gland has to carry to the same markets over an
adventurous course of three times the distance, with the great demand for
grain among the rice-eating countries of the East--the mind can not map
the possibilities of this port city for the next hundred years or more.
The prophecy of its enterprising citizens, that it will one day be one of
the great cities in the world, is not unlikely to be realized; and it is
interesting to ask what was the history of the chief who gave the name to
this new Troy of the Puget Sea.

He was at this time somewhat advanced in life, a portly man, of benevolent
face, recalling the picture of Senator Benton, of Missouri, whom he was
said to resemble. He was the chief of the Dwamishes, a small tribe
inhabiting the territory around what is now Elliott Bay. He became a
friend of Dr. Maynard, one of the pioneers of the new town, and of General
Stevens, the great Territorial Governor. He was well known to Foster,
Denny, Bell, and Borden, who took claims where the city now stands. His
last years were passed at Port Madison, where he died in 1866, at a great
age.

Governor Stevens confirmed his sachemship, and Seattle became the
protector and the good genius of the town. A curious legend, which seems
to be well founded, is related of a tax which Seattle levied upon the new
town, for the sake of the trouble that the name would give him in the
spiritual world. When a Dwamish Indian lost a near relative of the same
name by death, he changed his own name, because the name might attract the
ghost of the deceased, and so cause him to be haunted. The tribe believed
that departed spirits loved their old habitations, and the associations of
their names and deeds, and so they changed their names and places on the
death of relatives, that they might not be disturbed by ghostly
apparitions.

"Why do you ask for a tax?" asked a pioneer of Seattle.

"The name of the town will call me back after I am dead, and make me
unhappy. I want my pay for what I shall suffer then, now."

I hope that the rapid growth of the great city of the North does not
disquiet the gentle and benevolent soul of Seattle. The city should raise
a monument to him, that he may see that he is kindly remembered when he
comes back to visit the associations of his name and life. Or, better for
his shade, the city should kindly care for his daughter, poor old Angeline
Seattle, who at the time of this writing (1890) is a beggar in the streets
of u