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OUR HAPPY LOVB. BT C. LOWATML *be dark grows light, tJam glorious cod arises, Another day's begun; Like the first day of the earth's creation, And yet, another one. The self-same sun will rise and set forever While empires pass away. Bat never, till we saw its rosy dawning, Was seen this happy day. Btnee Adam courted Eve in Eden's garden Sweet love has ruled the heart, And men have wooed and maidens smiled and pouted, And all havo done their part. Bo all the world has kneeled to play the courtier With love enthroned ahovei Sat never, till wt: heard our fond hearts beating. Was known thi6 happy love. TO THE CELESTIAL AND MY SOUL'S IDOL. by j. T. howard Venus rising out of the sea, And bathing her hair In the foam, Mo object and no temptation would be; No need of her saying a word to me. For I'd only thank her with courtesy. Havana, N. Y. , i WEIRD MYSTERY I' * 1 ! Tracing a Dark Crime. I BY ALEXANDER ROBINSON, M. D. CHAPTER XIL looked in his face as he sat there op?that there was many respects a 1 tween this man 1' and tne om JU0Cl0rHis startling bliWS^i words were true, sltSKy^SlBk but did not this ' ma^e ^e ma^ter remembered > that there had been a mystery in the old Doctor's ; r^MBwas a portion of it | The letter I had found came r < /?raV]T once more into my mind. It \&Z/L was as if the characters were written with fingers of fire j T^g^yupon my brain, and now I mSfttjf could see a new light npon I .their rendering. , l i Theodore Parker: I posl( tlvely and for the last time re< v fu8e 10 ^rant Jon the Interview ' t ^ou 80 lmpQdently demand. Tho ' V^| past has not been blotted from I ^Svjrmy mind. I am Inexorable?the 1 \&)l same yesterday, to-day, and tomorrow. Never dare address me again In any snap?, i iook upon MjU you as one dead. Abraham Seabury. How could I have been so (?/ billed before as not to see the ? truth? It was apparont now in " every line. Looking back, I could see some terrible quarrel between these two men, each of whom no doubt possessed a strong temper. Perhaps Leonore had been the cause of Jt all, and the result had been that Theodore was banished from home with bis father's curse upon his wretched bead. From time to time he had sought an r Interview, but the old Doctor had perhaps misconstrued the tone of his letter, and deemed him impudent, when ?- DerhaDS he was onlv determined. (Then had come a dark resolve on the part of the wretched son to avenge his wrongs, and perhaps gain the fortune of his father at one fell blow. He had done it Could it be possible that this was the terrible foe Dr. Seabury ^ had dreaded for years? I could hardly believe it, and yet the evidence pointed that way. Whoever had killed him had been the cause of his oonstant dread. While these thoughts were flitting through my mind, I sat there watching , aay man, and trying to analyze the eerks of emotions that flitted acroes his lace. It was beyond my power. The man writhed under my indictment, and I could not see how anything other than guilt could make him ^ do so. He spoke first, and his voice was not | so strong as before. I "Doctor, am I to understand that you believe me guilty of my father's death?" ' "I am bound so to believe, sir." "This is a terrible accusation to bring gainst a man." "It is warranted by facts. You were k at loggerheads with your father. In the dead of night you sneak like a thief to the house, and climb the vines leading to your father'6 window. He is found dead?murdered beyond all shadow of doubt. Now, sir, what would it be rea onable to suppose?" A spasm of pain crossed his face. I see the force of your accusation, Doctor, and yet I solemnly declare to L - you, as heaven is my witness, that I t ? *' was not in my father's chamber on that I night?I am innocent of this terrible I crime." L "What! dare you deny that you were B- present?that you climbed the vines as I r have said, leaving the mark o! your f band on the white window ledge, and losing a letter from Dr. Seabury at the broken wall?" ^ ?I deny none of these, simply stating ISh&t I amJunocent of the ciiffle." To i my that I was axriazed would be putting it rather feebly?I was almost paraly: ed by the situation. Here the man who had turned out to be the old Doctor's son admitted that he had climbed the vines and looked in at the window of his father's room, but emphatically denied going further. Ah! a sudden thought: had he seen anything to cause him sudden alarm? f The idea came with resistless force. It would account in a measure for his stroog emotions. This thought I had to dismiss instantly, for it threw me off the track, and eut mc back to the old suspicion entertertained by Mr. Eetcham?that Leonore, in a fit of mental insanity, had done the deed which had created such -confusion in Me mind