YUMA TO BLYTHE 335 



note of weariness, as of a land long since drained of 

 life, and left wan, blasted, and forsaken. 



It was near sundown when we returned to the 

 ferry. Hard by is the old town of Ehrenberg, whose 

 founder one might fancy to have foretold by his 

 lonely and tragic death the fate of the place that 

 took his name. Here, however, there was at least a 

 skeleton left — a dozen or so adobe houses, all but 

 one or two wrecked and deserted, gaping open to 

 the sky. In the largest habitable building Ehren- 

 berg's one and only citizen solemnly keeps store all 

 by himself. Until a year or so ago, two saloon-keepers 

 competed with him for the business of the place, or 

 rather, of the rare passing traveller and the festal 

 topers of Blythe who were driven by county prohibi- 

 tion laws to cross the river for their harmless little 

 lagers and cocktails. Then the incredible happened: 

 Arizona itself "went dry," and the priests of the 

 flowing bowl and dirty apron sadly closed their 

 temples and fared forth into a world suddenly be- 

 come virtuous and unprofitable. 



Ehrenberg is probably the only case extant of a 

 town with but a single inhabitant; almost certainly 

 the only instance of such a place keeping a store go- 

 ing. We have read of that doubtful island where the 

 people "eked out a precarious livelihood by taking 

 in one another's washing." Here, though, is an au- 

 thentic case of a person making a living off himself. 

 This I judge to be unique, and would suggest that 

 some political economist go and interview him and 

 find out how it is done. 



I would have done this myself, but at the moment 



