 several yards behind. "Did you say you are from Missouri.'" 
 
 "Yes, 1 did! Have you any objections?" 
 
 "I'd guess no! We must shake hands with you; we 
 haven't seen a Missourian for a long time. What town are 
 you from?" 
 
 "Carrollton." 
 
 "We hail from St. Joe; but I suppose we are not perfect 
 strangers to you in Shoshone. Glad we met you. Good 
 day." 
 
48 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 I strolled on down the street, catching the eyes of all the 
 old maids and grandmothers wlio happened to be at the 
 windows of their respective homes, and amusing all the 
 youngsters who chose to follow my trail. No matter where I 
 went, nor what kind ol people I met, everybody was busy at 
 something. About eleven o'clock I heard a church bell ring- 
 ing. How strange it did sound when all the rest of the town 
 was so deeply absorbed in worldl}' affairs! A little farther 
 down the street was the church. I went in. Ah, it was a 
 Catholic church, the kind that I did not understand. There, 
 at that mystic altar, knelt the priest before a bust of the 
 Virgin Mary. At his right, seven candles were burning; at 
 his left, lay a little girl dead! I had crept into the church 
 unnoticed by the worshipers. My heart thumped with timid- 
 ness; but I stayed till the funeral was over. 
 
 To continue. It vvas noon, and I had had success at n^y 
 work. I went back to the hotel and astonished all the 
 guests by reporting ten books sold! After dinner, while 1 was 
 enjoying a few minutes' rest in the office-room, several of the 
 boarders whcMii I had not yet seen, came to me and had their 
 names enlisted on the growing roll of my customers. I re- 
 gretted that I had not set a larger price on my book; for I 
 believed that I would have sold as many books at three dol- 
 lars each as I had sold at two and a half. But good enough 
 was well, and I took great consolation in the fact that it is a 
 good thing not to be a hog. 
 
A MISSOURTAN IN THE FAR WEST 49 
 
 Again I left the house for another round among the 
 people. I labored an hour before selling a book. My time 
 was not lost, however, for my tongue was growing slicker and 
 slicker from practice, and when I did strike a liberal minded 
 man, I found little trouble in persuading him to make an in- 
 vestment. Things ran slowly for a while; but finally business 
 picked up, and I made things hum until three o'clock, when 
 I returned to the boarding house, tired, and almost worn out. 
 
 "Have any luck.?" asked the proprietor, as I entered the 
 door. 
 
 "All kinds of it," I replied. 
 
 "Here's some more," he added, tossing me a small 
 package which I immediately proceeded to open. Removing 
 the first cover, I found a card with the inscription, "Com- 
 pliments of the guests at the Columbia." 
 
 "Gee," thought I, I'll be a star boarder if these things 
 keep on! But say! What can this bundle be.?" 
 
 I picked the paper to pieces in my nervous and excited 
 efforts to see what fortune had overtaken me, or rather, to 
 learn what fate had befallen me. 
 
 Twenty dollars! For a moment I was under a spell of 
 joy such as comes to a human not more than once or twice 
 in a life time. I siezed the landlord's hand and shook it 
 most heartily. He introduced me to all the boarders who 
 had contributed toward the fund, at the same time assuring 
 me that it was the sincere wish of all the donors that I re- 
 
50 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 ceive the money not as a subscription to meet my needs, but 
 as a gift for me to enjoy at the iair. 
 
 "Don't take any exceptions." said he. "We just 
 wanted to give you something. Anyone who undertakes 
 such a trip as yours deserves all the help he gets. 
 
 When I had somewhat recovered from my fit of joy I 
 wondered how much money I had on hand altogether. Upon 
 investigation when I returned to my room, I proudly pro- 
 duced sixty-nine dollars. Of this amount, twenty-five be- 
 longed to the book company, but there was plenty of pleasure 
 in the forty-four that were left. 
 
 "I'll be off for Portland tonight," I whispered to myself, 
 while I wrote to my employers at Chicago, of my day's busi 
 ness, and my sudden fortune in other lines. 
 