of the old detective. Of course thi? was but a scheme on ^ his part to evade punishment. The man was capable of much cunning?I saw that he was no ordinary character, but that he possessed strong jpowers. Returning to the attack, I once more L pushed him hard. | "You have not acquitted yourself In I any mind, sir. Remember, the charge I against you is a terriblo one. It would s serve your interests woll were, you to tell me llife "rear-nature of yourTTHmo that house." My words impressed him. I saw that be was thinking deeply. "Am I to understand that jnnless I prove my innocence to you, .Doctor,.1 shall be arrested, charged with this heinous and most unnatural crime?" "You are so to understand." O'Sp Jbe it. I cannot tell you why I climboiTTo" that window, 6uT'simply repeat my former statement that I was not in the room, and am innocent of the deed." Young Seabury spoke like a man who had made up his mind as to the course be should pursue?his rudder was lashed and there should be no change. Naturally I sought for a motive in this most singular action. It was hard to find. Two courses seemed open to me, and I could take my choice. The first concerned his own guilt, and somehow it came hard for me to apply his stranee actions to him here. I could understand how he might deny everything blankly, if guilty, and swear that he was not within a mile of the spot at the time of the murder, but to admit that he bad even climbed the vines and looked into his father's room, at the Bame time vehemently asserting his innocence, was a piece of strategy on the part of a guilty man that I could not readily grasp. On the other hand another picture was presented to my view. ^ Suppose this young man was all that be should be?that he had gone to the house to make a personal appeal to his father, or for some such reason,, and, upon climbing to the old Doctor's window had looked upon a sight that had frozen the marrow in his bones?was he the man, then, to take guilt upon his own shoulders rather than have it fall od the head of one he loved? I looked at him critically with this new thought in my brain. As I have said before, his face was a strongly marked one?there were no signs of weakness there. He was capable of great things, either for good or evil, as the spirit might sway him. "Will you not tell me what you saw there, Seabury?" I asked. He shook his head. "I cannot, Doctor." 'Meaning you will not?" 'Take it as you please. My lips are sealed upon that subject." My interest was bounding on apace. I could hard keep it in slight. " If I understand you correctly, you ac* knowledge having looked into the room of the old Doctor?" *1 do not deny it." "And you sa.w something that occurred within that chamber?" He did not answer. I could see his teeth close hard* and he had the appearance of a man who was sternly resolved upon his course. "Do you refuse to tell me what it was you saw?" "I have nothing to say." "Perhaps you forget that your life may pay the penalty of this refusal to speak and clear yourself." "I forget nothing. Would to heaven I c'ould forget! At the same time, if it must come, so be it I am resigned. As the Arabs say, Kismet?it is fate." I was becoming more and more interested in this man. He was a character to study wrth profit. In fact, I do not know that I ever met one who gave me more of a chance for observation. "Since you are determined upon this course we will drop that question; but perhaps you will not object to answering certain others of minor importance." I was going to beat about the bush, and perhaps discover in an indirect way what he refused to divulge openly. "Anything I can answer I shall do so with the greatest of pleasure," he said, quietly. "You admit entering the grounds by means of the wall?" "Yes." "You made your way direct to the foot of the vines, retraced your path to the wall, and then back once more to the 6ide of the house. What made you do this thing?" "You are mistaken, Doctor." In what?" *1 passed through the garden only once each way." "rT,L ? ?a4b /*Tro fknm "lucre wcic l/tyu ww? vl ujkwol^ vuvavi I saw them myself." "Then some one else made the other. "Impossible. They were near enough alike to have been made by the same man." "And yet I stand ready to swear that I went direct from the wall to the house, and when I left I followed the same route." He was quite determined in his manner. I could not say that he was telling a lie; at the same time I felt sure he must be very much mistaken. possibly at the time .he hatdly lyiew what he was doing, and "Bad fled from the spot only to return again, drawn thither by some terrible fascination. To assist my investigation, I pretended that 1 had fallen in with his idea. "Then you think some one else must have been In the garden on the same night, and almost'followed