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u. \ IWACMCBCOtacaON VOLUME XLII—NU.tot SEVENTEEN. -o\j= Atlanta, Ga., Week Ending June 25, 1904, 50c PER YEAR—SINGLE COPY 5c. * Curious, Quaint Life ^ Fine Prosperity ^ one Famous “R.ed River” Along' * • 4-#4-#-S-#-f#4-#-!-#-f-#4#4-#-J-#-S-#-l-#-|-# By HELEN HARCOURT. Written .'or E5*<? 'annjr Coorj HE encyclopedias name as the three most important "red rivers” of the world, the stream known by that designation which trails through China, ris ing in the southwestern part of that empire, and terminating in the gulf of TongklnjJ; the Red river of Canada, the same which the earl of Selkirk in the early part of the century made vast endeavor to col onize; and the river of tTTh great raft, which rises in the staked plains of Texas, in the panhandle region of that state, flows through Indian Territory and Lou isiana, southeasterly; and when some 1,550 miles from where It begins, ming ling with the waters of the great father of streajns. Naturally these rivers are so named because of t'*> color of their waters. The Red river of Louisiana is by far the longest and to us the most important of the three. It flows through an alluvial region which can claim no rival in fer tility—the great Red river valley, which but awaits the thousands of emigrants that are destined to settle it. In ante helium days, when there were no railroads running through the valley, beautiful steamboats plied the river and were patronized by the rich planters and their families, who came from far and near to embark at Shreveport and other places along the way, for the Cresceflt City. Shreveport in those days, as It is The Red River, Where it Makes Its Famous Bend at Shreveport. to remove the raft. The river was so congested that one could walk for miles bn logs as though on terra,<drma; and where there were deposits i^uaarth on weeds.x< JJ, even f ?1” Finally the "gigantic i become famed tree removed; between years In the; steam ^ars whistle along both ■M at the stream and the “Red, River Line’’ has supremacy on the waters As a nerve tonic, few thing; are the equal of a trip on a southern steamboat. Charmingly pTdturesquei is the mode of travel In the south, which shows a phase of life to be found nowhere else in the world. I On dn afternoon In May. last, the riuic ste&meijfJeolTa, captatned by .or' tr/xA-has fa^^half ceqUuy traveled tniji — rHrer, pnKraf off' rrom Ker wharf at New Orleans. The great - scJuth is well exem- on “No Man’s Land,” thus escaping the dreaded tax office. Their rickety shanties, are built on tilts. ., When the /river Is hjxh, the,. Rouge. sugar S r °vep. Here are the magnificent old irdens, an Orleans, me great south is wen exem-, jEj-gnjUt yoo'caye pllfted In the push and progress that x ' IwiV give you a hel him-C moment heels, bi effect stll Ittle? v?g- ls to be noted from the deck of steamer moving away’ from this port. Ships from every clime are here. The great floating dry-dock at Algiers, sec ond largest in the world, attracts the eye. The St. Louis cathedral and the Cabildo, where the signing away of the Immense Louisiana territory took place, fade away as you smile at the habitations of the “batture-folk,” a queer people, who live outside the levee. mof f ! t ^° met J[eray. tray. Imr ~“|s, one ot The Electra, .fled with two lm* W'f.y.ti “(s ^either side of hefjju rofege^t-heavlly laden with bales wjj^jaaiT flora of cot ton seed, boxes / ot ki itr&etmmmfie, and other commodities. It was amusing to watch the unwilling cattle come aboard. Our way until we .entered the noble Red was along the "golden coast" of 'he Mississippi river, which extends from relow New Orleans to Just beyond Baton many Ing ther«S__ from the town of Hfeiitecastle, a neat Kittle settlement', of ] houses built around a lofty old mansion. This•.is “Indian Canjp,” the Louisiana State Leper home, a home for the living dead. Ba ton Rouge Is passed, a smiling city on top of a bluff, showing a unique capitol building and a profusion of greenery. Nothing could have been prettier than the picture we had by searchlight of the entrance to Red river. The firmament was brilliant with stars. On one ’side of us was the Louisiana convict home. a blaze of light. Two fine steamers, elec trically lighted, were heading up the great stream, one bound for St. Louis. It was within a few miles of here that the body of DeSoto Was consigned to its watery grave. The most beautiful scenery on the Red river is in the vicinity of its mouth. The entrances of the lovely Quichata, the Black, and the turbudent Achafalaya. which the government has been obliged to take in hand, looked enchantment by searchlight. Where the Black and Red rivers meet the color line is distinctly noticeable. Miles and miles of magnifi cent tree-clad banks are passed. At Grand Ecore. which was reached the next day, is a fine new bridge. The bluffs here are the highest on the river. A pretty legend is told regarding these bluffs. A PRETTY LEGEND. About 5 miles from Grand Ecore is Natchitoches, the oldest town in the Lou isiana territory. It stands on. Cane river, a deserted canal of the Red river, in a little French graveyard in the center of the town is the grave of an Indian prin cess. She had thought herself married to a Spanish officer. When he was about to embark for Spain he told her the mar riage had been only