"Autobiographical: 
     Herbert De La Haye Miles was born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, on December 13, 1866, in the fine old house still existing (1933) at the corner of Martin and Marshall streets, built by his parents, Frederick Billing Miles, and Ella Victoria Smith Miles.  Next door on Marshall street dwelt his mother's sister, Mrs. Benjamin K. Miller, wife of a distinguished lawyer.
     His mother was born and spent her youth in Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada.  Her parents were leaders in their community, her father the head of the wholesale drug house of W. O. Smith and Company and many times Mayor of the City, and grandson of Nathan Smith, a surgeon in the British Army, who established the business in colonial times, about 1790.  It is through her mother, Eliza Chipman, that Herbert Miles comes into his line of the Mayflower Descendants.  Her grandmother was Sally Miles of Cornwallis, Nova Scotia, and Sunbury, N. B.
     His father's mother was born Eliza Delahoy, of London, England.  Her family, French Hugenots [sic], had settled in England after the Massacre of Saint Bartholomew 300 years previously,

"Brief Outline of Mayflower Ancestry: 
John Howland - John Chipman - To H. D. M.

Elizabeth Chipman (born Cornwallis, Nova Scotia, 1809) is Grandmother of H. D. M., and is great grandaughter [sic] of Handley Chipman, the founder of our line in Nova Scotia.

Handley's father, the second John Chipman, (born in Barnstable, Cape Cod, 1670) is the Grandson of John Howland and Elizabeth Tilley, both of the "Mayflower".  He moved in 1727 to Newport, from Cape Cod and Martha's Vineyard.  There he was a Judge and advisor to the Governor.

Handley Chipman (born 1717, Sandwich, Cape Cod) is Grandson of Hope Howland and the first John Chipman.  After becoming a ship-owner and member of the Legislature, he lost his fortune due to the French-Indian war, and in 1762 removed with his family to the land of Evangeline, Nova Scotia (Acadia) where he was given 1000 acres by the British Government, on the Basin of Minas.

Handley's son, the third John Chipman, (born Newport, 1744) was also given 500 acres there, and became a Judge, as was Handley.  He was father of Daniel Chipman, who was father of my Grandmother, Elizabeth.  The acreage is close to the present city of Kentville, at Chipman Corners; and there Handley is buried.

H.D.M.

"and the name had become anglicised [sic] from the old family of de la Haye.  Her own mother's name was Elizabeth Omer, whose family, also French Hugenots [sic], went to England at the same time as the de la Hayes.  In the possession of Herbert Miles is the desk given to Elizabeth Omer in 1760.
Eliza Delahoy married William Billing in London, and widowed very young, married Rev. Frederick Miles, also in London.  They went to Frederickton, the capital of New Brunswick, Canada, where he was president of the fine old colonial University.

THE MILES LINE

Judge Richard Miles, of the New Haven Colony, came to Connecticut in 1637.  He was born 1587, in England.

Judge Richard Miles                             Katherine Constable
1587     1666                                      1592      1687

Samuel Miles                                        Hannah Wilmot
1640     1678                                       1645    1692

Stephen Miles                                       Patience Wheeler
1674     1716                                       1679     17__

Justus Miles                                          Hannah Olmstead      
1711    1795                                        1713     1796

*Elijah Miles*                                       Frances Cornell   
1753     1831                                       1758     1799

*Father of Rev. Fredk Miles, above; and of Sally Miles, H. D. M.'s Great-grandmother."

"DATA AS TO BILLING - OMER - DELAHAYE FAMILIES

Newington, Oxfordshire, England Church Register gives the Billing family to 1572.  William Billing, born 1788, at Great Hasely, England, died at sea, 1834, after his second marriage, to my Grandmother Elizabeth Delahaye in London.  The following is an extract from letter of her sister Lydia to me, 1897:
'When your grandmother married old William Billing she was only about 22, and the alliance was a most unsuitable one and against the will and approval of her mother.  He was a widower with seven children.  He was ordered to sea for his health, leaving your grandmother with your father a babe of a few months.  She returned, from his large place in Bledlow, to her mother, and remained in her home for about six years when she married Mr. Miles, President of the Theological College at Fredrickton, New Brunswick, Canada.  He died after about two years; and after a short widowhood she married Dr. Cushman, a clergyman of Bunker Hill, Boston; a severe man, who was never liked by the boy Frederick, your father.'
James Olivant Delahaye was a Publisher and Bookseller of London.  His son, J. E. D. Jr, married Elizabeth Omer, daughter of John Omer, Publisher, born 1758, son of Roger Omer of Deptford, Kent.  Their eldest daughter, was Elizabeth Delahaye, my grandmother.

H. D. M.

"William Howe Smith                      Sally Miles*
1777     1822                                 1782     1862

William Odber [sic] Smith               Eliza Chipman
1804     1871                                 1808     1856

Ella Victoria Smith                          Frederick B. Miles
1839     1904                                 1833     1891

*Sister of Rev. Fredk Miles who married Eliza Delahaye Billing

HERBERT DE LA HAYE MILES spent his babyhood in Milwauke, his early boyhood in Saint John, New Brunswick, and later boyhood in Toronto, Canada.  When he was fourteen his family moved to Chicago, Illinois, where his father became at once a leading official in the great firm of Armour, thus rejoining the merchant with whom, as a young man, he had been associated in the grain elevator business in Milwaukee, - the firm of Miles and Armour.  At the age of 19, Herbert Miles went to New York City to enter the employ of his brother William, who was a member of the New York Stock Exchange, thus ending that education which schools were to give him.  There he served an interesting apprenticeship, as assistant cashier of the firm of Gillett and Miles, for two years.  Then the firm was dissolved by mutual consent.  The dissolution was due to their too-early championing of the Telephone,"

 "GILLETT & MILES
BANKERS AND BROKERS,
42 Broadway & 51 New Street,
P. O. Box, 2459,
New York."

"in its Long-distance phase, and to their misfortune in being private brokers for the celebrated Jay Gould, a financial Pirate.  Herbert Miles never forgot his interesting early experiences in daily contacts with the great Stock Exchange and his frequent meetings with Jay Gould, Cyrus W. Field, who was the father of the Atlantic Cable, George Gould, and other great financiers of the period.
     With the ending of this experience, he looked around for another Wall Street connection, and had secured a promising one when he received a telegram offering a position with the Armour firm in Chicago.  Homesickness was the deciding factor, and he accepted this, cancelling the other.  At the age of 21 therefore, he journeyed to Chicago.  On the way, he got off the train at Washington to send a telegram, and in his inexperience was left at the station stranded.  This accident held much of delight for him, as he proceeded while waiting 24 hours for the next train, to call at the White House where he shook hands with President Grover Cleveland; and afterwards, to his great amusement and doubtless to the amusement of the officials, who were most considerate, he saw, as 'a Wall Street man,'"

"the operations of the Treasury, in all its branches.
     From that time, until his marriage nine years later, to Delia Hulburd Gallup, of an old Chicago family, he climbed the ladder of success in the Armour firm, although he never felt quite at home in that line of endeavor.  He achieved the distinction of being the youngest manager of a great Department of the firm, ever to be so appointed, having  thousands of men under him, at the age of twenty five.  He remained there until 1910, but after the death of the elder Armour in 1901 he never felt that the policies of the firm (then the greatest business in the world) were such as to keep him in fullest sympathy.

     To him and his much loved wife were born four children, all at their home at #309 East 53rd street, Hyde Park, in Chicago, between 1898 and 1906, - Edward, Marjorie, Eleanore, and Hulburd.  In the Spring of 1907 the family moved to Kenilworth, a North Shore suburb of Chicago, to a very delightful home purchased by him from his savings.  There they were happy, and made some lasting friendships.  In June, 1913, they moved to the"

"beautiful city of Asheville, North Carolina, because of the necessity of Delia Gallup Miles for a milder climate of higher altitude; she having developed a trouble resulting in a permanent bronchitis.  There, after a year's trial residence on Victoria Road, they decided to build their home, and purchased land in Albemarle Park, on the North side of the city.  This home, 'Breezemont' is a delightful place set in naturally picturesque grounds and having superb views of the city below and the great mountains to the West.  At this writing, in 1933, they are settled there, with the two youngest children unmarried, and the others married and settled elsewhere.
     Apart from the facts given up to this, the life of Herbert de la Haye Miles is not very distinguished, but is nevertheless full of incident not altogether common to every citizen.  The high lights of his life might be set down as follows:
1.  His meeting and experiences, in early business life in New York, with historic personages o the old Wall Street school.
2.  The influence of a saintly mother and a ..."

"You will make a good + successful man.  You can study + improve yourself out of office hours -- + I advise you to learn French and to cultivate your [?] for [?].  You are a good boy naturally + you have got a better chance now than smart boys have for a start in the world + it all depends on yourself + your own good sense in improving your opportunities.  Let me hear from you often, I shall be very[?] glad to, + we must depend on you for the news as Willie is so busy.  I am doing my will, just sent getting [?] better [?] nervousness[?].  I hang your circular up in my office as an art[?] for you.  Love to Willie -- I will write to him soon. --
Your afft. Father F.B. Miles"

"Vanderbilt Hotel; in 1930-31, he initiated the movement to have Congress grant to Asheville the "Post Office Park" adjoining the Miles Building, and with help from George Stephens and our representatives in Washington, finally got it through successfully, in spite of heavy opposition from the Treasury and the natural lack of interest in congressional circles.

     In retrospect, Herbert de la Haye Miles looks back upon his life -- as most men do -- as full of errors and of opportunities lost, both material and spiritual.  He will say at the end, as did Cecil Rhodes of Africa "So little done; so much to do".  He has had his small successes, and his for the most part deserved, disappointments.  He has lived to be involved in this year of 1933, in the world struggle socially and economically, which may level many things, and which he hopes is all for the best.  He is blessed with a good wife, descending into the shadows with him, bravely; and children who are all good citizens, good christians [sic], and good Americans."

