Evening Star Newspaper, January 13, 1894, Page 13

BILLY THE KID. A Man Who Was a Terror in the Southwest. SENTENCED 0 HANG, BUT ESCAPED Two Stories as to His Final Disap- pearance. INCIDENTS IN HIS CAREER ACK JUST PRE- vious to '84, I put in several years in New Mexico,” said A. H. Lewis of the Chicago Times. “At that time this region was a free and easy sort. Poker was the pastime and whisky the steady business of life. To be able to drink, and, as the phrase was, protect oneself in the games cur- fent and popular in that region, re- @ounded mightily to the social advantage of aman. At one time and another I camp- @@ from one end of New Mexicd to the other. Naturally, for his fame was rife at that time, I heard references to Billy the Kid. The story of this outlaw is known tm New Mexico and runs something like this: Billy Bonney, or Bill the Kic, was born fm the Bowery, in New York city, some- time in the last of the fifties. His parents were Irish people, and while honest enough ‘were very poor. In some fashion they came west, bringing the redoubtable Kid with them—then a kid in fact. | into a restaurant as a method of life. The Festaurant must have failed by New Mexico Standards. Perhaps the over-ripe appetites of a region given to chili concarne as a food, and mescal as a beverage, failed to appreciate the milder points of Bowery cookery, as brought west by the Bonneys. At any rate our honest couple, with the Kid} between them, veered further to the south- ‘West, and the next one hears of them they have pitched camp at Silver City. “Silver City is in the far southwest corner ef New Mexico and was at that time an @asy thousand miles from a railroad. It ‘Was a land flowing with the hustler and the @esperado, and young Bonney grew up in @n atmosphere of pistol smoke and poker. ‘At one time and another, it is not over- Stated to say that Bonney heard more stor- fes of bloody adventure, cattle stealing and @tage robbing, than the average eastern boy, given over to dime novels as a steady Uterary diet, ever reads. He grew up feel-| ing the nervous necessity of killing some- body; he must fix his social status. His surroundings taught. him that in no other ‘way could he be regarded as a southwest- ern success. The sooner he got a notch on the handie of his pistol the sooner he would ‘be regarded as in full southwestern fellow- ship. To kill a man was at that time re- garded as much of a decoration in south- ‘western New Mexico, as the order of the er, or the regalia of a knight of the is in England. At any rate, this was feverish view instilled into the rather ardent nature of Billy the Kid. His First Killing. “He arrived at his first success with a Begro soldier from Fort Cummings. This Buffalo soldier—as the Indians called them, nm account of their wooly heads—got very @runk and very voluble; and in the full expression of his feelings concluded to whip Billy the Kid. The Kid at that time was only about sixteen, and as he never at his heaviest weighed more than 125 pounds, thrashing him didn’t at first view present @ hast of ditcuities. But the colorea troops | miscalculated in this instance, as they have in many others. They overlooked the racial ferocity of the Anglo-Saxon. On this oc casion the Kid produced a prompt pisto! the troop of cavairy at Fort Cummings was shy one man; and a colored spirit entered everlastirg life. ‘The Kid, it would seem, was of a very nervous nature. Silver City sentiment justified the killing, and nobody for one moment thought of interfering witn the Kid. Stull, the reflection must have ed on Bonney. Not that he regretted but the thought made him nervous and he seemed in more or less fear of the ven- Seance of his colored victim’s friends. “ft is well enough to pause to say that several years’ experience in the southwest bas shown that most killers begin their bloody eperations before they are twenty years old. They kill first in a spirit of mi: @ulded romance, and seem to keep it up be- cause they go crazy. They are haunted by the fear of arrest, as well as by apprehen- sions of vengeance og the part of the other fellow’s friends. Jesse James was as clean @ case of # lunatic in'the last fifteen of his live as one ht wish to se shadow startled him af] mad: him suspi- gious, and so it surned out with the Kid. Launched on a career of killing by his trou- ble with the black soiler just chron: he never seemed to wed at the axwe:l. ter rll explain wny J used the werd ‘disap- peared.” “For one or :wo years noledy heard much of the nil. The nex: time Lis fut- iivery terings attract attention he is indu: Griotsty stealing cattle tr eastern New Blexico. He did most of his stegting in the an-handie, and drove his cattle sled them or sold them up about Fort Stanton or Fort Union. He was hunt- el by cattle people, and had shooting