your course to the vines." "Since you affirm that there were two sets of tracks, it must be so. I made but one." "Let me see your i?x?V " He held up his foot It was a very small one for a man of bis size, and not unlike a woman's. "That will do. Now tell rae, while you were hovering around your father's place that night, did you notice any suspicious character about?" He started at my words, as though they offered him a loophole of escape. "Yes, I did." Tell me about it." i did not take any s&ck in what'he was about to say, for I believed he was simply jumping at the bait offered. At the samo time, to deceive him, I pretended to be greatly interested. "As I passed out through the break in the stone wall I heard a sound near me, and turning my head I saw the figure of a man of low stature, standing with hit back against the wall. "1 noticed no more, for I was not In a condition to care for such things. His head was bent low as I passed him, I could not have seen his face had I tried." "You don't know whether he went Into the grounds or not?" "I couldn't say. It would be very likely, If he was bent on burglary, or anything else." "Another question, Seabury. Have you ever carried any burglar's tools?" His face flushed, either with real or assumed indignation, but, biting his lips, he controlled himself. "Never in my life, sir." "Let me describe a tool that I found nnder the vines, and tell me whether you have ever seen it." T rtAsrrihpri it. JLoiMiratAlv. He shook his head as I. finished. "f gTvG ybu "tayWofft* or urmT/r, Doctor, I never even saw such a tool, and certainly never possessed one. If you found that among the vines, depend upon it some one mounted them either before or after I had been there." If I could believe his words, then a third trail had opened up before me; but I was not yet ready to change my mind. Until I did so, this man was the guilty party, although it was far from my intention to say so, as I had no intention now of arresting hira, and wished to keep him quiet. Just about "this time 1 began to feel the need of counsel. If I could only see Mr. Ketcham, and have a good hour's talk with him, perhaps there would be a straightening out of the kinks that were beginning to bother me. Strange things had occurred to me omon last T Rn.w him. What was he doing?pursuing the trail that brought up with Leonore? My heart was in my mouth at the thought that possibly what I had to tell j him would be only strengthening the toils about the poor girl. Nevertheless he should know all. For the last time, I turned upon the other. "Theodore Seabury, tell me truly, If 1 come to you with positive evidence that I know who drove that blade to the heart of your father?if I prove that your silence is no longer necessary, and that, in speaking, you will do no harm, and only clear away some of this dreadful mystery?will you then tell me what you saw when, hanging to the window-ledge, you looked into the chamber of your father?" "Yes, Doctor, I promise yon tnat. "Solemnly?" "On my honor as a man." "I have no more to say. Do yon mean to leave the city?" "No, sir. If I am needed I will be found, and although I may be punished for a crime I never committed, no human power can make me tell that which I have sworn never to reveal." "I will say good-by for the present" I put out my hand, and he took it "Doctor, how does Leonore stand it?" he asked, with some confusion in his face. I knew afterward what this meant, but as I hurried from him I felt that this question was but an indication of his guilt He had dared all to win her. CHAJPTER 1III. My intention was to seek out Abner Ketcham, the great detective, and laying all I had learned before him, ask for advice in the premises. My mind had become so confused that I hardly knew what I was about Most certainly l necaea a consul taw on with some one. I knew where his office was, and in this direction I bent my. steps as soon as I had left young Seatiury. Although I was seeking aid, I had reason to be proud of my work. Perhaps the old detective-might feel-called upon to compliment me, something he seldom did. I reached his office. A rap on the door brought fcim out. "Ah, Doctor, is it you?" he asked, while his grim face lighted up. He ushered me into his "den." It was reaily first iime 1 had ever been within the sanctum, and 1 must confess that I looked around me with a great deal of interest The room was a regular old bachelor's apartment. Besides this, it had an interest for me on account of the many queer trophies hung upon the wallsthings that were doubtless connected with all the greatest criminal cases for many years past, in which Mr. Ketcham had figured prominently. I looked around me for a short time, and then coming to my senses, realized that Mr. Ketcham was watching me. "Now, Doctor, what