Re: Disappearing headers -- belated followup

[Matt Gushee <mgushee@havenrock.com>]

On Wed, Jul 28, 2004 at 10:54:37AM +0200, Hans Hagen wrote:

> >I am trying to format a book such that the book title appears in the
> >header of each left-hand page, and the chapter title appears in the
> >header of each right-hand page. I think (though I haven't decided for
> >sure) that I want each chapter to start on a right-hand page. It seems
> >that, when chapters are forced to begin on right-hand pages, the book
> >title fails to appear on the first blank page inserted to move the
> >chapter start, and on all subsequent pages.
> >
> i need a small doc with dummy text to see the effect -)

I apologize for not responding earlier. I've been wrapped up in a very
time-consuming project. Anyway, you'll find an example below.

Also, I will of course try your suggestions.


-- test02.tex ----------------------------------------------------------

\definepapersize
    [tradebook6x9]
    [width=6in,height=9in]

\definepapersize
    [double6x9]
    [width=12in,height=9in]

\setuppapersize [tradebook6x9] [tradebook6x9]

\setuphead [title] [align=left,textstyle={\bf}]
\setuphead [chapter] [page=right,head=nomarking,after=\blank]
\setuppagenumbering [alternative=doublesided,location={header,marginedge}]
\setupheader [style=\it]
\setupheadertexts [] [chapter] [title] []

\setupbodyfont [10pt]
\setupindenting [small]

\define[2]\TitlePage{%
    \startstandardmakeup
        \vfill
        \vfill
        \title {#1}
        \vfil
        {\switchtobodyfont [14.4pt]
         \rightaligned {\rm #2}}
        \vfill 
        \vfill
        \vfill
    \stopstandardmakeup
}%
\starttext
\startfrontmatter
    \TitlePage {The Oregon Trail} {Francis Parkman, Jr.}
    \placecontent
\stopfrontmatter


\startbodymatter
\chapter {The Frontier}

\setupheader[state=empty]


Last spring, 1846, was a busy season in the City of St. Louis.  Not 
only were emigrants from every part of the country preparing for the 
journey to Oregon and California, but an unusual number of traders 
were making ready their wagons and outfits for Santa Fe.  Many of the 
emigrants, especially of those bound for California, were persons of 
wealth and standing.  The hotels were crowded, and the gunsmiths and 
saddlers were kept constantly at work in providing arms and 
equipments for the different parties of travelers.  Almost every day 
steamboats were leaving the levee and passing up the Missouri, 
crowded with passengers on their way to the frontier.

In one of these, the Radnor, since snagged and lost, my friend and 
relative, Quincy A. Shaw, and myself, left St. Louis on the 28th of 
April, on a tour of curiosity and amusement to the Rocky Mountains.  
The boat was loaded until the water broke alternately over her 
guards.  Her upper deck was covered with large weapons of a peculiar 
form, for the Santa Fe trade, and her hold was crammed with goods for 
the same destination.  There were also the equipments and provisions 
of a party of Oregon emigrants, a band of mules and horses, piles of 
saddles and harness, and a multitude of nondescript articles, 
indispensable on the prairies.  Almost hidden in this medley one 
might have seen a small French cart, of the sort very appropriately 
called a "mule-killer" beyond the frontiers, and not far distant a 
tent, together with a miscellaneous assortment of boxes and barrels.  
The whole equipage was far from prepossessing in its appearance; yet, 
such as it was, it was destined to a long and arduous journey, on 
which the persevering reader will accompany it.

The passengers on board the Radnor corresponded with her freight.  In 
her cabin were Santa Fe traders, gamblers, speculators, and 
adventurers of various descriptions, and her steerage was crowded 
with Oregon emigrants, "mountain men," negroes, and a party of Kansas 
Indians, who had been on a visit to St. Louis.

Thus laden, the boat struggled upward for seven or eight days against 
the rapid current of the Missouri, grating upon snags, and hanging 
for two or three hours at a time upon sand-bars.  We entered the 
mouth of the Missouri in a drizzling rain, but the weather soon 
became clear, and showed distinctly the broad and turbid river, with 
its eddies, its sand-bars, its ragged islands, and forest-covered 
shores.  The Missouri is constantly changing its course; wearing away 
its banks on one side, while it forms new ones on the other.  Its 
channel is shifting continually.  Islands are formed, and then washed 
away; and while the old forests on one side are undermined and swept 
off, a young growth springs up from the new soil upon the other.  
With all these changes, the water is so charged with mud and sand 
that it is perfectly opaque, and in a few minutes deposits a sediment 
an inch thick in the bottom of a tumbler.  The river was now high; 
but when we descended in the autumn it was fallen very low, and all 
the secrets of its treacherous shallows were exposed to view.  It was 
frightful to see the dead and broken trees, thick-set as a military 
abatis, firmly imbedded in the sand, and all pointing down stream, 
ready to impale any unhappy steamboat that at high water should pass 
over that dangerous ground.