 I also wrote several other letters to CarroUton friends. 
 I was feeling so fine over my marvelous luck that I was 
 obliged to keep busy in order that I might not go crazy from 
 
 joy- 
 When I had finished the letters 1 started to the post- 
 office. I hunted a good while before I found it, but when I 
 did make the discovery, I felt amply paid for my trouble, for 
 I heard something that reminded me of old CarroUton. The 
 New York Store, The Peoples' Store, The Arcade — all the 
 business houses in town — are extremely popular with one fer- 
 vent element in the junior circles of Carrollton's population. 
 This is especially so when a lovesick boy or girl seeks to find 
 
A MISSOURTAN IN THE FAB WEST 51 
 
 a place to enjoy a tete-a-tete with that "dear delumptious 
 delicious somebody" who is the whole world to — nobody. 
 And the public places of all towns share this fate. Courting 
 at the postoffice is, I suppose, conducted in all towns the 
 same as it is in Shoshone. I append a part of the long 
 dialogue which occurred in the building where I mailed my 
 letters. Did you ever hear one like it? 
 
 "I heard from you yesterday." 
 
 "You did?" 
 
 "Yes, I did." 
 
 "What did you hear?" 
 
 "Oh, I know." 
 
 "Do you?" 
 
 "Yes, I do." 
 
 "Then why don't you tell me?" 
 
 "I will some day." 
 
 "Tell me now." 
 
 "Not much I will." 
 
 "Why.?" 
 
 "Oh, 'cause; you know." 
 
 "No, I don't." 
 
 "Aw!" 
 
 "Oh yes; is that the reason?" 
 
 "Yes, he told me not to." 
 
 "Who did?" 
 
 "Oh, you know." 
 
52 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 "No, I don't." 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "Then why don't you tell me?" 
 
 "I will some day." 
 
 "When.?" 
 
 "When you tell me." 
 
 "Now don't be silly; I want to know." 
 
 "So do I." 
 
 "Then, why don't you tell me.''" 
 
 "I told you." 
 
 "No, you didn't. " 
 
 "Yes. I did." 
 
 "Did you?" 
 
 "Didn't you just hear me?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; I forgot. " 
 
 "You did?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Say! Please tell me!" 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 "Just 'cause I said so." 
 
 "Won't tomorrow do?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "Who does?" 
 
 "I don't know. " 
 
 "Aw, cut that out!" 
 
 "What for?" 
 
A MISSOURTAN IN THE FAB WEST 63 
 
 '" 'Cause I said so." 
 
 "Alright." 
 
 "Alrighty." 
 
 "Going to tell me?" 
 
 "Sure, I'll tell you." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "When I get ready." 
 
 "Is that so?" 
 
 "Yes, that's so." 
 
 "How do you know?" 
 
 " 'Cause I said so," 
 
 "How do I know?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "You're mean." 
 
 "Am I?" 
 
 "No, you're not; I was joking." 
 
 "No, you weren't." 
 
 "Yes I was, honey." 
 
 "Now don't get silly." 
 
 "Does that sound silly to you?" 
 
 "No, not to me." 
 
 "Then what's the 'dif?" 
 
 "Somebody might be listening." 
 
 "I wouldn't give a dime." 
 
 "I didn't think you'd swear." 
 
 "I'm not swearing." 
 
54 A MISSOURIAN IN THE FAB WEST 
 
 "Yes, you are." 
 
 "I said I wouldn't give a d-i-m-e." 
 
 "I'm sorry; I need ten cents." 
 
 "What for.?" 
 
 "Just 'cause I said so." 
 
 "You're getting silly." 
 
 "I don't give a dime," 
 
 "What do you give.^*" 
 
 "Something better." 
 
 "How many.?" 
 
 "A whole lot." 
 
 "Oh, goody! When.?" 
 
 "Some day." 
 
 "Not now.?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Why.?" 
 
 " 'Cause I said so." 
 
 "I hope you won't forget." 
 
 "You know I won't." 
 
 "No, I don't." 
 
 "Don't you.?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "What makes you look so gone like?" 
 
 "You." 
 
