Yorkville enquirer. [volume], October 12, 1892, Image 1

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YOEKYILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, OCTOBEE 12, 1892. 3STO. 41. |
V vy 1 i. ^v_/.
? Iftovflrttr.
BESIEGED BY CHEYEHNES.
BY A. IT. GIBHOX.
H _
(Copyright, 1892, by Amerloau Press Association.]
CHAPTER L
Halting before Lois, he said, good morning.
In the fall of eighteen hundred and
seventy-eight a band of nearly five
hundred Cheyenne Indians escaped
_ from their reservation near Fort Reno,
in Indian Territory. They had formed
the bold design of returning to their old
hunting grounds in Nebraska, from
which they had been removed by the
authority of the United States government.
So sudden was the outbreak that the
military authorities could not be induced
to believe there was any occasion
for fright on the part of the settlers, or
EUl^ UWU U1 IUCU lOAiu^ vuo sxicavw* iu
hand until the redmen had committed
many appalling atrocities, destroying
much property and wounding and
butchering many persons in western
Kansas.
Settlers and stockmen who received
warning soon enough rushed into the
^ nearest towns and were very active in
helping fortify them against attack.
They came in covered wagons, on horseback
and on foot, many of them loaded
down with various and nondescript articles,
which they had snatched from
their abandoned homes. There were
many amusing situations and some very
ludicrous "scares," as were related after
the terror had subsided, but no one felt
disposed to indulge in laughter at the
time of their occurrence.
As soon as it could be effected numerous
military companies were formed and
armed by the state government and stationed
near the scenes of attack.
Many of the border villages were patrolled
during the night and scouting
parties, armed to the teeth, were dispatched
in various directions to give
warning to the outlying settlements or
to keep a keen eye on the movements of
the red enemy.
^ After reaching the settlements in Kansas
theCheyennes began to separate into
small bands, some going in one direction,
some in another, and falling upon
the unsuspecting settlers of the prairies
they committed most fiendish depredations.
It
was the first week in October, and
the golden glamour of autumn had enveloped
the prairies, dulling the rich
emerald hue of the grass and leaving
L only a few stray clumps of white and j
pale lilac asters to nod a dainty farewell |
of the long, bright summer.
A lovely picture Lois Gilbert made as
she sat upon her sturdy Indian pony in
the rosy flush of the morning sun and
watched her father's cattle graze on the
prairie.
She wore a plain, dark print dress,
and from beneath the short cape of her
pink sunbonnet strayed waving tendrils
of dark hair, which the south wind playfully
tossed about her shoulders.
The bonnet, pushed back slightly from
her brow, revealed a fresh, oval face,
with a complexion like one of her own
prairie roses and dauntless, dark eyes
that looked intelligently from between
long, jetty lashes.
The Gilbert family had come from
Kentucky two year.* before. Tuo ill'st
year had been spent on a rented farm in
w eastern Kansas. Then Moses Gilbert
had once more loaded his wife and
daughter, with their household belongings,
into the covered wagon and journeyed
to the western part of the state,
where there was plenty of vacant land.
Hoses Gilbert h:id an ambition to become
a Ktoclrv.n, but his meager
finances oblige i .am to begin on a small
w * - - -1-i -'1-^1. M
scale. Jtie toox a ciami suuauie mr
grazing purposes and built a sod shanty
* for his family on a bluff overlooking the
Arkansas river in its randy 1..J.
With what money he (..ought with
him he bought thirty-six cows, from
which he hoped to be able to start a
ranch. The neighboring stockmen
might laugh and crack all the jokes
they pleased at his expense, because of
the littleness of his start. Mose Gilbert
t did not care. His claim was a good one
for stock, with plenty of grass and
water, and with much patience and
work he felt assured of success in the
end.
If Mrs. Gilbert and Lois found a lack
of comforts in the sod shanty, they
never complained. Their faith in the
* of husband and father was of an
unwavering nature.
They were quite willing to endure
hardships and privations for his sake,
and never doubted that he would one
day be one of the most successful ranchmen
of western Kansas.
Like the sensible, loving women they
were, they battled bravely with their
poverty, and tried faithfully to make
their wild claim assume as homelike an
appearance as possible.
Lois was the only living child, but
back in the old burying ground in Kene
H 11
cuctcy were tnree sinau muuuus, ivntuu
which the mother's heart so often
reached out. How often, too, the tears
fell from her eyes as she pursued her
lonely toils!
Lois was now eighteen, strong, active
and brave. She was a valuable assistant
to her father, for when called away
an business or required to attend to some
piece of work on the claim she was ever
ready and able to take his place as herdsman
and keep the cattle from straying
away.
It was frequently very lonely employment
for the girl, watching the stock on
the prairies for many hours at a time
and miles away from a human being.
But she was on perfectly good terms
with her pony, and would often talk to
Hero, as if he possessed human comprehension.
Lois did believe he was
"smarter than some folks." He was a
dark chestnut sorrel, and had noble
brown eyes. There was no one so dear
to his heart as his lovely mistress and he
9 would follow her like a pet dog all over
the prairie.
Then when she tired of talking to
Hero, which, however, was not often,
she had a long list of war songs and sentimental
ballads which she trilled to
herself. The girl had a natural voice,
and sang as the mockingbirds and the
redbirds that resorted to the cotton
woods around her sod home. Mose Gilk
bert had served in the late war on the
Union side, and had taught Lois her
war songs, which he had learned while
far away from home and kindred, in the
soldiers' camps or marching to meet the
Confederates.
Very often, too, the girl took her knitting
with her, and while the pony grazed
near the cattle she sat, like a veritable
"* prairie princess, in her saddle and manipulated
the long needles as skillfully
as if she were seated on her favorite
bench in the sod shanty.
This picturo was indelibly stamped on
the mind and heart of a certain young
stockman, whose father had a large
rancn about twenty-live miles south o
Mose Gilbert's claim.
Gilbert had purchased his 6tock at th
Hutchins ranch, and in that way an ac
quaintance had sprung up between th
two families.
Several times that summer Lee Hutch
ins, lured by a pair of dark eyes, ha<
ridden away from his father's range
ostensibly to search for strays, but ii
reality to ride up some deep hollow o
place himself behind some hill, when
unseen he might catch the notes ?
words of Lois' clear, birdlike songs o
watch her busy fingers ply the knitting
needles.
That was to him like a glimpse-o
paradise and he would ride off, his sou
in a tumult of hopeless passion.
He rarely ever approached Lois as shi
watched alone her father's cattle. H<
was a brave, fearless young fellow, am
could ride the most fractious pony a
the ranch or face the'wildest stamped'
of cattle, but somehow Lois' bright eye
stripped him of all courage, and hi
usually acted like a nervous, blundering
schoolboy when h^found himself in he
presence. ^
Lee Hutchins was not by nature bash
ful, and had he been sure that Lois caret
for him ho would not have tried to avoit
her presence, as he frequently did. Tha
a beautiful girl like she was should eve:
learn to care for a rough, prairie bre<
fellow, as he felt himself to be, neve:
for a moment entered his head.
He was becoming more hopelessly
fascinated every day, and more thickly
wrapped up in his fear to declare hi
love.
So the summer had blossomed ant
j faded, and hazy, golden October fount
| them farther from an understanding
1 than ever.