Note reads: 

"God is very good tho to us all + let us 'trust Him with all our heart + in all our ways acknowledge Him, + He will direct our paths.' May He bless you greatly dear.
Very lovingly
Mother 

Second article inscription reads: "Written New York 1885 age 19"  Article reads:

"Waberley Magazine 1885 Boston.
Character. 
Oh, how inscrutable a thing and deep--
Abiding in the soul of all mankind
To make or mar each destiny and career--
Is character!  Some men its promptings show
As clearly as the summer's mirrored streams
The sky, whilst others are as close and dark
As river Styx, and ne'er disclose to view
Whether their motives God or Satan rules.
Most truly 'tis the fount of every good
And every evil that is done on earth,
Of war and bloodshed, misery and vice,
As of all goodness and self-sacrifice!

The character of every man is made,
Ere 'tis completed, of four parts.  The first
Is that he doth inherit at his birth;
The next his parents in their love do mould;
The third is in him made by his free will;
And last --which all through life is being formed,
And oft conflicting with the others, makes
Much doubt and trouble in his breast --is that
Which moulded is in him by circumstance.

Ah, truly is our progress in this life,
As also fate in that which is to come,
Much influenced by the treatment we are given
By those our fellow-mortals, who, with God,
And with our parents, and our own free will,
Take part to form and mould our character!
HERBERT D. MILES"

Invitation reads:
"Mrs. Benjamin Ela. Gallup announces the marriage of her daughter Delia Hulburd, to Mr. Herbert de la Haye Miles.  Tuesday, January the twelfth, eighteen hundred and ninety seven, Chicago."

Newspaper announcement reads: 
"Gallup-Miles
Miss Delia Gallup and Mr.  Herbert D. Miles United.
     The marriage of Miss Delia Gallup, youngest daughter of Mrs. Benjamin F. Gallup of No. 1710 Indiana avenue, and Mr. Herbert D. Miles took place last evening at 7:30 o'clock at the home of the bride's mother.
     The decorations were all in green and white, and Rev. Simon J. MacPherson officiated in the presence of fifty relatives and friends. 
     Miss Eloise Gallup, the bride's sister, was the maid of honor, and the bridesmaids were the Misses Ella Peacock, Annette Ream, Edith Miles, and Mary Bacon.
     The best man was the groom's brother, Mr. Frederick Miles of New York.
     The bride wore cream satin, with a tulle waist and a veil of tulle.  She carried a cluster of lilies of the valley.
     The maid of honor was in pink and white silk and carried bridesmaid roses.
     Two of the maids wore white gauze over white silk, and two wore green gauze over white silk.  All of them carried bridesmaid roses.
     Tomaso provided the wedding music.
     After a trip to the South Mr. and Mrs. Miles will be at home at No. 4865[?] Madison avenue Tuesday, Feb. 23, from 3 to 6 and from 8 to 11 o'clock."

Bottom inscription reads:  "Ella Victoria Smith Miles --1866"

From the East:
Paul M. Warburg, distinguished writer on finance, and a member of the international banking house of Kuhn, Loeb & Co., New York:
'As a whole your work is most commendable and will promote a healthy general understanding of the foundation upon which the Aldrich Plan is built.'
Samuel McRoberts, Vice-president of the National City Bank of New York:
'I think the idea is both clever and a timely one, and the book will be much in demand.'
Hon. Edward B. Vreeland, Vice-chairman of the National Monetary Commission:
'Your book will be valuable to tens of thousands who have not time to read the fifty odd volumes published by the Commission, but who desire to get a general idea of what is to be learned from this great library of financial information.'

From the Central West:
David R. Forgan, President National City Bank of Chicago:
'Mr. Miles has done the work with great ability, putting in clear and readable form the gist of the great currency discussion.  Few men have time to wade through the publications of the Commission, and Mr. Miles has thus done a great service to the public, and to the cause of currency and banking reform.'
Geo. M. Reynolds, President Continental-Commercial National Bank of Chicago:
It is a concise, condensed history of banking in the important countries of the world, which I believe will, if read by students of finance, be very helpful in the campaign of education which is now being waged in the interest of currency reform."

Bottom inscription reads:  "Mother and Son:  1899"

 Top inscription reads:  "Gallup Manor:  Rochester Wisconsin."

Middle inscription reads:  "Delia Hulbard Gallup --about 1890.  age 13"

Bottom left inscription reads:  "Edward G. Miles 1913."

Newspaper article reads:
"THE ASSEMBLY ROOM. 
A Triolet.
Conning and whispering the students sit
In a New Trier assembly-room,
Con for a while, and then whisper a bit:
Conning and whispering the students sit
Tearing up paper and scattering it,
Quite a mess for the janitor's broom;
Conning and whispering the students sit
In a New Trier assembly-room."
 

Bottom inscription reads:  "The House purchased by us, Abbottsford Road, Kenilworth, Illinois, lived in from 1906 to 1913."

Middle inscription reads:  Breezy Beach, 1913.

Bottom inscription reads:  "In 1914.  H. D. M. on 'Blasty'[?]"

Are they the joys this cool, green place
Doth to the gladdened sense unfold,
This bank, whose fringe of daintiest lace
Steals from the Autumn's sunset grace
Its rarest purple-gold?

Are they the joys of trembling boughs,
Of the sweet blue that gleams between,
Of myriad insects' brief carouse
Swelling the wildwood's Summer vows
In one triumphant paen?

Are these men's joys?  Or seek they those
That flare a fever through the blood?
Uprooting reason, as it flows,
Till what would banish, makes their woes,
In ever-increasing flood?

O know that real joys are calm,
Ye who would feverish rest pursue!
True joys will bear no after-qualm,
They banish care in nature's balm
That rests in all that's true!

(One of the earliest; 1881; age 15.)"

Poem reads:
"O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!
Thy mists that roll and rise!
Thy woods this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with colour!
That gaunt crag
To crush!  To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, world, I cannot get thee close enough!

Long have I known a glory in it all,
But never knew I this;
Here such a passion is
As stretcheth me apart --Lord, I do fear
Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year;
My soul is all but out of me --let fall
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call."

Where the waves linger, lapping the sands,
Marvelous things there be;
Miracle Castles, builded of Drift,
Builded a poet-architect's gift
To his domain by the Sea!

Find you no battlements? no frowning Towers?
Driftwood and sand -- no more?
Nay, here's a sea-world made of dreams;
Who enters, must unseat what seems,
And be a boy, of four!

Here is his Keep, whose guarded walls
Display a fearsome art --
Behold his bold battalions drill,
Hark to the call of bugles shrill!
He sees and hears, brave heart.

Scorn not, thou worldly, falsely wise
Who find but Drift in sight;
What know we of that vision tense,
Of childhood's rarer mystic sense,
Its clearer inner-light?

O strange array of driftwood dreams
Known to the Summer's wave!
O tender boy of dancing eyes
You've found the old world's rarest prize --
The faith God gives the brave;

You've found God's key to happiness;
To quiet peace, and more;
Heaven's kingdom is of such as you,
The dauntless, the undoubting, true --
My little boy, of four!"

"'It's no secret,' Mr. Rosten said, 'that the public response to poetry has been diminishing for a couple of centuries.  It may be that prose has overwhelmed poetry in the historical sense.  It has certainly proved to be more functional, adaptable, and daring.  Look at Wolfe, Hemingway, Joyce.  Nevertheless poetry will go on with or without an audience --and when was there ever a large audience, anyway?  Never.  So what's the fuss about?  Why blame publisher, poet, or public? Chamber music never did go well in an oversize hall."

     Through the efforts of Herbert D. Miles, a descendant of our Pilgrim ancestor John Howland, an important and valuable discovery has been made that is of particular interest to members of our Howland Society.
     It is the original Bond (1672) buried in the record files at Plymouth, Massachusetts, as made and signed by Elizabeth Tilley Howland, as executrix, and her two son-in-laws,, [sic] John Chipman and John Gorum, the wax seals still in tact, and signatures of the witnesses.
     The following is a copy of this historic Bond:
     'Know all men by these presents that Elizabeth Howland of the Town of Plymouth in New England in America, widow, and John Chipman of the Town of Barnstable, yeoman, and John Gorum of the Town of Barnstable aforesaid, yeoman, do hereby acknowledge our bond to be firmly bound and obliged unto the Governor and Court of Plymouth aforesaid in the sum of three hundred pounds "etc., etc. Anno dom, one thousand six hundred seventy an two.
     'The condition of the above written obligation is such that the above bounden Mistress Elizabeth Howland hath obtained of the Court letters of administration to administer on the estate of Mr. John Howland late of Plymouth" etc., etc.  
Signed sealed and delivered in the presence of
The Mark of Elizabeth Howland (Seal)
The Mark of
Ephraim Morton       John Chipman (Seal)
William Crowe         John Gorum (Seal)
     Mr. Miles writes:  'The above is, I believe, one of the few ORIGINAL documents in existence of a noted passenger in the Mayflower, as personally signed and sealed - not a transcript by a recorder, as are most now on record.  It is perhaps the only one in the Howland line, and I believe is unknown to the Howland Society.  Both Wills as on record, (John Howland, in Plymouth, and Elizabeth, in Taunton) are merely recorders copies.'
     Other notable Mayflower Colony records were found by Mr. Miles in the original, in the Record Building, Plymouth.  It was largely through the interest and efforts of Mr. Miles that the Lothrop Hill Cemetery in Barnstable was taken care of in a way fitting its historical importance, for here is buried Hope Howland Chipman, a daughter of the Pilgrim John Howland.  he also has taken a picture of the Browne Lot in the old Burying Ground in East Providence, Rhode Island, in which Elizabeth Tilley Howland is supposed to be buried. 
     One of our first and most important duties should be to erect a suitable stone in this cemetery to her memory."

Poem reads:

"Crossing the Bar

Sunset and evening star
And one clear call for me
And may there be no moaning of the bar
When I put out to sea.

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound or foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell
And after that the dark
And may there be no sadness of farewell
When I embark.

For tho' from out our bourne of time and place,
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar."

Article reads:
"GOVERNOR MILES.
     We find another descendant of the Pilgrim John Howland who is honored by being elected Governor of a state Mayflower Society -- Herbert D. Miles, Governor of the Society of Mayflower Descendants of North Carolina.
     In his letter sent to members, I quote the following which undoubtedly will be of interest to our readers:
     'Our Society is decidedly NOT merely a social organization nor is it a society of "ancestor-worshipers" either.  All Societies must have a social side.
     Our National headquarters tries to have general patriotic and legislative objectives, to combat anti-American influences, and we must help them.  But our main purpose in every State, is to preserve both the spiritual and the physical heritage which we have from Plymouth.  Also to defend and spread those principles of human behavior and government, brought into being by our ancestors there.  We do this, at a time just now, when our country is being dominated more and more by citizens of modern European background.  For this, chiefly, we band together; and our main work is quiet and personal, in our own communities.'
     From our acquaintance with Governor Miles as well as in our correspondence, we find he is much interested in the work we are doing, and some day in the near future, we hope to welcome him as a member of the Howland Society."

