NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
DO YOU WANT CLEAN COAL that can be depended upon 
to always run uniform? 
Do YOU want delivery in eanvas bags by 
AUTO TRUCK? 
Is your home in Beverly, Beverly Farms, Wenham, Hamilton, Essex, 
Manchester, or Magnolia? 
Sprague, 
Tel. 280. 
Reverse the charge. 
Then send your erders to 
Breed & Brown Co. 
Beverly, Mass. 
Poultry and Game 
Eggs and Butter 
Fruit and Berries 
The Best Quality 
BREWER’S 
WALTER P. BREWER, Prop. 
Meats and Provisions 
Orders will be 
Morning 
Beverly Farms 
MARKET 
Collected Every 
and Promptly Filled. 
Mass. 
JAMES B. DOW 
Gardener and Florist 
Roses, Herbaceous and Budding Plants 
Cut Flowers and Greenhouse Products 
Decoartions and Funeral Work. 
Beverly Farms 
for 
Hale Street 
J. B. Dow John H. Cheever 
JAS. B. DOW & 0O 
Coal and Wood 
We are now prepared to deliver 
coal at short notice to all parts of 
Manchester and Beverly Farms. 
Beach Street Hale Street 
Manchester Beverly Farms 
(Continued from page 23). 
It is called the white house because 
about half of it is painted white—was 
painted thousands of years ago—and 
it has never faded. It was like the 
former ruin only on so much a big- 
ger plan. It was one great house, 
laid up with walls of masonary. There 
didn’t seem to be much of a plan to 
it, only that one after another of the 
little brown men of the early days 
had bought a lot and added to it— 
had got a bunch of stones and laid 
them up against the main pile. Many 
of the walls had crumbled and fallen. 
At the bottom of the cliff was a great 
heap of debris, but I could plainly 
see, far below the crumbling ruins 
what I knew (and what I later had 
verified) was a kiva entrance, and I 
knew that once there must have been 
lower ruins, now crumbled and wash- 
ed away. 
My main ambition on this trip was 
to see this ruin, one of the most fa- 
mous in the world, and I supposed I 
could explore it and climb through 
the ancient rooms as I had done at 
Puy’s. But I was bitterly  disap- 
pointed. There was no possible way 
with our outfit, to get into a single 
room or even the first gate. The only 
possible way to that ruin would have 
been with the aid of a party which 
have gone up the Canyon on_ the 
mesa, there fastened ropes, let them 
down to the bottom, and then go up 
hand over hand. The walls are ab- 
solutely perpendicular and there is 
not a niche or foothold. There was 
absolutely nothing to do but sit there 
in the hot sand and look up at the 
strangest ruins, built in the strangest 
place, by the strangest people—won- 
der who they were, where they came 
trom and where they went to, and 
above all to wonder why they should 
have chosen such a location, when on 
the mesa above were so many more 
valuable village sites that could have 
been had at the same price. But the 
only answer I got was the croak of a 
big black raven up above the cliff vil- 
lage—and I could not understand 
him any more than I could the In- 
dian. 
I waded the pony through the wa- 
ter to the foot of the cliff, dismount- 
ed, hunted a shady place under a 
rock and sat down to stow away in’ 
my mind all I could of that ruin, for 
I knew full well I should probably 
never see it again. But the Indian 
grunted again and pointed to the wa- 
ter. I thought he was asking me if 
I wanted a drink and I shook my 
head. But he kept on with his sig- 
nals until I thought I saw the sign of 
distress and began to take notice. He 
pointed up the canyon, to the sky and 
again to the water, when it dawned 
on me that the water was rising and 
that the Indian wanted to drag it. 
Then up the canyon came a bunch 
of Indians, twenty or more of them, 
and they were riding their ponies at 
a full run. Then I knew we should 
worry, and we started the ponies 
down the canyon. The rainfall far up 
the canyon was coming down the big 
ditch, and how much of it might 
come and how soon it might come 
drove all thoughts of cliff dwellers 
cut of my mind.: I stood in the stir 
rups, held on before and behind on 
the saddle and let the horse pick his _ 
own way. 
And what added to the play was 
the frightful yells of the Indians. 
The canyon echos and re-echos the 
slightest noise and these fellows just 
cut loose on the old Indian war — 
hoops. Whether they did it for fun 
or to scare the white man I don’t 
know but they kept it up for miles. 
We were wading knee deep before 
we came to the mouth of the canyon, 
but had no mishaps. The danger, so 
I was told later, was in the quicksand 
pockets, when covered with water 
they are dangerous. ; 
These ruins at Chin Lee are the 
finest of their kind in the United 
States, but are so located that but 
few ever visit them. I had hoped to 
have climber into these ruins, to have 
examined them in detail and to have 
seen how these strange people lived, 
but I did not know what they were 
like; I did not know that rains might — 
come down nor what obstacles wer 
ahead. : 
The next morning the water was © 
hip-deep up the canyon and there was 
no use to wait. So we started back 
for the railroad, and my knowledge 
of the Canyon de Chelley Cliff dwell- 
ers is a photograph in memory of a 
strange communial dwelling, built 
out of stones way up on the cliff side. 
BEVERLY FARMS 
Harold Blanchard, the popular ton- 
sorial artist, concludes his season’s 
engagement at the Peter Gaudreau 
shop, Central square, tomorrow even- 
ing. He plans to take a vacation next 
week. He is going to New York city — 
and will take in some of the world’s — 
series games, 
When my epitaph is writ 
(There need be no rush about it) 
Say of me I had the grit 
Not to bow to style, but flout it; 
Then just add in proof of that, 
That my ‘‘coco” never bore a 
Fall ’11 Pancake Hat 
Or a Pussy Cat Fedora. 