a mock one. Not a word said the princess, but hastening to the beautiful bluffs at Grand Ecore. there abided her time. As the ship bearing her recreant lover passed down stream, before his cowering gaze, she sprang into the waters. Her body was rescued, and the historic society of Natchitoches has re cently voted to take charge of the fast vanishing grave. In contrast.to this story^is one wherein [ 1* made# when tile ca- lady ttells nim she has changed her mind; she could never marry a man who would do such a “fool thing” as that. Once Red rlveij boasted a woman cap tain, who also dfd the piloting of her craft. One of her daughters acted as chief clerk, and another ran the bar. Cotton and porn are the crop products along the Red river. Most of the big plantations are leased out or worked by CONTINUED ON LAST PA£E. Ufye Biography of a Beaver ^ By W. D. Hulbert Third of the Outdoor iSeries m BROAD, flat tall came down on the water with a whack that sent the echoes flying back and forth across the pond, and its owner ducked and dived to the bottom. In a moment his little brown head reap peared, and he and his brothers and sisters went chasing each other around and around the pond, ducking and diving and splashing, raising such a commotion that they sent the ripples washing all along the grassy shores, and having the jolliest kind of a time. The city in which the tail first made its appearance was a very ancient one, and may have been the oldest town on the North American continent. Genera tion after generation of beavers had worked on that dam, building It a little higher and a little higher, a little longer and a little longer, year after year; and raising their lodges as the pond rose around them. Theirs was a maritime city, for most of its streets were of wa ter, like those of Venice; rich cargoes of food stuffs came floating to its very doors, and they themselves were naviga tors from their earliest youth. They were lumbermen, too, and when the timber was all cut from along the shores of the pond, they dug canals across the low, level, marshy ground, back to the higher land where the birch and the pop lar still grew, and floated .the branches and the smaller logs down the artificial waterways. And there were land roads, as well as canals, for here and there narrow trails crossed the swamp, show ing where generations of busy workers had passed back and forth between the felled tree and the water’s edge. Streets, canals, public works, dwellings, commerce and lumbering, rich stores laid up for the win ter--what more do you want to constitute a city, even if the houses are few in number and the population somewhat smaller than that of London and New York? And so It was when our Beaver came into the world. The first year of his life was an easy one, especially the winter, when there was little for anyone to do ekeept to eat, to sleep and now and then to fish for the roots of the yellow water lily in the soft mud at the bottom of the pond. During that season he probably accom plished more than his parents did. for if he could not toil he could at least grow. But one black November night our °ro’s father, the wisest old beaver in all •* t wn. went out to his work and never came home again. A trapper had found the city—a scientific trapper who had studied his profession for years, and who knew just how to go to work. He kept away from the lodges as long as he could, so as not to frighten anyone; and before he set a single trap he looked the ground over very carefully, located the different trails that ran back from the water’s edge toward the timber, vis ited the stumps oT the felled trees, and paid particular attention to the tooth- marks on the chips. No two beavers leave marks that are exactly alike. The teeth of one are flatter or rounded room than those of another, while*a third,has laTge or small nicks in the edges of his yellow chisels; and eajch tooth leaves Its own peculiar signature behind it. By not ing all these things the trapper concluded ^lat a particular runaway in the wet, grassy margin of the pond was the one bv which a certain old -beaver always left the water in going to his night’s labor. That beaver, he decided, would best he • the first one taken, for he was probably the head of a family, and an elderly person of much .wisdom and experience and if one of his children should be caught first he might become alarmed and take the lead in a general exodus. So the trapper set a heavy douhie- spring trap in the edge of the water at the foot of the runway, and covered it with a thin sheet of moss. And that night, as the old beaver came swimming up the shore he put his foot down where he shouldn’t, and two steel jaws flew up and clasped him around the thigh. He had felt that grip before. Was not half of his right hand gone, and tnree toes from his left hind foot? But this wa3 a far more serious matter than either of tnose adventures. It was not a hand that was caught this time, nor yet a toe, or.;toes. It was his right hind leg, well up toward his body, and the strongest beaver that ever lived could not have pulled himself free. Now, when a beaver is frightened he, of course, makes for deep water. There, he thinks, no enemy can follow him; and, what is more, it is the highway to his lodge and to the burrow that he has hollowed in the bank for a refuge in case his house should he attacked. So this beaver turned and jumped back into the water the way he had come; but, alas: he took his enemy with Kim. The heavy trap dragged him to the bottom like a stone, and the short chain fastened to a stake kept him from going very far toward home. For a few minutes he struggled with all his might, and the soft black mud rose about him In inky clouds. Then he quieted down and lay very, very still; and the next day the trapper came along and pulled him out by tne chain. Something else happened the same I.