do you come after?" ' '' "I have been uneasy, sir, with regard to Leonore. Tell me, have you made out the case any worse against her?" He smiled peculiarly. - "Your ioisrefa -is her is nardonaMeu. Doctor. I really hope you will not" be disappointed in your expectations. I Vionfl (ficnnworoH oertftln nPOT thinffS. hilt cannot say that they settle the case." "I am glad to hear that." "Meantime, how is it with you?" "What do you mean Mr. Ketcham?" "You have made some discoveries." "How do you know that?" "Perhaps I guessed at it from your manner, or, to get nearer the troth, I have run across your trail several times." I saw that there was no use trying to keep anything back from this man. For the first time the thought came into my head that perhaps he would be able to return my Roland with an Oliver?that he already knew much more than I would ' be able to tell him. At any rate he wonld have to give me credit for my discoveries. fin T hpffan th#> storv. "Nothinc was withheld, from the time I hod left him up to my meeting with Theodore. The old detective evidently enjoyed the story. Ho lay back in his chair, with his eyes fastened upon me. Now and then, at some interesting part of my story, his face would light up and per- ' haps he would put .a few questions to me. His interest was greatest, however, when I told how I had succeeded in finding Theodore, and the manner in which I sent the question home to him. . Then Mr. Ketcham leaned forward in his chair and seemed to hold his breath. I could feel rather than see his eyes fixed intently upon me. As I revealed Theodore's secret he chuckled as though greatly tickled. "Good, Doctor; 1 commend your skill at running a trail," he said. I finished, at length, aod told him why I had sought him out "What you have given to me, Doctor, is not all news, and yet there have been some points in it of great value. Again allow me to commend your qualities in the detective line. You have met with astonishing success. * I bipwed. "Praise from Sir Hubert Is praise In aeea. ~ "I suppose what you want now is my opinion on your discoveries?" "Yes, in part. I would not object to hearing what you have done in that line yourseif, Mr. Ketcham." He smiled at my words. "Your enthusiasm in this case certainly entitles you to every consideration, Doctor, and at my hands you shall certainly receive it." I waited for him to speak further, but It was some time ere he did so. Perhaps he was pondering over the matter. "Now, Doctor, listen to me. * In one way it seems as though this young man - may h%ve been guilty of the crime., and yet I am inclined to believe he speaks the tryth in the matter. ' "At the same time ho is morally certain that when he Jooked into that room he saw something that alarmed him. "You see that ho refuses to tell what it was he saw. I judge that he is not the man to take much care of his own life, but a secret involving one he loves would never be torn from bim. "Now, the great question is: what did lie .see mat trouoies mm inwjjiseijr, and^hich, he says, the rack cciTufl n"D? lour from his lips? "Let me tell you. "He looked upon Leonore, the girl he loved, in mad frenzy bending over his father and sending the blade home to his heart. "That was the sight which froze the blood in his veins and made his heart stand still. No wonder he hardly knew what he did after that, and went back and forth between the wall and the house. "Think of it?he saw the girl he loved murder his father! No wonder, then, he declares that he is dumb. Sooner than tell the truth, and have Leonore convicted by his testimony, he would take the crime upon his own shoulders. That i is the kijjd of man lie is. " ^Yon'fiBve bCEC" fllKi, "Mr. Ketcham?" I eaid, suddenly. . "Yes, I have seen him, but without knowing positively who he was." t "You don't think he will givB us the Blip?" "No danger of his running away, as QO c-Vio ooomo in r?Qntray n , IViig wo cuv ovvuie <m | "So I believed. Now, how much stock do you take in this theory of yours, .Mr. Ketcham?" He looked at me and laughed outright. "Come, Doctor, you read me too well. Haven't I convinced you that I believe I have been on the true trail all along?" "No, sir, you have not You persist in following it, and at the same time cast out feelers in other directions. I believe you have other irons in the fire." "There is no use trying to dodge you, I see, Doctor. Question me if you will. * "First of all, I would like to know if you really believe Theodore saw the girl ' In the act of killing his father?" "Honestly then, I do not. He could not have kept from leaping Into the 1 room and cither endeavoring to stay her ' i /ir olflfl pnnfrnntinff her afterward.' I Slid he swears Tie "fi&STiSver beeFIn that 1 room." 1 That was one point gained- I returned I to the attack. "What do yon suppose his object was , In climbing the vines?" 