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V ;'. - 1 1 ' " * RAID ON WILD BEASrS. ;i* llOW FARMERS PROTECTED THEIR CATTLE IN EAItliY TIMES. '>* y The Famons Work of Hunters k Bradford a County, Pa.) Eighty Yearn or More Ago. "The region now included in Brad? for& County, Pa.," says a letter from that section, "began to be settled more than a century ago. Ia 1805 there were jjjhf, about 5,000 inhabitants of the county. There were a few small villages, but the aettlerg were generally scattered about on farms. With the exceptions of tkcse ' clearings the country was still a? un broken area of dense forest. Wolves,panthers and bears had hardly thought of retiring before the encroachments of the settlers. Deer roamed the woods in herds, and the elk still browsed, in the y % mountain fastnesses. The badk woods clearings were constant f oraginggrounds for wild beasts. The few sheep, swine and cattle the pioneers possessed were never safe from the marauders, and it V frequently happened that these raids left the settlers1 stock inclosuifts entirely emRty. 4'Although hundreds of *>ild animals annually fell victims to the traps, snares and guns of the pioneers, their depredartions still remained a serms obstacle to the welfare of the settlers. In 1805, at the suggestion of a long-suffering farmer named Buck, it w*s oresolved to orffftnizfl a svKffimnMf" niwj irnmhitipH rairi on the haunts of the ttnimals whose destructiveness indiv'kifrukl- efforts had hut slightly checked. Mr. Buck's idea "was to enlist every one in th? . afflicted settlements who was <old enough to carry a g>un, and witlh ithis small army form a circle around as large an area of country infested by the animals they desired to assail as tfihe number vof -hunters warranted. The iparty was :to be divided into companies of ten, under the lead and command of an experienced woodsman and hmirter. When the hunting ground was surrounded eacfh party wa9 to move forward-simultaneously toward a common <oontre, the march to be conditionedoe?uch obstacles as streams, swamps or hills that might intervene. As the raid wats rto ibe* one merely of exj termination, doer, <elk and other unoffending animals were not to be ruthlessly nor ufrdosoviminatelv killed. Everv / hunter, however, Should be bound, to ;C, lay low cvwy jpafltber,- catamount, bear, wolf or for, swung ?<?r old, that crossed ig^Mv ,r his,path. , "The piowoor'e-suggestion was unanimously adopted at meetings of settlers held at ooxwenient localities, and it was resolved to? make two' raids during the ? " - year. O?e<waerto bean June, when the v. animals t bey-sought would generally be ['' y found wi)tih Hhdir litters, and families of young brought iforth in the spring, thus affording qpportunity 1 to put much . future bwnflpleout ?6f the way with ease, Cf: and the other iraid^was fixed for Novem V? ; v oer, during rthei nutting season. Every !? I- arrangement lor 'the * successful and smooth working of the me vcl'campaign -was perJeoted during the winter and ky . spring, and vwhen t the dptv came for the v grand rmdito< commence,*600 men, each armed wrtflnhis flintlock, a hatchet, and ^ ahuntlng Qsriife, n*nd provided with two & . ' days' rations, were readyftfor the march- ; "The number of art en Who were to par- j iicjpateaj^ttherraid was known for days j y before itihe ^appointed rtipoe, and war- ] ; ranted itihe selection >of;?. wide area -of r . f country tko lhunt<over. VL wild region, ' which was lkaowxi^to furnish all the re'quiremeifts of the Annuals to be proceeded against,* extending from the head ^: . waters ?df ijhe Wyalusing Creek, and r taking in {portions of -Lycoming and ' Luzerne "counties,iit was*thought, could P;i- ' ' _u.xi i.i-? -a ? ' i uu piuuiATixt^iwiu tuunjuyiay scuureu uy ^ the large party, and .a dirdle of hunters, five to a >mUe, was farmed in that "' / rtgkm. This gare an area 40 miles across, or 130imil.es ..around, to close in ffi" ' * upon. . "The -flay 'Wfope the 'fray appointed * each eommand<of 10 men had received . orders to be at a place designated at 6 jpt v-' o'clock in the morning, ^and to be in position to -start forward >half an hour later. Tiberarrangements were all successfullycanned out. * The -circle was to be reduced toy il<} imilesrthe first day. ppft/J Each, hunter lhad strict a order not to , K shoot except-rfhen Ihe sawnrome animal r - plainly and <wSthm<easy range, to avoid Vvwiy the ,da??ger;of Shooting a ffellow-hunter in mistake' for -game moting, but not . . seen, in the 'brush. DuHmg the first day's march through (the woods and S||V swamps, all around the great circle of ' hunters, the restfit i of the raid, accord I If. v ing to the returns ?of the hunters whose shots had been successful, was as follows, old aa*d young; Panthers, 40; wolves, 58; bears, 02; foxes, 20; catamounts, 13. The second day's march brought the huntese < close together at the centre of the -avea, and also drove into close 'qtiarterfi & large number of - wolves, bears and panthers, (besides : ' many deer and a few.elk. My grandfather, who was a captain of one of the divisions of the party, said that the scene presented by rfSaese hemmed-m beasts was one he could never forget. The hunters sttfod in (ranks' five tdcep about them. The panthers yelled furiously from "the tree-tops as they leaped > " from branch to branch to escape, tout rifle balls met and followed them in all c V directions. Bears huddled together cov-j ering their cubs, raeamwfeile growling t fiercely and showing fight ecren against such fearful odds. Wolves -sneaked and gp*?' snarlod about, # showing tkeu- great i%V-' white teeth and- looking a fierceness they did not possess. <Tne frightened (deer And elk ran widely to and fro within the circle, and frequently made desBE&yr* Aerate rushes and cleared 1he wall of lp!f&.r; dumters at a bound; Short work was ' made of the corralled beasts of prey, and when the slaughter was over tne record Utr the two dayB' hunt stood: Panthers, 72;*rolvcs, 00; bears, 145; foxes, 37; catamounts, 29. A number of deer and ?lk wcro also killed by hunters who HS&tv' mnM tint rARiot thn 1?mntAtinn PlrnrM of both could ha|ve been slain with ease. I v- Foxes catamounts being less bellig B?>v ?rent thau the bear and panther, and Pi" more wily, escaped with less slaughter, although very numerous in the woods. & . The bounty on the animals killed Km fa-jO. The kins had an aver* at value in those days t than *2,500, Theu the bears tided at least 85 pounds of zed food to each hunter. But t thit resulted to the farmers ^Kr' ' k' ' :''$#t;%>$'t'' froth ih? tfcld ljfr 'pK/c'ccting , ibfcir pastures and farmjwdfe overbadtenfold all other profit there ^aa in the hunt. The I^oviember raid tyfroved also very ^successful, and tbe destructive prowlers of the woods <eeyer regained the foothold in the region they had so long enjoyed." . A TpAiidvirv VAtMAtiAA A *fcV?toa*J IKVUtUUVV* The story going the rounds of the press about the pretty Boston girl who became the wife of the late King, of Portugal finds a parallel, though of a less degree, in the marriage of a pretty Government clerk of this city, savs a Washington letter. About ten years ago the natne of Camilla Woodford was borne on tne rolls of the Treasury !>?>Eartment as a clerk in the Redemption >ivisio?. At that time Miss. Woouford was scarcely eighteen years old. She was t)he younger member of an 'old Southern family that had lost their fortune during the war, and was a gentlewoman by birth and education One day the .Baron van Harve, the Belgian Minister, who was visiting the "department, chanced to enter the room where Miss. Woodford sat. It was a case of love at first Sight. The Baron inquired Tier name, and, through the ?hief?of the bureau, requested an introduction. He called upon her several times -and at last proposed marriage. The lady then informed him that she was-ualready betrothed to a fellow-clerk in the department. He urged her to 'cancel the en gagement, but she declined 'although Ua: i .1 _ ^ ?x it, mimitcniy, unu hiiu nwrc nun iirsi, mat her answer might have bee? different. Finding her obdurate, the Baron resolved to leave America, hoj/ing in the distractions of some European court to forget the pretty Yankee girl who had refused his suit. He went *o St. Petersburg, but within nine days 'returned to Washington again. This time the lady . smiled more graciously xrpon'him and, in the end, consented to beoome'the Baroness van HaTve. Shortly after; their marriage, which, I am tsld, lias 'proved a remarkably happy ose, they "removed to Brussels, where they Still reside. What became <sf Miss. Woodford's 'former sweetheart I have never ihenrd, but ho probably accepted the situation philosophically, as what poor fellow of a Government ciexk would -wot^when he had' for * rivai a young anVl 'handsome jioblexaaxa with 4m income - of $500,000 a year. <?toTi Berths In llre'Nayy. A Washington Better *says: .'A naval officer, in speaking<of-an;:associate, said the <*ther -day to your correspondent, "He is a good fellow, ibut he is a Coburger."" When .asked tto explain the term he re<ptied : 'There is a certain cla96 <?f anen dn the inavy who have always held soft Jaerths aand whom it seems impossible ?to dislodge. They are official favouites,;nnd we call them 'OobiK^ibers.1 There are soorcs of them in the Navy Department here. I know of ?ne wih? has attained the rank of full <xwsamander and whose utooast is that 'he never.