Front matter (continued 3)

A Delegate, in order to wisely and intelligently, as well as promptly, discharge his duties, ought to be a lawyer, and well acquainted especially with the land-laws of the United States and other laws pertaining to Territories. He is constantly called upon to push land-claims to patent, and in this respect he becomes the attorney, without fee, of the people of the Territory. There is a large volume of such business, and he must examine the papers in order to understand the status of the case and to advance it for patent. Representatives from the older States have but very little of such business to demand their attention, and to consume their time.

When I was elected, I do not think there was a single lighthouse, or fog signal, or foghorn, on the waters of Puget Sound, and I secured the establishment of quite a number of them.

I forced the loosening of the grasp of the Northern Pacific Railroad Company on large quantities of the public land, and I did much to secure the passage of the law returning to purchasers one-half of the double-minimum price ($2.50 per acre) paid by them, which was exacted on the ground that the land so purchased was double in value by virtue of its proximity to a railroad line. This is a brief and imperfect synopsis of some of the results of my efforts as Delegate.

A Delegate has not even the unit of political power—a vote on any measure; he can therefore form no combination to further friendly legislation in the interest of his Territory. The Delegates from the different Territories, however, were regarded as quite an influential body of men, and were usually able, by scattering through the House, by use of personal persuasion, by attendance before committees and receiving favorable reports, to get a part, at least, of what they desired for their Territories.

While a member of the House of Representatives I was much interested in the study of its members and its mode of operation. The popular opinion is that it is a calm and deliberative body. This is true as a general rule; but there are times, and they are not infrequent, when the House is anything else than a sedate and deliberative body of men.

General Benjamin F. Butler had a seat back of me, and frequently, when he desired to speak, asked me to change seats with him for a time—my seat being nearer to the Speaker of the House and a fine place wherein to stand and from which to be distinctly heard. On one occasion it was announced that Butler would deliver a speech on the financial question. I offered him my seat for the purpose. The House was full. Butler was cross-eyed and near-sighted. He commenced the delivery of his speech by reading from a manuscript. Every eye was turned towards him. He always commanded the attention of the House when he spoke. In the delivery of his speech he had to keep his manuscript close to his face and to move it to the right and to the left on account of his being cross-eyed. He did not often speak from manuscript. This was his first attempt to do so at that Congress. The spectacle was so novel that many members began to laugh and to interrupt him by asking him questions. He threw the manuscript on the desk, stepped out into a space nearly in front of the Speaker, and gave the points of his speech without the aid of his manuscript. He was frequently interrupted, especially by the Democrats; and he suggested to me the idea of a lion at bay, shaking off and striking at his opponents with caustic wit and scathing repartee. On another occasion, a gentleman from Maryland, a large and portly man, who was Chairman, I think, of the Committee of Foreign Affairs, arose to introduce and briefly to explain the provisions of a bill reported from his Committee. This gentleman was quite deaf, and like all deaf persons spoke in a very low tone of voice; in fact, he could not be heard six feet away from him; but he had, no doubt adopted Demosthenes' idea that gestures were the levers of eloquence; and his arms would go up and down and to the right and to the left, and his eyes sometimes rolled upward and then downward to the floor. Someone cried out: "Is this a pantomime performance, or a public speech?" Then others gathered around him, and all kinds of remarks were made concerning the performance. The Speaker finally compelled the Members to take their seats; whereupon the Member ceased his motions, and probably his speech, and resumed his seat. This gentleman came to Congress with a great reputation as an orator. Probably he had been such in former years, but his deafness had destroyed his powers in that regard.

I was in the House at the time that James G. Blaine, then a prominent candidate for the Republican nomination for President, annihilated J. Proctor Knott, who was Chairman of the Committee on the Judiciary. A report had been made by that Committee on a matter referred to it; it seriously reflected on Blaine's honor and integrity as a man and as a member of the House of Representatives. It seems to have been the intent of the majority of the Committee who joined in the report, and who were all Democrats, not to bring up the report for hearing, but to let it stand as damaging evidence against Mr. Blaine, in order to prevent his nomination, or to defeat his election, if nominated. Blaine and his friends determined to expose its animus and falsity on the floor of the House, so that the refutation would go with the charge. To make this vindication, however, it was necessary for Blaine to obtain the floor; this would be opposed and was opposed. In the parliamentary conflict for the floor which ensued, Blaine's superior knowledge and tact succeeded, and he was recognized by the Speaker. I never saw a more forlorn look of disappointment, and of sullen resignation, than that manifested in the countenances of many of his opponents, when the Speaker announced that the gentleman from Maine was entitled to the floor. Blaine was pale, and all aflame with indignation. His voice, although at first a little tremulous, soon became clear and ringing. His sentences were compact and parliamentary. He accused that great Committee of darkening its former reputation by making a report for political purposes. He further accused them of the deliberate suppression of evidence that completely exonerated him, he drew from his pocket a certified copy of such suppressed evidence, read it to the House, and waved it in triumph amid the uproarious applause of his Republican colleagues, and of many Democrats. He spoke in this vein for about thirty minutes. When he closed, his friends were joyous, and his enemies dismayed. Among the first, personally to congratulate him, was Ben Hill of Georgia, a distinguished member of the then extinct Confederate Congress.

A ludicrous scene occurred in the House, when the bill making a large appropriation for the re-building of the various edifices formerly constituting William and Mary's College, in the State of Virginia, came up for consideration. These buildings were alternately in the possession of the Union and Confederate forces during the war, and were destroyed by fire while the Union forces were in possession of the ground upon which they stood. Most of the members of the Democratic party favored this bill. A few opposed it. The Republican members generally opposed the appropriation, but there were some who favored it. It was understood that when the bill came up for final passage, but one speech would be made in its favor, and that was to be made by Mr. Loring, of Massachusetts, a Republican. Mr. Loring had a national reputation for finished and eloquent orations. When the time arrived the House and galleries were full. Mr. Loring arose and partly read from a manuscript his great oration. He stated in a clear and comprehensive manner what the laws of war formerly were, and how they had been modified by the generous principles of Christianity and of civilization. He stated that now as recognized by every Christian and civilized nation, churches, hospitals, institutions of learning and other eleemosynary institutions were exempt from the ravages of war. He spoke in eloquent terms of the sacred walls within which poets, philosophers, statesmen, lawyers, great divines and warriors, if not born, received their inspiration and were qualified for their grand missions. He was listened to, throughout, with breathless attention. When he closed, at the expiration of a little over an hour, he was greatly applauded. I thought it the finest oration I had ever had the pleasure of hearing. The Republicans were anxious to break the magnetic spell of his oratory, and to get a little time for the sober second thought, of the members to assert itself. Conger, of Michigan, had the ability to crowd more sarcasm, wit and scathing repartee into the same length of time than any other member of the House, and he was chosen by the Republicans to break the magnetic spell of Loring's great speech. He arose, and after complimenting the honorable gentleman from Massachusetts on his great effort, stated that some of the buildings constituting the College, while in the possession of the Rebel forces, were used as stables for their horses, that their floors were covered with excrement of such animals, that other buildings were used as hospitals for the sick and wounded, and that their walls were besmeared with blood and filth; and he sneeringly remarked, that these were the sacred walls that so inspired the eloquence of the honorable gentleman from Massachusetts. After indulging in other bitter declarations of the same character, he ceased—having spoken for about thirty minutes. The Virginia members were very much excited. One of their number, by the name of Good, arose to reply to Conger. Good possessed the ability to open his mouth and, without seeming effort or preparation, to pour forth a volume of sweetened wind or a volume of scathing philippics. He denounced the honorable gentleman from Michigan for preaching a gospel of hate and vengeance, which had heretofore well-nigh wrecked this glorious Government, which if persisted in, would keep open the wounds and sores that under a more liberal and generous spirit were fast healing. He indulged in more of this kind of denunciation, and finally, in a supreme effort of indignation, consigned the honorable gentleman from Michigan to ruined towers and castles and crumbling walls, where he could be fanned by the damp and dismal wings of bats, and listen to the hooting of owls, forever. Conger, who had not resumed his seat, but stood calmly gazing at the honorable gentleman from Virginia, exclaimed, with a piercing and ringing voice, "I hear them—even now." This remark was received with roars of laughter, joined in by Democrats as well as Republicans. Mr. Good tried to proceed; but when he did so, someone would exclaim, "The owls are hooting again," and poor Good resumed his seat.