serapes, and wos or twice captured. But there was @ strong interest in protecting him in New Mexico, as he was the cause of a great deal of cheap cattle to cattle-buyers in that re- gion. A great deal of the Kid's shooting Was forced. As soon-as he had name and feme as a blood-lettcr, every drunken cow- boy who happened to meet him couldn't re- sist the temptation of ‘tapping his came." Woul Let Him Alone. The exuberant nature of the average eowboy, especially when asststed by the in- cautious drinks of his region, results in this: That there are no men whom he fears. To Point him out some western hotspur like Billy, the Kid. was to simply issue an in- Vitation to go after him. The cowboy is an optimist and he is also a fatalist. He be- lieves that he wiil never go until his time comes: that his fate ts already written on leaves of steel. This breeds recklessness, so mor> than once some youth of the range, panting for glory. enxious to signalize him- self, crowded up for troubie with the re- mowned Xid. Time and again the Kid seemed to suffer all things to avoid war; and there are many men in the southwest today who will describe the Kid as a great coward, basing their opinions on instances where he fled from trouble. At Chaparita, @ little ‘doby aggregation southeast from Vegas some fifty miles, there was one per- sistent cowpuncher who simply would not let the Kid alone. He drove him into a fight. There was a brief fusillade, and the cowboy went hence without day. They cov- ered his body with a blanket, and then the Texas Kid sat down on a coffee sack in a store! near by and wept copiously. “It seems,’ he said, ‘as though I had More of this sort of thing forced on me than any boy in the territory.’ “When the John Chisholm, Lincotn coun- ty, war broke out, the Kid was employed by Chisholm—empleyed for his qualities as a killer. He was to get $ a day, and. of course, all expenses. John Chisholm him- self was a rude, rough nature, who had grown to be worth uncounted millions in the cattle business. ‘The last time I saw him was at Stoneroad’s ranch, sixty miles southeast of Las Vegas, on the Concha, in ess. It was a hot night at the ranch-house. There were no women living there, and the Franch was what Is known in the choice ver- macular of that region as a ‘hoar’s nest’ on that account. We were all sleeping on the broad veranda of the ranch-house, and Just about 11 o'clock at night a rather shag- Sy specimen rode up and jumped off his my. He was an old, rather grizziy man. didn't see him very well. because it was dark. Howard, the ranch mana seemed to know him and called him, “John,” and } They settled | briefly in Sante Fe, New Mexico, and lepsed | | | THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JANUARY 13; 1894-TWENTY PAGES. a want any better bed than a slicker and a pair of hobbies.’ It was John Chisholm, who, at that time, was the greatest single cattle owner in the world. In the morning he was gone. It was this John Chisholm who hired the Kid, along with others, to do some killing for him. And the Kid did it. Sentenced to Be Hung. “Everybody knows of his arrest, of his trial in Lincoln county, New Mexico, and of his being sentenced to be hung. Pat Gar- rett was the sheriff, and as he was leaving the court room with the Kid, after he was sentenced, the Kid, who listened and looked jon at his death’s sentence with an expres- sion of mild, placid gray-eyed interest, said in a joking tone: “Pat, to make that hanging a success, T'll have to be there, won't 17 “TI reckon you will, Billy,” said the sher- “Well,” said the Kid, ‘I don’t intend to be there, so I'll allow you'll have to put it off some.” “Garrett put the Kid in charge of two deputies by the names of Ollinger and Bell. These men, if reputation has an honest tongue, should have both been hung long before Billy the Kid was born. However, in the vicissitudes and the tendency to get things wrong end up which even now pre- vail in southwestern quarters, they were both sworn officers of the law. “They had the Kid penned up in a little doby jail. To watch him more at their com- fort during the day they used to keep him upstairs—the doby building having two sto- ries. A doby jail is after all no great ob- struction to an industrious prisoner. He will cut through the dry doby bricks very readily. The Kid had once before this broken out of a doby construction which served as the Las Vegas bastile and walked off. To prevent anything of the sort after he was sentenced to be hung and had be- come a prisoner of considerable magnitude, either Ollinger or Bell, or both, were with him ali the time. As I say, during the day they used to keep him upstairs, more for their own comfort than for his. “The Kid had a heavy pair of leg locks on and also was embellished with an old pai> of handcuffs