The Hawaiian star. [volume] (Honolulu [Oahu]) 1893-1912, 1909-10-16
BY Il. NJ. AYREs.

Every now and again in the dreary
desert of magazine reading matter one
comes across an oasis in the shape of
a short story that is a short story. Not
a mess of drivellng sentimentalijy, nor
a super-strained effort at funnine-s,
but Just a plain tale of human nature,
cunnlngly told, and with its loca. color
applied with an artists brLsl tom
genius own palate.
Such story appeared in recent is
sue of the Saturday Evening Post from
the pen of James Hopper entitled The
Ending of Gotham" 1t is a tale Of
the mining fever and the scene is lad
in the desert which lies gasp.ng at the
foot of the Funeral Range.
The concluding paragraphs are APP
pended and they give a very fair idea
of the literary style of the story. They
are as follows:
"Old man Delaney did not go to Los
Angeles that time-for obvious rea-
sons. He did manage, however, to
raise enough money to get his wagon
and three of his black mules back, and
! to buy a new one And now he teams
water to Poison Spring, the new camp
which mushroom-llke has sprung up
few miles from the debris of Gotham
1T is much the same work as 1t
used to be, and he follows the same
road. Every ten days he leaves Fur
mace Greek with his full barrels; for
three days, swaying on his high seat,
beneath the torrential sun, he inches
along the face of the desert, a dot IN
the white whirl shuffled by his four
black mules, till on the third evening.
after making two dry camps, he climbs
the basalt into Poison Spring, and pulls
up there in the dusk, between the
tents.
But each time, as l have noted, on
the morning of the third day, each
time at the same place, he whoas his
mules, sets the brake, and fills and
lights his pipe.
Before him spreads the plain, in an
immense and binding sweep; in the
distance the Funeral Range lies paint
ed and yelled. His eyes travel slow
w across the plain, slowly, and YET
with assurance, as if following a trail
a track, some invisible or obliterateo
tracery. They rest finally upon the
Range and ask 1t a question.
For it is here that two years age
his old blue eyes wistfully saw streak
ing away from him, across the desert
the footsteps of his friends of Gotham
And it is toward the Range of the
black name, so beautiful in the dis
lance, that following misunderstanding
hat?-the toiling footsteps made
And from the Range they never return
ed; Olsen, Pete, Father-and-Son, ant
College Boy have never returned"
1t is a story that everyone SHOULD
read and which may easily become
classic 1t is in the same vein ant
on the same level of art as Bret Hartei
when Santa Claus Came to Sand,
Bar" 1.-THE Outcasts of Poker Flat
and 1.-THE Luck of Roaring Camp"
\Vritiu Nort stories reminds III
that join = Wilson, well re
membered in Honolulu, has written hi
way into the foremost rank of Ameri
can story-tellers and that his work
being eagerly sought after by the pub
fishers of the leading mainland maya
zines.
Many of wilson's stories are or
Hawaiian nature and the scenes an
characters can often be plainly recog
nized He was here hardly lon
enough to become acquainted, yet dur
ing his stay he absorbed local colo
and atmosphere to remarkable degre
and he introduces both into his storie
with a masters touch and with charm
ing effect
Wilson was for a time employed a