The Abbeville messenger. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1884-1887, March 09, 1886, Image 2
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.
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