-stood -a watch.' iHe <?was graduated Ifireaa rtihe Naval Academy near the close of the war, and promotion waa actually-so irapid rthnt iiliis boast is the troith. He .has <becn floating around Washington ever-siueeXl can: remember, and will ;pFobably*be ihere when I am gaae. There is a <choioe.assortment of ?wf? things iin ?connection with the Judge-Adwoeate-General's Bureau; Gen. Itconey (ftadge-Advocafce) himself has e pwtfry easy time-dfiit. He -is only a captain iim ithe Mafiae" Corps, but hit total *ea duty is very-small. He ha* been so long iin Washington that peoplt bave almoet forgotten,<?is real rank. ] knew .of another -ease \ which is even worse. A-oertain officer unow stationed at tlhe Tjcague (Island Navy Yard hasn't j been more flhan:twenty*four hours' ride frame Washington .for the last sixteen years. 'The Navy Department here is fall eff just-such-people. How do thej manage at ? Petticoat influence.. lean meutaon five-.women lin^Washington who cap keep me there mntilflim a Hear Admiral of .they ftnily said vthe-.word. II Secretary Whitney waota to reform, with a ling R, let:him look over the sea service ?f <tho cnon: about him, and ht ^oefirf^t want rta> overlook. Commodort WaHcerk trecord dither." Qnaer Pe?i<le Thqy Were. ? ' TJae ibartier'>8 <dhop vwas ??*ext door to the baker'-s -ahop, and the baker had C-; gotten .a iton <of coal. The coal been (dumped <cn the sidewalk, and, after the faahion <of .coalmen, mud nearer to the ibarhor's door-Chan to thai of the ba"k?r, rto vAhom :?t belonged. The barber had juat gotten -the lathci on a customer when ?ane .of <ijbc genua tramp came uel "Put In yerooa'l. mister?" ' No,1" *aid the barber pleasantly? "no, my frkaaQt; ithat'-e mot my oeal, you know.1" The tramp "had hardly disappeared round the coiner when .Another opened the door. t "Put yer conl in far ye, mrtister?" "No," said the barber a little shaiply, "the coal's not mine, I say." They kept coming, and ?even of them appeared in twenty minutes; and to tfcie eighth man the barber u alleged to haice said: "Qitl The coal, ain't mine.* "Now, see here,1' said the shavec, there ain't no use in gittfn' mad over it. Just put up a sign sayin', 'This coal un't mine.' That's all ye need/' "Say* you've got a great head," said the barber; and in a few mr^ente he had the sign stuck on the top of the heapof coal. ''Rcckon that'll fix it," he remarked. The door opened and a tall man with j a shovel looked in. "Say, mister, did you. put that 'ere : siffn up, or did the other teller?" ! 'Then the barber closed his shon and .went out and got drunk?with malice aforethought. He. had only one remark, to 'make when Justice Meech fined him $5. ^'Mr. Judge," he said, "can't I make | that'baker pay me fine?" Thk dullest find moral spirit must at tiraea ?rope re*tlcjw!y und expectantly : in the outer darkness for something be| yond, add this something must exist, in I a true poem. aB^ara % 'Sr'^vv- 9 ! '.'S'v.r'''.1- ;5 ,jiJHKKHKUV . .... ' r ? , .'1' V :;>v , /' THE JOKERS' BUDGET, SOMETHING TO READ DUKlNt> THE WARM UEAT1IKR. The Tbwn 3lnl-*hul-Direct Evidence?TUe Fariner'N L^fe?A Letter t* the (Jovernoi ?Too Ortlerly^A IlRpfv Father, Etc.i Etc. X.l?TTER TO THIS GOVERNOR. Simon Gardner, a citizen of Blossom Cove-, Arkansas, lecently addressed the frtllAtlf ?n/* 1n4f?\M /"I .......... - ? ll av/nw ?* iVJtLV.'! UU IIHJ UUVt'l llUl i 1 have this here day named a fine l>oy ?,fter you. He js as lively as a harvest hand's appetite and can squawl louder ithan a goat. How I do wish you could ' "see him. His mother was dead set on naming him after his Uncle John because .John keeps a store, but I savs, 'No; no, mother,' says I, 'we will name him after the Governor of this here State. We ain't never showed our respect for'none of the Governors, and it's high time, let me tell you.' 'What's the use in naming him after the Governor?' says mother. 'He will forgit it in five minutes and never will send the child nothing and lie is needing ol -everything.' 'Tut, mother, John won't jgivo hire anything.' 