We were camped amid the foot-hills on the trail which led up to the Kicking Horse Pass. The sun had already passed from sight, beyond the white summits above us, and the shadow of the monstrous mountain range darkened the prairie to the east, to the horizon’s rim. Our bivouac was made in a grove of lofty firs, six or eight in number; and a little rivulet, trickling from the upper slopes, fell, with soft, lapsing sound, within a few feet of our camp-fire. We did not even pitch a tent, for the sky was mild, and above us the monstrous trees lifted their protecting canopy of stems. The hammocks were swung for the ladies, and each gentleman “preempted” the claim that suited him best, by depositing his blanket and rifle upon it. The entire party were in the best of spirits, and nature responded to our happiness in its kindest mood. Laughter sounded pleasantly at intervals from the busy groups, each working at some self-appointed industry. The hum of cheerful conversation mingled with the murmurs of the brook; and now and then the snatch of some sweet song would break from tuneful lips, brief, spirited, melodious as a bobolink’s, dashing upward from the clover-heads. And before the mighty shadow lying gloomily on the great prairie plain, which stretched eastward for a thousand miles, had grown to darkness, the active, happy workers had given to the bivouac that look of designed orderliness which a trained party always give to any spot they select in which to make a camp or pass a night. An hour before, there was nothing to distinguish that grove of trees, or the ground beneath them, from any other spot or hill within the reach of eye. But now it commanded the landscape; and, had you been trailing over the vast plain, the bright firelight, the group of men and women moving to and fro, the picketed horses, the fluttering bits of color here and there, would have caught your gaze ten miles away; and were you tired or hungry, or even lonesome, you would have naturally turned your horse’s head toward that camp as toward a cheerful reception and a home; for wherever is happy human life, to it all lonely life is drawn as by a magnet.

And this was demonstrated by our experience then and there. For, scarcely had we done with supper, and by this time the gloom had grown to darkness, and the half-light of evening held the landscape, when out of the semi-gloom there came a call, the call of a man hailing a camp. Indeed, we were not sure he had not hailed several times before we heard him; for, to tell the truth, we were a very merry crowd, and as light of heart as if there was not a worry or care in all the world, at least for us, and the smallest spark of a joke exploded us like a battery. Indeed, so rollicking was our mood that our laughter was nearly continuous, and it is quite possible that the stranger may have hailed us more than once without our hearing him. And this was the more likely because the man’s voice was not of the loudest, nor was it positive in the energy of its appeal.

Indeed, there was a certain feebleness or timidity in the stranger’s hail, as if he was mistrustful that any good fortune could respond to him, and, hence, deprecated the necessity of the resort. But hear him we did at last, and he was greeted with a chorus of voices to “Come in! Come in! You’re welcome!” And partly because we had finished our repast, and partly from courtesy and the natural promptings of gentlefolk to give a visitor courteous greeting, we all arose and received him standing. And, certainly, had the kindly act been unusual with us, not one of our group would have regretted the extra condescension bestowed upon him at his coming, after he had entered the circle of our firelight, and we saw the expression of his features.

What a mirror the human face is! Looking into it, how we behold the soul, the accidents that have befallen it and the disappointments it has borne! Are not the faces of men as carved tablets on which we read the records of their lives? The face of childhood is smoothly beautiful, like a white page on which neither with ink of red or black has any pen drawn character. But, as the years go on, the pen begins to move and the fatal tracery to grow, that tracery which means and tells so much. And the face of this man, this waif, so to speak, this waif that had come to us from the stretch of the prairie, whose southern line is the southern gulf; this stranger, who had come so suddenly to the circle of our light, and so plaintively sought admission to its comfort and its cheer, was a face which one might read at a glance. Not one in our circle that did not instantly feel that he embodied some overwhelming calamity. A look of sadness, of a mild, continuous sorrow, overspread his face. There was a pitiful expression about the mouth, as if brave determination had withdrawn its lines from it forever. From his eyes a certain mistrustfulness looked forth, not mistrustfulness of others, but of himself, as if confidence in his own powers had received an overwhelming shock. The man’s appearance made an instant and unmistakable impression upon the entire company. The ladies God bless their sweet and sympathetic natures! were profoundly moved at the pitiful aspect of our guest. Their bosoms thrilled with sympathy for one upon whose devoted head evil fortune had so evidently emptied its quiver. Nor were our less sensitive masculine natures untouched by his forlorn appearance.

“A target for evil fortune,” whispered Dick to the major.

“A regular bull’s-eye!” was the solemn response. “A bull’s-eye, by gad! at the end of the score.”

It was not a poetic expression. I wish the reader to note that I do not record it as such. I only preserve it as evidence of the major’s humanity, and of the unaffected sympathy for the stranger, which at that moment filled all hearts.