connected by a chain about a yard long. Ollinger and Bell hated him and he them, with the energy of a cat and dog antipathy. Nor were they in the habit of taking off his handcuffs or indulging in hi- larious card games, after a very usual fash- jon with western she-iffs, with any stich restless character. Neither Ollinger nor Bell was a fool. They knew the town right then was half made up of Bonney’s friends. They knew, too, that if he ever got his hand on one of theiz guns, they would have him to kill, even with the trons on. As a fact they never ceased to watch him and keep steadily beyond his reach. It was as if they were standing sentinel to a wildcat, and they knew it. The Kid's wrists were large and his hands were small, and the handcuffs were old and clumsy. He found out very soon that he could release his left hand. Howeve>, he didn’t confide this to either Ollinger or Bell. “Matters ran on for several days. Garrett himself was away. It was about noon. Ol- linger was cleaning a ten-gauge breecn- loading shotgun. Bell sat the-e on a stool talking to him. The Kid was listening, but doing nothing. As Ollinger got through his gun cleaning he put a couple of cartridges into the piece with the remark: “There's just twenty-one buck-shot in each cartridge.” “‘What are you loading that gun for? inquired the Kid with a tone of suspicious scorn. “I'm loading it for you,’ said Ollinger with a rather savage glare. This excited Bonney’s wrath. “*You may get it yourself,’ he retorted. And then he poured forth a current of southwestern vituperation which almost carried Ollinger off his feet. His Brenk for Liberty. “Ollinger put the shotgun in a sort of locker, which was fastened to the wall, and which contained an assortment of shot- guns, Winchesters and Sharp's rifles, for use when the arm of justice should stand in need. He locked it up and told Bell he would go to dinner and then come back and relieve him. Bell still sat on a stool reading a paper. The Kid, whose fury at the shot- gun incident seemed unusual, hastily made up his mind to bring matters to a focus. He was rather to the rear of Bell, whose six-shooter hung carelessly on his hip. The Kid made up his mind to acquire it. That would be a good beginning, and he ho} for much. He cautiously slipped of his left handcuff, slid off his*chair and started toward Bell. Bell heard his leg locks rattle and realized his danger as if a rattlesnake had spoken. He never looked back, but made a jump like an antelope toward the stairs. The Kid was even quicker. He rushed upon Béll and succeeded in grasping his six-shooter and taking it from the scab- bard. As Bell fied down the stairs the Kid shot him twice, and Bell curled up on the landing at the bottom, very successfully killed. ‘Of course the town heard the shooting, and naturally Ollinger started for the scene on a run. The citizens generally stood hands off. The Kid had many friends, who, while not saying much and taking no ap- Parent side, would still readily have re- sented any attempt to interfere with him on the part of anybody not an accredited officer of the law. It was the sheriff's busi- ness to take Billy the Kid. That his friends all conceded. But it was not the business of any cow-punching Tom, Dick or Harry, and should such an one interfere these sullen adherents of the Kid would have re- garded it as invidious, and no doubt have spoken their revenge with their six- shooters. “The Kid was a fantastic person. He had killed Bell and he knew that Ollinger was on the run for the scene of action. He made up his mind to kill him with that villain of a shotgun which had been loaded only a few minutes before, as Ollinger said, for him. He tore open the locker, got the gun just in time to appear at a side win- dow and observe Ollinger drawing toward the door to come in. The Kid hailed him: ‘Say, Ollinger!’ “The deputy sheriff looked up, and, with- out a word, the Kid gave him both barrels plumb in the face and breast. Ollinger fell, too dead to skin. Then the Kid’s rage broke out again like a volcano. With a tremendous effort he broke the gun in two across his knee, and from the window hurl- ed stock and barrels at the dead Ollinger. “I'll teach the son of a thief,’ said the Kid, ‘to load shotguns for me.’ “He then picked up a Winchester, worked it once to make sure that it was loaded, belted on some fifty cartridges, took his pistol and appeared on the front porch of the building. Being in the second story it gave him a proud outlook over the street. Probably 200 people were there. Some, no doubt, were anxious to recapture the Kid. Others were not. No one cared to ‘mingle’ with him, armed as he was, and in his mood of blood. Without wasting much time the Kid suddenly presented his Win- chester at the clerk of the court, who he sighted in the throng. He ordered him ‘tc stand still or be shot.’ He then gave the citizens a mandate to send a blacksmith up to file his irons off. If it were not done at once he would, shoot the clerk. The blacksmith appeared and the irons were filed off. When free the Kid stgnalized it by an exhilarating small jig. Then, at his demand, his pony was brought out and saddled. “The Kid rode away. As he got toa bend in the trail, where a point of rocks was about to hide him from further sight, he stopped, turned, waved his sombrero, ‘and yelled: “Three cheers for Billy the Kid!’ He then gave the cheers himself with great gusto, nobedy joining. Efforts to Recapture Him. “When Garrett got back he at once set about the Kid's recapture. There were several thousand dollars reward on the man dead or alive. And another thing, Garrett's pride was involved as sheriff of Lincoln county. He could not afford Billy’s escape. “the Kid had a love affair of a rather joose and irregular sort, but strong enough to lead him straight to the object of his affections. There was a fellow in New Mexico by the name of Pete Maxwell. This Maxwell was half rancher and half thief. Bonney’s inamorita was the half breed daughter of Maxwell by a Mexican wife, and it was for Pete Maxwell's ranch the | Kid started when he found himself free. asked him: if he wanted anything to eat.| He replied that he did not, but thought he would stay all night. The manager politely tendered him some blankets, which he de- clined. He threw his saddle on the pore for a pillow, spread an oilskin coat to lie on, with the remark that ‘John Chisholm | people at $5 a clatter until I get even. On the way, directed by a fire, he blundered upon a ap of four cowboys who worked for John Chisholm. ““What brand are you-all working?’ in- u ‘The f qui Kid as he rode up. nce-rail," was the answer. This was John Chisholm’s brand—a very cruel bran vhich involved the whole lar- rd side of a cow in its markings. you're John Chisholm’s people, be i the Kid. ‘John Chisholm owes | hundred dollars which he is tr. at out of. I am going: to kill r I find ‘em, and give him 2 he: And then the | rattled.away like an alarm i three of the four were killed be- credit for Kid's pi cloex, fore they kne at Was happening. The fourth the Kid turned loose and started on his return to Chisholm. ““Tell him,’ said Bonney, ‘that Billy the Kid has kille ree of his men, and that that makes $15 on what he owes me. You tell him I am goin’ to keep on killing his If I run up on old Chisholm himself, I'll bust him, and then I'll call it square.’ “The Kid then got down, ate his supper mever see the day when he would|with his three dead victims around him, and afterward went on toward Maxwell's. Somehow Garrett knew which way the Kid was pointing. From now on I will tell the Garrett story of how he killed Billy the Kid, with some explanations, perhaps, of my own; and then I want to tell you the tory which still subsists in New Mexico and can be heard from apparently worthy sources. Garrett's Story of His Death. “Garrett had seven or eight people with him. They went straight to Maxwell's ranch, which was a dirty little 'dobe affair in the Lincoln county hills. It was night- fall when they. got there—a moonlight night. They were two or three days be- hind the Kid. Garrett hid his men in a dry arroya about forty or fifty rods from Maxwell's house. He was going up to the ranch house alone. “Tf I'm not back in half an hour,’ said Garrett, ‘come up. If you hear shootin’ come, and come a-running.” “He then went up to Maxwell's house, making the trip on foot so as not to at- tract attention. It was dark, except for the moonlight. He rapped at the door, which was opened and Maxwell feebly in- vited him to come in. Maxwell was sick and lying on his blankets in a corner. No one else happened to be in sight, so Gar- rett's coming was not known at the time, exoept to Maxwell. Of course Maxwell knew Garrett, and Maxwell feared Garrett. His own criminal acts were well enough known to Garrett to authorize Maxwell's arrest at any time. Maxwell knew this and was disposed to sing very low and very respectfully, when he realized identity of his visitor. “Where's Bonney?” asked Garrett in a low tone. “I don't know,’ said Maxwell. ‘He’s been here, but he don’t stop at the ranch house. He comes up for grub, but where he’s hiding, I den’t know.’ Garrett contin- ued to talk with Maxwell, and in order to be safer, laid down with him on the blank- ets. The room was dark as pitch, while the moonlight lit up the scene outside, as one might observe through the open door. “The Kid's liable to be here any min- | ute,’ said Maxwell, ‘aithough I don’t know for sure whether he'll come at all.” “As Garrett and Maxweil continued to talk in whispers, a step was heard on the porch outside. “That's the Kid,’ said Maxwell, and Gar- rett of course felt sure it was. The Kid came to the door. He didn’t make much noise, for he was bare foct. He seemed to snuff danger in the air like a moose. He stepped suspiciously in the door and speak- ing in Spanish, said: “Quen est, quen est? (Whose there, whose there?) “Garrett was as brave a man as ever belted on a gun, but he also keenly realized the desperate character of the Kid, and his lightaing-like quickness with a pistol. These pistol people, by the way, will handle their weapons with the same sinister skill with which Herrmann does his tricks. It is their only trick, perhaps. but they are ab- solutely faultless in it. Garrett didn’t pro- pose to take any chances. terwards, he had had trouble enough with the Kid. As the Kid approached Garrett got ready for action. He didn’t use an or- dinary Colt's pistol. His weapon was a ten gauge shotgun, cut to eight inches as to the barrels, while the stock had dis- appeared so as to only leave what is known as the pistol grip. With this blundering, but comprehensive weapon, both barrels cocked, he waited for the Kid’s appearance. As the Kid stood in the door preferring his Spanish inquiry, Garrett shot him without a word. ‘Twas just as weil that way, and certainly much the syrer method. Garrett’s men came up. The Kid was dragged out into the moonlight and after a brief pow- wow was buried. Garrett came in, reveived his several thousands reward, had a big dinner at Albuquerque, and was ever after- ward known as ‘The Man Who Killed Billy the Kid.’ That is where Garrett's story ends. What the Cowboys Say. “Now hefe’s the story which the cow- boys of the Vegas and northeastern New Mexico and the Pan-handle country tell each other about their fires of nights. I heard it from a veracfous gentleman by the name of Riley Brooks. At the time we speak of Riley had just been released from vile confinement in the Trinidad jail. “Brooks was a Texan, ingenuous, impul- sive, and a firm believer in that aphorism of his state, which is the first thing taught to children in their cradles—‘Never eat your own beef.’ With this proverb to guide him, Riley Brooks entered upon the duties of life. He had been known as one of Bon- ney’s gang in more than one cattle thieving enterprise; but he had drifted away from Bonney, and had a small bunch of cattle in southern Colorado on the range known as the Carizzo (Ca-reese). Being of a very friendly nature, Riley occasionally repaired to Trinidad—there to be drunk and enjoy himself. On one of these bibulous excur- sions he was accompanied by one Rice Brown, a gentleman much of Mr. Brooks’ mold and temperament. The two had hada splendid time; were very drunk, and had mounted their horses to go back to their camps. As a sort of Charlotte Cushman farewell to the town of Trinidad, they were riding along upon that portion of the street, the sidewalks, which were supposed to be sacred to pedestrians. The pedestrians were of course driven into the middle of the street. All this pleased the simple souls of Mr. Brooks and Mr. Brown. “Louis Krucer, the short, thick, red-head- ed marshal of Trinidad, however, interfered with their amusement. and in the contro- versy Brown was killed, but Rrooks got away. He subsequently gave himself un, was tried and allowed to go free on. condl- tion that he married a youne lady with whom he had been on familar terms, Riley strenuously ohiected to this, bot as his cantors were relentless. and as he nre- ferred the soft bondaece of married life ta the hers of the Trinidad jail, he at last yielded, So when T saw Rilev he wae a very much married man. and had a hopeful fam- {Iv started In the enice af ane enn. “Rt thie isa lone digression: and ta gn hark ta Rennie! version of the Garrot-Ran, nev killing. Rranke aeraag with Garratt ea far ae ening to Maxwall’e ranch te aanrarn. ed bit he save that whila Garratt wae Iwing talline with Maxwell on the hlankate ana walling In mawenne pmnrakaneton for the naming af tha WHA thie hannanaae Brooks’ Version of the Killing. “A step was heard outside and Maxwell, just as Garrett himself relates, suggested, ‘Theve's the Kid now.’ A dim figure appear- ed in the door; made the Mexican inquiry described, and was shot down by Garrett. But it turned out when investigation fol- lowed that instead of having killed Billy the Kid, he had shot down a half-witted Mexican sheep herder, who belonged in the vicinity. A pow-wow followed, where it was determined by all hands—including Billy the Kid, who to this end was treated with by Maxwell's daughter and who didn’t appear in person to mingle in the debate— to act on the theory that the Mexican was the Kid and that the Kid was therefore killed. The Mexican was to be buried, Gar- rett and his people were to return and the Kid was to disappear so far as those parts of New Mexico were concerned and was to be heard of no more. ““This program,’ said Brooks, ‘was faithfully carried out,’ and at the time he told it to me in ‘84 he as- serted that the Kid was living quietly and amiably for him in the region known as Seven Rivers, far down the Pecos vailey, and where Clay Allison and other worthies of the range, saddle and six shooter also had their habitats. Riley said that the Kid had quite a bunch of cattle and was get- ting along first-rate. He had carried to his new home the person and the loving affections of the Maxwell girl. “Brooks asserted that on more than one occasion he had stopped at the Kid’s house and could take anybody there who cared to settle his entertainer’s identity. That is the cowbey version of the killing of Billy the Kid. “The Kid was an object of great terror to the Mexican inhabitants of towns like Las Vegas. A rather amusing proof of it occurred one day. Garrett had the Kid un- der arrest and was taking him per passen- ger train to jail. The train stopped a half hour for dinner at Las Vegas. Everybody knew that Bonney was on the cars. Sev- eral went in to see him. He sat meek and ‘small in his seat, as well he might, for he was fastened to that article of furniture by his handcuffs. Presently a large num- ber of Mexicans were gathered outside on the platform. They became vastly excited. The Kid had harassed and on more than one occasion killed several of their tribe. They concluded to take a leaf out of the Gringo book and lynch him. “Garrett, like all Americans of the south- west, had no fear and only a great lan- guid contempt for Mexicans. He scoffed at them and lazily expostulated when they demanded the Kid at his hands. Finally he told them that unless they went im- mediately away he would go in and release the Kid, set him on the platform with a six shooter in each hand and let the Mexi- eans take him. The Kid was quite delight- ed by the proposal, but before any one could act on it every Mexican had disap- peared. They just simply hit a high place or two and were miles away.” —_——— the veracious Liked Her Custom, From Puck. Fair Shopper—“T fear you will think me very tiresome.” Clerk—“I like to walt on you, Madam. My throat {s so sore today that it hurts me to call ‘cash!’"" the | As he said af- | (CACTUS FOR SPREES |The Peculiar Properties of the Plant and How They Are Used. A STIMULANT FOR INDIANS Investigation at Johns Hopkins fo! Medicinal Qualities r IT HAS NO REACTION pine ies Te beet Written for The Evening Star. Hk BUREAU OF ethnology has for- warded to Johns Hop- Kins University, for analysis, a «quantity of the hearts of a certain species of cac- tus native to the In- dian territory. ‘These are eaten by the Kio- was and other south- ern prairie tribes, pro- ducing an intoxica- tion somewhat like that of hasheesh. Used in moderation, they are a most power- ful tonic. Like the famous coca of Peru they check waste and so stimulate bodily ac- tivity as to enable a man to work hard without sleep for days together. The Indians chew these cactus hearts and | swallow them, They induce a condition of exaltation. While under the influence a ;man is lifted out of himself, as it were. He is wide awake, yet dreaming. ‘The in- | tellect is not clouded, but stimulated in a | high degree. But the most remarkable thing about this plant is that its peculiar effect is not followed by any reaction. On that account it might be ideally adapted for It immediately arrests the reaction which makes the toper so sad after a “jam- boree.” At the same time it is neither a narcotic nor an opiate. The southern prai- rie Indians, with whom the eating of the plant is a religion, regard it as a cure tor all diseases, especially for consumption. At their sacred festivals they remain for days in the state of ecstasy described. Each man consumes the cactus hearts | at the rate of about one an hour. ‘The | Songs and ceremonies are of a dreary | kind, appropriate to the method of inspi- | ration. Experts at Johns Hopkins Uni- versity will obtain from the material fur- nished the active principle of the plant. | Thus it is expected that a new medicine, | valuable perhaps for many remedial pur- | poses, will be added to the pharmacopela. | Dr. Carl Lumholtz has recently discov- ered that four varieties of this cactus are known to the aborigines in northern Mex- ico. One giant kind is regarded by the Indians in that part of the country as their greatest medicine, being much more powerful than the plant employed by the Kiowas. They can drink any amount of corn beer, and this remedy will take away all ill effects. The name in use among jing. liquor becomes as clear as yellow amber, in which condition it is drank. It is quite in- toxicating, and at the same time very nu- tritious, so that those who partake