Photograph inscription reads:  "Delia at Eleven years of age."

First article reads:
"New Interests Are Identified With Local L Road Consolidation.
SHOULD HASTEN DEAL
Exchange of Illinois Tunnel Securities Is Now Assured.
New Investment Firms --Metropolitan Elevated Traffic -- Union Bag Earnings -- Commonwealth-Edison
     It develops that two distinctly separate interests are now at work on plans for consolidating the elevated railroad interests of Chicago.  Herbert Miles, of Armour & Co., is the latest person to become identified with the project, although it is stated that negotiations date back several months.  His plan is understood to be entirely independent of the one President Samuel Insall of the Commonwealth Edison company is working on.  In fact, the principals are not personally acquainted with each other.
     Mr. Miles has had proposals before the boards of directors of the various elevated railroad companies, although as yet it cannot be said that anything of a tangible nature has developed along lines of a basis on which the properties can be put together.  Such progress as he has made is largely in the form of impartial and friendly neutrality among interests, including the city administration.
Terms same as New York
     While no details can be obtained, it is significant that the Miles plan for consolidation is said to be substantially the same as the one used by the New York elevated railroad companies, and that the varying fortunes of the different local interests have not required its alteration.
     Several directors of the various elevated railroad companies when seen yesterday admitted the existence of double negotiations, but it could not be learned that anything beyond a few informal talks with both interests had been accomplished.  It is the general impression, however, that present efforts will lead to a trading basis of some sort by next fall, as competitive bidding for the properties should hasten the formulation of a practical plan."

Second article reads:
"BANKING AND CURRENCY SYSTEMS.
     Herbert D. Miles, a Chicago man, formerly connected with Armour & Company, but of late an investigator in economic lines, has just published through Rand, McNally & Co., a book entitled 'The Science of Currency and Centralized Banking,' which will prove a great convenience to the large number of people who wish to know the principal facts of the financial systems of the world but who lack the time and patience to go through the great mass of literature on the subject.  The book is timely now, when the subject of a new system for this country is under discussion.  The work is largely the result of a thorough study of the books that have been published under the auspices of the national monetary commission.  These books were written by men especially qualified and comprise a rather good-sized library of economics in themselves, running up to many thousand pages, but the ordinary man cannot read them with any degree of thoroughness.  Mr. Miles has read them all and with his previous knowledge of the subjects has been able to extract and collate the important facts.  Senator Aldrich is so pleased with the work that he has adopted it as the final summary of the work of the commission -- the last issue.  You c an learn more in regard to the banking and financial systems of the world from this book in one evening than from any other with which THE ECONOMIST is familiar."   

Obituary reads: 
"EDWARD PAYSON GALLUP
Death of One of State's Wealthiest Men in Lebanon.
Special to The Union
     LEBANON, Jan. 14. --Edward Payson Gallup, one of the wealthiest men in this state, died at his residence on School Street, about 9 o'clock last evening. 
      He had been ill for many months and about a year ago, by advice of his physician, he went to Europe but was obliged to hurry home on account of his health, and has failed rapidly since.
     Mr. Gallup was born seventy-three years ago in the house where he spent his last days and which had been in t he family for many years.  He was fourth and youngest son of the late Dr. Benjamin and Susan Ela Gallup, who were old-time residents of Lebanon.
     Mr. Gallup left school at the early age of 14 years and went to Hanover, where he learned telegraphing and was one of the first operators in that town.  For four years he worked faithfully and at the end of that time went west as train dispatcher for the Indiana, Evansville and Cincinnati railroad.
     Before he was 19 years of age he entered the grain business, associating himself with his brother, the late William Gallup, under the firm name of W. & E. P. Gallup, in Indianapolis.  At that time they were situated on the site where the state capitol now stands in that city.
     They were in the grain business for forty years, and a peculiarity of the business was that it was on a strictly cash basis.  All grain the concern bought they owned, no business being done on the margin.  The business was extremely successful, and at the time the two brothers had wills made to each other and upon the death of William Gallup, Edward Gallup came into a large amount of money in addition to his then large accumulation.  In Indianapolis, it was said, that the firm was a liberal subscriber to all public emergencies, but, never signed its name to a paper, always marking "Cash."
     Mr. Gallup retired from active business forty years ago, and later returned to his native town to spend his remaining days.  He travelled extensively and had made more than a dozen trips abroad.  Mr. Gallup was a rather eccentric man and during the later years of his life lived rather quietly.  He was a philanthropic man and the world will never know how much he did for charity, owing to his quiet manner.  Many times large orders of groceries have been brought to poor and needy families in this village which were sent by this man." 

Yours very truly,

[?]
President"

First article reads:
"WRITES OF OUR CURRENCY
     Herbert D. Miles, formerly connected with Armour & Co., has just published an exceedingly interesting little book on "The Science of Currency and Centralized Banking," which will be of great value to the business man who is too busy to wade through the voluminous discussions of the various problems now confronting this country.  The book is a study of the publications recently issued by the national monetary commission, and the work reflects great are and research on the part of the author in the preparation of the treatise on banking reform.  Starting with the broad statement that the science of banking, including the development of credit, is an inexact science, the author traces briefly the development of the banking systems of this country and Europe; discusses gold reserves, crises, and American methods, pointing out the weaknesses in our own system, the lest of which is our present law requiring a fixed and immobile reserve; noting that the central bank is the heart without which the most enlightened European national banking systems could not exist; suggesting that whatever pure solution of the conditions facing us is that it must create a situation so liberal, unhampered and yet guarded that it shall result in all the banks of the country eventually preferring to operate as 'national banks,' under the same laws, under one inspection system, and one in their interest covering currency issue and redemption.  He expresses the hope that the solution will assure the country of an even flow of currency as required, with perfect ease of redemptions and cancellation; an even control and reasonable basis of money rates, a stability and resourcefulness in crises and a use of natural wealth and unparalleled resources that will bring into being the inevitable American leadership in world finance."

Second article reads:
"Currency Work in Demand
     A second edition of Herbert D. Miles' review of the Aldrich currency plan has been issued.  Concerning the necessity for the adoption of the measure, Mr. Miles says:  'The peril of sudden country bank demands upon New York for their secondary reserves, might be successfully handled under the system proposed; but under a perfect system, the proportion of these deposits will be so reduced as to no longer constitute a menace, to the consequent greater prosperity both of the smaller banks and of the country at large.'" 

Poem reads:
"QUEEN OF THE LAND OF THE SKY.
Viewed from Breezemont the day is done;
Shimmers a city of dreams--of air--
Floating in marvelous atmosphere,
Far o'er the Pisgah range, the Sun
Bathes the mountains, stills his fires,
Pours his gold upon roofs and spires;
Lingers long, loath to flame good-bye
To Asheville, Queen of the Land of the Sky.

From old Beaumont and White Fawn Gap
Now in the East, the Sun looks down,
Still on a shimmering, beautiful town,
Nestling within the mountains' lap.
But this is the morning of deeds, not dreams;
This is a city that is, not seems;
A city that works; whose goal is high, --
Asheville, Queen of the Land of the Sky.

Royal and rare is your diadem,
Of circling mountains, fold on fold,
Far and near, of green and gold,
Great Pisgah for your proudest gem!
No other city, small or great,
God gives to sit in nobler state;
Noblesse olige! fear not, aim high,--
Asheville, Queen of the Land of the Sky!
--Anonymous

Photograph inscription reads:  "Breezy Hollow" Lake Lure  [Boat House.]

*Note: [Miles was the largest investor and land-owner at Lake Lure during his time.]

Cartoon caption reads:  "What are you doing to guard the Homes of England?"

     One of the features of the New Year's edition of The New York Times, published Tuesday morning, was a New Year's poem by Herbert D. Miles, of this city, entitled '1918.'  Mr. Miles is well known in Asheville, and his poem attracted much favorable comment among his friends here.  The poem follows:

"'1918'

The world of men is sundered; it is ours
To picture its Creator looking down
In pity and amaze, Perchance [crossed out], He sighs
That children of His image are become
More wolf-like than the wolf; more pitiless
Than ever [crossed out, inserted "the bold"] famished tiger, hunting prey;
Deeper in craft than Lucifer himself.
Laws, made to bless, whose secrets men have wrenched
Of earth and air and water, are enslaved
To fearful ends.  And all the newest reach
Of man's invention, conquering sea and air,
Has turned within its sphere to rend its own.

Ay --this He sees!
But not to Him the rage nor bitter grief
Engendered of war's ruthless garnering,
He knows our blossoming; that late or soon
Chill blasts should [crossed out; inserted "must"] wither, be there war or peace;
That noble youth, cut short, and the starved child
And [crossed out; inserted "The"] tortured mother, nearer are to Him;
That separation, and its pain must come
In Winter's storm or Summer's; that war's blast
Reaps oversoon, what must be reaped at last.

So the bold warrior's rest, if sooner come,
Is no more fearsome, no more sure, than his
Who plows untouched in earth's remotest spot;
Than his who hunts the endless reach of ice;
Than his who dwells by languorous tropic seas,
For all, the rendezvous; for all, the pain;
For all, the passage.  What a little span!
One score of years or fourscore --is it great
Which length proves our inheritance?
Great is seems
To him whose earth-bound vision clings to earth
As clings a meanest [crossed-out] parasite to its host;
Great to the base, who consecration shun;
And great to them who know not tears nor prayer;
But never great to him who goes to war,
Not driven by feudal lord; cradled in liberty!

