The St. Charles herald. [volume] (Hahnville, La.) 1873-1993, 1919-10-25

A less through salt marshes, al
IN low tide quite deep in its
muddy bed; salty, weedy
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
scutt!e of founders upon the bottom ;
drifting moons of stray medusae lumi-
woodland setting in northern British
Columbia, says q 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 hcarse "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
faven-like shadow the distant noun
tain side. At the base of the irregu-
lariy standing timber, spared Of log
gers, an impenetrable thicBet of sallal,
salmon and button berry, blackberry
bramble and whortle berry, under a
taller growth of alder, willow and pop
lar, together mack a tangle of fallen
trunks and upturned roots, amid which
the epilobium, the fireweed of the Pa
cific coast, overtops mans head, a
spire of vibrant pinkly purple fame.
At the forks of the creek. wide
eaved bunk house, it's foundation posts
lifting its floor well above the damp
ness Of the marsh, stands upon a bit
Of ground where solid sell, 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
fitness to its place. Smaller shacks
near, in color and size, match piles Of
cordwood near the water; awaiting
scow, favoring high tide, and trans
portation across the water to the city.
The Ever-Welcome "chow."
A scrap of straw mating and mo-
mentary glimpse of a short and sturdy
figure, round and black of head, the
bronze skin in quiet contrast with blue
overalIs, showed it to be japanese
camp. The sun was high
md 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
h9rbor 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 1inger 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 rear
door letting In breeze and sunshine
VAS combined kitchen, dining room,
md place OF assembly. About six per
sons, on either side Of . three-plank
lable covered with oilcloth. looked
curiously and courteously at the
stranger as he stepped within. The
rock poising loaded dishes on either
land, nodded and smiled the inscruta.
be japanese smile. The mention Of
'chow" brought cheerful grin to
khree or four faces 1t once. and well
coming indication Of q seat at the end
r the table. as the three on that side
Aunched along to make place deftly
Ihifting food with them. In 10 sec
snds more with a grave courtesy
WAS placed before the guest the usual
bood, each portion In a blue-and-white !
bowl; to him WIS apportioned sep
lrate teapot ari a handleless cup,
10Th Of palegreta seki-ware.
Art IN Noodmen's Camp.
The artist ate and conversed. Such
Z these woodcutters as spoke English
land they nearly all did,, spoke in
carefulness. out Of which at
intervals cropped q @Chinook" word or
phrase Of thi9 coast as bold amid
he careful English as single dark
edar In green meadow. Looking
bout the guest noted a print on the
Junk house wall. He got up and
s.skAd ar~nSs ~ SsAt hAssA~ ..'0v !