I have noticed that some pungent remark, or sarcastic repartee is often more effective than a set speech. All remember Butler's reply to "Sunset" Cox, when the former was frequently interrupting him. With a motion of his hand over his bald head, he exclaimed to Cox: "Shoo, Fly! don't bother me." It was taken from one of the popular songs of the day. It hurt Cox's prestige and lessened to some extent his power. Cox was physically a small man, and the application carried with it an expression of contempt. Holman, of Indiana, on account of his objections to all bills making appropriations of money, got the name of being "the watchdog of the Treasury." Towards the end of his term an amendment was offered in which a near relative was much interested. The familiar "I object" was not heard, and the amendment went through with his support; whereupon a member sitting near exclaimed:

"'Tis sweet to hear the watchdog's honest bark Bay deep-mouth'd welcome as we draw near home."

In a more recent case, a gentleman from Indiana, in his indignation against a gentleman from Illinois, called the Illinois member "an ass." This was unparliamentary language, and the Indiana gentleman had to apologize and to withdraw the remark. The gentleman from Illinois arose and said he did not know what was the matter with him that he should always so excite the ire of the gentleman from Indiana; the gentleman from Indiana replied: "If you will inquire of some veterinary surgeon, he can probably tell what is the matter with you." This was perfectly parliamentary and a complete exterminator.

Many people suppose Congress to be an assemblage of orators. This is a great mistake. In point of ability its members are eminently respectable, and many of them distinguished in their particular line of business, profession or thought. Most of the set speeches are delivered from manuscript. The matter is well considered and in most cases clearly stated; but the delivery is often dull, listless and without animation. This is particularly true of speeches founded on a dreary array of facts and statistics. While the logic of such facts or figures may be very convincing, yet in the hands of most men their presentation is very uninteresting. Few men can present statistics in an interesting and captivating manner. Garfield must be considered as pre-eminent among that class of men. I have heard him make a speech of over an hour in length on financial questions in which he not only presented a formidable array of statistics, but held his auditors spell-bound to its conclusion. It may be said of the orators of the House that though they are great advocates, they are not constructive statesmen; they are orators and nothing more; they are good to show the reason for a provision and skillful in their defense of it from attack. Conkling, one of the most brilliant speakers in the Senate, although a member of that distinguished body for many years, is not the author of any beneficial act of legislation. The career of such a man will be brilliant, but it will be brief. It is the constructive statesman who succeeds in writing his name permanently in the legislative history of his country. Most of the legislation benefiting the people, or putting their rights on deeper or broader foundations, has originated with the silent workers in either House of Congress.

To show the listless and inanimate manner in which some speeches, truly great in their logic and in their facts, are delivered in the House, let me state an incident. A gentleman from New York, who came to Congress with an established reputation as a public man, arose to address the House on the necessity of a more liberal and reciprocal trade-treaty and tariff, with the Dominion of Canada. In the expectation that he would address the House on the evening that was set for general debate, the House was full when he arose, and every eye was turned towards him. He read his address from manuscript. His voice was indistinct and it lacked in volume. After reading two or three pages from the manuscript before him, he seemed to be unable readily to decipher it—it having been reduced to writing by his clerk. He halted, stumbled and misread portions of it, and then re-read it to correct his mistakes. The members commenced quietly to leave their seats and to retire to the cloak-rooms. As he was a member of the Committee on Commerce, and had shown me many favors, I took a vacant seat near him. When the chairman announced that his time had expired, I arose and moved the chairman for the extension of his time for twenty minutes. The chairman said he heard no objection, and he extended the time of the gentleman from New York for twenty minutes more. While on my feet I looked around and saw there were not over eight members in the House, that they were all engaged in writing at their desks, and that the chairman was reading a newspaper. The next morning the speech appeared in the Congressional Record, and every one spoke of it as a very fine argument in favor of the policy advocated by him.

My judicial career may be briefly stated. My district was the Third. It was bounded on the south by the southern boundary of Pierce and Kitsap Counties; on the east by the dividing ridge of the Cascade Mountains; on the north by the northern line of the Territory, which was the International boundary line; and on the west by the Pacific Ocean. I held two terms of Court annually at Seattle, Port Townsend, and Steilacoom. There was quite a volume of admiralty business. This was attended to whenever it arose, in term-time and out of term-time, in order to meet the convenience of suitors. No appeal was ever taken from my decrees in this class of business. I made it a point to clear the docket of all accumulated cases at each term. Homicides were quite frequent in the district, and I rarely held a term of Court without trying some person accused of murder in the first degree. There were frequent convictions for manslaughter, and for murder in the second degree, and sentences were imposed by me in accordance therewith. There were four convictions for murder in the first degree, and three executions. The facts and circumstances attending the fourth case deserve a more extensive statement. Before I make such a statement let me say, that while many appeals were taken from my judgments and rulings in criminal cases, I had but two reversals charged against me in a period of between six and seven years on the Territorial Bench. I hope no one will detract by implication from the honor of that record, by the insinuation that I was Chief Justice of the appellate tribunal for most of that time.

After the furor of "fifty four, Forty or Fight," had somewhat subsided, the Treaty of Washington, entered into between the United States of America and Great Britain, adopted and extended the line of division between the Dominion of Canada and the United States along the 49th degree of North Latitude to the waters of the Pacific Ocean, as the northern land boundary of the United States; thence west by the principal channel or waterway to the center of the Strait of Juan de Fuca; thence along said center line to the Pacific Ocean. Now, it was found that there were two principal channels or waterways from the 49th degree to the Strait of Juan de Fuca. These waterways were the Canal de Haro and the Rosario Straits. The Canal de Haro was the most western and northern waterway; the Rosario Strait was the most eastern and southern waterway. San Juan Island and other smaller islands were situated between the two. If the Rosario Straits were adopted as the true line, these intervening islands belonged to Great Britain; if, on the other hand, the Canal de Haro was the true line, the islands belonged to the United States. By agreement of the high-contracting parties, the German Emperor was chosen as arbitrator to determine the location of the true line mentioned in the Treaty.

In 1859 an informal convention was entered into between the high-contracting parties by which the laws and civil officers of both nations were excluded from the territory in dispute; the islands in the meantime were to remain in the joint military occupation of the two nations. Hence, there was a British military post, and also an American military post, on San Juan Island, fully garrisoned. This informal understanding had not the dignity or force of a treaty, and was therefore binding on the courts only as a matter of policy and comity. It was binding only in the court of honor. Such being the facts, a man by the name of Charles Watts, an American citizen, foully murdered another American citizen near the military post of the United States. Watts was arrested by the Federal military authorities and held in confinement. There was a good deal of feeling and excitement over the matter. When I went to Port Townsend to hold Court, I issued a warrant, directed to the United States Marshal, to arrest said Watts and to bring him to Port Townsend for indictment and trial. He was readily delivered by the United States military authorities to the United States Marshal, and brought to Port Townsend. He was indicted by the grand jury for murder in the first degree, and tried and convicted at that term. He was sentenced by me to be hanged until he was dead. An appeal was taken from the final judgment in the case to the Supreme Court of the Territory; and, upon hearing, a majority of the Supreme Court, consisting of Judges Greene and Kennedy, reversed the judgment on the ground that the Federal side of the Court had no jurisdiction. To the general reader, it may be well to state that the Territorial Court had all the jurisdiction of the District and Circuit Courts of the United States, and such jurisdiction constituted what was called, the Federal side of the Court. It also had all the jurisdiction arising under the Territorial laws, and the common law suited to the conditions; and this constituted the Territorial side. Watts was indicted and tried on the Federal side of the Court, and the Supreme Court held that he ought to have been indicted and tried on the Territorial side of the Court—hence the reversal. I delivered a dissenting opinion which, as the case assumed a national importance, I give in full:

OPINION.

"As I cannot assent to the conclusion reached by the majority of the Court in this case, I will state as briefly as possible the conclusion of my own mind upon the question of jurisdiction involved in the case, with my reasons therefor.

"I have come to the conclusion that the United States side of the Court had jurisdiction, and for the following reasons:—

"1. We all agree that the phrase 'sole and exclusive jurisdiction,' as used in the Crime Act of A. D. 1790, 1 Stat. 113, has no reference to a claim of jurisdiction made by any foreign power, but to State and Federal jurisdiction, or, as we are situated, to Federal, as contra-distinguished from Territorial jurisdiction. We also agree that it is the duty of the judiciary to extend the jurisdiction of the laws of the United States as far as the political department of the government extends the territorial area.

"2. In my judgment it is the duty of the courts to construe all such conventions as that entered into between the government of the United States and Great Britain, with reference to the Island of San Juan, so as to avert the evil apprehended, and sought to be prevented.

"When the convention was entered into there was imminent danger of a conflict of arms. That danger arose from two causes—the action of the military commanders of this department and the enforcement of the laws of Washington Territory over the disputed domain. The first danger was removed by a change of commanders. The second, by the exclusion of the laws of the Territory, and that exclusion has been enforced by the military power of the government ever since.