The soldier-soul, gay, careless --that is faith,
Faith of true instinct, trembling not in fear;
Faith in God's keeping!  Sacrifice untaught,
Death's call, for such [crossed out, inserted "him"] spells not oblivion
Eternity is his....God's heart!
Has he not lived, and loved!
HERBERT DE LA HAYE MILES"

The full letter follows:
     'Three months, today, in the Service -- and what a time it has been!  Our last little venture at the front was taking care of the sector at  Hurtebise.  This time it is Craonne -- it is all right to tell you now.  After what I've been through this present brief duty at a hospital is Heaven, and I'm as happy as a king.  Just think, for two whole nights I'm to sleep on a real bed, on straw almost  two inches thick, and stretched over a steel frame that almost is remotely like a spring.  Don't you ever worry about my being able to sleep!  I could write letters and letters upon the kinds of things I have slept through.  Through aeroplane raids, with bombs bursting all around, and without shelter.  Through French batteries, blazing away on all sides so near me that the earth shook continually with the shocks and my ears were dulled.  And I have slept in little abris a couple of feet underground, with German shells raining all around and keeping the earth all a-tremble.  Oh, I can always sleep.  The soldiers lack our variety.  And I could write several letters on the kind of beds I have had, and even of the varieties of bugs and fleas carried away as souvenirs.  The oars on the life raft on the 'Rochambeau' -- lovely bed; -- the wooden seat of the railway car, going to Paris; a couch, of an iron frame and a piece of canvas; a pile of straw on the ground; my stretchers, hung up inside my ambulance; in the military beds, in dugouts -- a wood frame, very short, with chicken wire stretched across it, built one above the other.  And I have slept sitting in chairs, and lying on wooden benches, and on the cold, cold ground.  And I have slept on the front seat of the ambulance when my partner was driving, and twice, for a minute, when I myself was driving, and in pitch dark, of course.  Oh yes I can always sleep, and in circumstances ever changing.  Day or night -- rats men or cannon -- nothing can keep me from sleep!
     'The hole through this paper is from a "105" Boche shell which hit it.  It's the third outfit of my letter paper smashed like that.  It was when my latest car was blown up -- but that was not so exciting.  I must tell you of the singular adventure when my first car was destroyed, for I am still rather dazed to find myself and partner alive to tell about it.  This is the first letter I have been able to write for quite a time; four of our cars were lost, and two of our boys killed, in that awful battle, and it is agreed that Brownie (my partner) and I were in the worst stretch of all, so we had small right to sur"

Part II of article reads:
"[sur]vive.  It was not a battle of hours, or even days, running almost two weeks.  Several times I have been on continuous duty for eighteen hours, and once went almost three days and two nights without sleep, and never between trips more than a half hour's rest.  So you see I couldn't write much -- I slept the greater part of two days, after that.  Well, here goes:  Our section (No. 66), 20 good cars and 45 good men at the beginning, and 16 battered cars and 43 battered men now  -- alas -- carried 1,771 wounded altogether in the battle.  And that through shell fire almost all of the time, for three or more of the five miles back to the hospital.  And in the dark and by the dead, roads full of supply trains going both ways, often through woods, and up and down hill, and dodging shell holes.  And that awful gas.
A Night in Hades.
     'We were awakened, Brownie and I, at 12:30 a.m. of that fateful night.  Boule, came down and told us a car was needed to go at once to V.N. -- the very front.  The Germans were like tigers, and ready to sacrifice anything and any number of men, at Craonne.  I don't see how we ever did it, but we did get as far as V., although the road we took was being shelled and full of holes, which we were lucky enough to miss.  We were running through gas, with our masks on, which made it harder to see in the dark.  It was a black night, with ghostly, ghastly, uncertain light from bursting shells and star shells.  Suddenly we almost ran off the road, stopped just in time, when two shells almost hit us, one in front and one behind, about fifteen yards away.  We turned and ran through the smoke of the one ahead two seconds after it had gone off.   We were just in V. and crossing a little square when our gearshift lever jumped from first into second speed and jammed.  A shell had just exploded, and we know now that a piece of it had hit and broken this gear.  There we were, in the midst of Hades, stuck.  We tried for a time, an awful time, under bombardment, to find the trouble.  Some soldiers were filing by and while we stood two of them were killed and"

Part III of article reads:
"one wounded.  The wounded man came over to us, and we took him on.  We gave the car up and carried him, looking vainly for an abri.  It was too dark, so we decided above ground must do.  We hugged a wall, and soon found a hole into which we could crawl.  The stones were thick, and while walls were being hit every minute, and there was not a building left standing in V., it was the best we could do.
     'The excitement of such a situation is intoxicating, in a way.  We certainly did some crazy things.  (It was not for three days after that our tension fully relaxed.)  Our blesse wanted his knapsack, left by our car.  He was getting numb, and wanted brandy, and some coffee in his canteen.  Brownie, I suppose as the older, went first.  He got near; a shell burst' he came running back -- but he had the wrong musette.  So I went out.  Walked a part of the way when a big one crashed into some stones at my right and I went sprawling on my ear, my helmet rolled off, stones fell around me.  I got up, said something, picked up my helmet, and felt myself all over.  Took a breath and then ran to the car.  Got the musette, and actually walked back.  I don't know why.  Running was safer.  The shells came eight to ten a minute.
     'We pondered what to do.  Decided we must find a field telephone somewhere and get another car; our blesse' was badly off.  I started out.  Brownie stayed with the blesse.'  Thirty yards and I passed a dead man.  Started to make sure, when a shell hurried me on.  Dodged six shells by crouching or falling flat when I heard them coming.  Passed two roads, full of holes and branches of trees, too unfamiliar looking.  I walked and ran and fell on my face or crouched in holes when I could.  It made me feel mighty queer.  There were several very peculiar dents in my helmet next morning.  Soon I made out a white horse and thought I'd ride him.  But he would not move; he was all shot up, and had come there to die.  Then I saw a Frenchman, running around like a chicken with its head cut off.  Found he, too, was after a telephone, so I went off with him.  Went gropingly all over the broken town, took the wrong road, and finally came back.  Same old stunt of run, crouch, walk, and fall.
     'We finally found an abri, and I was going out again to carry back our blesse' when another shell hit close by.  The Frenchman grabbed me by the arm and just would not let me out to do any more; so, for the brief balance of the night I slept the sleep of exhaustion, in that tiny cellar; sitting up, as there was no room to lie down, my head upon my knees, with a dead French soldier in the doorway, four live ones tucked around inside, and a dying man, in convulsions, on a straw pile beside me, his blood dripping on my feet and coat, and his hand intermittently hitting my helmet.  Above us, as I slept, they told me, our spot was hit four times.
     'A few days have passed and I haven't mailed this; we are back once more, in almost the same place, working our heads off at the front.  We are getting to know this Chemin des Dames part of the country all too well.  I can't say much for the weather.  It has been cold and windy and rainy and foggy an muddy and damp, all summer, and now that fall has come it is only more cold and damp and bleak and nasty.  What will the winter be?  Perhaps they will have fresh men, and get along without us for a time, the youngest of us.  Brownie and I are keeping house in a little dugout at present.  A regular palace!  Why, we have three and a half board son the floor.  I only have to double up my huge length three times to enter our spacious doorway -- fortunately we have no door.  Lots of fresh air.  And we have running water in the house -- when it rains.  Part of the Aisne river flows in through the door, and there are three gurgling brooks, which come tumbling down the walls.  Private showers.  We had company last night -- visitors -- and they spent the night with us.  Two rats and a toad.  Of course there are spiders and bugs and lice who stay with us all the time.  They are our closest friends.  They sort of live on us, don't you know, just as we live on the French government.  Only they make us do all the work -- the favorite pastime of a dog or a cat.  Hurrah!  A seven days vacation from September 19th.  Will run down into Italy.'"

Says Americans Are in Need of Uniforms, Socks, Sweaters and Other Articles.

     The following brief letter from Edward G. Miles, on the battle front along the Chemin des Dames, in France, is given as received by his family here yesterday, on account of its peculiarly timely reference to certain conditions as exposure and clothing, and the need of hurrying troops.  Mr. Miles is of the Princeton unit, No. 66 of the U. S. Ambulance corps, formerly conducted by the Red Cross, but now a part of the U. S. army. 

     'Along the Chemin des Dames.
Nov. 18, 1917
     'You say not to be impatient about our boys, that the old U. S. is wide awake, and its sole business is war.  Well, I only hope you will hurry along a few of those millions of uniforms, shoes, etc.  Our whole camp is greatly in need of regulation clothing and general reinforcements of that nature, and I am afraid it may be months before we get much.  They are nearly run out of all supplies, in Paris, after outfitting those Y. M. C. A. boys, etc.
     'I will still maintain that it is action that we must have from the U. S.  I'm afraid France spills her blood while so far we spill mostly printer's ink.  I hear that some authorities are trying to discourage the knitting of sweaters, and socks, and mufflers for soldiers, saying such things are luxuries.  You bet they are luxuries.  But blamed necessary ones.  I would like to see one of them over here in this cold, and wet, and damp, living as we do, and as the soldiers do, and then see if he still thinks that a U. S. uniform minus a sweater, etc., is a thing of joy.  No, sir!  The U.S. uniform is too thin for winter work in the trenches.  The French and the English are much thicker.  The U. S. socks are of splendid quality though.  And the shoes seem to be good.  The materials are good in all of them, but the suits and the underwear could be thicker.  That is [wh]ere your sweater and muffler and wristlets come in handy.
     'This war will not be over in any great hurry, you can make up your mind to that.  But many things looking up.  The Boche prisoners taken in last advance near here, over 11,000, were mostly very, very young, some as young as fifteen.  I saw them.
     'It is awfully late. I must go to bed quick.  It is 7:30!  Lights go out when the sun is out.  Up before the sun.  The boys will sure miss their camp comforts when they get over here.  But I'm getting fat -- for me -- on it!  It's a great life.'"

"TELLS HOW ONE HUN 'PLANE IS ACCOUNTED FOR

Gives Vivid Description of Reception Tendered the Germans by French Anti-Aircraft Guns.