 "What have I done.?" 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
A MISSOUBTAN IN THE FAR WEST 55 
 
 "Then why do you blame me?" 
 
 "I'm not blaming you." 
 
 "You're not?" 
 
 "I wish I knew what you know." 
 
 "I don't know anything." 
 
 "That's one time you told the truth." 
 
 "What!" 
 
 "Yes, I said it." 
 
 "How dare you?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "I'm mad at you." 
 
 "Doggone the luck, anyway; I don't cxire. " 
 
 "Now don't get gay." 
 
 "Am I gay?" 
 
 "I think you are." 
 
 "I am.?" 
 
 "You're a mean old thing, anyhow." 
 
 "You don't say!" 
 
 "I do say!" 
 
 "Aw!" 
 
 "Shut up, will you?" 
 
 "No, will you?" 
 
 "You're horrid." 
 
 "Thanks! Goodbye!" 
 
 "Say, hold on a minute." 
 
 "What.?" 
 
56 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 "I didn't mean that." 
 
 "Yes, you did; I am heart broken." 
 
 "Poor boy; forgive me." 
 
 "Alright." 
 
 "Alrighty." 
 
 "Well, I must be going." 
 
 "What for.?" 
 
 "Just 'cause I said so." 
 
 "Is that it.?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, goodbye." 
 
 "Goodbye." 
 
 "Say there." 
 
 "What.?" 
 
 "Goodbye." 
 
 "So long." 
 
A MISSOURTAN IN THE FAR WEST 57 
 
 ON THE COAST 
 
 I arrived in Portland Monday afternoon. The city was 
 overflowing with visitors from every nation on the globe. 
 Russians, Germans, Greeks, Swedes, Spaniards, Turks — all 
 Europe was there; but Europe was not the only country in 
 Portland. China and Japan were out in full force, as well as 
 were the sister states of South America. The whole world 
 was having a regular, old fashioned family reunion. 
 
 I hunted from three o'clock till five before I found a 
 place to stay all night. Every private house in town was 
 taking care of forty or fifty more people than it could accom- 
 modate at any other time; and the hotels — they were simply 
 crammed. The house where I put up was a little, one horse, 
 suburban concern, but I was glad enough when I found it 
 even though it was not much better than a pig pen. 
 
 The next morning I thought I would go out to the expo- 
 sition grounds and see some of the sights, but when the sun 
 was less than an hour high there was such a crowd on the 
 road from the city to the grounds that I at once saw a great 
 danger in trying to push myself through such a throng. And 
 
58 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 as I did not think I could enjoy myself in the tremendous 
 crowd, I made up my mind to entertain myself in the city 
 proper; and after riding for an hour or more through different 
 parts, I returned to the hotel and spent the remainder of the 
 day in rest and quiet. 
 
 The next day was spent in like manner. But on Thurs- 
 day I boarded a steamer on the Willamette and sailed for the 
 beach via. Columbia river. The distance was about one 
 hundred miles, and my ride on the water was a glorious one. 
 The warm June sun poured amiable down upon us, and the 
 waves of the swift current below us leaped and lashed joyously 
 as we ploughed our way through the chanel of the beautiful 
 river. I was on the lower deck where many of the passen- 
 gers were sitting enjoying the warm sunshine; and I gradually 
 worked my way into the minds of all the sightseers. First 
 one would look at me then another, and finally they would 
 make an exchange of smiles that meant no more to me than, 
 "He's just a Missourian, that's all," 
 
 In due time I was called upon to answer all kinds of 
 questions, especially those regarding my object in traveling 
 alone. I had grown tired of answering queries that concerned 
 no one but me, and my patience had been driven to wit's end; 
 but common civility restrained me from impertinence and 
 compelled me to make the best of the situation. 
 
 The captain emerged from the buffet room with a pitcher 
 and a tumbler in his hands. 
 
A MISSOURTAN IN THE FAR WEST 59 
 
 "Missouri?" said he. 
 
 "Yes sir," said I. 
 
 "Then drink to the health of Oregon." 
 