"3. Was it the intention then of the high-contracting parties, to exclude all law from San Juan Island, and to make it a secure asylum for thieves and murderers? I think not. Possibly there might be some ground for the recognition of the distinction between acts malum in se and malum prohibitum, acts which under every law, human and divine, are criminal, and those acts which are only criminal by virtue of some positive statute making them such. I infer that two civilized nations would not directly or indirectly, concur to create any such asylum.

"It was the design, then, that some laws should exist and be enforced on that island. That it was the design of the government to exclude the laws of the Territory is manifest by the proceedings of the convention and the action of the government from the date of the convention down to the present time. It was so understood by the military department; acquiesced in by the other departments of the government, and recognized as a fact by the courts of the Territory, and by the legislature, as is evidenced by the release of the county of Whatcom, within whose limits the island was included by a prior act of the legislature, from the payment of all costs for the prosecution of persons committing crime on said island.

"Whatever jurisdiction might have been claimed by the Territory prior to the last-cited act, was virtually abandoned by it.

"The exclusion of the territorial laws since the date of the convention has been open, manifest, and palpable, and I believe rightful. Then, if I am correct in my conclusions, no other laws were in force on the island for the punishment of persons guilty of murder (not connected with the military), but the laws of the United States. In fact, it would follow as a logical sequence, that if the territorial laws were excluded it would be a place 'under the sole and exclusive jurisdiction of the United States,' hence, the laws of the United States would be operative there.

"I can see many cogent reasons why it was desirable to exclude territorial laws and territorial officials from the island. The territorial legislature represented but a small fraction of the American people and was far removed from the power which was responsible for a state of peace or war, and before measures could be disapproved by Congress a conflict might be precipitated. Territorial officers were not responsible, directly at least, to the supreme power. It had no control over their official conduct. All will agree that such control ought to be directly with the responsible power. That could only exist legitimately, but by the exclusion of the local jurisdiction and the operation of the national jurisdiction, modified by express convention or necessary implication.

"It might be very competent and very proper in the accomplishment of the object in view, for the treaty-making power to suspend the operations of all laws for the punishment of offenders save in the cases where the acts were crimes, by the universal judgment of mankind. The power to suspend or modify must exist somewhere, or in the case of disputed jurisdiction, there could be no treaty or conventions.

"All such conventions are founded on the mutual concessions of the high contracting parties. After the convention has been signed, the supreme power in our government, in order to secure its honest and faithful execution, took possession of the disputed Territory, segregated from its former local jurisdiction, and administers, modifies, or suspends its own laws by its own military or judicial agents. The supreme power acts through its own functions and not through that of an inferior jurisdiction. It administers its own laws so far as such administration is not in conflict with the convention. Its power is ample and it need not borrow from the inferior jurisdiction.

"It can not be argued successfully that because San Juan Island is within the limits of Washington Territory, that, therefore, it can only be subject to its laws. Puget Sound, Admiralty Inlet, and one-half of the Straits of Fuca are within the territorial boundaries, but still many of the criminal laws of the United States extend over them. Neither can the joint possession of the United States and Great Britain effect the question.

"The high seas are in the joint possession of all the nations, and yet every nation punishes its own subjects for crimes committed there. Watts is an American citizen, and the victim of his violence was also.

"4. I am unable to convince myself that, if one general law of the Territory went to that Island, but what all general laws went there. That they were not and are not permitted to go there is a fact too palpable for argument. The alternative then is presented, either that their exclusion by force has been rightful, or that the military department has been guilty of a gross usurpation.

"The latter branch of the alternative ought not to be received without the clearest and most indubitable proof of its correctness. I am not contending for the doctrine that a military order is absolutely conclusive upon the courts, but it is always entitled to respectful consideration and will be presumed lawful until the contrary is shown. Especially, should such be the case when the order emanates from the highest functionary of the military department, and has been long sanctioned, at least by the acquiescence of every other department of government.

"To have permitted all the laws of the territorial legislature to have gone to the island would have resulted in the nullification of the convention. It would in fact have given the territorial legislature a veto on the treaty-making power of the government. Could this convention have stood for a day with the extension of the taxing power of this territory over that island? Every one knows that it could not. If the territorial jurisdiction extended there, it had the right to tax the property of the inhabitants thereof for territorial and other legitimate purposes. Taxes are not levied upon citizens, only, but inhabitants, property-holders, residents within the jurisdiction. The rightful exercise of such a power would have been decisive of the controversy, or rather it would have been exclusive of any rightful claim to controversy. Its attempted exercise would have been resisted with all the power of Great Britain. Reverse the circumstances and let British Columbia attempt to extend its taxing power over that island, and our government would resist the insult with all its military power.

"On what principle could a part of the general laws of the Territory go to that island, and a part not? It is of the very essence of general laws, at least, that they should be uniform and universal. If the territorial jurisdiction extended at all, it is complete and entire. It reaches all rightful subjects of legislation, and is supreme within those limits.

"For the above reasons, I am of the opinion that Watts was rightfully indicted under section 4 of the Crime Act of 1790, which reads as follows: 'If a person or persons, within any fort, arsenal, dockyard, magazine, or in any other place, or district or country, under the sole and exclusive jurisdiction of the United States, commit the crime of wilful murder, such person or persons, on being thereof convicted, shall suffer death.'

"But if there is a doubt as to whether San Juan Island was within the Third Judicial District or not, then the last clause of section 28 of the Crime Act of 1790 would apply, for Watts was first brought into the Third Judicial District and delivered to the marshal of the Territory by the order of the Secretary of War."

Immediately after the reversal I called a special term of the Court at Port Townsend, at which Watts was re-indicted on the Territorial side of the Court, tried, and again convicted and sentenced to be hung. He again appealed to the Supreme Court, but the judgment was affirmed; he then sued out a writ of error to the Supreme Court of the United States, and it was allowed, and it came up for hearing while I was Delegate from the Territory. The Court was informed that Watts had escaped from jail and was at large, and the Supreme Court refused to hear his writ of error. He has never been recaptured.

After all this had transpired, the German Emperor decided that the Canal de Haro was the true boundary line under the Treaty. The British troops were withdrawn from San Juan Island, and peace and friendship prevailed.

While I have always been in favor of liberty regulated by law, and have believed that order and security were the sure resultants of law's vigorous enforcement, yet there may be times and conditions, in frontier communities, when the suspension of the general rule, like the suspension of the great writ of Habeas Corpus, may be justified in the forum of reason and morals. Especially, is this true when the furore of the populace is not based on race, or class prejudice, or the frenzy of religion, or party madness; but has only for its ultimate, the security of person, property and habitation.

Hold-ups on the streets, with pistol accompaniments, were frequent in the City of Seattle; burglaries were the regular order of business; no man was safe in the streets after nightfall; in fact, fear had become so intensified that in the visitation of one neighbor to another's house after dark, the visitant, after proper precautions, was received with pistol in hand. Such were the conditions, I am sorry to say, existing in the embryo city of Seattle in January, 1882, and such had been the conditions for several months previous to that time. The town was full of thugs and criminals. Such a situation was intolerable. During its continuance one George Reynolds, a young and popular business man, was shot down in cold blood, between seven and eight o'clock in the evening, while going down Marion Street to his place of business on Front Street, now First Avenue. He was held up by two ruffians between what are now called Third, and Fourth Avenues. His money and his other valuables were demanded by them, and upon his refusal to deliver up, he was assassinated.