Naturally, as it can well be imagined, the gayety of our company had been utterly checked by the coming of our sad guest. In the presence of such a wreck of human happiness, perhaps of human hope, what person of any sensibility could maintain a lightsome mood? Had it not been for one peculiarity, a peculiarity, I am confident, all of us observed, the depression of our spirits would have been as profound as it was universal. This peculiarity was the stranger’s appetite. This, fortunately, had remained unimpaired, an oasis in the Sahara of his life.

“The one remnant left him from the wreck of his fortunes,” whispered Dick.

“A perfect remnant!” returned the major, sententiously.

For myself, acting as host to this appetite, and being naturally of a philosophic turn, I watched its development with the keenest interest, not to say with a growing curiosity. “Here is something,” I said to myself, “that is unique. That fine law of recompense which is kindly distributed through the universe finds here,” I reflected, “a most instructive and conclusive demonstration. Robbed, by an adverse fate, of all that made life agreeable, this man, this pilgrim of time, this wayfarer to eternity, this companion of mine on the road of life, has had bestowed upon him an extraordinary solace, has been permitted to retain a commensurate satisfaction. Surely, life cannot have lost its attractions for one whose stomach still preserves such aspirations.” And, prompted by the benevolence of my mood, and the anticipations of a wise forecast, I collected in front of me whatever edibles remained on the table, that, if the supply of our hospitality should prove insufficient, the exhibition of its spirit should at least be conclusive.

But, if the countenance of the stranger was of a most melancholy cast, there were not lacking hints that by nature he had been endowed with vivacity of spirit; for, as he continued, with an industry which was remarkable, to refresh himself, there were appearances, which came to the eye and the corners of his mouth, which made the observer conclude that he was not lacking the sense of humor; and, if his experience had been most unfortunate, there was in him an ability to appreciate the ludicrousness of its changeful situations. Indeed, one could but conclude that originally he must have been of a buoyant, not to say sanguine disposition; and, if one could but prevail upon him to narrate the incidents of his life, they would be found to be most entertaining.

It was something like an hour before our melancholy-looking guest had fully improved the opportunity with which a benignant Providence had supplied him, a freak in which, one might conclude, she seldom indulged. He ceased to eat, and sat for a moment gazing pensively at the dishes. It seemed to me but in this I may possibly be mistaken that a darker shade of sadness possessed his face at the conclusion than the one that shadowed it so heavily at the beginning of the repast. “The pleasures of hope,” I said to myself, “are evidently greater to my species than are those of recollection. Now that there is nothing left for my guest to anticipate, it is evident that memory ceases to excite.” And I could but feel that, had our provisions been more abundant, the stranger’s appetite would not have been so easily appeased. With something of regret in my voice, I sought to divert his mind from that sense of disappointment which I judged from his countenance threatened to oppress his spirits.

“Friend,” I said, “I doubt not that you have trailed a goodly distance, and your fasting has been long?”

“I have not eaten a meal in two days,” was the response.

“Heavens!” exclaimed Dick in an aside to the major. “Is it credible that that man ate two days ago!”

“Gad!” exclaimed the major, “the man’s stomach is nothing but a pocket.”

“A pocket! I should call it an unexplored cavern!” retorted Dick.

“The direction and reason of your long trail would be interesting,” I resumed. “And, if not impertinent, friend, may I ask you whence you have come?”

“I have journeyed from Texas,” replied the man, and his voice nearly broke as he said it.

“Oh!” exclaimed the ladies, and they sympathetically grouped themselves, anticipating, with true feminine sensitiveness, some terrible denouement.

“Texas!” I ejaculated.

“Gad!” said the major.

“The Devil!” said Dick.

“Yes, Texas!” repeated the man, and he groaned.

By this time, as any intelligent reader will easily divine, our whole group was in a condition of mild excitement. Several of us had resided in Texas, and we felt that we stood at the threshold of a history, a history with infinite possibilities in it. For myself, I knew not how to proceed. My position as a host forbade me to interrogate. The sorrows of life are sacred, and my sensitiveness withheld me from thrusting myself within the enclosure of my guest’s recollections. That his experiences, could we but be favored with a narration of them, would be entertaining, painfully entertaining, I keenly realized; but how to proceed I saw not. I remained silent.

“Yes,” it was the stranger who broke the silence, “I am a busted ex-Texan!”

The relief that came to me at the instant was indescribable. The path was made plain. We all felt that we were not only on the threshold of a history, but of a narration of that history. The ladies fluttered into position for listening. I could but see it, and so I am bound to record that I saw Dick irreverently punch the major. It was a punch which carried with it the significance of an exclamation. The major received it with the face of a Spartan, but with the grunt of a Chinook chief.

“Friend,” I said, “we are accustomed to beguile the evening hours with entertaining descriptions of travels, often of personal incidents of the haps and hazards of life; and, if it would not be disagreeable to you, we would be vastly entertained, beyond doubt, by any narration with which you might favor us of your Texan experiences and of the fortunes which befell you there.”