 He poured out a glassful of sweet lemonade remarking, 
 "This is not whisky nor beer. Drink all you want. We 
 shall soon be at the beach, and you may need something to 
 stimulate your courage when we reach the mouth of the 
 Columbia. The noise of the tide always frightens people who 
 have come from the inland states. But fear nothing, my boy; 
 we will see that nothing harms you." 
 
 I drank down the mild beverage with much relish, and 
 the captain was off and at the helm of the vessel before I 
 could collect my thoughts to thank him. 
 
 We had soon passed the foaming mouth of the Willa- 
 mette, and were riding the waves of the famous Columbia. 
 The air was growing misty; little birds flitted and twittered 
 about the ship; the breeze from the west was growing stronger 
 and stronger; and a strange odor scented the atmosphere; ah, 
 iwe were nearing the great Pacific, and these were the signs 
 that bade me know that the land's end was not far away. 
 
 I looked at my watch. We had been sailing down stream 
 five hours, and were only thirty miles from the coast line. 
 The captain returned, bringing with him a basket containing 
 a collection of the choicest fruits of California. 
 
 "Young man," said he, "I have always had a profound 
 sympathy for any one traveling alone; and I am especially 
 
60 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 interested in a Missourian who has the grit to face the wild 
 west under such disadvantages as confront you on your trip. 
 I have brought you this basket of fruit that you may enjoy an 
 apple or an orange while you wait for the vessel to reach the 
 landing at Big Hook." 
 
 Like a flash, the nimble captain again disappeared, 
 leaving the whole quantity of juicy meats to my mercy. 
 
 The hills along the banks of the river had fallen behind 
 us, and we were sailing gracefully in a flatland stream, which, 
 by degrees was growing broader and broader as we glided 
 down toward the deep sea. 
 
 At last, those on deck began to stir and to open up their 
 baggage, and I knew that our voyage was almost finished. A. 
 few minutes later we ran ashore at the foot of a small hill on 
 the west bank, in a bend in the river. 
 
 When I ascended to the summit of the elevation, Balboa's 
 wonder, in all it's grandeur and magnificence, lay before my 
 unbelieving but conquered eyes. 
 
 A sight of the ocean always brings one to deep thought, 
 and some are moved to tell of its beauties in elaborately deco- 
 rated language, but this need not be expected of a Missourian; 
 and I must not make any unnecessary display of my crude 
 knowledge of English by trying to be graphic. To every 
 writer of books there comes a climax of theme, and an inex- 
 perienced hand quite naturally yields to an opportunity to 
 indulge in big words and high sounding terms. T confess that 
 
A MISSOURTAN IN THE FAR WEST 61 
 
 from the moment the first stroke was made in this compilation, 
 I have looked forward to this chapter as a place to relieve my 
 soul of some of its "poetry." But as I approach the spot my 
 spirit is dumb, and I shall not disturb the peace of my soul 
 by any humble attempt toward grandiloquence. 
 
 Those whose good fortune it has been to look upon the 
 sea will understand that, however hard I might try, I could 
 never write a vivid description of such a grand, of such an 
 awful ocean as the Pacific; and those whose eyes have yet to 
 partake of the beauties of its scenery would gain nothing from 
 my attempt at such. So I leave it to your way of thinking to 
 have a good account of what I saw while I was on the beach. 
 
 m 
 
62 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 COMING HOME 
 
 The next place I visited was Spokane, the queen city of 
 Washington. It was here that the westerner's keen power to 
 detect personal traits and "locaHsms" in strangers got in its 
 best work. I could not venture outside a door without having 
 it thrown up to me by some upstart of a fellow that I was 
 from the Jesse James state. Nor could I converse blind to 
 the realization that my hearers were laughing in their sleeves 
 because I was a "conceited Missourian." Even when I would 
 stroll unof^endingly along the crowded pavement, some by- 
 stander would take on a look of wisdom, wonder whether I 
 lived in Mexico or in Chillicothe, and leave me to defend 
 myself as best I could by praising goodness that I was from 
 Carrollton. 
 