I have never been a believer in Divine interposition or impulsions, but I must confess that on that fatal evening, and on a few other occasions my rationalism was somewhat shaken. My usual route from my residence on Fourth Avenue to my office on James Street was down Marion Street. On that evening, arriving at Marion Street, under the influence of some occult force, or power, I stopped, looked down Marion Street, and saw the assassins of George Reynolds standing near the west end of the block and leaning against the wall of the Stacy premises. Impelled by this mysterious force, I involuntarily went on to Columbia Street, and, when nearly opposite on the block to the south, heard the report of the shot that ended the life of Reynolds. Soon after I arrived at my office, I was informed that Reynolds had been shot and that he was dying; that many citizens were assembling at the engine-house, and that my attendance was requested. I accompanied my informant to the engine-house and found there assembled from seventy to a hundred men, greatly excited and determined. We quickly formed ourselves into a Committee of Ways and Means, and resolved to spare no expense, nor to omit any means for the apprehension and punishment of the guilty parties. I was elected Chairman of that meeting. We also immediately sent out twenty-five armed men to patrol the streets leading out of town, and to guard, in boats, the water front. We soon after added to the patrol twenty-five more men; soon after, fifty more; and within an hour-and-one-half after the firing of the fatal shot, we had at least one hundred armed men, and detectives in the field, besides the active, vigilant, willing and intelligent regular police-force of the town. In addition, a select committee, headed by the Honorable William H. White, was appointed to investigate the circumstances of the shooting, and to ascertain, as nearly as possible, the facts and circumstances identifying the guilty parties. I remained in the engine-house until after one o'clock, listening to the reports, made by patrolmen concerning suspicious characters, which were summarily examined and in most cases were dismissed as unfounded; but in a few cases the order was made to keep these suspects under strict surveillance, awaiting further developments. Between one and two o'clock a. m. the report came in that the guilty parties had been arrested, delivered to the sheriff and by him locked up in the County jail. They had been found concealed under bales of hay on Harrington's wharf. One had in his possession a pistol, but recently discharged. There were two of them. The news of their capture spread like wildfire. The patrolmen and other citizens came rushing in to the engine-house; and when the captors gave an account of their success, they were angrily asked, why they had delivered them to the sheriff, and why they had not brought them to the engine-house? The question was ominous. They were told that the captives were in the proper custody; and they were asked what they wanted the captives brought to the engine-house for? The reply was, that they wanted to look at them. This was still more ominous. I saw that so firm was the conviction that the parties arrested and in the rightful custody of the sheriff, were the guilty parties, that if the populace could get hold of them they would be strung up, without examination or trial. To this threatened act I was opposed, and I left the meeting and went down to my office. The light was still burning in the front room; I extinguished it, and, leaving the front door unlocked, went to the rear or consultation-room, locked the door and sat in a chair to meditate in the darkness on the situation, or condition of affairs. I had not been there long before two persons whom I recognized by their voices came into the front room and called me by name. I did not answer. They then came to the door of the consultation-room, rapped on the door, called me by my name and gave their own names. I finally admitted them. They told me that they had just left the crowd at the engine-house, and that the determination was fast approaching unity, and, if its culmination was not prevented, the captured men would be taken out of the jail and hung that night. They thought that I might prevent such an unnecessary and unwarranted ending of our grand and successful work. Knowing that the sheriff was a man of nerve and courage, and fearless in the discharge of his official duty I dreaded the result of such an undertaking, and I finally consented to go.

Upon arriving at the engine-house I found it filled by an excited yet joyous crowd. I made my way through this crowd to the rear of the large assembly-room, and while working my way through, received something of an ovation. While yet standing, someone said: "Judge, we thought you had thrown off on us." "Never," I replied. "But to illustrate my position," I said, "let me tell a story: Three negroes, passionately fond of hunting, and whose ambition in that regard was not fully satisfied by the capture of deer, turkey and quail in their native State, decided on a hunting-trip in the Rocky Mountains, to add the capture of larger and more dangerous game to their trophies. Being fully equipped, they bought tickets for a recommended point in the mountains. Arriving there, they left the train and went up into the dark woods, the sunless canyon, the silent coves and snow-crowned mountains, where the denizens of the wild were supposed to dwell. On the second day of their camping-trip, they came upon a large grizzly bear in a mountain cove. They fired at the grizzly and wounded him. Then the scene changed, and the bear commenced to hunt them fiercely. Two of them succeeded in climbing trees, but were unable to take their guns up with them. Sam, the other, was pushed so closely that he was unable to tree. He ran in a circle, with the bear in close and hot pursuit. His companions, safely perched in their tree, halloed to him to run. 'Sam, for God's sake, run.' One of the companions slipped down from the tree and, as Sam and the bear approached him, made a successful shot and finished the race so far as bruin was concerned. Sam, as soon as he could get his breath, says: 'What did you niggers mean by crying out to me, run Sam, for God's sake, run? did you suppose I was such an enormous fool as to throw off on that race?'" I told two more of the most ludicrous and laughable stories that I could think of; the object being manifest: I wanted time for the sober second thought to assert itself. I continued somewhat thus: "Are you afraid that the sheriff will send away the prisoners tonight, or that they will escape? If so, that can be prevented by sending twenty-five or fifty, or if you please, one hundred men, to keep watch and guard until nine o'clock tomorrow morning, when the justice has promised me to hold a public examination of the prisoners in the Pavilion, where all may come and see them and hear the examination." The Honorable William H. White, who was present, made a clear, earnest and forcible speech in favor of the proposition, and it was carried by a good majority.

The Pavilion was on the Southeast corner of Front and Cherry Streets. It was used as a church, as a Court House, as a theater, and for all public meetings. It was over a hundred feet in length and about thirty feet in width. Its entrance was from Front Street.

At the appointed time Justice Samuel Coombs was in his seat and the prisoners were present. They both pleaded not guilty. Honorable William H. White and myself acted as prosecuting attorneys. A Mr. Holcomb, a lawyer of good standing and ability, appeared for the prisoners and sharply cross-examined the witnesses sworn on the part of the Territory. The Pavilion was full of spectators, among them was his Honor Roger S. Greene, the then Chief Justice of the Territory. When the evidence was all in, the Territory waived its opening, but the prisoners' counsel made a brief argument in their behalf. The Territory waived its right to reply. During the progress of the examination, the windows in the rear of the Pavilion had been quietly removed.

The Justice, after a few moments of reflection, declared that the evidence of the prisoners' guilt was clear and convincing beyond a reasonable doubt, and the order of the Court was, that they be held for trial without bail. When the Justice had ceased speaking, someone—I have never learned who it was—slapped his hands together three or four times; and that immense audience rushed with one accord to the open windows in the rear, taking the prisoners along with them. Judge Greene, at first, seemed dazed by this sudden rush, but in a short time he started to follow the crowd. A man standing near seized him as he attempted to go, pulled down the theater curtain, threw it over the Judge's head, and securely held him until the crowd was nearly all out of the building, whereupon James McNaught quietly said: "Let him go." The Judge quickly rushed out of the building and down the alley to where the hanging was taking place. He seized one of the ropes and attempted to cut it, but he was soon hustled out of the crowd. Governor Elisha P. Ferry then advised him, as he could do nothing, to go home. This he did. The man who had thrown the theater-curtain over the Judge's head was asked why he did so; his answer was, that Justice ought to be blind, on such an occasion especially.

There were on the north side of James Street two large-sized maple shade trees standing eight or ten feet apart. It was in these trees that a strong scantling had been placed, to which the prisoners were hung. As soon as the two men had been swung up, someone in the crowd cried out: "Our work is not yet completed; let us hang the murderer of old man Sires to the same scantling." The idea was immediately seconded, and about one-half of the crowd went up to the County jail, broke down its doors, took the murderer who was awaiting his trial, put a rope about his neck and quickly returned with him to the fatal scantling. The rope was thrown over it, and he was swung into eternity.

I left the Pavilion soon after the crowd had retired, and walked slowly down to James Street. I arrived there just as the crowd was running down the hill with the murderer of Sires. A gentleman rushed up to me as I was slowly walking across James Street and said: "Judge, how do you feel about this proceeding?" I answered: "As a member of Judge Greene's Court, I feel terribly indignant; but as a private citizen, I think that I will recover."

Sires, who had been killed about a month before by a ruffian of the name of Payne, was an aged pioneer. His life for many years had been a rough one, and slightly bordering on toughness; but he had reformed and joined the church; and as he was a man of good ability, he occasionally preached. Confidence in his sincerity and genuine reform was general. He was poor, and, to aid in his support, he was given the office of policeman. While in the discharge of his duties as such, he was shot down by Payne. There was no doubt of Payne's guilt.

A coronor's jury on the hanging was summoned. Of this body I was a member and its foreman. We examined, I think, twelve witnesses. They all testified that John Doe and Richard Roe and Payne came to their death by hanging. Who were present, aiding, or abetting, or counselling, or advising, or actually doing the said hanging, or in any manner participating in the same, they all swore that they did not know. Finding that other and further investigation would be futile, we ceased taking testimony and joined in a verdict embodying what has been stated, with the addition that while we regretted the mode of their taking-off, yet we were certain in the death of the prisoners that the Territory had lost no desirable citizens, and Heaven had gained no subjects.

Court convened in a few days and Judge Greene gave the grand jury a well-prepared, able and elaborate charge, stating that everyone who participated in, or counselled, or advised, or actually performed the acts resulting in the death of these three men was at least guilty of manslaughter. He earnestly urged the grand jury to fearlessly investigate the matter, and if they were convinced that any person participated in the hanging of the three persons in any way spoken of by him, they ought to find indictments accordingly. Everybody honored the Judge for the faithful, fearless and full discharge of his duty in the matter; but his brave charge resulted in nothing. Thus ended the second, most tragic event in the history of the City of Seattle.

Whatever we may think of the mode of the taking-off of these three men, everyone admits that the result was beneficial. Security in person, property and habitation was again enjoyed. The criminal classes silently left the town, and peace and order reigned.

