18 



THE IRBIGATION AGE. 



The resourceful political dabbler, bringing into service 

 all those famed powers of turning seeming rout into posi- 

 tive triumph, bent his six feet plus to the apple and, taking 

 it in his hands, bowed generally to the big audience as he 

 took his seat and proceeded to break it in two for grateful 

 mastication. 



But William was destined to be disappointed. The 

 apple was too big and firm and his hands too weak. The 

 best he could do was to smear his fingers with its juice! 



THE PETTICOAT BOSS. 



The El Paso delegation was distinctively in its effer- 

 vescent, joviality; its absolute lack of an axe to grind; its 

 privately-owned brass band and sleeping cars, and its 

 ability and inclination to create a shortage in the visible 

 supply of Albuquerque's good thing. The El Paso delega- 

 tion came for fun. The Pueblo crowd was as distinctive 

 with their big white badges; their page advertisements 

 reciting in wondrous language the beauties of their town, 

 and their soul-stirring ambition to become the seat of 

 next year's congress. Pueblo came for business. 



It remained for California to present as diversified a 

 purposeful delegation as ever (dis)graced a convention. 

 There were Symmes and Loveland, the magnetic San 



tion her name. Suffice it to say she came from San Fran- 

 cisco determined to run the doing of her state in the 

 congress, no matter who would say her nay. 



The first morning of the first day, the congress learned 

 from the secretary, as he read the several notices, that 

 "the California delegation will meet in the Resolutions 

 Committee room immediately following the morning ses- 

 sion. By order of Mrs. ." 



There's no telling what might not have happened 

 following this bold announcement by the lady, who shall 

 . remain unnamed had an El Paso delegate not grinned 

 sarcastically. That grin settled it. California would show 

 those Texans she was no region of serfdom to females 

 with, strong minds. 



Accordingly the California delegation did not meet in 

 the Resolutions Committee room that day and when it 

 came time to elect the honorary vice-president of the 



delegation, Mrs. saw [to her intense disgust and 



vexation, not to say anger] Mrs. John Fairweather, who 

 had played the part of pleased spectator rather than self- 

 seeking politician, fairly hurled into the office. 



California, or, more properly, that small portion of it 

 represented at Albuquerque, thus registered itself against 

 woman's suffrage. 



Franciscans whose minds were filled not half so much with 

 irrigation as how best to induce the greatest number of 

 delegates to return with them to the City of the Golden 

 Gate and lend eclat [whatever that is] to the sessions of 

 the Trans-Mississippi Commercial Congress. There was 

 Jastro, he who heads that mighty body known as the 

 American National Livestock Association. He left Bak- 

 ersfield and his huge interests to advise the farmers that 

 the stockmen here agreed to quit censuring Gifford 

 Pinchot. Jastro came to make peace. There were "Al" 

 Hechtman and "Jim" Bishop, who acted all the time as if 

 they thought the congress was a Bohemian Club, "Jinks" 

 and the red upholstered room in the Alyarado the only 

 worth-while center of interest to good irrigationists in all 

 Albuquerque. Al and Jim came to enjoy themselves and 

 spur the El Paso outfit to greater exertions. There were 

 Beard of Sacramento and Mendenhall of Los Angeles 

 very serious gentlemen [who drank not, neither did they 

 smoke]' who came to do things. There was a real astrono- 

 mer writing for the Hearst papers and wearing a Califor- 

 nia delegate's badge. There were the Inyo county trio, 

 headed by the uncompromising, fighting editor, Chalfant 

 with a grievance against the Reclamation Service that 

 will worry many a government official before they're done, 

 if appearances count for anything. 



Verily California brought a varied crowd. 



But the worst has not been told. 



California produced the woman who thought she 

 could boss her delegation. It would be unkind to men- 



Inlet Canal, New Mexico. 



"THE JUDGE" AND THE BAD BILL. 



Coin collectors, attention! Judge J. F. Hechtman, of 

 Globe, Ariz., who met his cousin, "Al," of San Francisco, 

 for the first time in thirty-five years over the spacious, 

 round-topped table in that red-upholstered room of the 

 Alvarado, is the proud possessor of a twenty-dollar bank 

 note which theoretically is valueless and practically is 

 without doubt almost as rare a specimen of national cur- 

 rency as the "Judge's" big Gila monster badge, the one 

 and only banner of its kind at the congress. 



The Judge had been trying in vain to foot one of the 

 dozen bills for as many rounds of drinks which had been 

 served to the happy little throng surrounding the table. 

 "Cousin Albert" had each time forestalled his relative's 

 attempt by reaching the grinning bar boy, Frank, a few 

 seconds more quickly. But at last the Judge's opportunity 

 came and he slid the twenty-dollar bill across the table 

 and insisted that he be permitted to buy at least once. 



One of the crowd picked up the bill casually to in- 

 spect it. Paper money is at best unusual in this southwest 

 country. It was issued by a national bank of Winchester, 

 Ky., and was obviously government-printed. But, wonder 

 of wonders, it was lacking the signatures of the cashier 

 and president! 



When the Judge's attention was called to the omission 

 he silently received the startling news. Then, without 

 comment, he laboriously and without so much as by your 

 leave untied his shoe; removed it, and depositing the queer 

 bank note in the sole, calmly laced up the boot aerain. 