Hero was munching away contentedly
{ at the tenderest sprays of grass befon
j him, while his mistress carelessly
; hummed a love tune, as her fingers in
: dustriously knitted away on a large blu<
mitten of Gennantowu yarn, which
j with its mate, finished some days ago
1 was to form a present for her father.
Snddftnlv her attention was attracted
, toward a solitary horseman coming
across the prairie. She stopped her worl
I to watch him.
He was riding at a wild rate of speed
and showed every evidence of being or
| an errand of great haste or importance,
As he drew nearer she recognized Lee
! Hntchins, and a pretty crimson quickly
flooded neck, cheek and brow.
He was a handsome young fellow,
! abont twenty-fonr, with clear blue eyes
! and light brown hair. The boyishness
of his round, fresh face was relieved by
a small light colored mustache. He
I was of athletic build, and sat on his
; pony like one born to the saddle.
Halting before Lois, he said good
' morning in a strangely agitated voice.
His old embarrassment seemed tc
I have given way before the excitement
I under which it was evident he was laboring.
By a strong effort he controlled
himself, and then asked:
"Where's your father, Miss Lois?"
i "He's gone to Scrub Station," Lois an|
swered, drawing her bonnet down over
j her eyes that young Hutchins might not
I see how flus'.ed her face had grown at
his abrupt arrival.
The eyes of love have a distinct keenness
all their own, however, and something
in the girl's pretty countenance
thrilled him with a hope he had never
felt before.
Could it be possible that Lois was
growing to care for him at last?
The thought almost drove from his
mind the important mission on which
he had come.
There are occasions when love most
be rudely jostled aside for the performance
of duties that will not endure putting
off. Lee Hutchins felt this tob)
one of them, and relegating his nearest
feelings by the exercise of his strong
will, he said:
"When did your father go to Scrub
Station?"
"Yesterday," Lois replied.
"When will he get back?"
"We don't know exactly. He couldn't
tell us when he left. It's nearly sixty
! miles from our place to the station, and
; father had a great many things to attend
I to. WTe don't often get to town, and fa:
tber intends to make this the last trip
until spring. But he will come home
just as soon as he can, probably tomorrow
evening."
"I'm very sorry he's gone," remarked
Lee Hutchins, a cloud crossing his face,
as is the case when we are forced to tell
disagreeable or alarming news to one
whom we would gladly shield.
"Did you want to see him on particular
business, Mr. Hutchins?"
"Yes, or?that is?well, the fact is.
Miss Lois, my news iB not pleasant, and
I don't like to alarm you, but the truth
is the Injuns are coming."
"The Injuns?" she repeated.
"Yes, the Cheyennes," he answered.
"They've broke loose from the territory
and are cutting up Nick generally."
it A ma 4-1%att onminnr +Vna WAV?"
Ai C moj vvm?ug V4*?v ??V.^ .
"I'm sorry to tell you, Miss Lois, they
are. I could see the smoke of cabim
they'd set on fire south of us when 1
started to give warning to the settlers
up this way. The settlers in our neighborhood
have gathered at father's ranch,
which they are turning into a sort ol
fort. Silas Jordan is turning his cabic
into a blockhouse for the common pro!
tection of the settlers up here, and ]
think, Miss Lois, you and your mothei
ought to start there without delay. The
I Cheyennes will reach the Arkansas be'
fore night, if not sooner. I don't want
i to scare you, but I want to 6ee you in ?
: place of surer safety than your owr
: home affords before the red imps gel
here."
"You are very kind. Mr. Hutchins,
. to bring us word of the trouble so soon,
If you have time we will ride up to the
shanty and report to mother. She will
decide what is best for us."
Lee Hutchins was not prepared to be
hold the coolness with which Lois Gil
j bert met his announcement of the In;
dian outbreak. He had expected to see
her grow pale and show feminine terror.
I think, too, he was guilty of a
hope that she might faint away on receiving
the news, just to afford him the
coveted opportunity to clasp her in his
arms and hold her there, like a fluttering
bird, for a few delicious moments.
She did nothing, however, that he ex
i pected her to do, and he was fain to be
| content to gallop away by her side up te
the shanty on the bluffs.
Mrs. Gilbert came to the de>or as the
young pair re>de up, and Lee Hutchins
was soon telling her all he knew of the
Cheyenne raids.
I Mrs. Gilbert, like her daughter, was
j not one to be easily excited and fright
ened, but from Lee's account she fell
certain it would be the wisest course
that Bhe and Lois could take to place
themselves in safer quarters.
Her husband had gone to a little sta
tion about 6ixty miles northeast of theii
claim and would not return for a da)
or two. It would not be safe to awaii
his return to the shanty if the Indian!
were coming in as large numbers as re
ported. Had any one but Lee Hutcliins
brought the warning, Mrs. Gilberi
would very likely have regarded it at
an idle Indian "scare," such as are 1101
infrequent on the frontier. But sh<
knew there was nothing of the alannisi
! in the ranchman's son, and she listenec
to his advice,
j As soon as it was decided that she am
Lois should seek safety at Silas Jordan':
1 cabin, three miles down the river, the)
began preparations to abandon the sot
dwelling.
j They had only Hero on which to inak<
the journey to Jordan's, Mr. Gillier
having taken the horse and wagon
They could not carry many article:
with them, but with Lee's assistant
they took the precaution to hide somo o
their best goods in a small, dry cave uj
in the rocky bluffs behind the shanty.
This accomplished, Lois made he:
I mother mount Hero, while she walkei
f beside her, her father's largo revolver in
her hand.
r Lee was quite resolved that Lois
should ride his pony, and that he should
p accompany t.iem to the shelter of old
Jordan's blockhouse. But Mrs. Gilbert
would not permit it, as many others
^ needed the warning he was able to give
'? them.
1 '"No, no!" she Baid kindly but firmly,
i" "We will get to Mr. Jordan's all right.
5 Go and do your duty, Mr. Hutchins;
r warn others and Bave precious lives if
r you can. Your pony is already tired,
I ; and you mustn't go a yard out of your
\ way. There are many women and innof
j cent little ones living over on Plum
1 j creek whom you must warn against the
; coming enemy. Go on, and God bless
3 ! you and take care of you."
0 | With a wave of the hand the women
1 | dismissed him, and there was no altert
| native for him but to ride off in the din
; rection of Plum Creek settlement and
s disturb peaceful homes with the trou9
blous news which he carried.
? j Mrs. Gilbert and Lois had not pror
i ceeded far. when the girl halted sudden|
ly and said:
- j "Mother, we forgot one thing."
* . " LlULb i3 tuaii
1 j "That can of powder, setting under
t | father's bed. If the Indians find that it
r : will put a lot of ammunition in the hands
^ of our enemies."
r "That is true, Lois."
"I'll run back and hide it with the
P i other things."
? j Before her mother could reply Lois
3 J sped up the little beaten path to the shan|
ty. It took ler only a few moments to
1 i conceal the can in the cave; then she hurI
ried back to Hero's side, and they reJ
earned their march in the direction of
old Silas Jordan's cabin down the river.
3 CHAPTER II.
7 Far and wide those untamed prairies
" stretched in wondrous, billowy folds of
3 brown shaded down to dull green. It
? was hard to realize that the peace and
? quiet reigning there would before many
hours had elapsed be broken by the
I fiendish yells of dusky savages.