     The following description of a German air raid, in which at least one Boche plane was accounted for, was written by an Asheville boy now serving with an ambulance corps in the thick of the fighting in France.  The name of the writer is withheld by request.  His description of the raid and the fighting that ensued show an intimate knowledge of the ways of the Huns in introducing 'kultur' and will be read with interest by his friends in this city.
     The letter, which is dated 'Along the Chemin des Dames, February 1, 1918,' is as follows:
     'Five minutes ago there was nothing more exciting to report than an air raid last night -- air raids are too common for notice or description, though fellows in the cannon service or in Paris are quite thrilled by them, I believe.  But -- there are air spectacles that are spectacles, and five minutes ago, when I was reflecting that it was going to be a tame day, from our of the heavens came the whirr of a Bosche plane speeding in our direction.  It was high, very high, when first we saw it, but as it drew nearer it rapidly descended, dove, almost, to a height of about 1,000 feet.  And as it came lower a mighty uproar broke loose.  Anti-aircraft guns belched forth screaming shrapnel shells from every hillside, which broke all about the rushing plane in puffs of black and white.  On it flew, toward our huge French 'saucissee' (observation balloon) close by.
     'Then came the rat-tat-tat of many machine guns, spitting out wrathfully a torrent of bullets, vainly trying to check the oncoming Germans.  When perhaps half a mile away the Bosche plane opened fire on our balloon.  Both our observers at once leaped for safety -- a thousand foot drop -- as over each man's head his great white parachute gracefully unfolded, as it caught the air.  Things were happening, and happening quick.  All this took less than two minutes.  At last!  The vast bulk of our balloon was pierced through the top; an incendiary bullet had found its mark; it crumpled a bit, and then burst into flame.  But the German had all this time been flying nearer, to make sure destruction, and it took him just ten seconds too long!  He turned, and started to rise.  But right there he was in for a little surprise.  The rattle and roar of our land guns suddenly ceased.  Two French planes, with motors roaring, tore upon the scene.  Battle planes they were and out for vengeance.  All this, in another half minute.  They were swifter than the German, and quickly closed in upon him, slightly above and behind.  At once the Bosche curved and twisted, trying to"  

Second part reads:

"out-maneuver them.  But his every move was countered on the instant by the foremost of the French planes, which jumped to the offensive.  At length the German, finding himself beaten at every turn, dove headlong as a last resort.  But our man was game; he boldly dove after him, scarce a hundred feet behind, his trusty mitrailleuse screaming without mercy.  Three hundred feet from the ground, and the Bosche burst into flames!  The Frenchman checked his rushing fall, and skimmed away, up and up.  He was through. 
     'A great cheer went up from all of us watching; you can imagine our suspense and breathless interest.  It was well worth the little risk we ran from the flying shrapnel and hail of bullets dropping all about us.  One gets used to that.  Everything was so quick that almost at the same moment that the enemy plane broke into flame, we could see our two observers drop gently, with their slow-moving parachutes, upon the bare hillside, about 300 yards off, and their balloon drops into a valley.  I will go over and see what is left of the Bosche plane later -- after the burial.
     'This is the life!  Behold! my "permission" -- two weeks every four months -- was due, and Jopling and I decided to take it together, and run down to the old Mediterranean again; Nice, Monte Carlo, Menone.  Jop. is a Harvard grad. and a fine fellow.  Soldiers not allowed in Monte Carlo gambling place, so don't worry; anyhow, you know I'm on to their curves and would give them the laugh, not my money.  Jop. and I went to Paris first, to the American Univeristy union, then saw about our "orders de movement," went to a movie, then to the Cafe de la Regence for a game of chess.  Won it.  Next day we went to our banks; then off for the south.
     'You are all interested in submarines.  Well, Jop. and I got to the ancient city of Marseilles in the morning.  We decided to get a motor boat and run around the old harbor, and to the Chateau d'If. from which the Count of Monte Christo was tossed into the water, sewed in a sack -- peace to his ashes.  I guess we saw some things which, for military reasons, I may not mention.  Suffice it to say that I now know a lot about the anti-submarine warfare in the Mediterranean, and its plans, which is not hearsay.  I have seen the who, where, when, why, and how of at least a part of it.  Have seen in use many marvelous things.  Could say much that would be censored.  Perhaps later. 
     'Met Allen Williamson, of Asheville, in a most accidental and casual way.  You bet I was glad to see him.  That evening we had a big feed, to celebrate.  Canned things and honey and crackers, all Christmas gifts from loving hearts back home; and hot chocolate from ditto.  Its a great life!  Back in the thick of it again now; all night work and plenty of it.'" 

     The following letter from Edward Miles, son of Mr. and Mrs. Herbert D. Miles, of this city, who is at the front in France with his Princeton university unit, is printed at the request of The Citizen, his family being disinclined to seeming exploitation.  Mr. Miles has an evident talent for presenting a vivid picture of events as he sees them, and the fact that this is his first letter describing actual conditions at the front, as the American troops will see them, gives added interest to Mr. Miles' letter which follows in part:
     ALONG THE CHEMIN DES DAMES, July 23. --'Goodness!  I was all ready to tell you just where we are, but remembered just this minute that I'm not allowed.  However, we are doing "front work" near Craonne.  We are carrying the wounded back to the field hospital, and are exposed to shell fire for a mile and a half or so, of the trip, and get fired at good and plenty.  German aeroplanes dropped bombs all over my sweet couch last night, and will again tonight.  About fifty searchlights near us, and anti-aircraft guns banging around.  Noise!  O my!  Some celebration!  But the guns can't hit an aeroplane at night, except by luck. 
     'Some of us, Knight, Boule, Condell, Brown, and I, have made great friends with French officers, and when "en repos," walk around the hills while they show us the guns, the telephone stations under ground, and other things.  They gave us a couple of "parties."  I brought my mandolin over and played last week, and we had a fine time.  They are all awfully good to us, in more ways than I can say.
     'A big battle going on, right near here now.  Between Craonne and Hurtebise and Cerny.  Perhaps you will have read about it.  Look it up if you haven't  It is a trifle more quiet this afternoon, but we will probably be running all night.  We had been running three days and nights steadily, without sleep, so I slept all day yesterday and all this morning.  I am perfectly fresh for whatever may come tonight. 
     'So much has been going on that I don't know where to begin or what to say.  There was a big German air raid last night.  It was disturbing, to say the least.  French shrapnel bursting all over the sky, and machine guns thick on every hill top blazing away at the darkness, with about fifty big searchlights roving around the heavens trying to spot the Bosche planes.  Couldn't get them.  Never can at night worth mentioning."

Part 2 continues:

"But they make things uncomfortable for the aviators.  Nine days this battle has raged.  The latest is, that it is more important than Verdun.  Our section (No. 66) is just on the edge of it, for front work.  My car is one of the best and the chief watches it closely.  It still holds the record of our section.  One of our cars had its front window (behind the driver's head) broken last night by a piece of shell.  One turned a back-somersault into a pit, in the dark.  One fell in a shell hole, and one hit an auto truck -- all these happened in the same night.  Some of them are still running.  Believe me one has one's hands full trying to pass a truck or wagon train in the dark, quite invisible.  And the shell-holes will move around in the dark so as to get in one's way --when loaded with couchees, too. 
     'One night I was called out to one of our front posts.  It was a quarter to 1 o'clock.  Pitch dark, except for the repeated flashes of bursting shells and the more occasional flare of a star shell.  The road was crooked, rough, and winding, over a hill and twisting through a thick woods.  Had no lights, of course.  And this running in the dark is some job, too.  I am developing the eyes of a cat.  Can run in the dark now at daylight speed.  Spent the rest of the night sleeping in my overcoat in a cave-house with about forty soldiers and branchardiers.  Lots of bug and rats.  Very pleasant.  Every time the soldier in the bunk above me turned over, I got a shower of dust and mud.  My helmet for a pillow.  Shells and batteries banging out a lullaby. 
     'We are in the middle of a nest of French batteries at our post, and the Bosches love to shell them.  They were shooting gas shells over here last night.  We had to run through the gas.  Smells sweet and harmless, but --it's bad; suffocating; sickening.  
     'We go into "repos" for two weeks on July 28th.  Will be able to write you more after that.'"

First article includes a handwritten note saying "War work 1918" and reads: 

"Asheville Man Joins Food Administrator's Staff and Is Sent to Chicago.

(By S. R. Winters)

     WASHINGTON, Sept. 18.  Herbert D. Miles of Asheville, arrived in Washington today to connect with his duties as a member of the staff of executives governing the United States food administrations.  He will leave next week for Chicago on his first important assignment.  Mr. Miles had declined an offer to become attached to the federal trade commission, preferring the job with the food administration.
     'I preferred to attach myself to that band of dynamic leaders, with ["out" crossed out] little or no salary, surrounding Mr. Hoover, and who now are holding an immense power and responsibility in directing the procedure of business ["and" crossed out] running into billions of dollars yearly," said the Asheville man today."

Second article reads:

"ASHEVILLE BOY CITED FOR CROIX DE GUERRE.

EDWARD G. MILES WRITES INTERESTING LETTER.

Pays Tribute to Work of American Red Cross -- Wonderful Reception of Americans in Belgium.

     The following is an extract from a letter written by Edward G. Miles, the first Asheville boy to sail for France after the declaration of war.  He tells of the advance, into Luxembourg, and of his citation individually for the Croix de Guerre:
     'It's a great life!  I'm all over my hard attack of influenza; and what is a temporary loss of thirty pounds from my skinny bones and a month in hospital, anyway, over there?  That big piece of shell that hit my arm September 30, might have hit my head, in which case there would be more excitement.  Right now, we are very nicely lodged in Wiltz, a place of about 3,500 inhabitants in the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg.  We are very well received.  We are leading our army corps, in following up the retreating Germans, and as a result are the first in every town, city and village, and pull down the big reception.  It is one wonderful, triumphal march.  Ce n'est pius la guerre, c'est la victoire!  Belgium gave us a truly heroic reception.  Every tiniest town of Belgium had set up a triumphal arch at every entrance to it, with the inscription "Honneur a nost vaillants allies;" "Gloire a l'entente liberatrice;" "Bienvenu a nos amis allies," etc., while all the streets were lined with a double row of green fir trees, and with homemade flags.  Children would shout and cheer, old folks wave or salute, and cries of "Vive l'Amerique;" "Vive la France;" were heard on all sides.  Last night, to celebrate our arrival at Wiltz, there was a torchlight procession, followed by dancing, while star shells and signal lights rocketed up all over town, all evening. 
     'This Thanksgiving we certainly had lots to be thankful for, especially that we were born in the good old U. S. A. instead of anywhere in Europe; and the war is as good as over; and in my case finally, because to my very great joy, surprise and delight, I have been cited for the Croix de Guerre -- received notice of it, in fact, at our big Thanksgiving banquet.  You know our unit is one of the few Croix de Guerre ambulance units, have the Croix painted upon our cars for our work especially last May, when several of us were killed; but, while I always worked as hard as I could, goodness knows, and have taken whatever luck came my way, I had long ago given up the hope of any such extreme good fortune as an individual citation.  I didn't win it by any single adventure, as so many are won, but simply by always doing the best I could, whatever happened.'"