1 "That is a mystery. I see two reasons , that might have induced him to act in that way! It may be he was bound to see his father, and force proofs upon bim that would show how unjust the 1 old physician had been ali along. Then, ' again, perhaps he thbught he was climb- i ing to the room Leonore, and that % she would be at tni window waiting for i him." "That is a queer idea." ' . "Not so queer as you think. Look at j this piece of paper. I found it in the grounds, where it had been lost" The rain had washed it, but the wriV ! Ing was still legible. i It ran simply: i must see you, In spite of all. If do . other way appears, I shall climb up to your window at night. This suspense will daive me mad. Thxodorb. ! I looked up at Mr. Ketcham. i ouro CliUU^li) JUUl 101/irOA vtiQUi J iu | | this respect is the true one. StilJ, there , is a little thing I don't understand." "I knowJust what it is, and. can put you 1n tLfe way of enlightenment Notice the slip of paper you hold again, 1 and you will see that the top is turned > over." "Who did that?" "It was L Cast your eyes upon it , now. , I turned the paper around. As I did so, I could not keep from utr ( tering a cry of astonishment There was cause for it Only one lino 1 of three words greeted my eyes, hut it ' gave a terrible shock. That line made clear many things. It j also lifted a weight from my heart, .and , I knew just where I stood. What was it then that met my eyes upon ibis piece of paper to create thiv . sudden revulsion of feeling within mo. J "Loonore?my wife!" 1 [to BE CONTINUED.] A Little Romance. < Five years ago a 8cotch girl, There3e Healy by name, was employed in New Haven, Conn., at the house of a Mr. Forbes. She only worked there a few 1 months and then left. The reason foi } her departure was, though not then announced, that she had become the wife ' of P. W. Forbes, son of the girl's em- , ployer. He was then twenty-two yeara ( old. He was well aware that he could not hope to announce his wife to th? j world without losing his prospects of iu* ( heriting his father's large estate, and the , young wife at once made her home wit'u a relative in the outskirts of the city, ( where she has resided since then with* ] out a single acquaintance gaining a clew to the true state of affairs. Three children have been bora to Mr. , and Mrs. Forbes, one "of which they ] have buried. Last July the complete | property passed into the hands of young , Forbes and his sister. Last Sunday the | final settlement was effected, and within six hours young Mr. Forbes had claimed | his wife and established her as miftress ( of bis house, where she had been em< ( ployed as*servant. Mr. Forbes is a select- | man of the town of New Haven and | hignly respected.?Boston Journal. , I Coffee Care fi>r Horses. 1 Tbe Qerm&n naturalist, Martin, relates a case he recently met of a horse which owed its life to coffee. It was in such a bad way that it was considered incurable, and tbe owner sold the animal for $15. The animal was then almost a skele. ton and so weak that it could hardly walk. Tbe man who bought the horse immediately began to treat it with coffee, giving infusions of roasted coffee beans, and also coffee beans ground and mixed with honey. In a short time the horse began to improve, and after a few month3 its new owner was offered $250 for it. He told Herr Martin he had brought round by the same treatment many horses which had been overworked or had lost their strength and appetite.? Boston Globe. Maskrats Make Themselves at Home. Two muskrats came up the dr**io into the cellar of Mrs. Sarah Howaru <* nouse t at Houlton, Me., and, being unmolested, I they soon became so tame they ventured into the kitchen. They tried to frater- j nize with the old cat, and a*3 out of her ] saucer. The cat never molests them, I but the kittens occasionally cut them I and drive them away from the milk, j They have made a nest under the cupboaid in the kitchen, and now are tame i enough to run around while the folks I are about without any manifestation of I fear, and will even sit up and sniff at a i hand held toward them. < Law seldom gets into a more con- i fusing tangle than one that Is now i robbing the judicial mind in Colorado i of rest. A woman secured a divorce 1 I from her husband. About this time ' he killed a fellow-citizen, and the 1 testimony of the ex-wife established . his guilt. The woman, with a sigh ( of satisfied ambition, heard him sen- , teuced to death. Now comes forward a lawyer and a quibble, demonstrating that the divorce was illegal, and it is set aside. According to the statutes, a wife has no right to testify against her husband. This fact, It is claimed in effect, must annul ( the fatal testimony, supposed to have , come from an ex-wife, and leave the , murdeier legally crowned with innocence. Here is an opportunity for I much thought, and possibly a few 1 fees. _ The ascent of the balloon is generally a eoar point with the aeronaut. . ?Binghamton Leader. * Tbuffalo farjiT LNEBRASKA RANCH ON "WHICH BISON ARE BRED. Dnltivating the One-Time "King of the Plains," and Picking From i His Body Fine Fur Which is Made Up Into Cloth. j 'vumJIVE miles west from I* ' the city of Omaha, 4 Neb., grazing over strange looking animals. A barbed wire fence limits their wandering?, and a group of -whooping ?owboyp, mounted on branded ponies, rounds them up morning and night into i corral, where the curious are permitted to view them at twenty-five cents a view. They are American bison, curiosities sven in that Western city and on those bills which only a few years ago shook with the tread of the mighty armies of their ancestors. There are sixty in the herd, and Jumbo is the monarch. Plainsmen, who ha7e slaughtered his ' kinsmen by the hundred, say they never saw a^finer mimal. He weighfi 3000' pounds'* his brown beard nearly sweeps the'ground; bis strong, black horns are almost lost in a magnificent crest of silky brown bair, and his shoulders are level with the head of a tall man. "Devilish Dick," as be is called, is almost as fine a specimen, but there is a vicious gleam in his'eyes which prevents a very close in- j spection of his points. Four years ago one of the cowboys came a little too near this tremendous brute, ahd one sudden toss of the massive head sent the cowboy to tht country where there are' oot supposed to be buffaloes. This is the C. J. Jones herd of buffaloes, one of the few melancholy remnants of the millions that once swarmed over the plains, and almost the only bope of the perpetuation of the species. Forty years ago it would have been as easy to number the leaves of the forest is to calculate the strength of the vast of bison which swarmed over all the Western plains aud hills, from the Mississippi to the Pacific and from Canada to the Gulf. Of all the quadrupeds ever inhabiting the earth, naturalists tell us, no one species ever marshalled such innumerable armies as did the American bison. Ab late as 1871 it is estimated that there were in the great Southern herd, which covered the country south of the line of the Union Pacific Railway, between 3,000,000 and 4,00u,000 head, [n that ytar the railroads penetrated the lountry, and the systematic slaughter began. The report of the Smithsonian 'Institution gives these figures for the "hunting" for the three following years: In 1872 white hunters killed 1,491,489 buffaloes and utilized the hides of 497,163. In 1S73 the number slaughtered was 1,508,658 and the number used was 754,329. Id 1874 only 158,583 were killed and 126,867 were used. Of the 'igantic army of 3,158,730 butchered j >y white men during these three years >ver half were left lying untouched where they fell. To-day even the bones which whitened the plains for miles have disappeared, and there is not known to survive a single specimen in a wild state. In 1867 tbere was a herd of 200 under Government protection at Yellowstone Park. Tbere, may be a few there now, )ut none have been seen for a year or nore, and they are supposed to have jten killed off. Besides the Omaha herd there are a rew others in captivity, some kept for breeding purposes and others for exhibition. Mr. Charles Allard, in the Flatlead Indian Reservation, has thirty-seven lead. Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show lumbers among its attractions a herd of ihirteen buffaloes, subject to many langers from, disease and accident that ery little can be hoped from it in the 1 PIXCK1KG FHOM 1 wav of perpetuating the species. Mr. Charles Goodnight, of Clarendon,' Texas, has nine head. In the Philadelphia Zoological Gardens there are eight, (n Lincoln Park, Chicago, there are six bead, and in half a dozen other places there are held groups of two and three ind several single animals. With the Jones herd an earliest and intelligent effort is being made to save the species from utter extinction, and the fact that the animal may be domesticated and make a source of profit has ilsobeen demonstrated. Mr. Jones is perfectly well qualified lor tDlB lafiK. ns ww) m iliu tcuuc ui distribution of the great Southern herd from 1866 until theft final disappearance, and was by profession a buffalo hunter. When the great slaughter be>;an in 1871 he was employed by his neighbors to shoot buffalo at fifty cents i head, and they would follow and secure the hides. His method was what is known as "still-hunting," and he had iveraged from thirty to forty head a lav. On one occasion he shot seveuty rn head without shifting his grouud. ' - ? ?