#*.#* night. Another wise old beaver, the head man of another lodge, was killed by a falling tree. I suppose that he had felled hundreds of trees and bushes, big and lit tle, in the course of his life,'and he nad never yet met with an accident; but this time he thought he would take one more bite after the tree had really begun to >’ *jhlm to reach water deep enough to drown i f 'fihn:' r b alLaway, and the woods smelled as sweet and £lean as if God had just made them over q£W. And on this night, of all others, tj» b/aVer put his hand squarely into a •steel trap. ’He was in a shallow portion of the ypond, an’d the chain was too short for fall. He tried to draw back, but It wa» too late, his skull crashed in ( and his life went out like a candle. J And so, in a few hours, the city lost two of its best citizens—the very two whom it could least afford to lose. If they had been spared they might, -perhaps, nave known enough to scent the coming dan ger, and to lead their families and neigh bors away from the doomed town, deeper Into the heart of the wilderness. As It was. the trapper had tnings all ms own way, and by working caretuily and cau tiously he added skin after slttB to his store of beaver pelts. - . - One night the beaver bltnseK tame swimming down the pond, homeward bound, and as he dived and approached the submarine entrance of the- ledge he noticed same stakes driven into the mmj —stakes th^t had never been there heror^ beaver had found one, and the otter the They seemed to form two roWs, one od, Bother. a: ’’but now a new danger appeared, for there on the low,- mossy bank was an otter, glaring at him through the darkness. Beaver meat makes a very acceptable meal ror an otter, and the beaver knew it. And he knew, also, how utterly heloless he was, either to fly or to resist, with that heavy trap on his arm, and its chain binding him to the stake. His heart sank like lead, and he trembled from his nose to the end of his tail, and whimpered, and cried like a’baby. But, strand'll-to say. It was the trapper who s&wch him, though, <>f course, it was done quite un intentionally Am the otJter advanced to the attack there came a sudden sharp click and in another second he too was struggling for dear life. Two traps had b*en set in the shallow water. The each fide of his course, bat as them was room enough for him to pau between them he swam straight ahead -without stopping. His hands bad ho webs be- - tween the fingers., and were of little nab in swimming, so he had folded them back against him body; but his big feet were washing like the wheels of a twin screw btearner. And he waa forging along-, at a gfeat rate. Suddenly, half wdy down, the lines of stakes, his breast touched the pan of a steel trap, and the jaws flew up quick as a.wing and strong as a vide. Fortunately there waa nothing tftbt they could take hold of. Thfey struck, him so hard that they liftefcbim bodlly upwaro^ but they caught only a tew halm. A week later he was really caught his right hand, and met with one of u* most thrilling adventures of ids life, on but that was a glorious night! Dark a*\. a pocket, go wind, thick fifcck clouds overhead and the rain oomlngr down in T steady, steady drissle—just the Jtind of i bight that the heave** Jove, when friendly darkness shuts theif. little c from 1h0> rest of ther world, and they feel ‘safe and secure. The*, the long yellow teeth gouge and the tough wood,-how the trees con bllng down, and how the branches' the Iktle logs come hurrying in to'iiu ment the winter food Pile! often or i the beaver ..Led noticed - an unple odor ‘along /the shores, „ an -od<$- frightened him end made him very faasy,> but tonight the rain had washed The full story of that night with all its details of fear nd suffering and pain, Will never be written; and probably it is as well that it should not be. But I can giver you a few of the facts, if you qare to hear them. The beaver soon Fqpmd that he was out of the otter’s ch, and with his fears relieved on point he set to work to free him- f v/fom the trap. Round and round twisted, ♦HI there came a little snap, 1 .the bone of his arm broke short off Lthe^teel jaws. Then for a long, long tie he pulled and pulled With all his fight, and av last'the tough skin was apart, and th* muscles and sinews s torn out by the roots. His right was gone, and he was so weak and iiht that it seemed as If all the strength life of his whole body had gone ftth it. No matter. He was free, and £jswam away to the nearest burrow ’ l lay down to rest. The otter tried do the same, but he was caught by 'thick of his thigh, and his case was Ijtopeless one. Next day the trapper him alive, but very# meek and worn out with fear and useless gles. In the other- trap were a er’s hand and some long shreds of and sinew that must once have well up into the