Chinese Riots

The next tragic chapter in the history of Seattle occured in the winter of 1886, and is known as the Chinese Riots. It is not my purpose to give a detailed statement of either the cause or the facts attending them. They had no substantial cause. They sprang from race prejudice and political madness. There had been no actual or threatened invasion by the Chinamen, of the rights of persons, or of property, or of personal security. In fact, the Chinamen were a quiet and peaceable folk, engaged in the more humble occupations of life. They did not interfere in politics, or in the social or civic concerns of society. In numbers they were a small body as compared with the dominant race. In these circumstances it was resolved by quite a large but irresponsible faction that the Chinese must go; and a notice was served upon them fixing the time of their required departure. They paid no attention to it, but continued in their peaceful avocations. At the appointed time, a large committee—headed, I am sorry to say, by two lawyers who were backed up by promise of support of their fellow conspirators—went to the Chinese quarters, and, with threat of the use of force if they did not obey, compelled them to pack up their portable effects and to go to a designated wharf where they could go aboard of a steamer bound for San Francisco. There was a strong line of assistants to speed their progress to the wharf, and to guard them after their arrival there. Many thus, were deported. The Courts soon interfered. Writs of Habeas Corpus were granted to the Chinamen, and, no cause for their restraint appearing, they were discharged. His Excellency, Governor Watson C. Squire, being in town, ordered out the Militia, which under the command of the bold and fearless Col. J. C. Haines, who was ably assisted by General E. M. Carr and others, did effective work. The posse comitatus was also summoned, and it quickly responded. In the afternoon of that fatal day a conflict occurred between the opposing forces near the Old New England Hotel; shots were fired by both parties, and two of the rioters were seriously wounded. The flow of blood seemed to have a cooling effect on the rioters, and they slowly departed for their homes, disappointed, defeated in their purpose, and with smothered feelings of vengeance.

The Governor, wisely considering the actual and threatened danger existing, proclaimed martial law, suspended the writ of Habeas Corpus until further orders, and by telegraph requested the President of the United States to send a Federal military force adequate to preserve order, to vindicate the supremacy of the treaties of the United States and the honor of the Government. That military force soon appeared under the command of General Gibbons, and for two weeks or more the town was under martial law. Peace and order having been restored, and the sober second thought having asserted its dominion, the troops were withdrawn and all was well. Thus ended the third chapter of tragedy in the history of the town (now City) of Seattle.

Battle at Seattle

After my arrival in Seattle in the summer of 1869, I became much interested in Seattle's local history. I had known and read of the Indian war of 1855-6, and of the attack on the town of Seattle by the Indians on January 16th, 1856, in which two white men were killed; but of the details of that attack, and of the ensuing battle, I knew nothing. I wrote to Lieutenant Phelps, who was an officer on the warship "Decatur" at the time, and who had written and published an account of the battle, to send me his pamphlet containing such descriptive account, and he promptly and courteously complied with my request. In addition to that official statement, I obtained from many of the leading residents at the time further details, facts and information hereinafter stated.

I ought possibly to state that at the request of Hillory Butler, a dear friend and pioneer, who was present and participated in the fight, I wrote his biography, from which the following is taken. Further to understand the situation, it ought to be remembered that the side-hill fronting the bay from the east line of Second Street (now Avenue) eastward was a dense copse of fern and brush, logs and tree tops, as well as standing timber to the top of the ridge and beyond, affording an excellent cover, or ambuscade for the Indians.

"In the fall of 1855 the Indian tribes east of the mountains became hostile. A small force under Major Haller was sent into the Yakima country to reduce the hostiles to subjection. This force was defeated and driven back to The Dalles. This but aggravated the discontent of the Indians and well-nigh precipitated a general uprising. A feeling of dread and insecurity among the settlers was everywhere present. As precautionary measures, block-houses were built and stockades constructed, in many cases none too soon. A block-house was built in Seattle near where the Boyd building now stands. Hostile emisseries were known to be at work among the Puget Sound tribes. Some of the tribes were known to be wavering in their allegiance to the whites and many individuals of all these tribes had joined the ranks of the hostiles. The people of Seattle, however, felt quite secure for the 'Decatur,' a thirty-gun United States war-ship, under the command of Capt. Gansworth, lay at anchor in the harbor. Her crew consisted of 150 men. There was aboard of her also a company of marines, under the immediate command of Lieut. Morris. Notwithstanding all this, the evidence of an impending attack, became from day to day more convincing to those who calmly studied the situation, and had an accurate knowledge of the Indian character. They were, however, the few; the large majority were unbelievers, and the block-house was tenantless. On the morning of the 7th day of February, 1856, friendly Indians brought the dire intelligence that the town was entirely surrounded with a force of from five to eight hundred hostile Indians, under the command of Leschi, and other hostile chiefs. Even then, no other attention was paid to this startling information than the sending word to the commander of the 'Decatur.' He, however, immediately acted on the information and sent Lieut. Morris, with the company of marines and one of the ship's guns, to the shore. They landed on the point a short distance south of where the New England Hotel now stands. It was about seven o'clock in the morning. Not an Indian was to be seen. All work had ceased. Silence reigned supreme. Men, women and children quietly went to the block-house, or stood in the door-way, or beside their cabins, watching the movement of the soldiers. Lieut. Morris loaded his cannon with a shell and directed aim to be taken at an abandoned cabin, situate on the point a short distance beyond where the gas works now are. The aim was accurate. The shell struck the cabin, exploded, and demolished it. That shot of defiance was immediately answered by the Indians, by a volley from, three to five hundred rifles. Then followed a general stampede of men, women and children for the block-house or the friendly protection of the shore bank—and had it not been for the fact, that the rifles in the hands of the Indians had been generally emptied by the first volley, many of the inhabitants would have fallen on their way to the sheltering bank or block-house. The Indians were here, and skepticism was at an end. The smoke from the rifles indicated clearly that the front line held by the Indians extended along where Third Street or Avenue now is until Marion Street was past, where it curved towards the bay. It was a complete semi-circle, and every part of the then town was within easy rifle range, from said line.

"The 'Decatur' opened with solid shot and shells—alternating with canister and grape. All day long the roar of the Decatur's cannon continued. The ground beyond Third Street was torn up by exploding shells—huge logs and trees were splintered by solid shot—and seemingly every space covered by showers of grape and canister, but still Leschi's warriors held their lines. They kept up a desultory firing all day and continued the same until about midnight, when they withdrew as noiselessly as they came. Three whites were killed during the day—Young Holgate was struck by a bullet between the eyes, while he was standing in the block-house door, and was instantly killed. The others were killed in the attempt to go, or return from their cabins. Every house was struck by Indian bullets. Strange to say, no one was hit by the first general volley fired by the Indians. How many Indians, if any were killed or wounded, during the fight, has never been known.

"When the first gun was fired Mr. Butler and his wife were just sitting down to breakfast. They both jumped from the table and went to the door. The bullets from the answering volley struck all around them. Mrs. Butler hastened to the block-house and safely reached it. Butler gathered up a few valuables and followed in a short time. He, however, sought the friendly protection of logs and stumps, for the Indian rifles were now reloaded and the closeness of the whizzing bullets indicated that the Indians were watching his stealthy flight. He returned to his house in the same manner during the day for some portable valuables. While there, he went up stairs, but the bullets were rattling around in a manner a little too spiteful and plentiful, and he did not stay long. Those of the men who had rifles, took positions behind some protecting log or friendly stump, and fired at the spot where the puff of a rifle indicated an Indian warrior concealed. Whether these shots were effective or not, is unknown—they often caused a cessation of firing from that ambuscade. As full of terror as were the events of that February day, the duration of its effect on the minds of the pioneer settlers of the embryo city was but brief. It was but a thrilling passage in the unwritten history of pioneer life. After the roar of the Decatur's cannon and the sharp crack of the rifle had ceased, all returned to cabins and homes, and soundly slept and sweetly dreamed of the good time coming. Such is pioneer life, and such the mental conditions, and characters it begets. Still we cannot disguise the fact that had it not been for the presence of the war-ship Decatur, with her complement of guns and fighting men, the town would have been plundered and burned, and its inhabitants would have perished in a terrible massacre.

"During that fated morning Chief Seattle with many of his tribe lay under the cover of the friendly shore-banks, silent and stolid spectators of the raging battle. During a lull in the firing, he, to the astonishment of all, leaped upon the bank and with arms flying, and voice roaring defiance, commenced a bending, bounding and contortion war-dance of the most intensified order. The hostiles quickly got the range, but as soon as the bullets commenced to sing around him in dangerous proximity, Seattle's feet flashed in air as he made a headlong plunge down the bank. Seattle's war-dance was over, and he attempted no repetition of the performance on that gloomy day. Many who witnessed this strange performance supposed that the old chieftain had received a mortal shot, but he had escaped without a scratch.

"The Indians, in giving an account afterwards, of the firing from the ship, said that they were not afraid of the solid shot and grape and canister, but the guns that 'poohed' (or shot) twice were a mystery and terror to them. This was their description of the firing and explosion of shells.