> Mrs. Gilbert and Lois were not per[
sons who made a habit of crossing a
bridge till they came to it. They did
> not allow their minds to paint pictures
1 of Indian horrors as they proceeded on
their way toward Jordan's. If the
' Cheyennes came the horrors would
r doubtless be bad enough without imagining
them beforehand. They would
> place themselves under the protection
1 of the settlers gathered at the impro
1 vised blockhouse, and hope aud pray
for the best.
1 A lovely, fearless figure was Lois Gil1
bert as she marched by her mother's
side, her father's ammunition pouches
' strapped over her shoulders and his
large revolver in her hand. She had
? brought these because they might be
needed, and if anything happened and
the worst came she would have some
thing herself with which to defend her
mother and herself.
Mrs. Gilbert and Lois did not appre
hend any danger for Mose Gilbert. It
' , was comparatively thickly settled
> around Scrub Station, where he had
> gone on business, aud the Indians would
not be likely to attack a neighborhood
where they were pretty sure to encoun
j ter defeat.
? Silas Jordan's cabin was situated on a
' ! hill a few hundred yards back from the
' river. It was a large, two roomed build1
( ing, and on account of size and position
was the best cabin in the settlement to
1 turn into a blockhouse. A stately Cottonwood
tree stood near the door, and
seemed to be ever exercising a kind of
sturdy guardianship over the prairie
habitation.
As Lois and her mother approached
the cabin they could see that a few set1
tiers had gathered there and were busy
getting ready for an expected attack.
Old Silas Jordan rushed forward and
1 greeted the newcomers warmly.
"I'm powerful glad ter welcome you
uns ter therfort," he said, pointing with
one of his broad grins to his cabin. "1
; heerd Mose was talkin o' goin ter ther
station, an I was afeard you uns was
alone. How'd yer git ther word thet
ther Cheyennes be comin?"
"Lee Hutchins brought us the word,"
1 answered Mrs. Gilbert, alighting from
1 Hero's back.
"I bet Lee wouldn't let Lois be kerried
off by er Cheyenne ef he hed ter
wade through fire an rattlesnakes up to
his collar button," laughed the old settler,
who must have his joke no matter
what danger threatened.
"I reckon not." said Mrs. Gilbert,
willing to help her neighbor along with
his joking. "He seemed dead sot on
, coming along with us, but I drove him
i | back to his duty."
i "What was thet'r" asked old snas.
"To warn the folks over on Pluin
; creek. I know that none of them has
I heard of the outbreak yet. I told him
' ! we could get along by ourselves this
: far."
"Good for you uns! But I'll bet yer
' Lee wished thar was no Plum Creek set1
1 tlemint when he watched Lois march off
with yer."
1 ' "Like as not," laughed Mrs. Gilbert,
| "for he rode off kind of grim and silent,
> j and kept looking behind him, as if he'd
lost something."
1 | "Reckon he lied, too?his heart, I'm
j thinkin, eh, Lois?" and old Silas' some'
| what angular sides shook with laughter.
' : "Waal, I ain't blamin Lee none. A gal
! who kin shoulder her dad's shot pouches
! and his shootin iron, not ter mention
? j her bein tlier purtiest an best larnt gal !
i on ther purary, is enough ter create a
i I kmdy all goneness of any feller's heart."
The women came bravclii forward and
lent valuable awt&tuncc.
5 : Mrs. Gilbert could not repress a laugh !
at the old borderman's queer speech, |
5 while Lois strove to bury her blushes ,
j under the shadow of her sunbonnet.
^ "Thar's Mary Juno an Betty Bowland '
5 coraiu ter welcome you uns," he an- i
} nounced, as his wife, a rotund little ;
woman of about forty-eight, with a i
beaming, kindly face, and the wife of !
r one of the settlers hurried toward them
from the cabin.
^ "Howdy do, Miss Gilbert and Lois?" j
5 Mrs. Jordan greeted them. "I'm plumb
' | glad ye've come. I've jest been a-worry- '
i j in 'bout you uns 'way up the river thar i
^ by yerselves ever sence we mis heerd {
* that them mean copper skinned var- j
mints was burnin cabins and choppin
3 i people ter pieces with thar tomy- j
hatchets."
I "Wasn't you two scared nigh to death [
to come all them three miles by yourl
selves?" Mrs. Betty Bowland inquired j
3 sympathetically.
f "No," said Lois; "mother and I de*
cided to keep as cool as wo could, Chey- j
| ennes or no Cheyennes."
3 "Yer'dsure been er soldier, Lois, ef J
' yer'd been a boy," old Silas broke in.
* "But I'm plumb sure some chap with a
3 leetle yaller mustache who ranges on
3 ther puraries south o' you uns is mighty
* thankful as yer jest wot yer air?a pow?
i erful good gal."
"Come on inter ther house," invited
r . Mrs. Jordan smilingly. "Silas would
1 ' jofce for a solid week ef no one hendered
I him, even ef therole scratch was waftin ^
ter kerry him off." ..
"Yes, yer women folks go on in; we
men folks hev got ter fly round, like a
g sshopper in a purary fire, an git .
things more in shape for them red E
scamps," said old Silas. ?
Lois started with the other women
into the cabin, but turned and came .
back to Hero's side. Laying one arm
caressingly over his smooth neck, she .
said:
"ft/wiiiv Hpm If the Chevennes 91
, ? ? ? ? - ?
get you, we'll never meet again." n
"I'll lead him up inter ther bluffs whar ni
we uns hev did ther other critters," said ei
old Silas. "He'll be safer up thar, an I 8(
don't think ther Injuns will go nosin 111
round them bluffs. They'll most likely a]
keep in s'arch o' cabins." n
Lois released her pet and suffered old ai
Silas to lead him away toward the river.
Then she hurried to the cabin, where the 8?
women were busy making such prepa- ai
rations as were deemed best. Lois was H
soon assisting them in various ways. to
There was an abundance of loose rock
on the hill where old Silas' cabin stood.
The few men outside hastily threw up a w
wall, which would serve as a sort of a"
breastworks, before the cabin. They
also made numerous loopholes in the n:
sides of the cabin and got their little to
stock of weapons ready. 03
Tne women were just as busy in their T
particular department. They baked ^
bread, cooked great quantities of meat,
and Lois and Betty Bowland carried n'
bucket after bucket of water till they *'
had filled a large barrel.
This preparation was a wise one, to ai
say the least, should they happen to be r(
besieged by the redskins for two or
three days, as was not at all unlikely. ^
By two o'clock in the afternoon the
rude preparations were finished, and the ^
tired band of settlers gathered around
the table to partake of their late din- a'
ner. v'
The meal was not yet over when **
Lois, who had begged to act as guard ei
while the others dined, caught the outline
of a long file of horsemen sweep ^
over a prairie ridge some distance away f3
to the south. to
"Mr. Jordan," she called; "come here
at once." a<
Something in the pretty, self appoint- ai
ed guard's voice, calm as it was, raised a<
afresh the apprehensions which the 81
neighborly gossip at the table had lulled
into slumber. **
All arose with one impulse and started "
toward Lois, who watched from the ej
open door at the front of the cabin.
Old Silas was tlu first to reach her ^
side, and one swift glance of his well
trained gray eyes, undimraed by his "
fifty odd years, sufficed to tell him the ei
truth.
"The red imps air comin an no mis- e'
takel" he turned and coolly announced
to those who crowded around him.