In five or six days we began to see signs of the great western 
movement that was then taking place.  Parties of emigrants, with 
their tents and wagons, would be encamped on open spots near the 
bank, on their way to the common rendezvous at Independence.  On a 
rainy day, near sunset, we reached the landing of this place, which 
is situated some miles from the river, on the extreme frontier of 
Missouri.  The scene was characteristic, for here were represented at 
one view the most remarkable features of this wild and enterprising 
region.  On the muddy shore stood some thirty or forty dark slavish-
looking Spaniards, gazing stupidly out from beneath their broad hats.  
They were attached to one of the Santa Fe companies, whose wagons 
were crowded together on the banks above.  In the midst of these, 
crouching over a smoldering fire, was a group of Indians, belonging 
to a remote Mexican tribe.  One or two French hunters from the 
mountains with their long hair and buckskin dresses, were looking at 
the boat; and seated on a log close at hand were three men, with 
rifles lying across their knees.  The foremost of these, a tall, 
strong figure, with a clear blue eye and an open, intelligent face, 
might very well represent that race of restless and intrepid pioneers 
whose axes and rifles have opened a path from the Alleghenies to the 
western prairies.  He was on his way to Oregon, probably a more 
congenial field to him than any that now remained on this side the 
great plains.


\chapter {Breaking The Ice}

\setupheader [state=empty]


Both Shaw and myself were tolerably inured to the vicissitudes of 
traveling.  We had experienced them under various forms, and a birch 
canoe was as familiar to us as a steamboat.  The restlessness, the 
love of wilds and hatred of cities, natural perhaps in early years to 
every unperverted son of Adam, was not our only motive for 
undertaking the present journey.  My companion hoped to shake off the 
effects of a disorder that had impaired a constitution originally 
hardy and robust; and I was anxious to pursue some inquiries relative 
to the character and usages of the remote Indian nations, being 
already familiar with many of the border tribes.

Emerging from the mud-hole where we last took leave of the reader, we 
pursued our way for some time along the narrow track, in the 
checkered sunshine and shadow of the woods, till at length, issuing 
forth into the broad light, we left behind us the farthest outskirts 
of that great forest, that once spread unbroken from the western 
plains to the shore of the Atlantic.  Looking over an intervening 
belt of shrubbery, we saw the green, oceanlike expanse of prairie, 
stretching swell over swell to the horizon.

It was a mild, calm spring day; a day when one is more disposed to 
musing and reverie than to action, and the softest part of his nature 
is apt to gain the ascendency.  I rode in advance of the party, as we 
passed through the shrubbery, and as a nook of green grass offered a 
strong temptation, I dismounted and lay down there.  All the trees 
and saplings were in flower, or budding into fresh leaf; the red 
clusters of the maple-blossoms and the rich flowers of the Indian 
apple were there in profusion; and I was half inclined to regret 
leaving behind the land of gardens for the rude and stern scenes of 
the prairie and the mountains.


\chapter {Fort Leavenworth}

\setupheader [state=empty]


On the next morning we rode to Fort Leavenworth.  Colonel, now 
General, Kearny, to whom I had had the honor of an introduction when 
at St. Louis, was just arrived, and received us at his headquarters 
with the high-bred courtesy habitual to him.  Fort Leavenworth is in 
fact no fort, being without defensive works, except two block-houses.  
No rumors of war had as yet disturbed its tranquillity.  In the 
square grassy area, surrounded by barracks and the quarters of the 
officers, the men were passing and repassing, or lounging among the 
trees; although not many weeks afterward it presented a different 
scene; for here the very off-scourings of the frontier were 
congregated, to be marshaled for the expedition against Santa Fe.

Passing through the garrison, we rode toward the Kickapoo village, 
five or six miles beyond.  The path, a rather dubious and uncertain 
one, led us along the ridge of high bluffs that bordered the 
Missouri; and by looking to the right or to the left, we could enjoy 
a strange contrast of opposite scenery.  On the left stretched the 
prairie, rising into swells and undulations, thickly sprinkled with 
groves, or gracefully expanding into wide grassy basins of miles in 
extent; while its curvatures, swelling against the horizon, were 
often surmounted by lines of sunny woods; a scene to which the 
freshness of the season and the peculiar mellowness of the atmosphere 
gave additional softness.  Below us, on the right, was a tract of 
ragged and broken woods.  We could look down on the summits of the 
trees, some living and some dead; some erect, others leaning at every 
angle, and others still piled in masses together by the passage of a 
hurricane.  Beyond their extreme verge, the turbid waters of the 
Missouri were discernible through the boughs, rolling powerfully 
along at the foot of the woody declivities of its farther bank.