* ? V-? r\ utno frn.i liotitl t7 1 U &U&UU w It'u ^cu bliau uc ?t?o .shamed of his work, but with the whole ;ouutry out hunting he did not feel like uisBing his share. In 1873 he began ;o realize that the wholesale slaughter was beginning to make inroads upon what then appeared an inexhaustsblc supply of game, and made his first effort o preserve the species. On the Solomon Itiver in Western Kansas, he captu a even calves which he subsequently sola, le went on expeditious to the fast reading hnuDts of the animals each year iftewaxd until 1886, and the herd now M at Omaha is a testimonial to- Iris cour-4 v age, stall ana piucK in tne cnase. livery one of the adult animals was run down, lassoed and tied with his own hands. His last and greatest feat was in May, 1888. There was known to be at that time a small herd in the uninhabited "panhandle" of Texas which could not long escape the rifle. With an elaborate "outfit" of men, horses and camp equipage Mr. Jones started from Garden City, Kan., to capture it. For forty-two days and nights the party followed the animals across the Staked Plains until they bad finally lassoed or rounded up the entire herd. Only buflalo hunters can realize what such an achievement means. From this herd "Buffalo" Jones now secures three or four full-blooded buffalo calvee each year and a number of halfbreeds?"catalo," he calls them. The hybrid product of the buffalo and Galloway cattle is a magnificent animal. Its robe is nearly black, fine and silky in texture and with a brilliant lustre characteristic of the Galloway cattle. For enough of one of these robes to make a coat Lady Foster, wife of 1 Treasurer Foster, of Canada, once < offered Mr. Jones $300, saying she preferred it to the seal. In balf-breeds the domestic animal seemB to predominate, and the casual observer might not notice the long hair, the small hump at the shoulders and the slight shagginess about the head. These catalo have been bred back until they were only one-sixteenth domestic, when even a trained eye could-see no difference from the full-blooded buffalo. The profit* of buffalo raising are very considerable. The animal feeds cheaply and looks after himself in all sorts of FARMING wrn weather. His robe alone is worth the price of two good bullocks. Io domestication his meat is equal to any range beef. One good animal will yield each year lur sufficient to make a blanket. A taxidermist will give from $ 100 to $500 for his head, and if Mr. Jones's big bull, .Jumbo, were put on the market he would bring $1000. What the possibilities of domestication may be is yet to be determined. The two big bulls of the Omaha herd are driven to a cart by the owner, andwhen THREE-QUARTERS BUWALO. . it is considered that their agility is remarkable for the size of the animals, that their strength is tremendous and that they have the speed of the average horse, this means something. This novel chariot, with perhaps the whole herd, will form one of the attractions at the World's Fair at Chicago. Mr. Jones is more than an adventurer or a speculator. He has become an enthusiast on the subject of buffaloes, and no man ever rode a hobby more honestly or earnsstly. When he began capturing these animals he knew no more of their peculiarities than other plainsmen, but his association with them has filled him ?!iL - 1"? MAaf aKorrmr KmtM j WILLI 5 1UVO lUi WUO ^A (Bbf 0U4>g^j wa WWW and a zeal for their salvation that i* quite sublime in ita way. In beginning the work of subjugation I BUFFALO CALF. pitchforks were used by men when going about among the animals; but the buffaloes were intelligent enough to comprebend the nature of the sharp tines, and when the pitchforks were not to be I seen they reasserted their majesty. Mr. Jones hit upon the device of having short pieces of gaspipe plugged at either end with wood and these plugs filled with sharp brads. These weapons were carried concealed, and when animals became de| inonstrativfi they were jabbed into the 1 "* * of fKo Kirr hiimn? I tOU?U Olticy ur uuncu aw buv with all the force possible. At first the burly fellows received these attacks with a pained surprise, but in time they tipparently concluded that these mysterious prod s were a part of man and they had better not provoke attack. At aay rate, they have become quite docile under that treatment. Men go among them freely, separating them or driving them about as readily as though they were so many cotvs. 1 In connection with his work of domestication, Mr. Jones has experimented with the buffalo's fur and has succeeded j in making a cloth as tine as lamb's wool. Under the long, coarse hair of the animai is a short fur of the softness of swansdown. When the hair is shed in the summer the under fur either falls off or is plucked by hand. In the latter /?