Every heart felt its own peculiar emo- ^
tions as Silas Jordan's voice fell calm ?]
and distinct on the ears of that little 01
party of pioneers. Some had nursed
vague hopes that the Indians might not
pass that way. But they were actually
coming!
While Jordan and the men secured
the cabin and saw that their guns were
in readiness and their ammunition near ^
at hand the women were everywhere
bravely assisting their dofenders for the 113
approaching attack. w
ml
J. Lit) \^UCJOllllCJ l uuo vum 1J tvincuu
across the prairie toward the little
blockhouse on the hill. An ominous r
stillness prevailed in the cabin. Every
man was at his post. Mothers pressed rj;
their children to their breasts, as if to
quiet the tumult of fears within. ;
The Indians advanced rapidly, and at ai
last their savage whoops reached the
ears of the women huddled in the middie
of the room. Lois Gilbert's face was ?
very white, and her eyes looked as black
as midnight. Otherwise she gave no ~j
evidence of terror. Outwardly calm,
she went first to one, then to another,
whispering cheerful words.
The men, with stern, determined *
countenances, were at their loopholes .
watching every movement of the com- rj
ing foe. Not a muscle stirred, save
when each man grasped his weapon a ^
trifle more firmly.
There were fifteen Indians in the band, ^
all apparently well armed and well a
mounted on good ponies. There were 01
only six of the defenders at the cabin.
"But we uns air good for thet many
polecats," declared old Silas to Dave
Sever}*, who had remarked on the odds
against them. "I reckon they don't
think thar's er hull arsenal waitin back 11
o' them fortifications to gin 'em a s'prise 5?
party. Be ready, boys, an make every
shot tell!"
The Cheyennes ascended the little r<
hill and pressed boldly toward the cabin. .,
Old Silas let them approach within a .
few yards of the rock wall; then in a c
ringing voice he bade them halt. &
For answer there was a volley from
the savages' guns, and the shot rattled 1
wildly against the cabin walls. They I .
? A. i- 1 f JJ _ ) Oj
Bianeu iorwaru ugtuu.
There was a distinct command from
Silas Jordan, and six guns poured a "
galling fire upon the enemy from the 5!
loopholes. r~
Two savages reeled and fell to the /
ground dead, while their ponies fled
madly away down the hill. Another,
uttering a yell of mortal pain, urged his
anim&l from the scene of conflict. Instantly
there was a recoil of the remaining
Cheyennes. They rallied, however,
almost immediately, only to be spiritedly repulsed
again. ^
"Hurrah for our side!" cried old Silas v
as jubilantly as a boy who has become v
victor at a snowballing contest; "they're ?
retreatin."
Not one of the last shots seemed to *
have touched a foe. But the discharge
had the effect to drive the gang off to a
g-oup of cottonwoods below the hill,
ere they held a careful consultation.
This gave the settlers a chance to reload
and make things ready for the next
attack. 1)
While the men got their weapons b
ready Lois mounted sentinel at a loop- 0
hole commanding a plain view of the
Indians at the cottonwood. The two
dead redskins that lay where they had (:
fallen on the hill caught her eye. She *1
turned pale and a shudder ran through ri
her frame. tl
"Sich things hov got ter be in Injun n
fightin," remarked old Silas philosoph- n
ically as he noted the girl's emotion. (.
She made no reply, but she kept j,
thinking how many of those untutored
redmen and perhaps many of her own j.
people must fall before peace could be j,
restored. s)
Then she wondered if her father real- c
ly was safe at Scrub Station. He would 0
surely receive intelligence there of the v
outbreak, and would not venture to re- v
turn alone across the uninhabited prai- f(
ries, where he would bo likely to en- p
counter the Cheyennes. i ('j
She thought, too, of Lee Hutchins riding
bravely away by himself to warn
others of danger. Perhaps 6he might
never 6ee him again. His mission was .
one so full of peril to himself I j a
Suddenly her heart seemed to stand ;
still. She staggered and might have j .
fallen had not Dave Severy put out an i .
arm to steady her. ,
"What ails ye, Miss Lois?" ho do- j ^
manded.
"Only a little dizzy," she replied, j
quickly recovering herself. "I looked ! j.
too long from tho loophole." ! (j
She walked awtqy to a corner of tho j
room to bo a littla while by herself. She I ^
must face alone this new revelation, '
which had all at once dawned upon her. !
She knew she was not wrong in inter- j H
preting her feelings. Sho loved Leo !
Hutchins with a worn an's first and deep- | 'J
est love, and should anything happen .
him there would be no1 true happiness in j ^
life for her. j
Hut Lois Gilbert was not one to think 1
long of self. Masteriiqg her new emo- l"
tions, she was soon active in helping v
others. *
Here and there on tfeo distant prairio ^
alumns of heavy smoke ascended to- |
rard tho sky. To the watchers at the j
lockhouse it was very clear that the j
heyennes were firing the settlers' cabins, i
The conference at the cottonwoods '
isted a long thne. At length their j
amber was increased bjathe arrival of I
vo small squads.
"The imps have been waitin fer re-en- |
>rcements," said Bowland.
"Thet's bo," coincided old Silas, "an
le varmints'll be back * here purty
aick, like a bolt o' hurrycan lightnin.
e ready, an don't waste more ammyition
than yer hev ter. Thar's leetle
luff at most," he added in a low tone,
) the women conld not hear. They
lust be kept in good spirits if possible
ad not allowed to know that their garson
had only an indifferent supply
cnmunition.
The crimson and amber glows of Bunit
were bathing the prairies with radiat
sheen. The south wind stirred the
ink grass and fluttered the broad,
lathery leaves of the cottonwood before
ardan's cabin. These manifestations
9 1 n f tmmau/iQ
i nai/uru dcouicu ?v
ith the scenes of havoc being enacted
11 over those peaceful prairies.
Twilight was deepening into early
ight, and the vanishtfi^ daylight
rought fresh terrors to many of the inlates
of the temporary blockhouse,
hey were awaiting they knew not
hat.
"They're beginnin to move," anounced
Dave Severy, who had been
eeping close watch on the redskins.
They're breakin up their council, an
re gettin ready to give us another
>und."
"Waal, we tins ain't nappin," answered
Id Silas; "only be keerful of the powsr,
boys. Make every blessed ioter of
count."
Fiendish yells rent the air without,
ad the savages renewed the attack with
igor. The settlers had their hands fully
icupied in keeping the enemy at a prop:
distance.
Owing to the falling darkness of night
ieir aim was not true, and there was
luch wild shooting despite the warnigs
of the old commander.
But many of the Cheyennes went
awn, as was attested by the yells of
aguish which would often follow a
javy charge from the intrepid defend 8.
Two Indians flung themselves from
ieir ponies, and with wild gestures tried
?urge their companions to follow their
cample, but without success.
The majority of the savages evidently
lared the number of defenders behind
lose rude breastworks was far greater
lan it actually was, and were cautious
lough to stick to their ponies.
With derisive howls the two Cheynies,
maddened at the refusal of the
:hers, rushed forward. They reached
le rock wall, and were in the act of
:aling it, when two quick reports rang
it, and they dropped back in the throes
? death.
Lois Gilbert and Dave Severy's wife
tme bravely forward from among their
irror stricken sisters, and lent valuable
isistance in helping reload the guns of
leir protectors.