First card reads:  "Asheville Club, Asheville, N. C.  1905.  The Miles Building was 'remodeled' from this building - 1919 and 1927." 

Second card reads: "Looking up Haywood Street, from Patton Avenue, Asheville, N. C.  1905.  Asheville Club later Miles Building.  Sondley Building."

First article reads:

     "About fifty minutes' motor from the beautiful city of Asheville, North Carolina, over a perfect highway, and through the most charming of all the charming country running out of that city, there lies the famous Hickory Nut Gap, and the Gorge of the Rocky Broad river. At the eastern end of  this gorge lies the Valley of Chimney Rock, comprising the splendid properties (8,500 acres) of Chimney Rock Mountains, Incorporated.  This company is now creating in the valley a lake that for sheer beauty must rank with a very few in the Alps and possibly one or two in England and in our northern states as one of the world's finest. 
     This lake --Lake Lure --is surrounded by the Blue Ridge mountains at the point of perhaps their most concentrated charm; it is 1,200 feet lower in altitude than Asheville, thus assuring a milder climate, with always unparalleled views and homesites, as well as unlimited sports upon land and water.  It is a deep, clear body of water falling naturally into five large bays, each of which is mountain-topped, and has beautifully wooded shores, as well as being full of charming little natural coves.  It is created through damming the Rocky Broad river and the twenty-seven other streams flowing into the valley, at a point called 'Tumbling Shoals.'  Without doubt, nature once had a lake there; the Tumbling Shoals bay, where the water is caught, is a small, deep bay quite 'out of the picture' in considering the lake as a whole.  The water ranges in depth from 50 to 100 feet, and it creates the only pleasure lake of real size between Pennsylvania and Florida. 
     The company is establishing its own 'Town of Lake Lure,' where Lake Lure Inn, the first hotel --and an unusually attractive one --opens in the fall of 1926.  Here its administration and commercial building is nearing completion, and here in 1927 will be the bathing beach, called 'Mermaid Beach;' the pavilion, the bus terminal, and other conveniences and luxuries.  Close by the town are the celebrated Bottomless Pools, and adjoining but far above is the great Chimney  Rock itself, with its unique and popular attractions, both a part of the whole estate." 

Second article discusses the $100,000 renovation on the Miles Building and nearby construction of the Flat Iron Building and Grove Arcade.  Ca. 1927.

Image only. 

Unidentified building; probably the Miles Building during construction.

Clipping is a photograph of the site of the Flatiron Building (center).  To the left is the Miles Building before its renovation. 

Image only.

Article is dated July 24, 1924 and pays tribute to Herbert Miles's contributions to the funding and building of the hotel.

Image at bottom of page is labeled "Lobby Floor."

Brochure features a picture of the hotel.

Image only.

Cover reads: 

"The North American Review

Vol. 214.   October, 1921.   No. 4

The Family Magazine.....Henry Seidel Canby
How Much Optimism Do We Need?.....Cornelia J. Cannon
The United States of India.....J.Z. Hodge
Problems of the Land: 
Business and Agriculture.....E.T. Meredith
Rural Regeneration.....Sir Horace Plunkett
*Shall Progress Reach the Bible?.....Herbert D. Miles*
Game Laws and the Public Mind.....Louis Agassiz Fuertes
Labor Prospects in Great Britain.....G.D.H. Cole
Where Rocks Wait.....Henry Bellamann
John Synge and His Old French Farce.....Gertrude Schoepperle
Personality and Individuality.....Francis Rogers
Schools and Daughters.....Edith Hamilton
Some Impressions of My Elders --G.K. Chesterton.....St. John Ervine
The Mexican As He Is.....Carleton Beals
Culture at Dinner.....Stark Young
The Book of the Month.....La Rence Gilman

Article reads:

"SHALL PROGRESS REACH THE BIBLE?

BY HERBERT D. MILES

     'A NEW Bible?  Never; it can't be done!'  That, it is more than probable, will be our first reaction to a proposal which I am bound to agree smacks of a foolhardy rushing in where angels fear to tread.  And very natural would be such a reaction, too.  In the sense of actual 'newness' it cannot be done, and should not.  But if our 'new' Bible shall contemplate an honest separation, under suitable title, of all matter which in the present arrangement has no bearing upon our everyday lives and problems, from that part which does have such direct bearing; if it shall include a wisely considered, a reverent but fearless expurgation, where a need for expurgation cries to heaven, then it can be done.  But we must assume from the start a selfless and a noble personal attitude toward the idea; we must not feel that any interference with the venerable book, beyond the revisions that have been made, is a profanation of a Holy of Holies.
     In the course of my exchange of letters, in the winter of 1920, with the late John Burroughs, we referred at one time, briefly, to the Bible.  Our letters were a discussion of the ancient and inherently noble ideas of religion called Pantheism; which ideas were held, and always most vigorously upheld, by Mr. Burroughs.  He commented: 'I think as highly of the Bible as you do.  It is the book of books, yet it is only a book, man-made.'  Mr. Burroughs and I are in perfect accord as to the Bible being the book of books.  And yet I cannot but feel, as I am sure he would too, that because it is so, because its being so is bound up with all that it has meant to our forefathers and, more important, with all that it is to mean to those very different people, our children, we should with all due respect face now, clear-sighted, courageous, our problem of its deficiencies, its inconsistencies, its redundancies.  It is a bold idea, without doubt, whether new or old.  'All the attitudes and tempers that are

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possible have been exhibited long ago,' said William James, speaking of religions generally.  And that philosopher warned us that 'We instinctively recoil from seeing an object to which our emotions and affections are committed, handled by the intellect as any other object is handled.'
     A Bishop of the Episcopal church, in the course of a sermon delivered last winter, declared that, roughly estimated, there are in this country fifty million persons who are of church-going families and fifty-million who are of church-abstaining families.  There was a time when such a declaration would have been taken to mean that ours is a nation but half-Christian.  But to all well-disposed persons who subscribe to our constitution and laws we are rightly inclined to award the term Christian, whether or not they have church affiliation; mere church-going confers no special honor to-day in the world's estimate; it may, and should, confer peace, although to achieve that peace some of us must perforce indulge in mental reservations.  Yet I affirm, and earnestly, that we should all be churchmen.  The Church founded not upon superstition but upon deep and simple truth, is, and must always be, the great stabilizer of society.  It is to this end that I plead for a 'changed' Bible.
     Probably most of the adult representatives of those without church affiliation do not feel a need of being explained.  Some of them are merely lazy; their attitude includes no objection to the beliefs or even the ritual of any church; they would a little prefer that their children be taken under the wing of one; they are simply worldly in all that the word implies.  Some among the more ignorant, especially in large cities, feel that an attendance at church would imply upon their part some profession of superiority over their non-church-going neighbors; or they feel that no man has a right to be a churchman unless he have a conscience free of guilt, and is willing to be considered 'unco gude.'  And there are of course the frankly agnostic or atheistic.
       But the very great majority of what we may call the church-abstaining, out of this fifty millions, I am convinced, hold back through a half-realized but deep-rooted idea that the Church and the Bible ask them to believe and to subscribe to much that they cannot believe and so cannot subscribe to; much that is outworn

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even in the simplest of services, owing to parts of the Bible.  They instinctively--and perhaps rightly--feel that a large portion of regular church-goers shut their eyes to a good deal, restrain their powers of thought in the interest of 'faith,' or make mental reservations and let it go at that.  Faith is a word, unfortunately, that has been held over the devout like a sword; that has been used as a reason for non-reason; yes, and for non-spirituality.  Yet faith is a good word, and there is a point where it is good common sense.
     We are come to a time when we want to ask the fifty millions to come to church; to be churchmen and women.  Have we a right to ask them to come, and to be forced thereupon to hear scripture-reading some of which makes them, if they are reflecting individuals, feel like squirming in their seats; feel that they are being asked, like children, to hear certain quaint tales quite without relation to daily life, and sometimes worse things, useless, or even abhorrent to their protesting souls?  If this question seems a profanation, let me hasten to add that such reading is exceptional; but it should not be possible at all.  It is a decided deterrent to the growth of the Church, and of real Christianity.
     There are many points of approach to this consideration of that large portion of our Bible, especially of the Old Testament, which is plainly unedifying for private reading and unsuited for reading in church; which no wise clergyman would choose to read there.  One element is, the effect upon the clergy themselves of a close reading of such things; that is, upon the narrower, less intelligent men, of whom, alas! there are plenty.  Another--our children; especially those of tenderer years.  Certain of the classics undesirable for them we may keep from them, but to the 'holy book' they have free access; indeed they are urged to read it freely.  About such objectionable parts, perhaps it is well not to take too much for granted as to a general information upon the part of the reader.  Specifically then--but in part only--may be mentioned the offensive sex-narratives of Genesis, fit for the ancient cattle-breeders, perhaps; the obsolete and confused ritual regulations of Leviticus and Deuteronomy, most of which belong to an outgrown stage of civilization--if we may call it a civilization at all; Jonah and similar pure fiction, the real teaching