<>oo t-ha animal ia tipfT and the more unruly are thrown to the ground and their le^s fastened by ropes to posts fore and aft. Tnere are ten to twelve pounds of fur on an animal, enough to make & big brown blanket as warm as an oldtime buffalo robe and as light as a bedspread. This cloth sells as high as $20 a yard. Mr. I ' =. Tones wears ir winter an overcoat madfc of it and trimmed with the glossy fur of/ the catalo, and underclothing, stockings! ind other garments hare been woven of) \ vA the same material. He presented one oft the blankets to the Prince of Wales for ise as a lap robe, and has received ftj Yfofo^nl oAlrnAwrlo^rnnoiif i\f fVia tininflM ^iaKtui ovauvniwigiuuuw v? ?uv jiftId his several expeditions Mr. Jones! laptured 130 buffaloes, eighty-two of which survived. Full grown animals i?\ji taken wild invariably die in captivity4 > . 9e had no success saving any over six nonths old. Many animals, even among; the younger ones, died apparently in fit* )f anger. When they found themselves^ prisoners they went into a fearful rageJ stiffened their limbs as though in cramps; , lay down and died. Others broke their] ^ necks in trying to escape. , - 4 On his first expedition Mr. Jonw cap-; . 1 :ured eleven butfalnes, but saved only) " four. He was 200 miles from a ranch bar-" ing a cow, and he had to feed the little fellows on condensed milk,which did not agree with Ihem. On his third trip luj took cows with him to the staked plains of Texas, and out of thirty-seven buf-i faloes saved thirty-two. Most of the animals that survived wera from three weeks to four months old. The buffalo calf is of a tawny color, re* sembline the hues of the sand and the grass and the shrubbery of the great plains. For. the first three weeks of its \ life it is hidden by its mother, and its color blends so closely with its sorroundJ ings that wives and other enemies may pais within a rod of it without discover' ing its presence. Mr. Jones hu furnished buffaloes fromi his herd to parks all the way from the I BOFFALOBS. }?& Golden Gate on tip Pacific to Austin Corbin's rock-ribbed estate in Vermont. k Others have gone to atir the curious interest of tr&ziag holiday crowds in Europe. Wild West shows and rich in. dividuals with private zoos to stock have also drawn'on this herd for their support. The oldest buffalo living is supposed s jM to be one in a Paris zoological garden, which is known to be twenty-nine yean old. Jumbo, nine years of age, is the patriarch of the Nebraska herd. These animals breed readily in .captivity, and this herd is capable of an enormous in- , ' It . 1_ V crease u projjcnj uauuwu. New United Slates Coast Defensa Yessel ^ There will be placed in commission Wf within a few weeks, for service oa oui r* Pacific coast, one of the most efficient fighting chips belonging to the new navy. This is the armored coast defense ship Monterey, built at the Union Iron Works, .' . San Francisco?the first United States . . *!> vessel of the strictly "coast defense" type yet constructed. Our illustration gives an idea of ,thd. ' THE XOKTERBT. ' * Monterey as she will appear when armed >' . and ready for sea. She is 250 feet long, 59 feet breadth of beam, and will have a mean diiftof 14 feet 6 inches of water. She will cany two 12-inch and two 10inch high-powered steel rifles, mounted in turrets on her upper deck. ^ The sides of the vessel and the circular turrets are protected by American-made armor?plates of solid steel thirteen inches thick. The armor known as 'nickel steel," on account of containing in its composition about three per centum of nickel, is of the kind Which has been proved to be vastly superior to that , , adopted by any other navy of the world. The 12-inch guns of the Monterey are ] about thirty-seven feet long, weighing . forty-five tons, and fire a charge of 425 ' nniinda of Dowder and a saell weighing r" i-- w 850 ponnds. The weight of the pro-' jectile, it will be observed, is jast twice that of the powder charge; and this relation between the weights of the projectile and charge of povrdor may be said to be approximately true of all our modern naval cannon. , , - .. The Monterey's 12 inch guns will perforate at close rauge twenty-lour inches of solid steel, and, if fired for extreme range, would throw their shells a distance of about twelve miles. The Monterey is expected to be able to miintain a speed of sixteen knots per hobr. In addition to her main battery of heavy guns, as described, she will be armed with a "secondary battery," consisting of sis 6-pounder and four 4-pounder rapid-fire guns, two gatlings and several * ' fnrtvn^nMI Shfi luues iur uisuutu^iu^ ~? will carry a crew of about 200 men. ?Picajune. A Bank Fnilnre. ?irutn. A church on Montmatre, Paris, has already cost twenty-five million?, and will re quire five millions more to complete it.