The labor world. [volume] (Duluth, Minn.) 1896-current, 1897-12-25
UNDER THE
SOUTHERN CROSS.

It was about 4 O'Clock on Christmas
eve and business was over as closed
my desk and rose with a weary yawn.
There was little in my surroundings to
remind me of the day, no frost on the
windows, no snow on the ground out
side and no sharp bracing cold in the
air. The windows were as wide open as
they could be, and the steady swinging
of the ''punkah" overhead was all that
kept the room from being stihingly hot
and close, for the Office was situated
somewhere about latitude IA north, in
the faraway Philippine islands, where
the great, beautiful flowers nave no per-
fume and the wonderful birds never
sing, where the southern cross glitters
over the land at night and the great
dipper is upside down and the sun sets
within two minutes Of a quarter after 6
all the year around. z~,..'
So I had before me about two hours
and half of daylight, and was try
ing to decide whether to utilize it by
riding out to the tennis club and hav-
ing afternoon tea, or walking to the
park to hear the band play and see the
Spanish dignitariea The native clerks
in the outer: room had busted up. and
now came gliding in with bare, splay
toed feet, like black headed ghosts in
their white clothes, to bid me "buenas
noches" and a happy Christmas, and in
cidentally to receive each his holiday
gift Of one or perhaps five big silver dol
lars, according to his station, from Jose,
the half breed chief clerk, who on the
strength of his dignity and Of his speak
ing little English kept his shirt tuck
ed inside his trousers and wore embroid-
cred sandals, down to little Nito, the
errand boy, hardly more than a savage
Of the wilderness They had the
"Christmas feeling" anyway, and asso-
ciated it with the mercury's ranging
from 80 to 105 degrees, as we New Eng
landers do it's rambling from zero to
freezing. "
The last "muchas gracias, senior, ="
had been said, and the last clerk glided
out, and the gray headed old "punkah
cooly'' was stealthily watching to see
me take up my jacket, the signal for
his departure, when the tramping Of
unmistakable and evidently stout hoots
sounded without, and with prodigious
crash of the screen door there entered
into my sanctum stalwart Captain Hale
of the good ship Monhegan, arrayed in
snowy linen and crowned with broad
pith helmet, accompanied by stout and
jolly Mrs. Hale, carrying a big basket
and a brown gingham umbrella, with
her cheerful face beaming from the
depths of a real old fashioned sunbonnet.
"Good evening, sir,'' they both call
ed out, and Mrs Hale added: "Wish
you a merry Christmas, Mr.: B. Ny,
amt it hot!" subsiding into the bam-
boo chair which I had placed for her
under the punkah, with a "pica, hon.
bre' Easter, many, to old Pedro, the
cody, who redoubled his efforts with a
disappearing grunt.
Good gracious, Mr.. b." exclaimed
Mrs. Hale, "don't, for PHYS sake, make
that poor old feller work SO this hot day
on my count. Stop it, . shaking her um-
brella vigorously at fedrO, VINO IOOK
this for signal to go faster still, and
the big fan Tapping madly back and
forth till called, "Despacio" (gently).
The Monhegan had been in the bay
for a month past under charter to me
for Boston, and was now cleared and
ready to sail the next day. l had spent
many pleasant hour on board with the
captain aud his wife, rejoicing in the
homelike feeling it gave me to hear
their good old Yankee forms Of speech.
The very sight Of their healthy faces,
browneI by the sun in many seas, did
.ne good in my weary exile, and their
presence seemed to diffuse an atmos-
phere Of the breezy pines and wind
swept shores Of Maine. And how good
their primitive. shipboard food was aft.