'Yes, he will,' another says. 'John will do the right ' thing, see if lie don't.' I wouldn't give 'in, though, and now the child is named dfter you. How 1 wish you?could sec ' him. It would tickle you mighty nigli to death. He is mighty scarce o' duds, 'but he's got a voice like a calf. He is the peartest. chap I ever seen in my born days. Mother wants to bet me that you won't send him nothing, but I don'l bet sense I tuck to preaching. She 'lows that you air stingy, but I know ji heap better than that. If you want tc IUVIUVJ1 X ^UlU!^ iu say send down something, but nevei .mind. How 1 do wish you could set him".?A rkunxaw Traveler. THE TOWN MARSHAL. In this country there may be a mar who is more important, than the villag< town marshal, but he rarely shows himself. The successful town marshal must be a man who is opposed to all forms oi manual labor. He talks of the work h< has performed, and he has a habit o: calling all other men lazy. He carries i hickory club which he cut "on the knot out here near old Mat Taylor's place ii ?let me see?fifty-six." Among smal boys he is a hero, and by them his ?eis ure of a drunken man is looked upon ? an act of bravery. In the summer lu goes in his shirt sleeves; in the wisrtei he wertrs a long, brown overcoat. H< was never known to arrest a wealthy mai nor a member of the town council. Hi is a close friend of the village -editor and he exchanges bits of criniiiud (new for complimentary notices of himself He likes to sit in the shade, and witl his sitck, make triangular marks on"6hi ground. It is on such an occasion tha Ik- looks up und says: "Jim, lciume .tr^ your tobaeker."?Arkanmw Traveler.. IN TOO MUCH HASTE. "Father has failed, you know George," said Clara, looking up into lii: eyes, "and?" "No, I didn't know it," nepti? George emphatically, at the same tin* rapidly disentangling himself -and look ing about for his hat. "You Mill .ham to excuse?" "Yes," went on the girl, -"lather ha failed and lias settled with hie creditor at seven cents on the dol?" "Nay, dearest," interrupted Geoig< passionately, as he resumed liis forme position, "why disciuw such ?urdid busi ness matters on a night like this? Le us speak of love, and the happiness.th< J future has in store for both of .iks." THE FARMER'S LIFE. The farmer leads no ? Z life; tlie'C'I eows will rot; and when art. E V rest fctvifo liiu .*11 A T.r T? T otiuu Alio t/v/HCO 411 & A XL lVJt, XII 1 D has to st rugglc hard to E K tniing out if I C frost is do not retard his .orop there'll B A drought. Hie hired L J has to pay are awful A Z, too; "they C I a rest when he's away nor N E wori will do. Both N Z he cannot. make:t< meet and then for A D takes -son* boarders who so It T cat & E no monei makes. Of little U C finds this life siek in old A G lies; the dehts he-O.j leaves his wife and then in P C dies. H. C. Uoihve. * BRINGING niM BACK TO LIFE. An editor lay in an unconscious -eon dition, and for some time it waws fearet that he was dead. "Can't you rouse him, doctor?" rcva< anxiously asked. 4'No," the physician replied, x'l fcai that life is extinct." Then the editor's assistant bent -ova and whispered in his car: "A gentleman wants to put aa .advertisement in the paper." ' Immediately the unconscious man'i face showed signs of returning life, anc struggling to a sitting posture, he ?aic feebly: 'IJow many lines?" EDUCATIONAL NOTE. A student at the University of Texas, who had been leading a rather dissipated life, wrote to his father, one oi the most respectable citizens of Dallas, saying:;? " I Lnd the misfortune to be upset ie a boat while out rowing on the Colorado River, ttilost the beautiful watch whicl you gave aue. I would like eomemonej to hire a ?nan to dive for it." The old -gentleman, who was no fool, replied:? I 4'It is notvworth while diving for it. ft might ns well be in soak in one plarc m another.11?Texius Siftings. SHARE AND SHARE ALIKE. Cfcntlcman?What are you doing nowadays, Uncle Roi^us? iftxcle Rastus?I so work in' fo' Sara Jonc*, fiah. ' Gentleman?Wfwtf at? Uncle Itastusrr-PkJkin' blackberries up on ole Mrs. Brown's pasture lot. Gentleman? Doesn't Mrs. Brown object to it? Uncle Rastus?She dean' know it, sah. Gentleman?What does Sam pay you for picking Mrs. Brown1# berries? Uncle Rastua?He 'lows me half what I pick. WHERE HE DWINDLED. "What kind of a man is he ? Good, bad, or indifferent ?" "Well, that depends a good deal on who teeters oo the other end of the plank with him.*1 > K w,-> > ? " X/;"' ' *jL*r' t -Vv: 4-/V ii* v " .