"This was in harmony with the idea of the Indians on the plains in their first intercourse with the immigrants. The first immigrants' trains had with them mountain howitzers mounted on strong gun carriages. The Indians spoke of the Bostons as a tribe of men who could shoot their wagons at them.

"A kindred idea was entertained by the Mexicans, of the Spaniards when Cortez first invaded Mexico. The Mexican had no written, but a pictorial language. The Spaniard on his horse was pictured as one animal with two heads, four legs and two arms. This was the description which the correspondents of those days first sent to the Halls of Montezuma for the inspection of an affrighted monarch.

"We have already stated that during the battle a large number of shells fell upon the benches between Third Street and the bluff beyond. Most of them exploded when they struck the ground, or a log, or a tree. Some of them, however, did not, but buried themselves in the earth or under the roots of huge trees, retaining all their latent forces. It is said that our friend Dextor Horton on one of his tours of inspection of the improvements going on in his loved city one chilly day, passed by the lots on which Mr. Colman's fine residence now stands. Noticing a crater of fire burning in the center of a mammoth cedar stump, he drew near to it to enjoy the genial heat. As is always characteristic of man, he turned his back to the fire, parted his coat tails, and was comfortable. As the day, although cold, was clear and the bright waters of the Sound were before him—the dark forests beyond and still beyond, the Olympic Range with its ragged ridges then snow-crowned—as he was drinking in this scene of beauty and grandeur, lo! a terrific explosion occurred. Impelled by the impetus of the explosion he made a quick start and very fast time, for a short distance. Convinced, however, that the shooting was over, he stopped and turned to see what had happened. The stump was gone, the fire extinguished, and he left with the mournful remark, that he had no idea the durn stump was loaded."

My Religious Belief

I believe in that system of religion which produces, in its practical operation, the best man and the best woman, the best husbands and the best wives, the best fathers and the best mothers, the most affectionate and obedient children, and the more honest and patriotic citizens and public functionaries. I care not what you may call it; by its fruit or practical results it should be judged. This is the Bible rule, and it is eminently practical and just.

I further believe in the existence of an allwise Creator of all things—the Supreme Ruler of the Universe. I do not believe in him as a Supreme Ruler located at some distant point in an immense Universe, but as an omnipresent God.

I believe in the immortality of man—not of his physical nature, but of that divine emanation breathed into the nostrils of man by his Creater that made him a living soul. It was an emanation from God and cannot die.

I do not intend to state more than one reason among many for my belief in the existence of God; but the immortality of man, founded on reason, outside of the Scriptural declarations, I shall present more elaborately.

When I take a survey of the Universe and find all things running in the rhythm of order and harmony, I ask myself the question: What is it that produces this universal order and harmony? No answer can be given other than that it is the result of law. Now, we can have no more conception of law outside of a lawmaker, than we can have of an agent without a principal or an agency. Law and lawmaker, as well as agent and principal, are inseparably interlocked. The one cannot exist without the other. Therefore since we must admit the existence of law, the existence of a lawmaker is a necessary logical sequence: that lawmaker, is God. As to the immortality of the soul, I offer the following reason, founded principally on grounds outside of the Bible's declaration of the fact.

Ever since the poetic Job uttered the profound question, "If a man die shall he live again?" the inquiry has been ringing down the pathway of time with increasing interest. Man's immortality is usually proven by the declarations of the Bible, which are supposed to reveal it as an ultimate truth. The immortality of the soul is susceptable not of demonstration, but of reasonable proof by reason itself. If we concede the existence of God with the attributes usually ascribable to such a being, and which He must necessarily possess in order to be God, such as infinite wisdom, goodness and Almighty power, and if we concede further that He is the Creator of man, man's immortality results as a logical sequence from such concessions. The desire of immortality, if not universal among all conditions of men, at least approaches universality. This universal desire may be called an innate property, or attribute of man's moral constitution implanted in him by his Creator. It can not be true that a being with the attributes which we ascribe to God, could create man with such a desire, to tantalize him through life, and to disappoint him in death. Consider the fact that nowhere in nature, from the highest to the lowest, was an instinct, an impulse, a desire implanted, but that ultimately were found the conditions and opportunities for its fullest realization. Consider the wild fowl that, moved by some mysterious impulse, start on their prodigious migrations from the frozen fens of the Pole and reach at last the shining South and summer seas; the fish that from tropic gulfs seek their spawning-grounds in the cool, bright rivers of the North; the bees that find in the garniture of fields and forests the treasure with which they store their cells; and even the wolf, the lion, and the tiger that are provided with their prey. Look in this connection to the brevity of life; its incompleteness; its aimless, random, and fragmentary carreers; tragedies; its injustices; its sorrows and separations. Then consider the insatiable hunger for knowledge; the efforts of the unconquerable mind to penetrate the mysteries of the future; its capacity to comprehend infinity and eternity; its desire for the companionship of the departed; its unquenchable aspirations for immortality—and let me ask: "Why should God keep faith with the beast, the bee, the fish, and the fowl, and cheat only man?" But the logical sequence from the concessions mentioned above is not the argument in proof of man's immortality which I desire to present.

The account of the creation of man as given in the Bible is remarkable for its statement of the distinguishing difference between man and the rest of creation. When man was created, God breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living soul. He created the beasts of the field, the fowls of the air, the fishes in the sea and the creeping things on the earth, but none of these became living souls. This language, whether inspired or not, states the difference which now exists and which has ever existed between man and the other created things. What do we understand by soul? By soul is meant the power to think, to reflect, and to judge of the moral quality of actions and thoughts. Let me take the sceptic's standard of what we should believe, and what we should not believe; that is, we ought not to believe that of which we have no evidence, and for which we can give no satisfactory reason. I proceed by a process of elimination, as will be readily seen. My first proposition, interrogatively stated, is this. Is the power to think and reflect and to judge of the moral quality of thoughts and actions, a property of matter or not? If it is a property of matter, then the sands and rocks and the earth think and reflect and judge of the moral quality of actions and thoughts; but we have no reason to believe that sand, or rock, or earth thinks, or that either possesses the ability to judge of the moral quality of actions or thoughts; hence we ought not to believe it. Thus we see that the general proposition is not true, and ought not to be believed.

Secondly—Is thought and the power to judge of the moral qualities of thoughts and actions a property of organized matter? The grass and shrubs and trees are organized matter; but we have no reason to believe, and no evidence upon which such a belief can be founded, that the grass, or trees, or shrubs think, or possess any power to judge of the moral quality of things; therefore, according to the standard which we have adopted, we ought not to believe it; hence the more limited proposition is not true.

Thirdly—Is the power to think, to reflect and to judge of the moral quality of actions and thoughts a property of animal organization? If it be, clams and oysters as animal organizations think; possess the power to reflect and to judge of the moral quality of thoughts and actions, but we have no evidence that they possess any of these powers, and consequently we ought not to believe it.

Fourthly—Are the powers we have been considering essential to the existence of soul-life, possessed by the higher animal organizations, such as lions and tigers and domestic animals?

Here an important distinction must be noted. There is a thing, universally recognized as existing, called instinct. All of the actions of animals and many of the actions of human beings spring from instinct. Instinct was given for self-preservation and defense. It is a sort of semi-intellect, and sometimes in the perfection of its action is equal to the highest development of soul-power; for instance, the action of a bee, purely the result of instinct, in the economy of space in the fitness of all its contrivances in making the comb, is wonderful; no improvement can be made upon it by the highest development of inventive genius. How does instinct act as contra distinguished from actions based upon the exercise of soul-power? Instinct acts in a straight or direct line with its object. As an illustration,—a tiger is hungry, a man is hungry; the tiger sees a lamb—the man sees a loaf of bread in the baker's window; both, left to the impulse of instinct, would go directly to the object desired by each; the man, although cruelly hungry, as he approaches the object of his desires, says to himself, "This bread does not belong to me; it is the property of another, and I have no right to take it without his consent." Here we see, in the case of the man, a soul-power acting at right angles with the impulse of instinct and controlling and governing the action of the man. It is only when men are controlled by soul-power, as against instinct, that they really are men in the higher sense of the term.

With this principle thus briefly stated, and carefully separating the actions of men as well as animals springing from instinct from the actions of men springing from the soul-power, we are prepared to make the declaration that the tiger is incapable of acting on the considerations that influenced the action of the man; the rightfulness or wrongfulness of his act in seizing the lamb did not, nor could it enter at all into his action; he was affected by no consideration of right or wrong, and indeed could not be; hence we are prepared for the conclusion that the power to think, to reflect and to judge of the moral quality of acts and thoughts, is not possessed by the higher animal organization, or, in other words, that they have no soul such as we have defined it. Having thus briefly shown by a process of elimination that man alone possesses the power that we have described as soul-power, we have established the first part of our argument.