For a few moments, the silence remained unbroken, save by the crackle of the fire and the soft movement in the great firs overhead, a movement which is to sound what dawn is to the day; not so much a sound as a feathery suggestion that sound might come. It was a genial hour, and the mood of the hour began to be felt in our own. The warmth of it evidently penetrated the bosom of our guest. He had eaten. He was filled, appreciably so at least, and that happy feeling, that comfortable sense of fulness, which characterizes the after-dinner hour, pervaded him with its genial glow. He loosened his belt, another tremendous nudge from Dick, and a look of contentment softened his features. Whatever storm had wrecked his life, he had now passed beyond its billows, and from the sure haven into which he had been blown he could gaze with complacent resignation, if not with happiness, at the dangers through which he had passed. I am sure that we were all delighted at the brightening appearance of our guest, and felt that, if the story he was to tell us was one which included disasters, it would at least be lightened by traces of humor and the calm acceptance of a philosophic mind.

“I was born in the State of Connecticut,” so our guest began his narration. “I came from a venturesome stock, and the instinct of commercial enterprise may be regarded as hereditary in my family. My grandfather was the first one to discover the tropical attributes of the beech-wood tree. He first perceived that it contained within its fibres the pungency of the nutmeg. With a celerity which we remember with pride in our family, he availed himself of the commercial value of his discovery, and for years did a prosperous trade on the credulity of mankind. He was a man of humor, a sense which has been to some extent transmitted to myself, he was a man of humor, and I have no doubt he enjoyed the joke he was practising on people, fully as much as the profits which the practical embodiment of his humor brought to his pocket. My father was a deacon, a man of true piety and eminently respectable. He was engaged in the retail-grocery business, a business which offers opportunities to a person of wit and of an inventive turn of mind. The butter that he sold was salted invariably by one rule a rule which he discovered and applied in the cellar of the store himself; and the sugar which he sold, if it was sanded, was always sanded by a method which improved rather than detracted from its appearance.”

Here our guest paused a moment, as if enjoying the recollections of the virtues of his ancestors. His face was as sober as ever, but his look was one of contentment; and I could but note the suggestion of merriment the merriment of a happy memory in his eye. How happy it is for an offspring to be able to recall the character of his forefathers with such liveliness of mind!

“The motive which impelled me towards Texas,” he resumed, “was one which was natural for me to feel, thus ancestrally connected. I had heired my father’s business, the deacon, who had died full of honors, ripe in years, and in perfect peace. But the business did not prosper in my hands; perhaps, I had not heired, with the business, the deacon’s ability, that accuracy of eye, that gravity of appearance, that deftness of touch, so to speak, which underlay his success. Be that as it may, the business did not pay, and without hesitation I sold it; and, with a comfortable sum for investment, I journeyed to Texas.

“It is proper for me to remark that the welcome I received was most cordial. I chose a populous centre for a temporary residence, and proceeded to look around me. I found the Texans to be a warm-hearted people, much given to hospitality, and willing, with a charming disinterestedness, to admit all new-comers, with capital, to the enormous profits of their various enterprises.

“For the first time in my life, I found myself among a people who were successful in everything they undertook. Their profits were simply enormous. No speculation could possibly fail. However I invested my money, I was assured that I would speedily become a millionnaire. Cotton was a certain crop. Corn was never known to fail. The Texan tobacco was rapidly driving the Cuban out of the market. The aboriginal grapes of the State, of which there were millions of acres waiting for the presses, yielded, as Europe confessed, a wine superior to Champagne. If I preferred herding, all I had to do was to purchase a few sheep and simply sit down. There was no section of the globe where sheep were so prolific, fleeces so thick, or the demands of market so clamorous. And, as for horses, I was assured that no one in Texas who knew the facts of the case would spend any time in raising them. The prairies were full of them, hundreds of thousands of them, all blooded stock, ’true descendants, sir, from the Moorish Barb, distributed through the whole country at the Spanish invasion.’ I need do nothing but purchase fifty thousand acres, fence the territory in, and the enclosed herds would continue to propagate indefinitely. Such were the delightful pictures which my entertainers presented to me. Captivated by the charming manners of my hosts, my sanguine temperament kindled into heat at the touch of their enthusiasm. Where every venture was sure of successful issue, there was no need for deliberation or selection. I invested indiscriminately in all, and waited buoyantly for the results.”

Here the stranger paused, compelled, perhaps, by a slight interruption. Dick had retired, closely followed by the major. Our guest certainly was not devoid of humor, and I was convinced, as I watched the play of his features, that he apprehended and appreciated the reason for their retirement. He lifted a plate from the table, inspected it closely, turned it over, gazed contemplatively at its reversed side, and, poising it deftly upon the point of three fingers, quietly remarked:

“The gentlemen, I judge, have been in Texas?”

“They have,” I replied: “we three were there together.”

