File:Western field (1905) (14592305619).jpg

Identifier: westernfield61905olym (find matches)
Title: Western field
Year: 1902 (1900s)
Authors: Olympic Club (San Francisco, Calif.) California Game and Fish Protective Associations
Subjects: Olympic Club (San Francisco, Calif.) California Game and Fish Protectice Associations Sports
Publisher: San Francisco
Contributing Library: San Francisco Public Library
Digitizing Sponsor: San Francisco Public Library

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THK authors first AND LASTâELEPHANT. heardâthe cry of an elephant in mortal painand terror. It seemed to come from the di-rection of the plantain clearing, and thither-ward I cautiously bent my trembling steps,hoping, yet dreading, to see what I expectedâthe wounded elephant at my mercy. I shall never forget what I saw in thatclearing! There, brushing his trunk pit-eously over his bloody face and swayingslightly from side to side, stood the poor, stroying my aim. Then, in desperation, un-able to stand it any longer, I walked reck-lessly up to within arms reach of him andput a bullet into the orifice of his ear, upthrough his brain. He fell with the noise ofa falling building, quivered a few secondsand lay still. Then I hid my face for a season and bit-terly cursed the wondering Portuguese whenhe came shouting his congratulations. THE PACIFIC COAST MAGAZINE 181
Text Appearing After Image:
SUNSET ATSISKIYOU OER whitened peak and wooded vastnessgrim,The gliding glow of sunset spreads afar,And in the depths of canons, low and dim,The barren cliff frowns upward, like ascarUpon the snowy bosom of the sceneâ Grown livid, now, as from the crystalheightPrismatic peaks reflect their gorgeous sheen,Bathing the depths in red and gold, asNightAdvances further on her war-like quest.The Day, unconquered, hurls his lancesbrightFrom red entrenchments in the fading West,And now the world is steeped in aerialblood,And Sol, half-baffled, hurries from the field,As Days fair ichor courses in a floodOer hill and wood. The Day is made toyield.His lances fall no longer. One by oneThe hosts of Night advance upon the sky;The Day has flown; the gleaming, red-wet SunLike some defeated monarch seems to die,And Cynthia, stern, cold, haughty andserene.Commands her astral armyâgazing, now,In proud review, as some triumphantQueenWho feels the crown more flrmly on her brow.The Nightâdark Night!â

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