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OCCASIONALLY memories of
the past revolve themselves iu the mind of man, loom ing up in transcendent hues; «nd in memory he lives over again the experiences of the past. This may be conceded as the reason for me narrating my experiences in the Northwest. A coterie of con genial souls were gathered at Max’s place, at Billings, Montana, one evening in January, wheD in sauntered a tall, well-built individ ual, with flowing beard and long, curly hair. He wore a buckskin suit, high-topped boots, a beaver cap, and in his right hand he car ried a pair of beaver-lined gloves. Me was a typical hunter and trap per of the Northwest wilds. He glanced around the barroom and noting all eyes turned on him, he said: “Wail, boys, have some thing.” After drinking the health of our happily-met acquaintance, we en couraged him to talk. “I live *way up in the B’ar Paw Moun tains, ’way up whar the air am pure, ’whar the mind of man am not contaminated with the visez o’ the ■wurld, whar wild game am plenti ful; an’ near whar dwells the sweetest creature that the sun e’er shone upon.” Some one in terjected: “Who’s she?” “Her name is Juniata; but we • suns up thar’bouts calls ’er, ‘The Child of the Prairie.’ ” It is not necessary to recount JBob’s glowing description of his ' |*hieck-’o-the woods.” Suffice it to ieay that a few days later Bob and 2 arrived at his place. Bob’s as he called it, was forty tniles due south of Fort Assinni t>oia, and located on a prominent point. One winter’s evening Bob and I ■were seated on a rustic bench just outside the cabin door. He sat there gazing off across the dis tance and talking. Far below, and wending its way eastward, we could trace Peoples Creek; beyond this creek we could see Milk Creek. While far to the north t;he long, low, gray buildings at -Fort Assinniboia loomed up. It -was a fine view; and many an eve ning, during the following two years, I sat there gazing at the scenic surroundings depicted by nature in her robes of Winter, Spring, Bummer and Autumn. But now I had spied, in the dis tance, a ranch. “Who lives over there Bob?” J. asked, pointing toward the ranch. “Over yonder, sonny? Why 'that’s nigh unto twelve miles from hyar. It’s on Milk Creek. "That’s whar Juniata’s folks live. She lives with a Frenchman, named Pierre Grosventre, and his wife, who is a halfbreed. Some says as how she were stolen by the Indians when a babe; but be that as it may, Groventre and his wife pay little attention to Juni ata. She comes and goes jes as «he pleases; that’s why we calls ’er ‘The Child of the Prairie.’” Bob kept up a running fire of *mall talk, while I sat meditating —thinking of Juniata. I was brought back to mundane affairs by Bob saying: “Well, sonny, it’s turnin’ in time. Some one of these fine mornings you’ll see the little gal. Pr’aps she reckons I’ve bin gon’ a long time, but she’ll see the light in our cabin window vjand soon she’ll be over to see us.” 'Several days had passed and Juniata hadn’t appeared. I was anxious to see her, for Bob’s talk had aroused in me that slumber ing curiosity so peculiar in man kind. But they were busy days, for we had unpacking to do, look s' ing after the ponies, and arrang r '' : " ‘ **" *** A 'f' • B Story of the Blest. ing things generally; for this was to be our headquarters for the next two years. About ten days had passed when I decided to take my rifle and go get a bear. “Guess I’ll go out and get some bear meat, Bob,” said I. “All right,” he replied. “But be oareful that a b’ar don’t get you; lots of ’em in these hyar mountains. If you stick out over night be sure to keep up a camp fire. Remember that!” About noon I arrived at a peak, which gave me a view of the Mis souri, where it curves up near the mountains. Altho I had seen many bear tracks, yet no bears. But now, two or three miles from where I stood, I could see a herd of deer peacefully grazing. “Ah!” murmured I, “I’ll just bag a couple of them.” So I started toward the herd; when about a quarter of a mile from them I noticed a commotion in the herd, and soon the herd began moving in the opposite direction. At the same time I noted a mov ing object some distance to the right of the herd and moving in the same direction. “A prowling wolf,” thought I, as I followed the herd, hoping to “bring down” a deer. How long I tramped or how far I knew not. The air and chase were stimulating, and soon it be came dark; too late to retrace my way to camp, so building a camp fire I prepared to spend the night in the open. A nearby spring eupplied me with water, from my hunting ooat I drew forth biscuits and bacon, and soon was eating my supper. Heaping enough wood on the fire to last through the night, I then stretched out and was soon asleep. It was about midnight, a low growl awakened me from my pleasant dreams. On the opposite side of the campfire, and near where my rifle lay, stood two wolves. A thousand thoughts whirled through my mind. I reached for my bowie knife, then remembered that it lay on a rock near the spring. How to defend myself was the question ? Seizing a flaming firebrand I sprang to my feet, holding it aloft. The wolves retreated a few feet and I quiokly seized my rifle and took deliber