“Ah!”

It was all he said. I might add, it was all that could be said.

At this point, Dick and the major rejoined us. Their eyes showed traces of recent tears. They were still wiping their faces with their handkerchiefs. With that refinement which is characteristic of true gentlemen, and which seeks concealment of any extraordinary emotion, they had considerately retired to indulge their laughter.

“I am delighted,” continued our guest, after Dick and the major had resumed their seats, “I am delighted to find myself in company with men of experience. I feel that you will not question the veracity of my story, or fail to appreciate the outcome of my enterprises. At the end of two years, my property was distributed promiscuously throughout the State, and I was reduced to the necessity of making one final venture to recoup myself for the losses which, to the astonishment of the entire Texan community, I assured them I had met. I was the only man, as they asserted, ‘that had ever failed to make a magnificent success in Texas.’

“You can readily conceive, gentlemen, that I was determined to make no mistake in my final venture. There were other reasons, beside the one of caution, which persuaded me to begin with a moderate investment; so I bought one cow. It was impossible for me to make a mistake from such a beginning. Every person in Texas that had rapidly risen to financial eminence had started with one cow. Many a time had a Texan ranchman swept his hand with a royal gesture over a landscape of flowers and Mesquite brush, dotted with thousands of cattle, and exclaimed, ‘Stranger, I started this yer ranch with one cow.’ And then he would take out a piece of chalk and figure out to me on his saddle how that one cow had multiplied herself into seven thousand five hundred and twenty-three other cows, which had proceeded to promptly multiply themselves, ‘regular as the seasons come round, sir,’ in the same reckless manner, until it was evident that the number of her progeny was actually curtailed by the size of the saddle and the lack of chalk. Now, I was eager to possess a cow with such a multiplication-table attachment, and, being unable to wait even ten years before I could tingle with the sensation of being a millionnaire ranchman. I decided to shorten the probationary stage by half, and so I purchased two cows.”

At this point, Dick rolled over upon the grass, and the major was doubled up as with sudden pain. As for myself, I confess I could not restrain my emotions. I had been through the same experience as had fallen to my guest, and I appreciated the sanguine characteristics of his temperament, which prompted him to the investment, and the humor of the situation. I laughed till my eyes flowed with tears, and the stillness of the foot-hills resounded with the unrestrained merriment of the entire camp.

The humor of our guest was truly American, the humor of suggestive restraint and exaggeration both. He narrated his experiences, which had resulted in the loss of his fortune and the collapse of his hopes, with a face like a deacon’s, and with a quaint and most charming sense of the ludicrousness of the position a position of which he himself was the cause and central object. He fairly represented that type of men who combine in their composition that which is most practical and imaginative alike; whose energy can subdue a continent, and whose boastfulness would awaken contempt if it were not palliated by the magnitude of their achievements. A humor that is often barbed, but which is most willingly directed against one’s self; but, whether directed against the humorist or his neighbor, carries no poison upon its point and leaves no wound to rankle.

“My financial condition,” said our guest, resuming, “my financial condition at the time I made this final investment contributed to the hopefulness of my mood, and made me feel the excitement of a reckless speculation, for, though my two cows only cost me seventeen dollars and fifty cents each, nevertheless, when the purchase was concluded, and the goods delivered, and I had made a careful inventory of my remaining assets, a business proceeding which the average Texan found it necessary to go through about once in two weeks, in order that he might know what his financial standing was, or whether he had any standing at all, when, I say, the purchase was consummated, and an inventory of my remaining assets made, I discovered that the two cows had swallowed up nearly my entire estate, and that a few dollars of farther expenditure would plunge me into bottomless insolvency. I must confess that this disclosure of my financial condition added zest to the undertaking, and filled me with that fine excitement which accompanies a desperate speculation. I have always felt that another cow would have made a financier of me, and that I could have taken my place among my brethren in Wall Street without a tremor of the muscles or the least sense of inferiority.

“The cows were both black in color; so black that they would make a spot in the darkness of the blackest night that ever gloomed under the cypresses of the Guadaloupe. ‘If those cows,’ I said to myself as I looked them over, ’if those cows ever do bring forth calves at the rate that the Texan of whom I purchased them figured out on his saddle, they’ll put the whole State under an eclipse.’

“I cannot say, speaking with that restraint which I have always cultivated, I cannot say, ladies and gentlemen, that I regarded either cow with any great affection. There were peculiarities about them, which checked the outgoing of my emotional nature. They had a way of looking at me through the wire fence, that made me feel grateful to the inventor of barbed wire. I cannot describe the look exactly. It was a direct, earnest, steady, intense inspection of my person, that made me feel out of place, as it were, and caused me to remember that I had duties at home, which required me to get there as rapidly as possible.