of it get fat on it. The Zunis make the same prep- aration, but throw away the beer, eating = lees, which they regard as a great del- car cy. Indians as Distillers. Savages have readily adopted the process of distillation for producing alcohol. The Apaches of southern Arizona, who are the most murderous and untamable of all North American aborigines, make a ter- rific whisky from the sap of a small species of cactus. They cut out the hearts of ihe plants, resembling little cabbages, and in the cup-shaped receptacles left behind the sap accumulates. From this they distil us “‘mescal,”’ which drives those wae earn it to sheer madness. Probably the most primitive method of distilling is practiced by the Indians of Alaska, whose apparatus for the purpose consists of noth- ing more elaborate than two tin cans and @ tube of the kind of seaweed known “giant kelp.” The tube is buried in snow to keep it cool. Molasses furnishes the raw Miguves. of the coca plant, which, as has yeen said, somewhat resembles in its prop- srties the cactus of the southern prairie Indians, are always found buried with the ancient mummies of Peru. It is supposed to give comfort and strength to the dead. Many accounts have been written of the usefulness of this herb to the men who carry gfeat weights of freight over the Andes. By chewing a few morsels of it they are enabled to get along for days with- out rest or food. It is only very lately that coca Was been known to the civilized world as a medicinal agent of great value for a multitude of purposes. Among the Kiowns. It is supposed that the Kiowas got their knowledge of the wonderful cactus from Mexico, where they had sojourned. They até the wildest and most nomadic tribe in this country—thoroughly aboriginal in their habits and migratory. They will hardly camp seven days together in one place. At present they dwell in the Indian territory, being confederated with the Comanches and Apaches of that region. These three tribes have different languages and can- not understand one another by speak- Accordingly, they use the sign e. The Sign Language. ‘This sign language is understood by all the prairie tribes from the British border southward to Texas. Without uttering a word, they can express any idea. James Mooney of the bureau of ethnology, to whom the writer is indebted for his infor- mation on this interesting subject, has seen an entire council conducted by signs, seven sanguages, including English, being repre- sented. The most expert sign-talker on the plains is Lieut. H. L. Scott, U. 8S. A. The system is surprisingly simple, so that any intelligent person can acquire its rudi- ments with small difficulty. The uplifted forefinger is a man. Making a stroke across the forehead and held up, the forefinger, is a white man—that is to say, @ man who wears a hat. The hand making the motion as of combing out the hair isa woman. A stranger enters the te- pee. One of the chiefs present waggles his hand on his wrist, signifying vacillation. That means, “Who are you?” If the new comer is a Sioux, he passes his hand across his throat. That is the sign of the Sioux tribe, supposed by some to refer to the prac- tice of cutting the throats of enemies. . The sign of the Cheyennes is the motion of cutting off a finger, referring to their practice of chopping off the fingers of enemies for necklaces. The Tonkowa were formerly cannibals, in allusion to which fact they held up a finger to represent a man, and then point the finger down the throat. Different tribes also have pictured them for this big sort of cactus is “hi- curri.”” Indian Pictographs. The religious rites of the tribes in north- | ern Mexico in connection with this cactus, being very ancient, have cleared up the meanings of many prehistoric picture writ- ings on rocks in Arizona. It is thus known that these pictographs were ritual istic and not historical. They were pray- ers made perpetu: The Zunis of old in- scribed such prayers in places where the winds might be likely to carry them through the air to the ghost gods. The places selected for this purpose were most commonly holes through rocks in the mountains, the passageway for the winds being adorned with pictographs. ‘I the Zunis follow a degenerate method of painting the prayers on the walls of their ceremonial hous Then they wash them off with water and use the solution for sprinkling on the corn fields or for medi- cine. The potency of the inscription 1s supposed to be retained and to serve as a charm. ‘The tribes of northern Mexico now draw Pictographs with a stick and sometimes tint them with colored earths. For example, they will operate in behalf of a sick man by outlining a figure representing him on the ground, putting in the place of the heart a piece of the giant variety of cactus already described. The latter