Notwithstanding many Cheyennes
ere killed, it seemed an utter impossibly
to put the enemy to rout, and
,ore than one heart in that besieged
ibin felt like yielding to despair.
This was to be accounted for from the
ict that the red besiegers were being
i-enforced by small wandering squads,
ho, finding the different cabins which
ley visited empty, were attracted to
le scene of attack by the sound of fire ms
reverberating wildly over plain
id river.
The hours wore on, bringing no sign
! more than occasional brief abate,ents
in the stubborn siege, when the
idians would withdraw to the foot of
le hill to discuss some new method of
rtack.
The moon rose above the river bluffs
i the east, and cast a faint light over
le prairie. A moment later, however,
; if shocked at the hideousness despoilig
the night, she struggled out of sighl
jhind a 6treak of gray clouds, which
irtly obscured the eastern sky.
Like tigers the settlers continued to
jht until near midnight, when there
ime a sudden lull in the shooting withit
"The imps o' perdition are fallin back
?the cottonvooda for another council,"
ied Dave Severy, mopping his hot
row with his coat sleeve.
The Cheyennes could be seen hurryig
from Jordan's hill, and carrying
lany of their dead and wounded with
?em.
"They're up to some new devilment, 1
;ckon," remarked Bowland.
"Very like, an hev gone off ter hatch
up," agreed old Silas. "Keep er sharp
okout, boys, for like as any way thar
Din off's only a blind. Them Cheyines
air ther most persistent red cusses
i ther land I"
"Thet's jest wot they be," replied one
E the settlers.
"I wish," old Silas continued, lowerig
his voice, "they'd not resume the
ege. But they're dead sure terl
leaven knows we uns kain't fight 'em
ack any longer as hard as wo uns hev
sen doin."
"Wot's ther blame reason we kain't,
ilas?"
"Yes; who's growin weak kneed?" detanded
Dave Severy.
"Not me, sure, neighbors!" and Silas j
ordan straightened his tall form proud- I
r. "I'm as willin ter fight ther red j
armints as ever. But I hope we uns
ron't hev no more shootin ter do. Don't
er tell the women folks ter scare 'em,
ut ther truth is this: Our powder's
x>ut all gone!"
TO UK CONTIXUKI) NKXT WKKK.
DINING A THOUSAND YEARS AGO.
A thousand years ago when the dinner
as ready to be served, the first thing
rought into the great hall was the tale.
Moveable trestles were brought,
11 which were placed boards, and
11 were carried away again at the
lose of tlie meal. I'pon this was laid
lie tablecloth. There is an old Latin
iddle of the eighth century, in which
lie table says : "I feed people with
mny kinds of food. First, I umquaduped,
and adorned with handsome
lothing ; then I am robbed of my aparel,
and lose my legs also."
The food of the Anglo-Saxon was
trgely bread. The bread was baked
1 round, fiat cakes, which the supcrtition
of the cook marked with a
ross, to preserve them from the perils
f the lire. Milk, butter, and cheese
,'ere also eaten. The principal meat
,'as bacon, as the acorns of the oak
jrcsts, which then covered a large
art of Fngland, supported numerous
roves of swine.
Our Anglo-Saxon forefathers were
ot only hearty eaters, hut, unforunately,
deep drinkers. The drinkig
horns were at first literally horns,
nd so must he immediately emptied
. hen filled : later, when the primitive
lorn had heen replaced hya glass cup,
i. retained a tradition of its rude predecessor
in its shape, so that it, too,
ad to he. emptied at a draught.
Each guest was furnished with a
poon, while his knife he always earied
in his licit: as for forks, who
reamed of them, when nature had
iven man ten lingers. Hut you will
ec why a servant with a hasin of wacr
and a towel always presented himelf
to each guest before dinner was
erved and after it was ended. Konst
neat was served on the spit or rod on
rliich it was cooked, and the guest
lit or tore oil' a piece to suit himself.
Soiled meats was laid on the cake of
read, or later 011 thick slices of bread
ailed "trenchers," from a Norman
lord, meaning "to cut," as these were
o carve the meat on, thus preserving
he tablecloth from the knife.
pijsccllancotis Reading. |
OBSERVATIONS ON THE G. A. R.
A Huge Blackmailing Organization, ,
Composed Largely of Bums.
A. B. Williams, Esq., editor of the
Greenville News was in Washington,
week before last, and took personul ob- !
scrvation of the Grand Army of the j
Republic. He writes two columns of !
highly interesting mutter for his paper ;
on the subject and following are extracts
from it:
All authorities agree that it was the
biggest gathering of ex-Federal soldiers
since the war and probably bigger than \
any there will be hereafter. The num- |
ber of men in line the day of the big I
? I ?... MltmAinil nf Phnm (i?i AAA in 1
review IS CSlliuaiV/U UV a?wii? v/./jwv bvr i
80,000.
I didn't tire of the G. A. R. It was '
nil new to me. I mixed in with it in
hotel and depot lobbies and on pavements,
and rode nbout on trains with
it, watched and listened and studied
it carefully and honestly. I wanted
to form my own ideas about it, to
shape for myself an opinion of the men
who defeated the Condfederacy twentyseven
years ago.
Well, the more I studied and saw
and contrasted the madder I got. Then
I dug out for Baltimore and even there
the streets were full of G. A. R. uniforms,
the overflow from Washington.
The G. A. R. pictures, badges and
buttons all show a handsome, soldierly
looking man with a grizzled moustache,
an expression of thoughtful melancholy
on his fine face, a G. A. R. hat
and an empty sleeve. I looked through
Washington and everywhere for him,
but I couldn't find him. Hence a natural
and righteous wrath.
Of course it is war and all right
to kill and conquer your enemy with
as little risk, loss and damage to yourself
as possible. I don't blame the
people at the North for that. It is |
a little trying, however, to have forced i
on us the conviction that the North i
never sent her best men to the front? '
speaking generally.
The organization has more than 400,mAmtinM
nnrnllnr? Sf>vent,V-fi Ve
UUU mciu^gin vtuvMvwi
thousand of them were in Washington 1
the other day. What with friends and
women and baggage they filled 500
trains of five coaches each and were
rushed into Washington from every
point of the compass and every corner
of the Union within three days. Now
and then there was in the crowd a
man who looked and talked like a gentleman,
particularly among the New i
England and New York posts. But
the great?the very great?majority
looked tough and talked tough. They
smelt tough, too. I got in with a car
load of them from the West and when j
we struck a tunnel and got a good,
long, sutfocuting flavor of coal gas, it
was refreshing and satisfying to the
soul. They drank mean liquor out
of green glass flasks and seemed to
grudge it. And the swearing! It
wasn't the mouth filling, reeking, red
hot profanity of anger, but simple, constant,
continual, cold blooded, conversational
blasphemy, with the name of
the Deity and the holy name held especially
sacred among Christian peoples
used in lieu of all ordinary punctuation
points. They spoke to and of
each other as "bums." What else they
were I couldn't make out. They didn't
look like mechanics; very few of them
looked or talked like farmers or merchants.
Some sleek looking fellows
whom I took to be minor office holders
or politicians of one kind or another,
were with every detachment.
Now the 300,000 and odd G. A. It.
men who didn't attend the encampment
may all be good ones. Some of
them are. Everybody who knows anythine
knows that the Federal armies
had some soldiers as brave and honest
and patriotic as ever trod ground, and
no doubt some of these are in the G.