“One morning, seeing that the basis of my speculation was near the centre of the field, and busily feeding on the bountiful growths of nature, I crept softly through the wires of the fence that I might gather some pecan nuts under a big tree that stood some twenty rods away. I reached the tree in safety, and proceeded to pick up the nuts. I had filled one pocket only when I heard a noise behind me, and, looking up, I saw that all the profits of my stock speculation, and all my stock itself, were coming toward me on a jump. I was never more collected in my life. My mind instantly reached the conclusion that the pecan crop that year was so large in Texas that it would not pay to pick up another nut under that tree; that the whole thing should stand over, as it were, until another fall, and that, the sooner I retired from that field, the better it would be for me and the few pecans I had about me.

“Acting in harmony with this conclusion, which to my mind carried with it the force of a demonstration, I started for the wire fence. I have no doubt but that the line of my movement was absolutely straight. I assure you, gentlemen, that if cows had multiplied in my business connection as rapidly as they did in my imagination during the next sixty seconds of time, I should have been in Texas to this day. The whole field was actually alive with cows. I reached the fence just one jump ahead of the oldest cow, and, seeing no reason why I should take time to crawl through between the wires, I lifted myself over the airy obstruction in a manner that must have convinced that old animated bit of blackness that I had absolute ownership in every nut about me. This little episode supplied me with material for reflection for at least a week, and made me realize that any northern man that enters into a speculation with Texas cows as a basis must keep his eyes open, and not allow his thoughts to be diverted by any side issues, like pecan nuts, while the business is developing.

“The sixth morning after my speculation had arrived at the ranch, my profits began to roll in upon me, or, to state it more practically, and in a business-like manner, the oldest cow produced a calf. This raised my spirits, and made me feel that my business was fairly started. I went to my stock-book and promptly made an entry as follows: 7523-1. This meant that there were only seven thousand five hundred and twenty-two yet to realize on; that is, if seven thousand five hundred and twenty-two calves should promptly come to time, seeing that one calf had already actually come to time, my herd would be complete. I think, gentlemen, you can readily understand my feelings as I stood contemplating the first fruition of my hopes from behind a tree. The cow was securely tied, but still from habit I took my usual position when inspecting my stock. My mood was very hopeful. I felt as every Texan felt, in those days, when by some accident he found himself in possession of actual property. ‘There is a calf,’ I said; ’I’ve only had to wait six days for that calf to materialize. Suppose another calf should materialize in six days.’ I extracted a pencil from my pocket and began to figure. I multiplied that calf by six I mean that at the end of six days I multiplied that calf by another calf. Every time I put down a new multiplier I took a look at the calf, and every time I looked at the calf it multiplied itself, as it were, until I felt the full force of the Texan’s statement, save that, the more I multiplied, the more I felt that seven thousand five hundred and twenty-three did not fairly represent the certainties of the speculation. That cow would surely make a millionnaire of me yet if nothing happened.

“But, gentleman, something did happen, and it happened in this wise: You have doubtless, by this, concluded that the cow was a wild cow. The man who sold her to me had not put it precisely that way. He had represented her to me as a cow of mild manners, thoroughly domesticated, of the sweetest possible temper, used to the women folks, playful with children, in short, a creature of such amiability that she actually longed to be petted. But I had already discovered that her manners were somewhat abrupt, and that either the man did not understand the nature of the cow or I did not understand the man. I was convinced that, if she had ever been domesticated, it had been done by some family every member of which had died in the process, or had suddenly moved out of the country only a short distance ahead of her, and that she had utterly forgotten her early training. Still, I had no doubt but that her amiability was there, although temporarily somewhat latent, and that the influences of a gentle spirit would revive the dormant sensibilities of her nature. ‘The sight of a milk-pail,’ I said to myself, ’will surely awaken the reminiscences of her early days, and of that sweet home-life which was hers when she yielded at morn and at night her glad contribution to the nourishment of a Christian family.’

“There was on my ranch a servitor of foreign extraction who did my cooking for what he could eat, Chin Foo by name, and to him I called to bring me the large tin pail, which served the household which, like most Texan households in the Tertiary period, so to speak, of their fortunes, was conducted on economic principles as a washtub, a chip-basket, a water-bucket, and a dinner-gong. It also occurred to me, as I stood looking at the cow and caught the spirit of her expression, so to speak, that, as she had come to stay, was a permanent fixture of the establishment, as it were, Chin Foo might as well do the milking first as last. Moreover, as the Texan from whom I purchased her had assured me that she was a kind of household pet, the children’s friend, and took to women folks naturally, the case was a very clear one. For, as Chin Foo had long hair, wore no hat, and dressed in flowing drapery, the cow, unless she was more of a physiologist than I gave her credit for, would be in doubt somewhat as to the sex of the Chinaman; and before she had time to ruminate upon it and reach a dead-sure conclusion, the milking would be over; and I would have scored the first point in the game, if she was a cow of ability, had any trumps, and was up to any tricks, as it were. So I told Chin Foo, as he approached with the pail in his hand, that the cow was a splendid milker, thoroughly domesticated, accustomed to Chinamen, and that he might have the honor of milking her first. I remarked, furthermore, that, as everything about the place was new to her, and she was a little nervous, I would gently attract her attention in front, while he proceeded to extract the delicious fluid. I charged him, in addition, to remember that it was always the best policy to approach a cow of her temperament in a bold and indifferent manner, as if he had milked her all his life, and get down to business at once; and that any hesitation or show of nervousness on his part would tend to make her more nervous.