\;, V' V; ; :*ifc?v'' "How so> sir ''Well, 5f jod^lze hiin up alongside of Judas IscMtot he looms up middlin' ' fair; but when you come to get him down between such fellers us you mid , mo, Judgcv he does dwindle terrible sur. prism'?he does, for a fact."?Chiatgo ,Ltdgtr. ENTIRELY TOO OKDKHLY. Merchant?4'I like your looks, my boy, and perhaps I can llnd work lor 1 you. You are quite orderly, do you : think V Boy?4'Oh, yes/' "You have a place for everything." "un, yes. i nave a grunt many places for everything."?Philadelphia Call. not to uk ignored. Big Sister (shouting to Bobby)?Balibee! You are wanted to do an errand. , Bobby (shouting back)?Tell mother , I can't do it now. I'm busy. Big Sister?It's not mother who wants [ you; it's father. , Bobby (hastily)?All right. Tell him . I'll be there in a minute. wanted direct evidence. . "You haven't committed any crime, have von, Mr. Fcatherly ?" asked Bobby with some concern.. "Don't be foolish, Bobby," interposed [ his mother; **of -course Mr. Featherly ; hasn't committed any crime." "I know you think he hasn't, because ' you told sister this morning that he is 1 the most innocent young man you ever saw, but I wanted to sec if he'd say so."' [ Ji. ihaity father. i Said an -exasperated Texas father at i the dinner table: s "You children turn up your noses at i everything -on the table. When I was j a boy I was glad to get enough dry ? bread to eat." r "I say, pa, you arc having a much i better time 'of .it, now you are living with" us, siiii^t you ?" remarked little 'Tommy.? Texas liftings. a woman's love. > Young Perkins?Ethel, in a few short . -days I will be far, far away. I Ethel (languidly)?Flow far? [ Young P, (desperately)?I know not , ?thousands'of miles nerhans. To-mor f row night r shall leave this house, perk haps forever. ) Ethol (with interest)?"What's the , imatter withrto-night??Philadelphia Call. i dots and dasiies. An indignant correspondent asks a * morning paper why it is that a little boy " of six is. arrested for fishing in a certain pond .in vwhieli a fish commissioner bathes regularly. Without committing * ourselves it would seem that it is because the little boy is not a fish commis' -sioner. s "Wouldn't lie go along with you ?" ^ asked'a judge a day or two ago of a B policeman accused of unmercifully clubt bing a prisoner.* "Oh, yes, he went . along .all right," replied the policeman. "Then why did you club him," asked the judge. "And sure, your Honor, what did I have the club for?" ? John C'. Fkemont, who is 72 years s old, says that he camped where Chicago is, where Minneapolis is and where Salt 1 Lake City is before there was a house at e either i place. lie also tried to camp where Cleveland is, but was driven oIf e at th-ji Buchanan's mouth. r Two tramps stopped at the house of a lone widow and one went in to beg. h Very soon lie came out with a bloody nose-aiuta black eye. "lJul you get 2 anything, Jack ?" t4Yes," growled the 1 s.ifferer. Vl've got the widow's might." t "Oh, dear," yawned a little boy after a ht had. returned. from church, "I don't wonder . the world is so full of wickedness." "Why so?" asked the astonished mother. " 'Cause God picked out such ) a tedious day for Sunday." 3 An . exchange says: "The backbone ' of the Cleveland strike is broken." : That is-well enough as far as it goes; * but it i>?nofcso much the backbone of a ? .strike that' needs breaking as the jawL bone.?Puck. It didn't afford us much consolation J when the thermometer was celebrating ^ its Centennial, to predict that, aecord[ ing to the- belief of scientists, "the sun ^ .is losing its heat." Our earth seem to line1, all the heat the sun loses. When a tram]) sees a woman with a I pistol or a gun in her hands he goes : right on \without winking, but let her ' appear cm the scene with a dipper of hot 1 water and. then he makes tracks like a (kangaroo. Somehody told Lady Morgan that a r .certain bishop was so lax in church observance that "he would cat a horse t. ?on Ash .Wednesday." "Of course he would," said the lady, "if it was a fast lhorse." "What is the best thing for potato n ibugs?" asks, a rural subscribers Up to ] rthe hour of going to press nothing has ] .been found . more satisfactory than potatoes. '/Tiie king of Siam lias about three [hundred children. This explains why the favorite hymn among the people of XJ.tah is "Just;as Siam." f H.E: "I stHJtthe latest idiocy of wo XLKiCll 19 IU I??U U UlUUIVfJ 1UI U JiUL. 1 isihe.: "This id not new. It