Man alone being possessed of soul qualities, the question arises, what are the duration of these qualities? We argue that, being an emanation from God, they must of necessity partake of the nature of God, and are therefore indestructible, and eternal. But it is objected that when the body dies we see no more manifestation of soul-life. Concede it, for the sake of argument. Does it follow that the soul is extinct? The body was the instrument through which the soul manifested itself, just as the piano is the instrument through, or by which, a certain class or kind of music is manifested. Is the impairment or destruction of the particular piano, a destruction or extinction of that music? Who would thus reason? The music manifested through that piano had an existence in the mind, or soul of some person anterior to the existence of the signs made on paper by the use of which the music on the piano was produced, or manifested; and it is evident that the impairment or destruction of the piano did not destroy the music. What force, then, is there in the claim that, simply because the instrument through which the soul manifested itself is dead, the soul itself is dead, or extinct? There are many illustrations of this thought in actual life. The wonderful, almost inspired, conception of beauty, passion and anguish transferred by the artist's brush to canvas, as enduring monuments of the immortality of genius, existed in the mind of the artist before a single line of the grand conception was transferred to canvas. If there be any defect in the picture it is usually a defect of execution, not of conception. The canvas is but the means by which these conceptions of beauty, passion or anguish are manifested to the souls of others. Who will argue that the destruction of the frail canvas is the destruction of these conceptions? They existed before they were transferred to canvas; its destruction does not extinguish them.

It is said again, that soul-attributes are the results of that mysterious power called life, operating in connection with animal organization. But a tiger has life and animal organization, yet it is clear that he possesses no soul-qualities. Besides, if soul-qualities are the result of such life and organization, the manifestation of soul-power would be in exact proportion to the strength of the forces operating to produce this resultant; hence the elephant, in which these forces exist in the larger degree, would give us the grander manifestation of intellectual and moral qualities. I have stated the objection and given a brief answer, but full enough to show the logical absurdity of the objection.

But it is said that soul-qualities are the active manifestations of gray matter in the human brain. We have already seen that the power to think, to reflect, and to judge of the moral quality of thoughts and acts, is not a property of matter. None of it, by itself or in combination, possesses this power. Wonderful have been the combinations and resultants of the operations of chemists, but life even in its simplest form is beyond their power. How much further beyond their power must be the production of the soul-power mentioned above! Besides, this gray matter has been analyzed and its constituent elements ascertained; none of these elements in its simplest form show any trace of this power. How is it possible, then, by combination to produce that of which no trace even existed in the elements? Then too, if this power is resultant, it is a law of chemistry that all resultants may be reduced back to its constituent elements. It would indeed be a wonderful achievement to reduce the power to think as a resultant, back to its constituent gases. Again, take the case of a strong and healthy man suddenly killed by a bullet penetrating both ventricles of the heart; this gray matter exists intact in the brain immediately after the extinction of life. Decay does not immediately affect its power. Does the man think, reflect and judge of the moral qualities of thoughts and acts after the extinction of life? If so, then this soul-power exists after death, and the argument answers itself.

This argument has proceeded far enough to show its line of thought. Much might be added by way of illustration, details and further supporting propositions, but it is not deemed necessary.

I conclude, then, that the soul is not only a unit with the power ascribed to it, but that it is also an invisible, immaterial and eternal entity or being. This is but the enumeration of the attributes of a spirit or spirit-existence. I will not attempt to repeat the reasons found in every text-book of mental philosophy and moral science to show its unity. We have seen that it is not matter; yea, more, that it is not a property of matter; therefore that it is immaterial. If immaterial and possessing the power to think and reflect, and endowed with moral sensations and perceptions—the highest and best evidences of life—it is a spirit-existence. As such, what evidence have we that a spirit-existence was ever destroyed? That it exists in manifest. Existing with no evidence of its destruction or of its destructibility, we ought to believe in its immortality; hence, I conclude, if a man die, he will live again.

I have had a controversy on religious subjects but once in my life. I have always desired to avoid such controversies. Fixed religious opinions in the minds of others, especially of the old, I regard as sacred. To create a doubt, is to loosen them from their moral and religious moorings and to set them hopelessly adrift.

After I had left school and was recuperating at my father's house, a gentleman of the name of Wellover, who had known me all my life, and who was a plain man of the common people, came to my father's house to see me. His residence was in what was called the Burr Oak Settlement, distant about six miles from the town of Sturgis. He was a member of the Methodist Church and a very exemplary Christian. He seemed to be much troubled. He said to me: "Orange, you know I have been a believer in the Bible and its doctrines for many years. A man has been delivering a course of lectures in the school-house in our settlement. He claims to be a Greek and Latin scholar, and he is attempting to show that the priests have so translated the Bible that it is a deception and a fraud. Now, Orange," he said, "I want you to go down with me to listen to one of his lectures, and afterwards to tell me whether his translations are true or not." I said to him, "You go up to town and see William Allman, who is a graduate of Greenbury College, Indiana, and is reputed to be a good Greek scholar, and ask him to go with me. Tell him to bring with him his large Cooper's Greek Dictionary, and if he will go, I will also." He departed, and soon returned with Allman. I took my large Cooper's Latin Dictionary; we got into Wellover's carriage and we went to his fine residence, took supper with him, and then went to hear the lecture of that evening. We found a good-sized audience in attendance at the school-house. The lecturer, who had passed the middle age in life, stated in his introductory remarks that he would pursue the same course as theretofore, and show, by reference to the Greek and Latin languages, how the priests had translated the Scriptures; sometimes correctly, but in most cases, where their interests were involved, so as to create a dismal terror in the present, and perpetuate by fear, their power in the future. He said that if there were any present acquainted with these languages, he would be glad, if he made an incorrect statement, to be interrupted, and if the statement was incorrect he would correct it. He denied the existence of a God and the immortality of man. He further declared that religion, on account of its doctrine of hate and vengeance, made men crazy. I interrupted, and asked him what was the proof of the last statement; he said the proof was manifest, for that men babbled of religion, of God, immortality and hell, after they became crazy. I answered by saying that I had heard men babble of snakes in their boots, snakes in the bed and snakes everywhere in the room, but I never knew that snakes had anything to do with their madness; in fact, I said, such madness had a well-recognized and efficient cause. He said: "Don't attempt to be smart, young man," and I took my seat. He further declared that if man were immortal, beasts were also, for the Romans had used the word "animus" indiscriminately as to both, and that the priests had translated "animus" to mean intellect and what was called by them, the soul of man. I told him I thought he was mistaken. He rather uncourteously asked me what I knew about Latin. I told him that I had some knowledge of it and that the Romans used the word "mens" from which we derived our word mind, mental, and many other words of the same character, to signify the soul of man; and did not use the word "animus" for that purpose, or with that meaning. I read to him and to the audience from the Dictionary the definitions of "animus" and of "mens." This drove him out of the Latin language, and he and Allman had a spirited and sharp and somewhat personal dispute, about some Greek or pretended Greek word. The controversy showed that he had no knowledge, or only a very limited knowledge, of what he was talking about. He said, after the wrangle with Allman was ended, that he had been interrupted so much by the two young men from town, that he would not proceed with his lecture on that evening, but would close by telling his experience. He said that he had been a minister for eighteen years—nine years in the Methodist Church, and nine years in the Christian or Campbellite Church. He divided all ministers into two classes—knaves and fools. I interrupted him again and asked him, inasmuch as he had been a minister for eighteen years and classed all ministers as knaves and fools, what class he belonged to. He hesitated a moment and said: "I am willing to confess that I belong to the class of fools." "Then," I said, "that confession proves the Bible to be true, for it says, 'the fool hath said in his heart, "there is no God."'" The meeting dissolved, and he lectured no more in that settlement. His pretended knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages was a deception and fraud.

Indians and Their Customs

The Indians are fast passing away, and their customs and mode of thought are passing with them and will only linger in dim tradition. For over fifty-five years I have been in close contact with many individuals of the different tribes of Oregon, Washington, British Columbia and California and I have taken considerable interest in the study of their characteristics. I have already stated that the Indian is an impassive stoic. If he has any human emotions, they are with the exception of anger, never displayed in his countenance. When angry, his countenance becomes fixed, sullen, morose and determined. He does not voice his anger, but silently nurses his wrath to keep it warm. He has no wit, but has a keen sense of the ludicrous, sometimes degenerating into short pungent sarcasm. This is the exception, not the general rule. He reasons from surface indications and has a keen perception of the absurd, or what he considers such. I have given one illustration in the narration of R.'s civilizing efforts. It is stated that an Indian chief said to General Isaac I. Stevens, in one of his treaty conventions, "We and our fathers have always possessed this country. We have no objections to the whites coming and enjoying it with us. The country is ours. Why do the whites always urge the Indian to go upon reservations? The Indian never tells the whites that they must go on reservations." On my return from Colville in 1855 I met an Indian with a fine mare. I asked him if he would sell her to me. "Yes," he said, "you may have her for fifteen dollars." I had with me a surplus of blankets and coarse but warm clothing, and I offered to trade him three pair of blankets and a suit of coarse clothing for his mare. It was a cold morning, and the grass was stiff with hoar frost. He had nothing on him in the shape of clothing or wraps, with the exception of a thin calico shirt. I told him that he needed these blankets and clothes to keep him warm. I asked him if he was not cold. He answered in the Yankee style by asking me if my face was cold. I told him "No." "Well," says he, "I am face all over."