The path soon after led inland; and as we crossed an open meadow we 
saw a cluster of buildings on a rising ground before us, with a crowd 
of people surrounding them.  They were the storehouse, cottage, and 
stables of the Kickapoo trader's establishment.  Just at that moment, 
as it chanced, he was beset with half the Indians of the settlement.  
They had tied their wretched, neglected little ponies by dozens along 
the fences and outhouses, and were either lounging about the place, 
or crowding into the trading house.  Here were faces of various 
colors; red, green, white, and black, curiously intermingled and 
disposed over the visage in a variety of patterns.  Calico shirts, 
red and blue blankets, brass ear-rings, wampum necklaces, appeared in 
profusion.  The trader was a blue-eyed open-faced man who neither in 
his manners nor his appearance betrayed any of the roughness of the 
frontier; though just at present he was obliged to keep a lynx eye on 
his suspicious customers, who, men and women, were climbing on his 
counter and seating themselves among his boxes and bales.

The village itself was not far off, and sufficiently illustrated the 
condition of its unfortunate and self-abandoned occupants.  Fancy to 
yourself a little swift stream, working its devious way down a woody 
valley; sometimes wholly hidden under logs and fallen trees, 
sometimes issuing forth and spreading into a broad, clear pool; and 
on its banks in little nooks cleared away among the trees, miniature 
log-houses in utter ruin and neglect.  A labyrinth of narrow, 
obstructed paths connected these habitations one with another.  
Sometimes we met a stray calf, a pig or a pony, belonging to some of 
the villagers, who usually lay in the sun in front of their 
dwellings, and looked on us with cold, suspicious eyes as we 
approached.  Farther on, in place of the log-huts of the Kickapoos, 
we found the pukwi lodges of their neighbors, the Pottawattamies, 
whose condition seemed no better than theirs.

Growing tired at last, and exhausted by the excessive heat and 
sultriness of the day, we returned to our friend, the trader.  By 
this time the crowd around him had dispersed, and left him at 
leisure.  He invited us to his cottage, a little white-and-green 
building, in the style of the old French settlements; and ushered us 
into a neat, well-furnished room.  The blinds were closed, and the 
heat and glare of the sun excluded; the room was as cool as a cavern.  
It was neatly carpeted too and furnished in a manner that we hardly 
expected on the frontier.  The sofas, chairs, tables, and a well-
filled bookcase would not have disgraced an Eastern city; though 
there were one or two little tokens that indicated the rather 
questionable civilization of the region.  A pistol, loaded and 
capped, lay on the mantelpiece; and through the glass of the 
bookcase, peeping above the works of John Milton glittered the handle 
of a very mischievous-looking knife.

Our host went out, and returned with iced water, glasses, and a 
bottle of excellent claret; a refreshment most welcome in the extreme 
heat of the day; and soon after appeared a merry, laughing woman, who 
must have been, a year of two before, a very rich and luxuriant 
specimen of Creole beauty.  She came to say that lunch was ready in 
the next room.  Our hostess evidently lived on the sunny side of 
life, and troubled herself with none of its cares.  She sat down and 
entertained us while we were at table with anecdotes of fishing 
parties, frolics, and the officers at the fort.  Taking leave at 
length of the hospitable trader and his friend, we rode back to the 
garrison.

Shaw passed on to the camp, while I remained to call upon Colonel 
Kearny.  I found him still at table.  There sat our friend the 
captain, in the same remarkable habiliments in which we saw him at 
Westport; the black pipe, however, being for the present laid aside.  
He dangled his little cap in his hand and talked of steeple-chases, 
touching occasionally upon his anticipated exploits in buffalo-
hunting.  There, too, was R., somewhat more elegantly attired.  For 
the last time we tasted the luxuries of civilization, and drank 
adieus to it in wine good enough to make us almost regret the leave-
taking.  Then, mounting, we rode together to the camp, where 
everything was in readiness for departure on the morrow.
\stopbodymatter
\stoptext

-- END test02.tex ------------------------------------------------------

-- 
Matt Gushee                 When a nation follows the Way,
Englewood, Colorado, USA    Horses bear manure through
mgushee@havenrock.com           its fields;
http://www.havenrock.com/   When a nation ignores the Way,
                            Horses bear soldiers through
                                its streets.
                                
                            --Lao Tzu (Peter Merel, trans.)