was so j w]*eu we got married." > Sqmk hopeless" wives will take their i lives And others will to law go; those r live .of eoxirse, there's no di?orce, and these Jive in Chicago. A Clear Case. j A remarkable instance of canine sagacity came under tiie observation of a Ban Francisco reporter. Walking along Post street, jiretty well out of the 1mmness portion <of the city, he, chanced to 1 notice a little child some 3 vcars of ae? at play with hu immense' Newfoundland dog on the' lawn in fron^ of an elegunt 1 residence. In the rough and tumble sport of the two the child hurt his dumb ' playmate so that he snapped rather angrily at the infant. A lady, who stood watching on the porch, cried out : 1 4,Nero, ain't you ashamed of yourself to frighten baby? Go away,you bad dog." ' Poor Nero slunk away whiuing and irresolute; sufitlealv he sprang toward a flowering rosebush, bit off one of tho fragrent blossoms, and with many extravagant capers laid it at the feet of the little child, and then bounded toi ward the mist ress to receive the cares* of forgiveness. 'V?'. ~AMAYE GIRL'S 1UCK. TUHNIMJ FARMER AND WOKKINCt FOIt HONEST INDEI'ENDENCK. Tli? Prairie Fires Sweep away Kverytllinir Mlie !ii>? In tlw. lVn.l.l Wvn??. ?? Faithful I,over, who Arrive* .luNtnttlir Uijflit Time. The prairie fires, which have brought desolation and poverty to hundreds in this section, brought a husband to one young woman. A year ago last spring Fannie Jordan took up a farm of 100 acres about nine mile north of Frederick. Dak., and struck out for herself. She came to Dakota from Illinois, though she was horn in the East. Not much was known about her for several months, as she was shy -and retiring, but when she finally became acquainted with her neighbors they discovered that the girl had the real mettle in her, and predicted Ant she would be rich before she was 30. Though far from muscular, Fannie was the picture of health, and she easily carried off the palm as the best-looking girl farmer in the county. Like the majority of her sisters she had no time to devote to the gallants of the neighborhood, and for a year and a half she led a hard, grinding existence, practising the closest economy, and working from early morning until late at night. Some of her friends finally discovered I that the girl had a history, as many such I heroic adventurers in this country have. She had lived in comfortable circum1 stances in a rural Illinois town until the I -1 -4.1- 1* 1 11.1 f uuiuu cm ncr intncr rcvcaieu me iact mat he had lost not 011I3' his own property but a trust fund belonging to a relative, not yet of age, by his fatal propensity for speculating in the Chicago grain market. The girl felt her position keenly, and, though she had expected soon to be married, she resolutely turned from her lover and sought the far West. She had read of the success achieved by young women as farmers in that vicinity, and persuading her mother that this was ( their only hope of regaining their independence, and at the same time making good the deficit of their hushitnd and father, the two converted what little property they had into cash and came here. Before their departure the girl absolved the young man from ins pledges, but in answer to his repeated requests gave him some slight hope that at a distant day, if he still remained of the same mind, she might consider a proposition from him. Under these circumstances the work of breaking and working a farm in a new country was begun. The first year Fannie and her mother had 110 help, and they did not succed in raising much. Not more than quarter of their land was under cultivation, and the crops were poor indeed. This ye;ir, with the assistance of a boy, they did better. They got more than half of the farm in wheat, and the crop was an exceptionally good one. Besides this, they had a fruitful garden, from which they supplied their own wants and derived a small revenue. Their wheat, on which they had already borrowed money, was to have beeu thrashed about two weeks a^o, but the machine did not arrive, and it remained in great stiu.ks near their barn. Figuring on the results of * heir two years' work, mother and daughter found that there was a chance and this year's crop would clear them of debt, and that with one or two more favorable seasons they would be able to see the results of their toil in hard cash. The prairie fire was a danger which they had not taken into consideration. 1IT1 -n ?