 But such is the hard lot of any Missourian away from 
 home, and one might as well try to outrun his shadow on a 
 bright summer day as to attempt to hide his nationality or 
 even conceal his personal traits of character when he is in 
 the western states. 
 
A MISSOURTAN IN THE FAR WEST 63 
 
 I spent several days in Spokane, roaming in all parts of 
 the city and seeing many strange sights. On the Fourth of 
 July I followed the crowd and went to Natatorium Park on 
 the bank of the Spokane river, where a throng of more than 
 twenty thousand people had gathered to celebrate. The day 
 went off just as a Fourth at Carrollton, except on a grander 
 scale. A child was slightly injured by the explosion of a 
 torpedo during the afternoon; and two or three women fainted 
 from the noise, and had to be taken to the hospital. At 
 nightfall the celebration was ended with a splendid display of 
 fireworks over the Spokane river. 
 
 From Tuesday till Friday I was busy in the suburbs, 
 canvassing with my books. I began with the little town of 
 Hillyard which is about seven miles by the car line from 
 Howard and Riverside Junction in the center of the city 
 proper. Hillyard is a mere village, but nearly every family 
 patronized me, at the same time advising me that they did so 
 only because I was a Missourian who did not know enough to 
 make an honest living. 
 
 I finished my rounds at Hillyard. The next place that 
 suffered my presence was Illinois avenue, a street in the 
 most thickly settled part of the outskirts of the city. I earned 
 a few dollars here, but my business was not attended with 
 such success as it had been at Hillyard. Not only did I have 
 a hard time finding anyone at home, but nearly every home 
 supported a big bull dog, whose duty it was to lie on the lawn 
 
64 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 and give the alarm when a book agent or a brass button ped- 
 dler appeared at the front gate. I was not used to such 
 things, and after getting two or three soaking snubs from as 
 many persons, I returned to the Grand hotel on Howard 
 street, paid off a big board bill, and left for Coeur D' Alene 
 City, Idaho. 
 
 This was Friday. My object in going to Coeur D' Alene 
 was twofold; first, to get the benefit of the scenery; second, to 
 avail myself of the excellent advantages that it afforded can- 
 vassers. Being a health resort only thirty miles from Spokane, 
 and connected with that place by trolley line, the little city 
 was consequently full of people who had plenty of money. 
 And as I had been aching to get into such a place for some 
 time, I was more than glad to try my luck here. 
 
 Coeur D' Alene City is situated on a beautiful lake in the 
 Coeur D' Alene mountams about fifty miles from the Canadian 
 line. It is a town of about three thousand inhabitants, and 
 probably owes its very existence to the surrounding scenery. 
 The lake is not a wide one, but is thirty miles long, and 
 walled in by steep mountains on all sides. The wealthy peo- 
 ple of Spokane spend their summers rowing and fishing in 
 this lake, and Coeur D' Alene could not well be anything but 
 a prosperous and rapidly growing town. 
 
 Arriving here about noon, I took up my abode at the 
 Bancroft hotel, where I spent many uneventful days. I say 
 uneventful because I failed to do much business as a book 
 
A MISSOURTAN IN THE FAR WEST 65 
 
 agent, not because I did not have a good time at other things. 
 I certainly enjoyed everything that was to be seen and when- 
 ever it was possible for me to push myself into any new field 
 of amusement, there it was that I was sure to be. I think I 
 was on board all the boats that scoured the rock bottomed 
 lake, for the captains treated me as if I were a young prince, 
 and would let me ride on their respective vessels at my own 
 sweet will. When I was not on deck a steamer I was out in 
 a canoe paddling around looking at the fishes. 
 
 One evening at 8:30, while the sun was yet shining — in 
 that latitude the July sun does not set until almost nine 
 o'clock — I returned to the office room from an hour's splash 
 in the water, and began to read the news. I had become 
 deeply interested in an account of a great fire they had had in 
 Spokane the very night I left that city, when my attention 
 was called from the paper by my landlord's son who entered 
 from the dining room with the following invitation for me: 
 
 "Mr. Williams, the Get There Eli Club meets in the 
 parlor tonight, and we would be pleased to have you call." 
 