The most thorough and extended system of Esperanto which ever existed, so far as my knowledge goes, was spoken on this Coast. It was an invention of the Hudson Bay Company, and extended and was spoken by the Indians generally from the northern portion of California through all of Oregon and Washington and British Columbia, and north of that along the Coast for a great distance. It was also spoken and understood by the pioneers, settlers and trappers through all this vast region. It was Spartan in some of its laconisms. As an illustration: I was appointed by the Court, in the trial of a criminal case in Southern Oregon, for the defense of three Indians on the charge of grand larceny. They were indicted for horse-stealing. The proof against them was clear and satisfactory. I labored to reduce the offense from grand to petit larceny, and I succeeded, for the jury brought in a verdict of "guilty of petit larceny." The Court sentenced them to three months' imprisonment each, in the county jail. When their time expired, the sheriff opened the doors and told them they might go; but, instead of going, they went to the further end of a long, narrow hall, and two of them squatted in the corners and the other between them against the wall. The sheriff came to my office and said to me, "Jacobs, I want you to go with me over to the jail. I can't make those clients of yours understand that they may go." I went over with him and found them thus situated. I told them in the jargon, or Esperanto, that they had paid the debt they owed to the whites and that they were free to go to their homes to see their fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters and friends. The center man—the oldest of the three—slowly arose and very emphatically spoke the following: "Halo mammook, hiyu muck-a-muck, hyas close, wake klatawa." This being interpreted means: "We have nothing to do, we have plenty to eat, we think it very good, we will not go." We had to drive them out of the jail and into the road on their way home. I walked slowly back to my office meditating on the philosophy of such punishment for an Indian.

Before I came to Puget Sound I had heard of a cultus potlatch. A potlatch is the giving-away of all of our earthly possessions without any hope or expectation of any return, either in kind or value. There was an Indian on the Sound known by the whites as Indian Jim. Jim had a wonderful ability to accumulate property; he was an Indian Morgan, or Rockefeller. He was an expert gambler and trader, and very industrious withal. He usually worked at the mills, where many other Indians were employed, and he not only saved the money earned by himself, but obtained, by his expertness in gambling, much of the money earned by the other Indians, and much of that earned by the white laborers. This money he invested in blankets—usually at Victoria. Some of his accumulation of gold he had changed into fifty and twenty-five cent pieces. He also purchased quite a quantity of calico and Indian trinkets. When he had secured a large accumulation of such things, he gave a potlatch. The one I attended was held on the tide-flats south of Seattle. As the time approached, many canoes were on the Bay, headed by a joyous crowd going to the potlatch. Jim was very anxious that I should attend the closing-day of the potlatch. I told him that I would go. He sent a large canoe with eight paddle-men to take me to the potlatch. So I went in style, I witnessed the closing ceremonies and Jim had enough to give every one in attendance, a blanket, or piece of money, or some gaudy calico, beads or other trinkets.

He even took off a pretty good suit of clothes that he was accustomed to wear and gave them away, substituting an old suit for them. He accompanied me to the city on my return. I said to him, "Jim, you now are a vagabond; you have no clothes to wear, no provisions to eat, and no money." He said that that was all right; he would soon get some more. He said it was all the same as that of the whites, but it was much better than the white man's potlatch. He said that whenever he met his friends he could see in their countenance a pleasant light. He also gave me to understand that it made a sort of nobleman of him. But he said when the white man died his children make a potlatch of what he left behind him; and, being dead he could not see in their countenances that light arising from what they had received from him. I thought possibly that Jim's philosophy had a touch of sarcasm, and a good deal of truth in it.

In Memoriam

James A. Garfield was elected President of the United States of America in November, 1880, and was inaugurated on the 4th of March, 1881; was shot and mortally wounded on the 2nd day of July, 1881; and was removed to Elberton, New Jersey, where he lingered until September 19th, and on that day he died—to the great sorrow of a waiting, hopeful and sympathetic Nation. No death in our history, save possibly that of Lincoln, so generally and profoundly filled the hearts of the American people with sorrow as did the death of Garfield. After its announcement a Nation, inspired by a common impulse, at once hung out the dark emblems of sorrow.

September 27th was appointed Memorial Day. On the 25th a public meeting was called in Seattle at the old Pavilion. Honorable Roger S. Greene was elected chairman of that meeting, and he was to act as such on Memorial Day. Myself, Rev. George H. Watson and Honorable William H. White were invited to deliver at that time addresses on the character and public career of the fallen statesman.

On the appointed day an audience of over four thousand people assembled in front of and on each side of the west end of the old Occidental Hotel. The officers of the day and the speakers occupied the first balcony of the hotel. The exercises were appropriately opened with prayer by Rev. Ellis. Honorable Roger S. Greene made a brief but earnest and impressive address, and introduced me in the following complimentary language:

"We shall hear from one to-day who can occupy an appreciative standpoint and speak of the departed President with more than common sympathy for his public purposes and deeds.

"Yet more. You yourselves have something to say. You seek one of yourselves to speak for you; one who not only, like the lamented dead, thinks as the people think and feels as the people feel, but one who belongs to this local community and who shares our own peculiar shade of sorrow.

"Such an one is here. He is a man skilled in the use of words, a man identified with yourselves, a man experienced and accomplished in public and national affairs, a man personally acquainted with James A. Garfield.

"Fellow citizens, I introduce to you Orange Jacobs, your orator of to-day."

Thus eloquently introduced to the audience, I delivered the following address:

"FELLOW CITIZENS:—In arising to address you on this occasion I feel my own inability to do the subject justice; and the hollow impotence of human language to express the sentiment of national woe. We have assembled to honor the memory, to revere the character, and recount the living virtues of a fallen patriot and statesman. James A. Garfield, the popular idol of the nation, is no more. His spirit has passed the bourne from whence there is no return. We have, in time of our greatest need, lost one of our greatest statesmen and purest patriots. In the mid-day of his manhood, in the midst of his usefulness, just as hope became steady, and faith reliant and sure, Mr. Garfield descended to the grave. His sun of life has set forever. It fell from its meridian splendor, as falls a star from the blazing galaxy of heaven. No twilight obscured its setting.

"As the sun of the physical world—the brightest and grandest of all of the luminaries of the firmament sinks to rest, tingeing the clouds that stretch along the horizon with the golden glories of its declining rays, so Garfield, the sun-intellect of this nation, has gone to his repose, reflecting the light of his noble deeds and unfaltering patriotism, tingeing the breaking clouds of dissention with the beauty and effulgence of hope and peace.

"When the telegraph flashed over a hopeful nation the mournful news of James A. Garfield's death, with the previous knowledge of the cowardly means by which it was effected, the great popular and patriotic heart momentarily ceased its pulsations, and the life-current of a nation, stood still for a moment, until the energies of patriotic vitality gathered new force to repel the effect of the stunning shock. Unbelief and astonishment were succeeded by wordless sorrow, and this was mingled with emotions of patriotic vengeance. Patriots in this mournful hour can brook no sympathy for the damning deed—can bear no manifestation of joy for the bloody work of the assassin.

"James A. Garfield was the popular representative of American patriotism. As President he possessed no powers but those freely delegated to him by his fellow-citizens. His highest duty under the Constitution, and by the delegation of the people, was to preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution and Government established by the Revolutionary Fathers. In the faithful discharge of these duties, he was suddenly struck down by an assassin. The blow struck not the President alone; it reached in its rebound the popular heart of America. The shot meant the annihilation of delegated power, and as such reached the fountains of popular vitality.

"The people, in the exercise of their inherent sovereignty, may elect, but if it does not suit he shall not live says the shot of the assassin. Such assassinations are extremely dangerous to liberty and constitutional government. If the will of the majority is defeated in this manner, popular government will not long survive. Anarchy, bloodshed and general civil war will succeed the rebound of the popular heart. The popular frenzy which developed itself in mobs in many sections of our country, on the reception of the tidings of Lincoln's death, is but the logical sequence of the assassin's stroke at civil liberty and popular rights. Then it behooves every well-wisher of his country, on such mournful occasions, to give emphasis and intensity to the nation's woe. For, mark you, fellow-citizens, there is a smothered volcano of wrath and vengeance in the great popular heart upon such occasions. A word may vent it, and fill all this fair land with the lava of blood and ashes.