_ * .1 x r? WXH.U raunie ncuru cnui nrcs were reported at a distance she ran furrows" around her buildings and wheat stacks, and in other ways prepared for the visitation. Her neighbors did the same, and when tire fires appeared near at hand nearly evcryltody went out to fight them. Funnie's mother remained at home when the girl was on these errands. On returning to her place one evening last week the young woman found fires in her way, and being forced to make a long detour, it wa%?dark before she came to a point where she could sec her farm. The tires were raging fiercely, and she made up her mind thatfoer farm was threatened if not already burned over. Somebody had set back fires, with the intention of stop ping rune connagrauon, una tms was tne result.. As fast as her weary and trembling limbs coulfl carry her the girl dashed on, a few -steps more sufficed to convince hex that her home and everything .that it oontained was lost. When *toe arrived at Hhe place the house was in ruins, the barn ready to fall, and the great, wheat -stacks were glowing heaps of embers. The earth was hot under her feet, and .the air almost stillng. She c&lksd for her mother, and called again. No one answered. She became sick with fear and foreboding, and thought of flight, but there was no place to which she <w?old go for help. The fires were all around her, making the heavens lurid and the air heavy, anil so, in the presence of her crushing disaster, the girl sat down and wept All night long she sat by the ruins ol her home, and when the morning light appeared she made a careful search for her mother. She was not in the ruins of the house, and girl breathed easier, but in the ashes of the barn the old lady's charred remains were found. She had evidently gone there after doing all in her power to save the El ace for the purpose of taking the orse and making her escape, but" overcome with the heat, or possibly unable to manage the beast, both had perished together. Fannie's mother was buried on Sunday by the neighbors, most of whom, like the girl, hac^lost nearly everything. What was to be done nobody know. Where all were penniless and wretched there was no advice that could l>e folI lowed, aud all seemed stunned by the calamity which had come upon them. On Tuesday Funnie visited her farm for the last time, intending to leave that day for the railroad and seek assistance, ahe knew not what or of whom. Her poverty was absolute. Her debts were . greater than her equity in the land. Everything that dhe had on earth was i destroyed except the clothing that she 1 wore. She stood by the ruined home i and looked out for miles on black- ' ened prairie. The sky was over- i cast with leaden clouds, and the < wind blew crisp and cold from the north. 1 A bo*re and below everything was dark, \ t .. Hi- \ V -s . ' A1 *' jl SBKB ????1 "" ? but the sombre view was not blacke than her own future. She buried he face in her hands and turned from tin desolate scene just in time to hear tin clatter of hoofs on the roadway, anc looking up the girl saw the fellow fron Illinois whom .she had left in despai eighteen months ago. He rode up t< her, jumped from his horse, and addressed her quietly. She had little tc say, and there was not much that li< could say, as his appearance caused i l. Jl? .T.i f i . /I T* i _l . III'MI llljllll (>I I (.'ill's TO HOW. lie IOIC lier tliat he had rend of her motlier'f death and of their losses by lire, ant had conic by the first train in the hope that he could be of service to her. lie would do anything thatslicsaid, lie line money and time. If she wanted to rebuild he would stay and boss the job. If she wanted to go back to Illinois he would go with her, and they eould settle the matters up here at their leisure. If she disliked him and wanted him to clear out he would do that, too, but tc tell the truth, lie said, he wanted her, and he believed and hoped she wanted him now. lie looked around on the waste, and the girl raised her eyes, and swept the blackened earth with them tc the point where the lead of the cloud? touched the flame-swept earth. It was pride against helplessness, and love and the latter won. She left with the young man that afternoon, and to a friend oi hers here she said that she would never return as a farmer. BRIGIIAM AND AMELIA. Tlie Twonly-llilrd Wife Killed tlic KooM. A letter from Salt Lake City says:? While the majority of the "faithful" are agitated and excited over the turn affairs have taken, and not a few of them are packing up preparatory to journeying to