The herald. [volume] (New Orleans, La.) 1905-1953, 1919-09-04

muddy Dtu, salty, WeeuN,
Slightly smoky, cedary, and piney
smell upon the air; windows of kelp
and other weedy drift upon the slith-
ering slope of bank; squirt of clans,
in every fairly fiat place, and ripping
scuttle Of founders upon the bottom;
drifting moons of stray meduSae lumi-
nous In the water-there Is a typical
woodland setting in northern British
Columbia, says writer in the Chris
| tian Science Monitor. The crow is
ubiquitous, not unlike a raven; beloved
he is of totemic designers and carvers,
from TillamOOk up to Nome. calling
his hoarse "caw" from the shadows Of
some disheveled cedar.
On the high water mark of spring
tides, ragged cedar and pessimistic-
| looking hemlOck In silhouette against
the sunny blue. purple-courses with
| raven-like shadow the distant noun
| tain side. At the base of the irregu-
larry standing timber, spared of log
gers, an impenetrable thicket of sallal,
salmon and button berry, blackberry
bramble and whOrtle berry, under a
| taller growth of alder, willow and pop
lar, together mask a tangle of fallen
| trunks and upturned roots, amid which
the epilobium. the fireweed of the Pa
| cific coast, OvertOps a mans head, a
spire of vibrant pinkly purple flame.
| At the forks of the creek, wide
| h,rn &c =
| lifting its floor well above the damp
ness Of the marsh, stands upon bit
| Of ground where solid soil, washed
down from the heights, supports rank
grass. Rapidly built throughout of
| cedar, walls and roofs of split cedar
shakes, in weathered redness it has a
| fitness to its place. Smaller Shacks
near, I'm color and size, match piles Of
| cordwood near the water: awaiting a
scow, a favoring high tide, and trans
portatiOn across the water to the city.
The Ever-WeIcome "chow."
scrap of straw mating and mo-
mentary glimpse Of short and sturdy
figure, round and black of head, the
bronze skin In quiet contrast with blue
Overalls. showed 1t to be japanese
wOodcutters' camp. The sun was high
and the shadows short by the time the
sketch was finished. An eruption from
the woods and cordwOOd piles toward
the bunk-house suggested possible re-
freshment, even If the calling Of the
dish-pan, banged with stick Of fire
wood at the door, did not. There was
too much good sketching about for
the artist to want to return across the
harbOr for such an incOnsequential
thing as lunch, which, however, would
quite likely suggest its lack some time
between then and the shutdown he
knew he would linger for. So, port
folio under arm, he strolled to the
bunk house.
Within, on either side, were two
TERED hunks against the walls, stop
ping short Of the further end, which,
stove beneath the end windOw-a rear
door letting in breeze and sunshine
was combined kitchen, dining room,
and place of assembly. About six per-
sons, on either side of three-plank
table covered with oilcloth, looked
curiously and courteously at the
stranger as he stepped within. The
cook poising loaded dishes on either
hand, nodded and smiled the inscruta-
BILE japanese smile. The mention of
"chow" brought cheerful grin to
three or four faces at once, and well
coming indication Of seat at the end
Of the table, as the three on that side
hunched along to make a place-deftly
shifting food with them. In 10 sec
onds more-with grave courtesy
was placed before the guest the usual
food, each portion In a blue-and-white
bowl; to him was appOrtioned sep
arate teapot and a handleless cup,
both of palegreen seki-ware.
Art In a Woodmen's Camp.
The artist ate and conversed. Such
Of these woodcutters as spoke English
(and they nearly all did, spoke in
measured carefulness, out Of which at
intervals cropped Chinook" word or
a phrase Of this coast as bold amid
the careful English as a single dark
cedar in a green meadow. Looking
about the guest noted a print on the
bunk house wall. He got up and
walked across to get better view.