HOOD'S CANAL ANDERSON.--Hood's Canal Anderson was a peculiar composition of strange fancy. He was born in Denmark, and from childhood showed an insatiable passion for the sea, which ripened into irresistible lust. While a lad of vernal years he left his native seat to be dashed on the briny waves from port to port. He saw the crystal ice of Lofoten, the huge glaciers of Greenland, the thirsty greens of India, the foul bogs of China, the flowery vales of Japan, the rich gold fields of Australia, the teeming meadows of New Zealand. He was tossed from continent to continent, from island to island. About forty-five years ago he drifted ashore near Port Discovery, and under veil of night put wings to his feet for the forest. The fascinating aspect of the country and the aromatic sylva poured streams of delight into his soul. As he stood in the early morn, gazing around in mingled awe and admiration, he was surrounded by a red race, who, at first, gave vent to the horrible dilemma of converting his heart to ashes or treating him as a slave, but his ingenious demeanor turned their sanguinity to laughter, and Anderson became their curious jocularity which melted to favoritism. He strolled with the train of vagabonds alternately fishing and hunting up streams and canoeing the Sound. Thus ten years were dragged out of his longevity without mingling with white men. His longing for civilization vanished little by little, and the life of celibacy settled heavily on his heart. He was a friend of the chief and an admirer of his daughter, and it took only the big canoe to seal the bargain. Anderson was rather long-headed for the red heathens, and got the best of every deal. He was now the possessor of the biggest canoe, save the royal ship, and was looked upon as independently opulent. Only a word would change his life for better or worse. Finally he took the delicate step and offered the huge dug-out in trade for the young princess, which was accepted with loud eclat. The ban of the nuptial day was made public. The bride spared no tiptoeing to make it highly royal. First was a coat of red paint, then purple, tinged with green. A carefully administered shampoo of oil followed, then a crands of wild flowers was critically twined to her wealth of black locks with a few quills set on end in the most confused bewilderment. Of course, Anderson did not fancy the odorous coat of his intended, nor her pert of etiquette, but being as those things were incidental to the dynasty, he darted approbation with his blue eyes, thinking, "Costume is not permanent." From this time the chivalric Dane became a leader. He piloted the royal squadron to Hood's Canal, where he squatted on a piece of land, hence the sobriquet--Hood's Canal Anderson.