ate aim at the nearest wolf. “Oh, mister! Don’t shoot! Them’s my pets!” The voice was directly behind me, and coming so unexpectedly, scared me. The rifle fell from my hands. I wheeled around expect ing—l knew not what. On the opposite side of the oampfire, where I had been lying, stood two more wolves; and between them, with a hand on the baok of each wolf, stood—a girl. I could scarce believe my eyes. There stood a girl—about fifteen years of age; her ivory teeth shining between her ruby lips. Her eyes were gleaming with merriment. Her raven hair hung loosely down her shoulders. She wore a beaver cap, a pair of moocasins, a boy’s suit of buckskin, with buckskin leg gings. The fire cast a radiance over the scene. I stood motion less—spellbound. The child broke the silenoe, saying: “These are my pets; they won’t hurt you. But say, mister, I did sure give you a great skeer, didn’t I?” Then she broke into a loud laugh, which appeared to me as the ringing laugh of a maniac. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” I asked. “My name is Juniata,” she replied. “They oall me ‘The Child of the Prairie.’ ” Then she disap peared, followed by her pets. No more sleep for me that night. I sat by the campfire and medi tated on the strange action and disappearance of the child. The sun rose clear and bright on the following morning; I wended my way back to camp, there I related the incident to Bob, who said: “Well, sonny, that’s not the last you’ll see of Juniata; but treat her good my boy. She’ll repay you if you do.” E. D. Muldoon on Grass Widows. Iver since I waz naturalized me main indivors hov been to kape up wid the late fads, an’ incydint ly sprinkle wholesome flathery amoongst the fair six. Contro versially spakin’, both av thim hov sprained me family relations wid considerable elastissyty. You see, Katie belaves me august shivalry an’ swate disposition are afficted wid ayvil eyebawls; nivertheliss, ’tiz mesilf that’s highly ifficacious in the rindition av fictitious com plimints. Yis, an’ the mimory av wan law soot has timpered all me coquitry wid soofishint artifice to rinder it void, so in case av altercations I can aisily vindycate mesilf fer ninst the binch. Profissional con tact has made me slippery as an ale in all kinds av ticknycal manoovers, may it plaze the saints. Like manny other iccintric spoorts that provoke mirth, it has been condimed be amychoors an’ black-bawled be faymale suffrage coompaynies. Their motive is obviously silfish, fer the simple raison that wan is always the defindint in braich av promise soots an’ the other suffers, accoord in’ to her lawyers fay. I will not disgust me frinds wid a recital av poopyism, but devote mesilf ix clusively to the grass widdy quis tion. The term grass widdy is a mod ern appillation which fits a mod ern foorm av degineraoy. The rale difiinition av this wor-rd has been the soobject av much discus sion in literary ciroles. Yis, while in transit it lift a doubt in the minds av our bist min, the binyfit av which I now give me raders. A grass widdy is a carioature av a rale leddy, who, be an act av choice, (an’ not provydince) has sivered the tie that binds fer the sake av colliotin’ alimoony. They are highly sinsytive oraythers, an’ can faint, swoon, an’ joomp tin fate at the same time over the same mouse on the same day. What do yez think av that fer flixybility? I hov always said all the roober wazn’t confined in the nick. I wance kissed wan av thim un der the mistletoe an’ the nixt day I waz charged wid inoculatin’ germs av tio douloureaux durin’ the suspinsion av social convin tionalities. Av coorse, it waz a lugubrious predickymint fer a family man, so I paid me fine iD priferinoe av ixposin’ mesilf to win the case. To use a plagia rized ixprission, where ignorance waz bliss it wud hov been folly to lit Katie find out. ’Tiz a well known fact that a man’s wife can create more havoc an’ disturb more pace than the combined ifforts av nine goats an’ twinty-five min; ispicially whin she has suspicious presintymints. Blayche blonds, on the contrary, don’t scare a man to dith, but what is more tantylizin’ they take him fer a merry andrew priparatoory to swearin’ out a warrant fer his chick. Fer a case av inhuman oroolty it shure takes the frosted cake. Whin I waz a young tarrier me main passion was( the writtin’ av sooblime poitrv, an’ about the same time I conthracted a strong mania fer a grass widdy in whose hanar I composed a beautiful lyric. Its peculiar arrangemint, howiver, caused her to think I waz a dool personallity, in conseguince me proposal waz rejicted. B’gorry, I even squirted twinty cints worth av me noo perfumed hairile in the invilope as a noble incouragemint. I prezoom the otter av lilacs had a chazy smill which saled me doom. The fol lowin’ tinder lines contained me luv: i’ve got widdies ok the bkaik. Payple say I am looney, because I am spooney Wld widdies both young an’ old. Me wife says ’tlz shameliss, an’ yet I am blameliss, Because I’m baldheaded I’m bold. Each day In the park I go out fer a lark Wid Minnies an’ Jennies an’ Katies, Whin a fair wan I spy, thin I flip flop me eye, Fer action makes all av me dates. Ii’IKVOY. I’ve got widdies on the brain— They are drlvln’ me insane. There are