shoulder, time the beaver’s wound was -nature was good to him and the m grew over the t^rn stump— d was covered with ice. The only half as numerous as they had been a few weeks before, kept close in their lodges and burrows, and for a time they lived in peace and quiet, and their numbers suffered no further di minution. Then the trapper took to set ting his traps through the Ice, and be fore long matters were worse than ever. By spring the few beavers that remained were so thoroughly frightened that the ancient town was again abandoned—this time forever. The lodges fell to ruin, the burrows caved in, the dam gave way, the ponds and canals were drained, ami that was the end of the city. The beaver got married about the time he left his old home; and this, by the way, is a very good thing to do when you want to start a new town. Except for his missing hand, his wife was so like him that it would have puzzled you to tell which was which. They measured about ^fhree feet six Inches from tip of nose to tip of tall, and they weighed perhaps thirty pounds apiece. Their bodies were heavy and clumsy and were covered with thick, soft, grayish under fur, which in turn was overlaid with lon ger hairs of a glistening chestnut brown, making a coat that was thoroughly wa terproof as well as very beautiful. Their heads were somewhat like those of gi gantic rats, with small, light brown eyes, Uttle round ears covered with hair and long orange colored incisors looking out from between parted lips. They wandered about for some time, looking for a suitable location, and ex amining several spots along the beds of various little rivers, none of which seem ed to be Just right. But at last they found, in the very heart of the wilder ness, a place where a shallow stream ran over a hard stony bottom, and here they set to work. It was a very desir able situation In every respect. At one slue stood a large tree, so close that it could probably be used as a buttress for the dam when the latter was sufficiently lengthened to reach it; while above the shallow the ground was low and flat on both sides for some distance back from the banks, so that the pond would have plenty of room to spread out. The first year the beavers did not try to raise the stream more than a foot above its original le\el. There was much other work to be done—a house Xo be built, and food to be laid in for the win ter—and if they spent too much time on the dam they might freeze or starve be fore spring. A few rods up-stream was a grassy point which the rising waters had transformed into an island, and here tney built their lodge, a hollow mound of sticks and mud, with a small, cave-like chamber in the center, from which two tunnels led out under the pond—“angles,” the trarrers call them. The walls were masses of tarth and wood and'stones, so thick and solid that even a man with an ax would have found ?t difficult to pen etrate them. Only at the very apex of the mound there was no mud, nothing but tangled sticks through which a breath of fresh air found its way now and then. The floor was only two or three inches above the level of the wat^r in the angles and would naturally have been a bed of mud. but they mixed little twigs with it, and stamped and pounded it down till it was hard and smooth. I think likely the beaveffs tail had something to do with this part of the work, as well as with finishing off the dam. for he was fond of slapping things with it, and it was just the right shape for such use. In fact, I fear that if it had not been for the tail and for other tails like it. neither of the cities would ever have been as complete as th*y were. With the ends of projecting sticks cut off to leave the walls even and regular and with long grass carried in to make the beds, the lodge trkfc finished and ready. And now you might have seen the beavers coming home to rest after a night's labor at felling timber—swimming across the pond toward the island, with only the tops of their two little heads showing above the water. In front of the lodge each tail rudder gives a slap and a twist and they dive for the sub marine door of one of the angles. In another second they are swimming along the dark, narrow tunnel, making the water surge around them. Suddenly the roof of the passage rises, and their heads pop up into the air. A yard or two far ther, and they enter the chamber ot* the l<«lge, with its level floor and its low, arched roof. And there in the darkness they lie down on their grass beds and go to sleep. It is good to have a home of your own, where you may take your ease wben the night’s work Is done. Near the upper end of the pond, where the bank was higher, they dug a long burrow, running back ten or fifteen feet to the ground. This was to be the last resort if, by any possibility, the lodge should ever be invaded. It was a weary task, digging that burrow, for its mouth was deep under the water, and every few minutes they had to stop work and come to the surface for breath. Night after night they scooped and shovelled, rushing the job as fast as they knew how. but making pretty slow progress in spite of all their efforts. It was done at last, however, and they felt easier in their minds when they knew that it was ready for use in case of necessity. From its mouth in the depths of the pond it CONTINUED^ON^LAST PAGE. MM-« . IMiMigWiffWWi