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of which may have its lofty parts but is usually quite misunderstood; accounts of a fierce and savage warfare; endless genealogies; quite as useless as those others which St. Paul had in mind when in his Epistle to Timothy he said: 'Neither give heed to fables and endless genealogies.'  There should be a decided condensation of the Prophets and a more accurate rendering of the Psalms.
     Before the Church shall drift away, supinely, from the fifty millions, then, it is time with a view to preserving what is really our guide to life, the best of the book, and emphasizing such parts, for all Christians to take a hand in considering sanely this old, time-intrusted, indubitably precious guide, our Bible.  We are not Chinese; we do not, because a thing is old, sink our reason in mere veneration.  And it is to be hoped that we can take it in hand successfully without being open to a charge that nothing higher than cold reason has possessed us.  As a matter of truth, your sincere and able reasoner perceives more deeply than others that there is, in our natural emotion toward God, something transcending pure reason.
     It is probably true that comparatively few men really know how to think beyond what is called for by their daily routine.  That, nevertheless, is a poor reason for assuming that it matters not to such men whether or not the Bible be left in a form such as its present, which requires elaborate interpretation.  Millions of simple souls have lived and died content with it as it is, it is true; convinced that every page is 'God's Word.'  Great is their humble faith, and great their imagination if they found the beauty of holiness in arid places!  But we are considering the good of infinitely more millions; their defense against a more than probable growth of a blighting scepticism [sic], as education shall be extended over the Earth, unless our Bible shall be made more self-interpreting.  Too much clergy-interpretation is bad; as time goes on it must appear how shallow a hold comes of a dependence upon such interpretation.  It is shown in Russia to-day.  The saddest part of it all is--a part apparently unrealized by good men who would hold to the present admittedly unsatisfactory Bible because of timidity and of a cultured approval of their personal interpretations--that so many of our own people are vic-

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[vic]tims, literally victims, of that Bible; and have ceased to pray.  And the matter of it is this:  As children, innocent and trusting, they have learned about the 'first man and first woman'--date, about 7000 years ago.  They have learned of Noah and his Ark; of Lot, Samuel, Samson, Jezebel, David, Jonah.  They have learned of a Virgin Birth and of other wondrous events.  They have grown up; they have acquired that little education which is a dangerous thing; they may not have learned really to think, but they live in the atmosphere of the twentieth century.  They come to a time when they cannot believe all that they have so trustingly taken in, with the seal of the Church and the Bible upon it; from that creeps upon them a doubt of the personal relationship to them of God Himself.  And--so blighting a thing is a betrayed trust, or what they must believe to be such--from that day they cannot really pray, even though they go through the form of prayer.  Then follows naturally an indifference to church; finally an abstinence from church.  All of that is another way of saying, perhaps, that most thinking men and women must perforce become a little agnostic, probably with varying realization or acknowledgment of it to themselves; not in the sense of rejecting Christianity, but sufficiently to make them either uncomfortably restless or dangerously passive.  To the degree that is is unsettling, this is bad, at least for their peace; to the degree that it is growth in perception of truth, it cannot be bad.  They were unfortunately started, from a background of obsolescence.
     Perhaps every Christian, whether of the clergy or of the laity, must be agnostic to a certain degree.  I am convinced that such a rearrangement of our Bible as we may hope to see would allow many an earnest man and woman, partly agnostic, looking upon the Church as theirs, of whatever denomination they might choose; and would likewise allow of the Church looking upon them as good material, acceptable and helpful.  Suppose a questionnaire to be put, to a clergyman, a layman, and an agnostic, as follows:
     Q.  Do you know that God exists in a particular form?  A.  I do not.
     Q.  Do you know that God appeared to Man, or directed him? 
A.  I do not.

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     Q.  Do you know that God is not in a sense Man's invention?
A.  I do not.
     Q.  Do you know that Christ was of actual Virgin birth?
A.  I do not.
     Q.  Do you know that Christ ascended in His body visibly?
A.  I do not.
     I am sure that each of the three suggested persons, bearing in mind that the questions are in each case 'know,' not 'believe,' must reply as given, and to that extent be agnostic.  The questions, however, are only apparently important ones; actually they are non-essentials, both as to our daily living and as to the principles of Christianity.  A faith or a want of faith, as to one or all or them, makes not any difference in our lives or our usefulness.  I am attempting to show a very natural and a very common strain of agnosticism; but I have nothing other than sorrow for the honest agnostic who cannot find in his make-up any faith.  We may have an honest doubt as to the Virgin Birth and the Bodily Ascension.  It is more than probable that the followers who chronicled the birth went back for those intimate assertions thirty years before their own personal contact with, or actual knowledge of, Christ.  In telling of the last, they were Orientals, laboring under much strain after intense and tragic excitements.  Certainly it is a more natural thing to believe in a Creator and to believe that He sent a message through a special messenger, than to believe that He would without necessity break His inviolable Law.
     But Christ Himself told us to pray.  The agnostic must know this.  He Himself gave us a prayer.  And perhaps beyond anything else that we have, that prayer comes to us direct and unaltered, from His own lips.  In its opening, Christ twice mentions a 'Heaven' as a place distinct from Earth, and mentions God as 'our Father.'  The extraordinary importance of this cannot be exaggerated.  It directly resolves our doubts as to the four greatest things of Christian belief, Prayer, Fatherhood, Heaven, Immortality.  Without it, we can have doubts; with it, if we believe anything at all, we have assurance.  If we believe anything, we believe that Christ, whether divine or human, was the one Messenger to us from the Infinite; the one and only one

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with the voice of authority; the one and only one with a wisdom and a life in harmony with His message.  What is directly from His lips then, is of supremest importance; what is clear, noble, untainted with a suspicion of Oriental additions by His chroniclers.  In that one, small prayer, is mankind's pearl without price!
     In spite of our voluminous Bible, what we actually have as a basis for our moral law, applying to life to-day, is a comparatively slim thread running through its Hebrew foundation, the Old Testament, and the message of Christ, followed by the inspiration of Paul.  Beyond that, should not the Church of all denominations encourage individuality as to belief in non-essentials, even to the rearrangement of certain old creeds?
     How, then, shall we go about this work?  Far be it from me more  than tentatively to suggest its detail.  Ideally, there might be a high commission of ten men, of international make-up, composed of four of the clergy and two laymen of the Protestant churches, and four earnest and scholarly men outside the Church, to represent the millions partly agnostic.  To this number, if the Roman Church should find itself interested, should be added two or more, to represent it.  This new Bible might have a First Part, called, perhaps, the 'Hebrew Foundation,' to include all that is best of the Old Testament.  This could remain in the language of the revised version.  Legend, when retained, should be put as legend, cherished for its high literacy and historical value; its 'holiness' removed.
      The Second Part, practically our New Testament, might be subdivided into three parts, comprising the chief bases of our worship, our teaching, and our prayers.  The first of these parts would be of least value, being the accounts of the miraculous in the life of Christ, and including the accounts of His birth, miracles, and ascension.  This implies a segregation which could in turn open the question as to the need of the separate four Gospels as now printed.  It would probably be agreed that all demonology, and other questionable beliefs common to the day in which the writers of Christ's life lived, which are imposed upon the history of His perfect life and philosophy, can be left out.   This part might be called 'The Accounts of the Miraculous.'  The second

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could be our New Testament substantially as it is without the controversial matter above indicated, and without repetitions in the four Gospels should be consolidated.  This would be the heart of the Christian religion, including the words and philosophy of Christ and the inspiring story of His ministry and His death upon the Cross; followed by the splendid genius of Paul.  This might be called 'The Ministry of Christ.'  Finally, the third part, which should be in modern English, would be a recapitulation, clear and broad; in no sense a creed in whole or in part, but rather a constitution for all churches and all peoples, the Principles of Christianity.  This might be called 'Christian Principles.'  It could be hoped that Christian nations, in their dealings with each other and with barbarians, might hold to it.  It should be an excellent thing for the guidance of the Mohammedan, Buddhist, and heathen nations, after they shall find it in use in the highest political councils of the Christian Powers.  In any event, we owe it to ourselves not to feel that, because the Christian world is made up of many creeds, many minds, and many tastes and traditions, an agreement eliminating controversial matter may not be concluded upon its Bible and Principles.  That would be to deny the courage and intelligence of man.
     Let us then, with a great heart of courage, with a great faith in the truth of the essentials, with a forward-looking sacrifice of the non-essentials, have the good sense to venerate and keep for our actual guidance only that which is genuinely holy in use, rather than holy in tradition only.  If we shall not, there is trouble ahead.  Too long have laymen leaned upon the responsibility of the clergy; too long have the clergy solemnly agreed that much of the Bible as it now is used is open to controversy or is redundant, but that, as such parts do not interfere with 'essential truth,' they can supinely allow it all to stand.  Modesty, humility and breadth, rather than dogmatism or dodging, are needed, even to the rearrangement of Creeds.  The world grows fast to-day, and such a course would surely double the Church's membership throughout the world, and its usefulness.  Initiative and courage in this making of our new Bible may not come from the clergy; many will regard it as a profanation,--poor men!--but in the end the clergy will be the leaders.

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We cannot wait for the settlement of more or less friendly differences as to points of controversy.  Never, possibly, will they be settled.  Let them remain unsettled, but let the spirit remain friendly.  Two thousand years is a small portion of the time for which Christ preached.  Certainly our new Bible must be so made as to try to end controversy, else the work shall be but half done; that is, it must emphasize only essentials and the Church must not, as in the past, adopt certain interpretations and heap obloquy upon the doubting Thomas.  And let us earnestly hope that the initiative, strong and unyielding to discouragement, shall come, and soon, from laymen; not leaving the clergy the responsibility for starting the movement for a new Bible.  It is for us, the laymen, to 'start something.' 
     Surely we do need a Guide in our Bible, a Guide that shall be clear, that shall be unconfusing in a world of confusion and of national and individual selfishness.  Nations and individuals can and have risen to a white flame of sacrifice when called upon.  We all wish to be useful and happy, and clumsily  try to be.  Our guidance must be less beclouded in the future, for the good of the world.  And beyond this world too, our Bible takes us; we may rejoice that in our Lord's Prayer we have a Heaven and a Father confirmed to us.  We cannot help a feeling that we have in our being that super-self, whatever it may be, that is so beautifully and mysteriously expressed in the poet's vision: 
          When that which drew from out the boundless deep
          Turns again home.
     In good time we must turn again home; and when we turn, that most natural and human of longings must come to us, a feeling that there is yet another light when we have 'crost the bar.' And will not that light be discerned more clearly, and more steadfastly burn, when we shall have our new Bible?
HERBERT D. MILES"

First caption:  "Our first stop:  Barbados[?]"

Second caption:  "Cliffs - Barbado[?]s"

Third caption:  "The beautiful Gloria Hotel, our home in Rio Janiero."

First caption reads: "The strange Harbor of Rio Janiero -very beautiful."

Second caption reads: "Father Neptune's Cross[?] :  Crossing the Equator."

First caption reads:  "Beautiful city of Capetown, So. Africa, and Table Mountain"

Second caption reads:  "Adderly Street, Capetown"

Third caption reads:  "View from Gardens of Governor Teck[?], Capetown."