long wans an’ short wans, An’ lame wans an’ fat wans, ’Tls worse than a circus parade. Fer wld old wans an’ young wans, An’ good wans an’ boom wans, They’ll soon lay me out in the shade. To annywan contimplatin’ the writtin’ av poitry on a large scale, I wud advise thim to use soap an' postoffice coffee as soobjects, they are liss revingeful. E. E. H. Bismarck’s Happy Hours. At a festival in 1895 Bismarck was hailed as a happy man by one of the speakers. The answer of Bismarck telling when he felt hap py, is characteristic. He said: “When I count the sparingly few minutes of real enjoyment, they will not add up twenty-four hours. “In politics I never had the rest needed to feel happy; it was an eternal battling and wrestling, and when fortune was at hand, the care to retain and make use of it was also to be thought of. But in my private life I have exper ienced moments of joy. “I recall the one real moment of happiness in my ohildhood, when, as a boy, I shot my first rabbit. Later as forester I remember with joyful feeling the meadows and the growing forest cultivating under my care; I have also been happy in my house with my wife and child.” The first rabbit, the meadows and the oulture of his forest have ♦ brought to this great man no more than twenty-four hours of true happiness. Poor, great man! Translated from the German by 1268. “Did the jury find the prisoner guilty?” inquired a man concern ing a burglar. “No, sir,” responded the polioe man. “They didn’t find him at all. He got away.”—Ex. At last after a courtship extend ing over two years and ten months and seventeen days, he proposed and she handed him the answer. “Darling,” he gurgled, “you are worth your weight in gold.” “Then I must be very valuable,” she replied, “for it has been an awful long wait.”—Detroit Trib une. HoW the /\ncier\ts MoVed Storxe. An unfinished obelisk found in a quarry at Syene showed how the ancients separated these immense monoliths from the native rock. A groove marking the boundary of the stone contained a number of holes into which wooden wedges were firmly driven. The groove was then filled with water, and the swelled wedges cracked the granite the whole length of the groove. The detached block was then pushed forward upon rollers made from palm trees to a large timber raft on the edge of the Nile, where it remained until the next inunda tion floated the raft to the oity . , * i where the obelisk was to be set up. Thousands of hands then pushed it on rollers up an inclined plane to the frflot jf the temple, where it was to stand. The pedestal had previously been placed in position, and a firm causeway of sand cov ered with planks led to the top of it. Then by means of rollers, levers and ropes made out of date palms, the obelisk was gradually hoisted into an upright position. In no case has an obelisk been found to be out of the true per pendicular.—Ex. Plain Filiers-With- I out Varnish. It is tough to go without a steak as long as we have to; but then it is tough when we get it, too. •••• Scientists have discovered sev eral new kinds of mosquitoes, but have found no need for any of them. •••• Japan’s “Protectorate” for Corea will be exercised firmly, but with the greatest politeness. •••• Ambition never took the place of industry. Ambition is merely the spyglass that lets you see the point to which you must olimb. •••• It was proven in the Taggart divorce case that most army offi cers are not drunkards —merely sot in their ways, is all. •••• Since Prinoe Louis’ visit to this country, New York’s 400 has been cut down to 79, the other 321 per sons now are in the “has been” class. •••• I have noticed that all of the really sensible persons in the world agree with me in all matters of importance. •••• The sultan has a sure relief for ennui. Whenever he gets bored he can always depend upon the powers to give him another naval demonstration. •••• Prince Louis has the correct view of the horse show according to the American idea. He says of the New York horse show: “It is wonderful! Such beautiful women, and such magnificent gowns.” \ •••• The king of Spain has been re ported engaged to several differ ent persons, all of them selected for him. One of them, Prinoess Ena of Battenberg, was probably selected in the good old way we used to decide who was “it” when we were kids: Ena, mena, mona, mi. •••• It was a Boston clergyman who, in describing frenzied finance, said it was “That centralized fury or money madness that drives every trace of public spirit from the soul.” Thomas Lawson puts it in a little different language, but they agree on the main point. •••• One of the greatest compliments ever paid to the realism of a play was that paid by a woman in the balcony of a New York theatre recently, when “Oliver Twist” was being produoed. When it oame to the act where Bill Sykes strikes Nancy, the woman oried out ex citedly: “Now stop that!” •••• There is a noted flutist, Miss DeForest Anderson, who has made a vow to which she rigidly adheres, never to kiss anybody—man, wom an or child. The reason she gives for this is that the practice of kiss ing “inflicts great injury upon the sensitive muscles of the mouth.” Think of the sacrifice she is mak ing just for the sake of a little music. D. W. K.