A. R. One "comrade"?that word
"comrade" and the everlasting "hauow?"
become excellent emetics when
you have heard them a few millions of
times?remarked in Washington that
the best men in the Federal army were
killed. Several Northern men told me
that the more respectable, independent
and substantial survivors?men
who fought on principle and quit fighting
when the war ended?do not attend
G. A. R. re-unions and are fast
becoming disgusted with the whole
thiug. I don't know how that is.
However all that may be, I can't get
around the conclusion, from the representation
sent to the big re-union at
Washington, that the G. A. R. contains
a very big proportion of the dead beats
and scum of the North and West, and
that it is a huge blackmailing organization
with the general public as its prey.
Nor do I know whether the material
was originally bad or whether it has
been corrupted by our pension swindle
system. Maybe bad has been made
worse. It seems to nie, however, evident
that these (J. A. R. people have
been taught to believe that the earth
of right belongs to them and that they j
should file their claims for it every day,
hour and minute. Hundreds and thousands
of them seem to believe that
they need no stock in trade but a j
G. A. R. button and uniform. At the I
North every man whose name was !
on the rolls, no matter whether lie !
played in a band or served among the j
dead lying thick in hospitals or was i
out for ninety days doing guard duty 1
j in garrisons far to the rear, dons a G. !
; A. R. uniform and calls for place and !
pension and gets them. And he talks j
of his sufferings and services and pa- I
triotism and heroism, and the news- I
papers and campaign orators back him 1
lip and slobber and hurrah over him. j
Rut the people don't. I watched
train load after train load of tlieG. A. j
[ R. disembark at Washington the duy :
| before the big parade, and never a
i cheer or a band clap did I hear for
' flag, corps or man. The applause
the day of the review, from all I could
j gather, was chiefly from the strangers (
j who accompanied the organizations
j and who lined sidewalks and covered
j grand stands.
The Northern public, I think, is 1
j beginning to tire a little of the G. A.
Jt. Every city wants the encampments
because they make big business
for railroads and hotels and merchants.
There seems to be an invariable kick j
by the (J. A. R. because nothing is ever |
i good enough for it. Washington's ar'
rangements for handling the mob were I
magnilicent, hut a long, loud howl
went up from some comrades because ,
! they were not furnished free rations i
for themselves and families. There is '
; a feeling growing, however, that the
(J. A. It. is growing in numbers and
demands. It is 400,000 strong twentyseven
years after the war and is
branching out. The Sons of Veterans
is being pushed now?a powerful auxj
iiiary organization reaching into a new
generation. The women are in, too,
with the Ladies' Aid association, or
j something of the kind, l'robably we
I will have Daughters of Veterans and
; (irandson's of Veterans next, with
i every mother's son and daughter of
them plastered with badges and demanding
jobs and allowances.
"They've got more men right here
now than we ever had altogether,"
said a Confederate veteran who watched
in grim silence the great review the t
other day. lie wasn't so very far
wrong.
We got our licking and have taken
it and accepted results. Hut it does
( become a trille tiresome to have so
t much boasting over it, unceasing dej
mauds for compensation, thanks and
j glorification from men, who, from their
own records, let us thrash them time
j after time in great battles where they |
outnumbered us from 30,000 to 90,000
or more. I estimated that I saw 12,000
G. A. R. men in ranks. I saw but
three crippled men among them, and
it's dollars to doughnuts that fully
11,900 of them are better off today
than they ever would have been if <
there had been no war.
"A LITTLE NEAR."
Readers of "David Copperfield" will
remember the comical way in which j
good old Peggotty used to speak of
Barkis, her husband, as being "a little
near." Many husbands of today are '
very "near" indeed in all matters pertaining
to money. Their wives dread
asking them for the amount absolute- 1
ly necessary for household expenses.
Such wives are ever to be pitied, and
such husbands should have wives like
the partner of the penurious Mr. Hait,
mentioned in the following incident.
Mrs. Hait asked her husband for five I
dollars at the breakfast table Monday
morning.
"What for?" asked Mr. Hait, aghast,
as he always was at the mention of
money.
"For household expenses," said Mrs. i
Hait.
"Household expenses ?"
"Yes, certainly."
"It takes an awful sight to run this
house."
"I nm very saving, James; I don't
see how I can be more so."
"Well, its money, money, money,
the blessed time 1"
"But we eat and wear clothes the
blessed time, James."
"Oh, I suppose so?more's the pity !
But I don't see what is to become of
us, if we keep going on in this way."
Mr. Hait was a comparatively,
wealthy man, and Mrs. Hait knew
it. She had gone through a scene
like the above for nearly every Monday
morning for nearly twenty years,
and was, to use her own expression,
"tired and sick of it." A plan had been
evolving itself in her mind for some
time. Now she resolved to execute it.
"Well, James," she said calmly, "I
suppose I can manage to get along
without mouey this week."
"Glad of it, my dear," said James,
brightening wonderfully. "Economy
must be the order of the day in this
house."
"Very well," said Mrs. Hait.
Monday's meals was pretty "scrappy
;" Tuesday's were even more so.
Mr. Hait tried to be jocose over his
Wednesday morning breakfast of bread
and stale butter, with weak cofiee.
"It goes three times ns far when it's
made weak," said Mrs. Hait, cheerily.
But Mr. Hait looked very hungry
when he left the table.
Two hours before noon he sent his
wife this note from the office:
"Get up one of your best dinners.
Three gentlemen are coming home
with me."
I'll do my best," she wrote in reply ;
"but you know .economy is the order
~C .1^.. :M 4-Ula m
Ul Luc uuj in nun uuuoc.
Mr. Hait was proud of his wife's |
culinary abilities. He rushed excitedly
into the dining-room just before
noon. "They've come!" he cried.
"Have they?" asked Mrs. Hait, serenely.
"Very well dinner is ready."
A spotless cloth was on the table.
On it was the very best china and silver,
a plate of bread crusts and dry
crackers, three cold potatoes, a little
odorous cooking butter, and a dish of
dried peaches.
"Mary !" said Mr. Hait.
"Well, James?"
"What does this mean ?"
"I've done the best I could. You
know we never make a bill anywhere,
and I had no money, so I"?
Mr. Hait's purse and contents came
flying into his wife's lap.
"I'll interest the gentlemen for an
hour in the library," lie said "and you
do your best again, if it takes every
dollar in that purse, and the purse
too."
The result was highly pleasing to
Mr. Hait, and pleasant to his wife
also, for her husband was never so
"near" after that.?Youth's Companion.
LEARNING A BUSINESS.
A gentleman who had induced a
large publishing house to take his son,
as boy, into its employ at a moderate I
rate of pay, not long siuce, was especially
anxious in his request that the
young man should be made to work
and learn the business.
This instruction was needless, as although
modern fashion has done away
with much of the janitor and porterage
work of old time, yet the young
mun found the selection of stock for
orders, packing the same, entering,
charging ditto, and occasional errands
kept him actively employed for about
ten hours a day, with an hour out for !
dinner.
At the end of three weeks' time he
failed to put in an appearance, but the j
father walked in one morning with the |
information that John would not return
to the position.
"Why not ?" asked the publisher.
"Well, John has to have his breakfast
at half past seven every morning j
to get here, and then he is not used to I
carrying bundles, and sometimes he's ;
been sent with books, right to the !
houses of people we know socially. |
My son hasn't been brought up that j
way, and I guess I won't have him to
learn this business."