“I must say that Chin Foo acted in a highly creditable manner, considering he was in a strange land, and, to my certain knowledge, had no money laid by for funeral expenses; for, while I was stirring the dust and flourishing my stick in a desultory manner in front of the cow, to divert her mind, and keep her thoughts from wandering backward too directly, he fluttered boldly up to her, and laid firmly hold of two teats, with the familiarity of an old acquaintance.”

At this point of his narration the stranger paused a moment. There was a sort of plaintive look on his face, and he gazed at the plates with an expression in his eyes of sorrowful recollection.

“I cannot say,” he resumed, as one who speaks oppressed with a sense of uncertainty, “exactly what did happen, for I never saw the Chinaman again until he alighted. I only know that when he came down he was practically inside the pail, and that he sat in it a moment with a kind of dreamy eastern look on his face, as if he lived on the isle of Patmos and had seen a vision. And when he had crawled out of the pail he went directly into the house, saying, ’The Melican man is dam foolee to try to milkee that cussee!’ or words to that effect.

“But I did not agree with him. I reflected that the Chinese are only an imitative race, and wholly lacking in original perception. ’They never invent anything,’ I said; ’never study into causes, never get down to principles, as it were. It requires a purely occidental intellect to master the problem before me. This cow has a strong disinclination to be milked. Why? What is the motive of her conduct? If I could only answer that!’ All at once it came to me, came like a flash. The reason was plain. ’This cow is a mother. The maternal instinct in her case is beautifully developed. Her reasoning faculties less so. She has a calf. To her mind, we are trying to rob her beloved offspring of its nourishment. She naturally resents this injustice on our part. Beautiful development of maternity,’ I apostrophized, as I looked at the cow in the light of this new revelation. ’Thy instincts are those that sweeten the world, and remind us of the benignity that planned the universe. I will bring thy calf to thee. I will show thee that I am not devoid of the spirit of equity; that I am ready to go shares and play fair, as it were. Thy calf shall take one side of thee. I will take the other, and thy soul will come forth to me in gratitude!’

“I was delighted. I went directly to the pen, and gazed benevolently at the calf. The little imp was blacker, if possible, than its mother. There was that same peculiar look also in its eyes. ‘You’re all hers!’ I joyfully cried, ‘you are your mother’s own child!’ I seized hold of the neck-rope. I opened the pen-door and I went out through that door quicker than a vagrant cat ever got round a corner of a house where a Scotch terrier boards. The calf went under the cow and I struck her, head on. But I had come to stay. I grabbed the pail with one hand and a teat with the other. I tugged it, pulled it, twisted it. Not a drop could I start. A suction pump of twenty horse-power would have found it drier than Sahara, and all the while the calf’s mouth, on the other side, was actually running over with milk! In two minutes he looked like a black watermelon. Then the cow, with a kind of back action, suddenly reached out one foot, and when I came to I found myself facing a mulberry tree, with one leg on each side of it.

“By this time I had reached a decision, and I had the courage of my convictions. I felt it to be my duty to milk that cow. I reminded her in plain, straightforward language that I was the son of a deacon, and that she’d find it out before she got through with me. I assured her that I understood the beauty of righteousness, and that I held a strong hand a straight flush, as it were. I was well aware that the metaphor was somewhat mixed; but it expressed my sentiments and relieved my feelings, and so I fired it at her point-blank. She snorted and pawed and bellowed, and swore at me in cow-language, but I didn’t care for that. So I shook the old, battered milk-pail in her face, and told her I was born in Connecticut, and did business on spot-cash principle; and that she would know more of the commandments than any cow of her color in Texas, before we said our long farewell.

“By this time the matter had attracted a good deal of attention, for I had carried on my conversation with the cow in the voice of a tragedian when the chief villain of the play has stolen his girl, and my next neighbor, an old sea-captain from Mattagorda Bay, and his hired men had come over to assist me. They were of the nature of a reenforcement, which consisted of the captain, a Mexican, a Michigan man that stuttered, and two negroes Napoleon Bonaparte de Neville Smith, and George Washington Marlborough Johnsing, by name. Hence we were six in all, and I decided to take the offensive at once. The captain was advanced in years and rheumatic, but a clearheaded man, used to command, and had ‘boarded,’ as he expressed it, ’several of the crafts in his own waters.’ So I put him in charge of the marines, namely, ourselves, and told him to fight the ship for all she was worth. He caught on to the thing at once, and swore he would ’sweep the old black hulk fore and aft, and send every mother’s son to the bottom, or make her strike her colors.’ The vigor of the gallant old gentleman’s language, and the noble manner in which he shook his cane at the old pirate, put us all in good spirits, and I verily believe that, if he had at that fortunate moment given the word ‘board!’ we would, niggers and all, have gone over the bulwarks of that old cow with a rush.