First caption reads: "Tax-drivers:  Durban, So. Africa."

Second caption reads: "Native family; not far from the City." 

First caption reads:  "Infants from Victoria Falls:  brought back in our ship; Leopards."

Second caption reads:  "Snapped by H. D. M. at a Train stop - Rhodesia."

Third caption reads:  "Wall built in prehistoric times by peoples unknown:  Zimbabwe ruins, Rhodesia.  Supposed to be the 'Land of Ophir' of King Solomon."

Four caption reads:  "One dancing party, given for us at Johannesburg."

First caption reads:  "Beautiful Houses of Parliament:  Capetown, So. Africa."

Second caption reads:  "Street in Pretoria, Transvaal."

Third caption reads:  "Scene in our Farm, near Pretoria."

Fourth caption reads:  "Pretoria residence of Governor, the King's Representative on the road of the Willows Farm and Diamond country."

First document caption reads:  "Public Document of President Kriiger About the period of Boer War."

Second document signed by President Kriiger, dated October 1896.   Caption reads:  "'(Don Paul[?]' the great President of the Boer Republic"

Photograph caption reads:  "Overlooking 'Don Paul's[?]' City, Pretoria, 1926."

Photograph caption reads:  "The greatest Scene of grandeur in the world.  This is but a fraction of it."

First caption reads:  "Street in Island of Zanzibar, Africa."

"Our last stop in Africa -Asyut, Egypt."

 Second caption reads:  "Tombs of the Kings, near Asyut. Tomb to [?]"

Third caption reads:  "Interior of Tomb:  Joists[?] unpainted[?] today."

"Paris:  the City of Cities.

The plane in which I flew from Amsterdam to London via Rotterdam.

Typical street in Amsterdam:  City of Canals."

"Typical Swis Village:  Lake Lucerne.

Switzerland:  a dizzy Deal!"

"The Lake Country:  England.  Place where H. D. M. went rowing, Lake Windermere."

"Loch Katrine, Scotland, Ellen's Isle.  Where H. D. M. spent some time, after seeing the Walker Cup International Golf Tournament, at old St. Andrews, June 1926." 

Handwritten notes on page record a hole-in-one golf shot, and follow:  "H. D. M.'s best Golf:  not much, but wonderful for him!  Biltmore Forest Club.  The #16 hole, 427 yards, at Biltmore Forest.  Only "2" ever made there!"

First photograph caption reads:  "1927.  H. D. Miles:  Chas. M. Dahurst[?]: Harvey Firestone:  Chas. Locff[?]"

Second photograph caption reads:  "My favorite partner.  Parey B. Eckhart.  1927"

Herbert D. Miles,
Albemarle Park,
Asheville, N.C.

My dear Mr. Miles,

     In compliance with your request, I have prepared a bill along the lines suggested authorizing the Secretary of the Treasury to convey the old post-office site to the City of Asheville for park and street purposes and introduced it in the Senate on yesterday.  I am enclosing, for your information, copy of the bill.  I hope we may be successful in getting it through all right.

With best wishes and compliments of the Season, I am

Very truly yours,

L S Overman

[Herbert Miles note at bottom of letter]: Senator Overman's last work!  He died, a few days after signing this letter!  H. D. M"

Telegram reads:  "CH67 9 GOVT=SU WASHINGTON D.C. ["Feb" inserted] 26 ["/31" inserted] 1220

HERBERT D MILES=
ASHEVILLE NCAR=

SENATE COMMITTEE UNANIMOUSLY PASSED THIS MORNING=ASHEVILLE PARK BILL

CAMERON MORRISON."

"Owing to Asheville having given to the U.S. two sites for Post Offices, we had a unique claim for return of the first.  H. D. M. singly persuaded Senator Overman over his objections, and started the movement.  With Geo. Stephens, Gampe[?] Pritchard + Sm. Morrison.  I finished it."

Newspaper photograph depicts newly created Pritchard Park covered in snow.  

Image only.

First article discusses a 200-yard golf shot made by Herbert Miles at the Biltmore Forest Country Club. 

Second article concerns the reelection of officers in the North Carolina Society of Mayflower Descendants.  Raleigh, 1937.

Image only.

  "October 11th, 1934. 

Dear Mr. Miles,
     Thanks, very much, for your nice letter of October 6th, with enclosed clipping. 
     How ridiculous for anyone to put me in such a class.  However, I find that reputations are often illfounded and have their basis on some incidents that are of little consequence in life and yet perhaps popular.  It is hard to live up to a reputation of that sort.  I would rather have yours, which, you know in your own heart, is well deserved.
     It would be a pleasure to see you again.  Times are so"

"bad and business demands so great, that I have little opportunity to go anywhere.
     Mrs. Schwab is holding her own.  We are both very well and getting ready to leave for the city next week, although the weather continues fine here.  I am sure it must be delightful in Asheville.
With best regards, and all good wishes, I am
Sincerely yours,
Charles Schwab

Mr. Herbert D. Miles,
Albemarle Park,
Asheville, N.C."

1.  Go down to Lure in Dogwood time, in Laurel time, in Blossom time,
To bright Lake Lure at bud-time (it isn't far from Asheville;)
And you shall wander hand in hand with love, in Springtime's wonderland;
So speed to Lure and sail its shore, (it isn't far from Asheville!)

2.  The dogwood trees are seas of bloom; the soft perfume makes April June;
The laurel blossom's quite a boon (and oh, so near to Asheville!)
And there, perhaps, when night is nigh, and all the world's a blaze of sky,
The Whip-poor-will, that bird so shy, will sing (not far from Asheville!)

3.  The Mocking bird is somewhat rare, and yet I'll swear, you'll hear him there,
At sweet Lake Lure, in laurel time, (and still so near to Asheville!)
The Carolina Wren sings too, and after dark the wierd [sic] hulloo,
The ghostly call, tu-whit, tu-whoo of Owls, to ogle Asheville!

4.  In fact one scarce can find a bird that isn't heard, at dawning heard,
At rare Lake Lure in Blossom time, (an hour's run from Asheville!)
So when the laurel starts to pout, and all the Chestnut spires are out,
You'll hear them there without a doubt, all chorusing for Asheville!

Herbert D. Miles 1927"

First caption:  "Very early date as to Asheville country." Article talks about Hernando De Soto's early exploration of America, with a brief mention of his journey through Western North Carolina.

Second caption: "a favorite poem."  Poem reads:

"A Garden is a lovesome thing, God wot;
Rose plot,
Fringed pool,
Ferned grot --
The veriest school
Of peace; and yet the fool
Contends that God is not.
Not God, in Gardens when the eve is cool?
Nay, but I have a sign;
'Tis very sure God walks in mine."

Third caption reads:  "A good poem about an old place."  Caption on poem reads:  "Near where Grandfatehr Smith was married.  Digby, Nova Scotia."  Poem reads:

"DIGBY
By Hermann Hagedorn

I spent three hours in Digby.  I will remember the bay;
The white sails gliding through the gap for strange lands far away;
The heavenly waters stretching by many a purple slope;
The tide from out of Fundy, quiet of foot as hope.

I will remember Digby, where the streets are steep and still;
And placid eyes look on the world as it passes by, up hill,
And the churches look on the sea, as all good churches should,
To keep a hint in the eyes and ears of the heart and the voice of God.

I will remember the apple tree on the hill above  the town
Where a vagabond stretched his lazy limbs and wrote these verses down."   

Image only.

Our risen sun, in noble ministry
Pours from its heart a never-failing power.
Now gently, gently in its valiant might
It asks the drowsy clouds of night
To stir the dawning's hour:

Its perfect art
Gives to old lands enslaved or free, new light;
For the bewildered realms that lie undone
Whose mournful peoples grieve and cower,
New hope is won.

Soft glow its all-embracing rays
Infolding an awakening world with cheer,
Returned from lending glory to the moon.
Forever a new morn, increasing to the noon
Comes to bring peace wherever peace is lost,
And scorns the cost.

The sun's proud passions, vehement and rife,
Breed ardently upon the earth beneath
All that is life;
And timelessly
From its warm spirit new-made strength is hurled
In re-creation of a darkling world.

Heirs to a fate as proud,
Enchained as fast, still groping in life's dark,
We too are charted to our feebler course,
And when the flood tide serves
We must embark.

Our fate to sow, and reck not what is sown;
To offer up life's waters, yet athirst;
To spend in work and folly, and to fight --
Breaking our heedless hearts for goals unknown;
To give, and never cease:

Great giving, is God's price
For peace!

Herbert D. Miles
1941

Slight tawny sprays left of last year's Abelia
Unfold undying loveliness, an old allure
Where beauty dwells.
Within the shadowy abode lie timid hues
Of ivories, purples, greens,
The shy, elusive green of a past summer's light,
The faded purples of a temple rug, deep-tinted ivories,
All faintly glowing.

Gift of a prodigal heaven, their beauty ministers
To a frail host whose race is run;
Serenely their imperishable charm
Echoes creation's all-infolding love;
Changeless and ageless.

The hills upon whose sides Abelia blooms
Are dead a billion years, the sprays a year,
And each holds purest beauty:
Part of the power that wrought in ages gone
Lies in the hills;
Part of the life of last year's sunlight dwells
In the Abelia;
And these soft colors that entrance me now
Were in an Autumn sunset.

Life everlasting:  to the hills, color and form and light;
To us a spirit, to be kept or lost --
And this is beauty.
Not death, not time holds power over it,
All else is cast away;
The soul endures -- if it is beautiful.

Herbert D. Miles
1939

Poem reads: 

"(NOTE:  It seemed unfortunate that none of the Hymns commonly used for burial services were written with that purpose in view.  This is a modest attempt to supply that omission.)

A HYMN

For burial song services;
To Cuthbert's tune of
'Our Blest Redeemer' in the
Episcopal Hymnal

O God, Creator, Father, Friend,
To thine eternal shore
Take this new spirit:  to thine arms
Forevermore!

The earthly house is cast aside,
A soul is poised in flight;
Guide thou its quiet pathway home --
Lead, Kindly Light!

In sorrow, dust to dust we lay
A mortal frame made free;
O God our Father take this soul
In peace to thee!

Herbert D. Miles
1942