 I followed the young man into the room where the mem- 
 bers of the particular order had assembled, but I could not 
 bear to remain long. The young gents insisted on my joining 
 them at a game of cards, but when they learned that I did 
 not know how to play, the Missouri fun was on, and then for 
 reasons best known to those who are acquainted with Idaho 
 manners, I had to leave. 
 
66 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 The next morning I sailed down lake Coeur D' Alene to 
 the small village of Harrison, Idaho, where I boarded a train 
 for Wallace, After spending a few days in this industrious 
 town, I journeyed on to Missoula, Montana. From Missoula 
 I went to Helena, and I might pause right here to say that 
 Helena was the toughest place that I struck on the whole 
 course of my trip, Cheyenne excepted, I stayed in Helena 
 about a week, and then went to Livingston, where I branched 
 off into Yellowstone Park. 
 
 Yellowstone scenery is by far the most beautiful and 
 magnificent of all wonders in the west. I was in the park but 
 a day, and did not visit many of the interesting spots; but I 
 saw with my own eyes, the Old Faithful Geyser, which alone 
 vvas worth the price of the trip. If I were a poet or even a 
 master in prose, I would indeed have a happy theme; but as 
 has already been discovered, I am nothing in the world but a 
 "mutton headed idiot from Missouri, the home of the buz- 
 zards," and whoever heard of a buzzard writing poetry.? 
 Hence my well founded excuse for not tarrying in my story to 
 tamper with a topic that would test the ability of a Milton, 
 Bacon or Shakespeare, My conclusion shall be as abrupt as 
 my beginning. My homeward flight was quick and devoid of 
 interest until I arrived in Kansas City, where I met Mr. Hazel, 
 of the Farm Tool Co.. with whom I rode to Carroilton. 
 
 It has been truly said that "nobody wants to live at 
 second hand. To read about great pictures, but never to see 
 
A MISSOURTAN IN THE FAR WEST 67 
 
 them with our own eyes; to hear about the world's great 
 marvels of scenery, but never to stand before them; to know 
 through others' experience, that there are such things as love 
 and glory and victory and happiness, but never to enter them 
 for ourselves — what sort of life is that for any human being to 
 live? A young man, a young woman wants to have all that is 
 deepest and sweetest in life, and not just the hear or dream 
 about it. Life at second hand is not life, but a shadow and a 
 failure." 
 
 But if I may quote again, "it has been either my good or 
 evil lot to have my roving passion gratified. I have wandered 
 through different countries, and witnessed many of the shift- 
 ing scenes of life. I cannot say that I have studied them 
 with the eye of a philosopher, but rather with the sauntering 
 gaze with which humble lovers of the picturesque stroll from 
 the window of one print shop to another; caught sometimes 
 by delineations of beauty, sometimes by distortion of cari- 
 cature, and sometimes by the loveliness of landscape. 
 * * * * 
 
 "But human nature is made up of foibles and prejudices; 
 and its best and tenderest affections are mingled with these 
 factitious feelings. He who has sought renown about the 
 world, and has reaped a full harvest of worldly favor, will 
 find, after all, that there is no love, no admiration, no ap- 
 plause so sweet to the soul as that which springs up in his 
 native place. It is there that he seeks to be gathered in peace 
 
68 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 and honor among his kindred and his earlier friends. And 
 when the weary heart and faiHng head begin to warn him that 
 the evening of hfe is drawing on, he turns as fondly as does 
 the infant to the mother's arms, to sink to sleep in the bosom 
 of the scene of his childhood." 
 
 Ik 
 
A MISSOUBTAN IN THE FAB WEST 69 
 
 PHILOSOPHICAL REFLECTIONS 
 
 Book writing is a tremendous job. The elements of 
 these chapters have been raked up at odd spells when no more 
 profitable employment was at hand; sifted while my friends 
 stood by superintending the work with a generous amount of 
 advice, which only fell into the seive to be mixed and culled 
 with the original matter; and cemented together at intervals 
 of leisure and ease when I sat by a warm fireside calling up 
 vague recollections of my summer's ride in the cold moun- 
 tains, and jotting down, now and then, a few items as the 
 spirit saw fit to move me toward this particular end. 
 
