The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, January 25, 1893, Image 6
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.