the new Mormon stronghold, wherever that may l?e, Amelia Young, the twenty-third and last wife of Brigham Young, goes quietly and serenely about her household duties as usual. She has no love for the Mormons, and she takes no trouble to conceal the fact. Her present residence is one of the most desirable and handsome in the citv, and yet it cannot compare with the palatial mansion which old Brigham had built and presented to her, and which still k bears the name "Amelia's palace." Old I John Taylor holds forth in it at present. I But his time as well as that of the rest 1 of them, bids fair to be short. jk The story of Amelia's marriage to Brigham, and a few incidents of after Sb life are very interesting. An old lady JRr4 who at one time was Amelia's school ' teacher at Council Bluffs, Iowa, tells me ? ' the following talc: Upon one occasion when Brigham Young was passing through Council Bluffs, on his way to Salt Lake he caught I nf A mnliti*a f it n?/l iinu figure, and immediately resolved to add another one to his harem. The girl's I parents were good Mormons, and their consent to the union was joyfully given. Not so with the girl. She had a stout will as well as a handsome form and I pretty face, and she declared that she would not. marry "the ugly old heathen." . Her parents, however, were determined not to lose the chance of getting so near heaven by such an alliance, and sternly j commanded Amelia to don her robes- ' ind take the hand of the all-powerful Brigham. Seeing that she would be I compelled to marry him if she stayed at home, the girl made her way to a neighbor's, told them her story, and received their sympathy and protection. Her parents instituted a search during which Amelia hid in a root cellar, over the door of which was a wood house. The kind people carried her meals to hex without attracting suspicion,,until on the third day one of the spies employed observed steam arising from a basket which the gentleman was carrying to the wood house. This led to her discovery, and, as she was under age, her parents took charge of her. After a hard struggle, Amelia finally consented to marry the great Mormon, but declared: "If I do marry him, I'll hflve my own way, and lie will find il out." lie did. Several years after their marriage, upon oneoceasion Amelia told Brigliam tc buy her a Singer sewing machine. The old man promised to send it up that day, and walked off with his hands in his pockets, thinking, doubtless, how many tithes it would take to pay for it. By the time he got down town he forgot what kind of machine was wanted consequently it was a Wheeler & WiIsod that the men brought up stairs to Amelia's sitting room. As soon as that iady saw that her orders had not been obeyed to the letter, she deliberately palled the offensive machine to the head of the stairs, and, giving it a push, down it went, bumpty-bump, until it reached the bottom, all broken to pieces. _ The next day a "Singer" stood in the place allotted for it. and nothing more was said of the affair. Upon another occasion, when Brigham had a number 1 _ 0 J! A * ? oi uisunguisnca guests, Amelia, who was present at the dinner table, amused herself by hulling some nuts that were on the table and throwing the shells out oi the window. Brigham manifested his annoyance at this proceeding without effect, when finally he exclaimed: "Amelia, my dear, I wish you would not throw those shells out upon the grass. They make such a muss." "If you dont like to have them there you can pick them up," said the wayward favorite, as she arose .from the chair and left the room. When she had left, Bringham turned to his guests, and said : ' I hope yon will excuse my wife. She is so headstrong that I cannot control her." At the American Forestry Congresa one of the sjieakers illustrated the immense consumption of timber by givingfacts about railroad ties. Supposing: that the ties want to be renewed once in six years, and that 10,000 miles of new road are built annually, if twentyfive years be allowed as the time necessary for trees to attain a size suitable for making ties, then it would require 15,000,000 acres of standing timber*to supply the annual demand for ties, or an area almost exactly equal to that of Vermont, New Hampshire, Connecticut and Rhode Island.;- Jlut with the in jiui nturonus it is to be considered that the annual demand for tics is all the while increasing. 'fe.v 'Pi 'y ^vV*Uv^jb^y . Vv " Y'"X'A ^ C' ' ' ' * * ''^v\ J)'* ' ? ^ ffiy jE *j M& : ;U ^: -