 Yet, since I finished the foregoing parts some days ago, 
 it has been intimated by a presuming prophet that I am as- 
 piring to the utmost heights in literature; that I am venturing 
 out upon this journey to success with no realization that there 
 is such a thing as failure. Such speculations are nothing in 
 the world but nonsense, and deserve a loud laugh of mockery 
 for I am making no attempt whatever toward pushing myself 
 out of my own limitations. An effort of this kind, to say the 
 least, would be foolish, and would conduce to an ultimate 
 thwarting of my more modest and more rational undertakings. 
 
70 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 Comment of this character never fails to set my brain 
 wheels of philosophy in motion, but as I promised my best 
 friend that I would not be longer than one day writing this 
 book, I am restrained for want of time from making any usual 
 demonstrations. Notwithstanding this fact, this book has 
 been written for money, not for glory; and it might be a good 
 thing to throw in a few plain, unpolished thoughts for good 
 measure. As it has been gotten up for the amusement of m}' 
 friends rather than for their instruction in the art of using 
 slang, I have the egotistic impudence to predict that it is not 
 going to stray far from its mark; but I really believe a bit of 
 philosophy would insure me against a second outbreak of 
 uncomplimentary accusations. 
 
 Ever since the day when the Athenian gods went about 
 ministering to the wants of their fellow beings there have been 
 men and women who like to mimic them on the stage. Like- 
 wise, from Socrates to Booker T. Washington, have all sages 
 been worshipped and imitated by those who have sought and 
 striven to stand before the world as philosophers. And so it 
 will always be. Every time the earth bounds of^ into space, 
 passes the state of perihelion, goes on, and finally regains its 
 position of aphelion, the world loses a fool and gains an idiot 
 who at once sets about to expound his supernatural views on 
 philosophy between the covers of an ill written book! 
 
 From early childhood I have had an uncontrollable desire 
 to be a philosopher. In my early days I would sometimes 
 
A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 71 
 
 terrify my parents by coaxing the neighbors' children into our 
 front yard at home, where I would proceed to hold a school. 
 My favorite doctrine was to play marbles for keeps and never 
 give them back. As a result, I have arrived at man's estate as 
 poor as Job's lousy gobbler, devoid of earthly means, and 
 destitute of wing power. I cannot fly over the ditches of 
 everlasting get-rich-quick schemes. What, then, is left but 
 for me to philosophize this pile of prepared trash? 
 
 Moreover, there is no better place in the world to hide a 
 bad thought than on the nice, clean page of a book that is to 
 be put on sale in the author's home town. Some people 
 never know a good thing when they see it; others are quick 
 to absorb anything new provided it does not cost them any 
 money or physical exertion. So there you are! How is any 
 one to know what is best for him to do? 
 
 In face of the heart-crushing outlook, I have neither 
 desire nor inclination to waste any more of my energy. The 
 coal situation has reached a climax, and as I do not want this 
 chapter to bear evidence of having been written with frozen 
 ink, I have concluded to postpone the construction of my work 
 on philosophy until next summer when I shall prepare it all 
 afresh and use it as a supplement to an old manuscript which 
 I intend to hunt up, remodel and publish as soon as the new 
 has worn off of "A Missourian in the Far West, or the World 
 as Seen by a Stranger." 
 
72 A MISSOURI AN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 1 leave off as I began; the only dread I have is of the 
 book borrower. And I have a promise to make; this book 
 shall never be revised, and not a single copy shall ever be sold 
 in that dense ten-miles-up-the-track mass of ignorance, Nor- 
 borne. 
 
"Man's a vapor 
 Full of woes. 
 Writes a book — 
 Up he goes." 
 
HAY 12 ^fcJ^ 
 
A MISSOURIAN IN THE FAR WEST 
 
 OR 
 
 The World as Seen by a Stranger 
 
 BY 
 
 Joel Strother Williams 
 
2/