He did not; and what's more, has j
never learned any other business.
Now let us look at another actual
picture, that of the son of u wealthy I
mill owner desiring to become the
manager of the mills.
"Hut that is impossible," said the ,
father, "unless you practically learn '
the business."
"That is what I would like to do," !
said the son.
"Hut to become a superintendent or I
manager, we prefer a man who has !
risen from the ranks and understands ;
the mechanical department and the I
ways of employees."
"Let me begin in 'the ranks,' then," I
replied the young man.
To this the father assented, stipula- !
ting that no favor should he shown the j
son, but he should actually begin and
work at regular labor in the mechani- j
cal department.
Xot only was this done, but the 1
young man went and boarded in the
town at a workman's boarding house, I
and went in and out the factory at ;
bell call. In three years he was loreman
in one of the departments, and a
former classmate and a well-known
society man, calling there upon him,
was surprised at meeting a stalwart
fellow in blue overalls, with hands so
soiled with machinery oil as to prevent [
the conventional handshake.
Hut this young man persevered,
made and paid his own way himself,
and his father concluded it would not
injure his future prospects. Judging
from the fact that he is now manager
of mills (not his father's, at a salary of
$10,000 a year, and with ability to
command even better compensation
and partnership, is evidence that
"learning a business," even by a man
with a good education and a rich father,)
pays a good return, both in money
and manly independence.?Huston
Commercial Hullctin.
Csks of Swf.kt On..?I'uro sweet
oil is an excellent and mild laxative
for infants and young children.
To make leather air-tight and yet
not injure its flexibility, soak it thoroughly
in sweet oil.
To clean papier-mache articles,wash
first in warm water and soap, and pol- |
ish with sweet oil.
For a burn take sweet oil and lime- I
water (equal parts), mix, and keep the
burn well covered with it.
If sweet oil is applied to the skin immediately
after a blow or bruise, it
will not turn black and blue.
A remedy of great value for cats and
dogs is sweet oil. Put two tablespoonfuls
in their milk and they will rarely
refuse to take it.
After sponging patent leather with
warm water and letting it dry, while
3till warm rub just a little sweet oil in it,
then rub it well out of it.
For a stiff neck, pains in the chest,
etc., warm some sweet oil and rub on
thoroughly with the hands, then cover
with sheet wadding, the shiny side
out. Wear it irotil you feel comfortable.
Sweet oil is a good remedy for poisonous
bites, and must be taken internally
(a half-cupful), and bathe the
wound externally with it. For a horse
give one-half pint to one pint internally
and apply externally as well.?Good
Housekeeping.
MORAL PROPORTION.
The old habit of "compounding for
sins that one's inclined to by damning
those he has no mind to" is perhaps
always as prevalent as in the day when
Hudibras thus characterized the natural
human estimate of moral proportion.
In 1861 a simple-minded clergyman
was shocked by the profanity of a
very distinguished looking gentleman
who stood haranguing a group in the
ante-chamber of the war secretary at
Washington. In his simplicity he
drew near and asked the blasphemer
his name, and was told in reply that
the speaker was an influential senator.
To the further question if he
were a Christian man, the response
was quick and affirmative, with the
added information that the profane
statesman was a member of a particular
religious denomination. And finally,
when he asked what evidence a
man can have that his religious faith
was a genuine and vital power when
he thus blasphemed God and hated
his neighbor, the statesman responded
with an emphasis indicative of full
satisfaction, "I don't dance."
Our fellow-citizens of African descent
are notably imitators of their former
masters, and in this particular appreciation
of the law of moral proportion
we will not expect them to be at all
behind their white neighbors.
Not long ago a gentleman in Christian
county, Ky., was standing at his
"big gate," which opened upon the
great county road lending southward.
He was saluted with the respectful
"Sarvant, Alasster," wnicn sun survives
among the negroes of that rural
district. Looking up he recognized an
old acquaintance.
"Where are you going, Jim ?" he inquired.
"Ijistgwine down to Gareysville,
suh."
"Why, what is going on in Gareysville,
Jim?"
"Dar gwine be a big chu'ch meeting
dar dis evenin', suh; dey gwine try
me, and say dey gwine tu'n me out de
chu'ch."
"Turn you out of the*church, Jim?
Why, what have you been doing?"
"Wal, suh, I danced a little at de
frolic we hed up de road here t'other
night. And dey gwine tu'n me out,
dey say, 'cos I dance."
"Well, good-bye, Jim," said the gentleman
turning back toward his home.
"Good luck to you. I hope you'll
come out all right."
"Good-bye, Mars' Bud. Don't you
b'lieve but I gwine come out all right."
And so the negro went his way.
Two days thereafter the gentleman
reports that he was just passing out of
his gate into the road when up came
Jim, all radiant and jubilant.
"Well, Jim," he said, "did you come
out all right ? I suppose so from your
looks."
"Yas, suh ; dat I did. I's all right;
dey nuvver tu'ned me out."
"Why, Jim, how did you manage it?
You told mo you did dance at the
frolic."
"Yes, suh, I did; and I nuvver denied
'fore de cote dat I did dance ; but
I jist proved to 'em dat I was so drunk
I nuvver knowed what I wus a doin',
an so of co'se dey couldn't turn me
out."
SIGNS OF A MILD WINTER.
A correspondent writing from Scranton
Penn., says: "Snipe flew south two
weeks later than usual this fall, that is
one reason why I predict that next
winter will be uncommonly mild," said
an old Lackawanna Valley weather
prophet. Swallows stayed north three
weeks after their regular time to leave,
and that is another sign of an open winter.
Robins are still here, and I am
glad of it, but they would have flown
south ten days ago if they hadn't felt
it in their bones that we are going to
have a late fall and warm winter.
The wood cock I shot the other day
had only a few feathers on it, and
that's another sure sign of a warm fall
jind mild winter. My wagon wheel
ran over a cock partridge iu Roaring
Brook township last week, and when
I picked up the dead bird I found it
was very poorly feathered. So much
for the silent language of the birds as
a forecast of the weather for six
months.
"Now take the animals for more
signs. I trapped a coon in my cornfield
the other night. He was as poor
as a crow, and that means the weather
will be so mild next winter that he
will be able to be afield every day, instead
of having to hibernate, as he
did lust winter. At this time last winter
the coons were as fat as pigs, and
they lived on the fat while they were
cooped up in the trees 011 account of
the cold weather. Next winter the
coons won't have to lie dormant at all,
and bears will roam over the scrub oak
ridges from Christmas to Easter. The
fur of woodchucks is much thinner
tliun usual, and that is a sure indication
of an open winter.
"Rattlesnakes are crawling over the
huckleberry bushes as lively as they
were in midsummer, and that is another
good sign that the consumption ol
coal will be much smaller next winter
than it was last winter. Blacksnakes
are also as tmcK as mey were* n>u
months ago. Last year they took to
their dens the 1st of September.
"Buckwheat is poorly filled everywhere,
and that tells me that the
winter will be so warm that nobody
will hanker for pancakes more than
once a month. All the signs in the
bird, the animal, the reptile, and the
vegitable kingdoms point to a milder
winter than we have experienced in
a decade, and I predict that coal will
be lower before New Year's.
THK LKGKXDOK "Standing 1{<>CK.,!