“The captain’s plan of action was proof of his courage, and in harmony with my own ideas of the matter. He said that our force was ample, every gun shotted, and the ports open: that we had the windward gauge of her, and that the proper course was to send a boat in to cut her cable, and, when she drifted down with the current, we would ware ship, lay up alongside, grapple, pass lashings aboard, and send the whole crew on to her deck with a rush. Assaulted in such a man-of-war style, he was confident she would become confused, be intimidated, and strike her colors without firing a gun. The brave and sonorous language with which our commander set forth his plan of assault captured our imaginations, and we all longed for the moment when the word of command should permit us to swarm up the sides and over the rail of the old bovine.

“Not only was the general plan thus agreed upon, but each man had his post of duty assigned to him. When the ‘cable was cut,’ that is, when the cow should find herself at liberty and bolt, as she would be sure to do, the Mexican was to lasso her and hang on; Napoleon Bonaparte de Neville and George Washington Marlborough were to lay hold of her horns to ‘port and starboard,’ as the captain insisted, while the Michigan man who was over six feet tall, and leggy was to fasten with a good grip on to her tail, that he might serve not only as a ‘drag,’ as our commander phrased it, but as a pilot as well, ’if she should get to yawing or be suddenly taken aback, and be unable to come up into the wind promptly,’ while I was held in reserve to guard against emergencies. I did not quite like the position assigned to me, and so intimated to the captain, but he said no one could tell how it might go when we once got out of the harbor, and, if any of the braces should part, or the sea get high, that he would have to send an additional man to the wheel, ‘for,’ he added, in a whisper, ’God knows, that long-legged Michigan land-lubber could never keep her to a straight course if she should once get running with the wind over her quarter, and everything drawing, through that cornfield.’ I saw the force of his reasoning, and felt easier.

“So, without farther delay, we went into action. The old captain stood, knife in hand, ready to cut the lariat which held the cow to the tree, but, before he did so, he hailed, ‘All ready to cut cables!’

“‘Fo’ de lawd, cap’in!’ yelled Napoleon de Neville, ’what is dis yere nigger gwine to do if de udder nigger lets go?’

“‘Go way dar, nigger!’ retorted George Washington Marlborough; ’what you takes dis nigger for if you tinks I’s gwine to let go dis olé black cow?’

“‘I’ll give a silver dollar to the nigger that holds on the longest,’ I yelled.

“‘Well answered, mate,’ sang out the old captain. ’All ready to cut cables. Cut she is!’

“The cow gave a bellow like the roar of a lion, and made a rush with lowered horns at the captain. Now, this was not the course laid down on his chart for her to take; and he and the rest of us were struck all aback, as he afterwards expressed it; but he met the emergency with spirit. He broke his big, Spanish-oak stick on the nose of the brute, and then the old mariner rolled in the dust.

“‘Lay aboard of her, men!’ shouted the old hero, in a voice like a fog-horn, flourishing the fragments of his stick. ’Lay aboard of the old cuss, I say! Cast your grapplings, Greaser! Seize her helm, some of ye, and throw it hard over to port!’

“These orders were obeyed with alacrity. Not a man flinched. The loop of the lasso settled over the polished horns to the roots, and Don Juan San Diego set it tight with a twang. Napoleon Bonaparte and George Washington rushed headlong upon her and hung to horns and ears; while the man from Michigan fastened a grip on her lifted tail, as she tore past him, which straightened him out like a lathe. As to myself, I could only stand and gaze with solicitude upon the terrific contest, on the issue of which depended not only the chances of my speculation, but even the preservation of my self-esteem.

“The combat deepened and enlarged itself, as it were. A bull-dog, who was wandering along the road in search of adventure, and two foxhounds joined in the fight. The calf, the only one of the seven thousand five hundred and twenty-three I was ever destined to behold, broke from its pen and ran bellowing to its mother. The dogs bayed, the niggers yelled, the Mexican swore in his delightful tongue; and the stuttering Michigander remained silent, simply from his inability to pronounce the profanity of his feelings.