?The Indian Agency of Standing Bock
located eleven miles north of the line
which divides the two Dukotas, takej
its name from a remarkable natural
formation?a lone rock which stands
in sueli a manner as to bear a strong
resemblance to a human being. It ii
even said that a faint stretch of the
imagination gives the stone the out
lines of a woman with a pappoose ii
her arms. Accorelidg to Indian tradi
tion, in ages long past a young "buck,'
with his wife and baby, was journey
ing through that region. At what i:
now "Standing Bock" they met a com
puny of Indians going south. For sev
eral days they feasted and danced to
gether, until finally the time came foi
separating. The young married "buck'
and his wife were on the way to visi
some of their people on the lakes ly
ing to the north, and when the mail
company started oil'south he resolve*
to accompany them, leaving the heart
broken squaw and baby to continue
the journey alone, he having fallen
violently in love with one of the young
women of the party. The wife pleaded
with tears and heartrending shrieks
for the possession of her lawful lord,
but, with true Indian stoicism, he rode
off with the new found flame. Finally
the grief-stricken woman asked the
Great Spirit to turn her to stone rather
than let her live and carry her great
weight of sorrow. Since that moment
she has stood upon the plain, a monument
to man's infidelity.
POWER OF PLAIN AND FRUGAL MEN.
When the British officer dined with
General Francis Marion, and found the
American officers and soldiers content
with a meal of baked potatoes, he
thought it useless for the British crown
to undertake to conquer such men.
The following incident indicates that
the ambassador of Philip III., of Spain,
made a similar discovery in his inter
course with the Hollanders.
Philip III., king of Spain, sent his
ambassador to treat with the States of
Holland about recognizing their independence.
When the great man arrived,
he was shown into an antechamber,
and was told that if he waited
in that room, he would see the members
of the State pass by. The ambassador
waited very patiently, and
seeing none but a parcel of plainly
dressed men, carrying bundles in their
hands or under their arms, which
bundles contained their food and
their clothes?for many of these
persons came from different parts
of the State?he turned to his interpreter,
and asked him when the States
would come? The man replied, "The
persons whom you have this moment
seen are-the members of the State."
Upon hearing this th? ambassador lost
no time in writing to,the commanderin-chief
of the Spanish army, to advise
his royal master to make peace
without delay; "for," said the astonished
Spaniard, "I expected to have seen
in the States a splendid appearance,
but instead of that, I saw only a parcel
of plainly dressed men, with very sensible
faces, who came into the council
with their provisions in their hands.
Their parsimony," said he, "will ruin
the king, my master, in the course of
the war, if it is continued, for there is
- * " - * 1- a.1
no fighting witn peopie wuo can tucuiselves
live upon a few pence a day,
and their nobles upon a shilling, and
who will for nothing do everything
that their country requires."
The king had the good sense to
listen to this sage advice, and he agreed
to treat with these Hollanders as an
independent State, and thus put an
end to the war.
THE SNAKE'S HOT MEAL.
A young professional gentleman of
this city recently traveled overland to
Tappahannock. On the route he discovered
a large blacksnake, slowly
crawling among the branches of a tree
that stood by the roadside. Following
the snake with his eye, the observer
saw an unnsually large hornet's nest
attached to one of the branches of the
tree and toward which the snake was
advancing.
When close to the nest the snake
coiled its.elf about a limb, released its
tail, and with it gave several hard raps
upon the exterior of the nest, as if
knocking for admission. The noise of
the blows and the swaying of the nest '
caused the hornets to leave their home
and prepare for an attack upon the intruder.
The snake ceased tapping
with its tail as soon as the hornets left
the nest, uncoiled itself, and quickly
disappeared, taking the place of the
hornets within their nest.
Presently the snuke's head was seen
to peer out, and his bright black eyes
glistened as he anticipated a feast from
which the bravest man would shrink
with fear. The snake drew his head
within the entrance hole to the nest
till nothing was seen of it except an
occasional forked tongue, that darted
in and out with lightning rapidity.
Thinking the coast clear the hornets
began to return to their nest, when
the snake took them in as rapidly as
they could enter. Watching the proceeding
for some time, our informant
tViof. oil the hornets had
W11V1UUVU vuuv ?Mw _ _
been safely hived, and he stood up in
his buggy, tapped the nest with his
whip and awaited the result.
No hornets appearing, the nest was
knocked to the ground, opened, and
his snakeship discovered iu a torpid
condition, with his size greatly increased.
The snake was killed, and a post
mortem held with the following result:
Stomach stuffed with dead hornets.
Mr. W. S. White, attorney for the
j commonwealth for Stafford county,
I vouches for the truth of the story.?
j Fredericksburg Lance.
| The Deacon's Wooing. ? Deacon
i Sharp, who lives in the Buckeye Valley,
has never married. He made the
attempt once, says The Free Press, but
his humility and piety worked against
him. He was the same long-solemnvisaged
chap then that he is now, with
j what is known as a "gift of prayer."
; In season and out of season he was
; ready at any moment to flop down on
; his knees and tell all he knew of spiri
itual grace. There were those who
' * " " ? * ' * *- 1P A-11.
said lie liked 10 near nunseii mm.
' On this occasion he asked Jenny
, Price to be his partner for life, and
Jenny, who was a prime little schooli
teacher, consented.
Then the deacon Hopped. He began
in his usual strain by invoking forgiveI
ncss for his sins. He was everything
that was vile, and as he enumerated
the crimes laid down in his own imag
i ination, Jenny began to fidget. At last
she touched the deacon on the shoulj
der.
j "You needn't pray any more on my
i account," she said ; "I wouldn't think
. : of marrying such a wicked sinner. If
you are only half as bad as you say
! you are, I wouldn't have you. I hope
, J you will repent before it is too late."
i And she left the astonished deacon
to his own reflections upon matrimony
and grace.
JteEP" A writer in The (.'lay Worker well
1 says : "The capable man in any walk
1 of life is rare. The capable boy is rare.
1 It is a very difficult matter to get a
good office boy or a steady capable fel!
low to run the elevator in an office build|
! ing. Really good laborers are scarce,
I ii'? oliont nvor.prmvd
>? C SUllltllUIV.7 Villim UWWMV ? , w.
1 | ed professions, or an over-supply of
! ' help in many directions. The supply
of really capable help of any kind is
limited. A first-class superintendent
1 of a works of any kind is very dilficult
to get hold of. He is rarely out of a
1 job. A man who is out of a job is open
to suspicion. The best and most caI
pable help comes out of the workshop
: j ?the steady, quiet fellows. There
j are not many of them in any cstablish!
incut. Generally one of good judg'
ment can pick a leader from a gang of
5 j men. He will need a little couching.
> i some help and some patience. But lie
1 is nearly always to be found. When
! such a one is discovered, the great
j work has been done. A* man has been
1 lifted up from a lower plane to ahigh'
er one ; his horizon has been enlarged ;
* 11 * ..... fnu liim
| tlie worm mis gruwu
* Nevertheless, the really capable man
* is rare, and in this prosperous period
* he is seldom if ever out of a job."
- { BwtT'Mrs. llronson?Oh, Tom, I saw
r the loveliest fifteen-dollar hat down
! town today. I couldn't help thinking
t how pretty it looked in the store win
dow. Mr. Bronson?I'm glad it looked
i J pretty in the store window, dear. It
1 would he such a shame to take it away
- I from there.