“Suddenly the cow, which had been slowly working her way, with her several attachments clinging to her, toward the road which ran along the front of the field, turned and started pell-mell toward the river, which flowed wide and deep, through the rushes, at the rear of it. She left the path and took to the corn, and through the mass of growing stalks she swept like a whirlwind. Onward she came. I anticipated the awful catastrophe, and stood riveted to the spot. The old captain still sat in the gravel, where the cow had bowled him, his hand grasping the shattered cane, and his game leg extended. He too foresaw the inevitable. Through the corn came the cow, like a black Saturn attended by her satellites. But her career was too terrific for these to hold to their connection. The laws of the universe forbade it. Napoleon Bonaparte de Neville lost his hold as she crashed into the sorghum patch. George Washington Marlborough tripped over an irrigation ditch, and soared away at a tangent, like a sputtering remnant of a burnt-out world. Don Juan San Diego went the wrong side of a mulberry tree, and the lasso parted with a snap. He never stopped until his momentum carried him through the slats of the neighboring cow-pen. Only the long-legged Michigander kept his hold, and he looked like a pair of extended scissors. I stood aghast at the impending ruin of my hopes, with my lower jaw dropped. The captain alone retained his presence of mind. As the black unit of my last Texan speculation shot by him, with Michigan, elongated like a peninsula, fastened to her tail, he rolled up to his knees and roared:

“’Starboard your helm, boy! Luff her up! Luff her up, for the love of God, or the colonel is busted!’

“It is doubtful if the Michigan man ever heard the stentorian call of the captain, for sound travels only thirteen hundred feet to the second, and the cow was certainly going considerably faster than that; and, besides, he was himself engaged, with a terrific earnestness, in a vain effort to extricate a word out of his throat, which stuck like a wad in a smutty gun a word of undoubted Saxon origin and of expressive force, and which has saved more blood-vessels from bursting than the lancet of the phlebotomist, for as he streamed past there was left floating upon the air a long string of d’s, thus: d d d d d d-d-d...!

“No one who did not hear them could ever conceive of the awful sputtering, hissing sound that they caused in the atmosphere as they came out of the mouth of the mad and stuttering Michigander; and as he and the cow bored a hole through the reeds on the bank of the river, and, hitting a cypress stump, ricochetted into the water, that fiery string of d’s, still hot and sputtering, reached half across the field.

“The splash of the two as they struck the water brought the old captain to his feet, and, in spite of his rheumatic leg, he rushed toward the river, crying:

“’Man overboard! Man overboard! Gone clean over the forechains! Life-floats to port and starboard!’

“With such a frightful catastrophe, gentlemen, the remembrance of which actually makes me nervous, my last speculation in Texas ended. Going over the whole matter with the captain that evening, a process which took us well into the night, it was our united opinion that the speculation was a failure. This conviction was mutual and profound. The cow was not only gone, but she had shown such disinclination to be domesticated, and such a misapprehension of the true purpose of life, that the prospect was truly disheartening.

“‘Why, damn it, colonel,’ said the captain, ’we’ve no evidence that the old cow wanted to be milked!’

“To this discouraging conclusion of the captain’s I was compelled to give a sorrowful assent. I recognized that my speculation was in arrears, as it were, and that it would never figure up a profit.

“Therefore, next day I divided my few personal effects between the captain and the noble men who had risked their lives for an idea; who had seen the tragedy played out and the curtain rung down to my last appearance, as it were. And, with the few dollars which alone remained of the fortune which I took with me to Texas, I mounted my horse and started northward, to join that noble army of martyrs, that brotherhood of sufferers, that fraternity of the busted, whose members are legion, and who are known as ‘Ex-Texans.’”

The hilarity of the camp that evening under the foot-hills will never be forgotten by those of us who composed the happy number, and who listened with streaming eyes and aching sides to the narrative of our unfortunate guest. He told his story with a directness and simplicity of narrative, with a gravity of countenance and plaintiveness of voice, which heightened the humor of the substance. Never did the stars, which have seen so much of human happiness, which have listened to so much of the rollicking humor of those who were fashioned for laughter, looked down upon a jollier camp. Long after our guest had ended his narrative and was apparently sleeping in happy forgetfulness of his Texas speculation, succeeding pauses of silence would come roars of laughter. The remembrance of the humorous tale banished sleep, and, even after slumber had fallen on us all, fun still held possession of our dreams. For Dick, starting from sleep in a nightmare of hilarity, roared out: “Luff her up, luff her up, or the colonel is busted!”

Ay, ay, thank God for laughter. Thank him heartily and ever, dear friend, blow the winds, run the tides as they may. The sorrows of life may be many, and its griefs may be keen, and we who are frosted with years and you who are blooming have felt and will feel the sting of false friends and the burden of losses; but, lose what we may, or be pained as we have been and shall be, we are happy in this, we who know how to laugh, that we find wings for each burden, solace for pains, and return for all losses, in our sweet sense of humor, thank Heaven! So, whether rich men or poor, healthy or sick, brown-headed or gray, we will go on like children, with eyes for all beauty and hearts for all fun. Let lilies teach us, and of the birds of the air let us learn. The day that is not shall not make us anxious, for of each day is the evil enough, and the morrow shall take care of itself.