is supposed to typify life. The plant is also pounded by these same people and thrown into water to stupefy fishes. This method of king fishes drunk, thus rendering their capture easy, is much practiced in some parts of the southern Rocky mountains. Certain tribes in Ari- zona employ the common yucca for the purpose. But the Zunis never do this, be- cause they worship fishes. Everything per- taining to water is sacred to them, by rea- son of the value of the fluid in that arid region. They look with horror on a fish- eater as a god-eater—worse than a canni- 1. Various Narcotics and Stimaula: The aborigines of this country have long been familiar with an immense number of narcotics and stimulants. The Hoopahs and other Indians in California smoke wild hemp. One or two full inhalations of it in- duce stupor, which is followed by ecstasy. The Mojaves, Yumas and other tribes of Colorado and Arizona chew the dried leaves of a plant resembling the eastern jimson weed, which has a flower like a huge sweet- scented morning glory. The frenzy induced by it is useful in religious dances. More than fifty species of plants possess- ing more or less of the narcotic properties of tobacco, to which several of them are re- lated, are used by the Indians of Califor- nia and the southwest. The Zunis vary the effects of their tobacco by adding to it dif- ferent vegetable substances. To lessen its strength, they utilize the middle bark of the pine tree. To make it stronger, they put with it wild carrot seed or coriander seed. To render it sweeter, they employ anise Fy They crush the anise seed and mix it with the tobacco. It makes the latter very sweet, so that it leeves a pleasant taste in the mouth. One may get a fair notion of the effect produced with this ingredient by getting a little oil of anise, moistening the tip of a finger with it and drawing. the latter along a cigar from ore end to the other. The change thus made in the flavor of the herb nicotian is really astonishing. In Other Countries. Many South American tribes make an intoxicating drink by soaking corn until it is soft, then chewing It, and expectorating into a bowl. The liquor thus obtained is permitted to ferment over night, when it is ready for use. This is precisely the method employed by the Polynesians in the pre- Paration of the so-called “kava.” There are very few savages in the world who do not know how to get drunk, though dis- tillation is a process of modern civilized in- vention, Nevertheless, no less an author- ity than Capt. Bourke, U. S. A. thinks that the ancient Mexicans knew the still before the Spanish conquest. On the other hand, the making of fer- mented drinks has been understood by the most primitive people from prehistoric times all over the werld. African natives universally know how to prepare drunk- producing liquors from such simple mate- ral as the tops of brcom corn, sugar cane juice and cocoanut milk. The Eskimo did not know how to get drunk until the whal- ers and fur traders from Europe furnished them with rum. When Columbus landed no Indians were acquainted with alcoholic beverages north of Mexico. Some tribes refused to partake of them when tempted to do so by the whites, because they were afraid of what took away their’ senses. Up to that period no tribes north of the latitude mentioned had any knowledge even of beers, though they understood how to make teas or infusions of various herbs. Some Indians of northern Mexico manu- facture a beer from maize in rather cur- jous fashion, They take a thick woolen blanket, wet it, lay it in the sun and spread whole grains of corn over it. The grains rapidly germinate, sprouting and send'ng out rootlets through the texture of the blanket, which is kept moist. They ure then parched, to prevent further germina- tion, and are ground to a coarse meal. To this meal a little yeast, made by chew- ing some corn and allowing it to ferment, is added. Then the stuff is mixed with water and put away tn jars. So actively does it ferment that it fairlv boils in the vessels. As fermentation: diminishes the symbols. That of the Delawares, some of whom have been driven out to the Indian territory, is a turtle. The eastern tribes revere the turtle, because it brought the world ope under the water. Originally the world was covered with water, all the seed and animals being up in the sky. ley sent messengers down to find land, but without success. Finally the turtle went, dived and brought up a plece of earth in its mouth, from which the Jry land grew. Mr. Mooney has just returned to Wash- ington from the Indian territory. He took a@ phonograph with him on his trip, and has brought back cylinders on which are recorded aboriginal songs in four different |- languages. ere are solos and choruscs. Some of them are for the ghost dance, others for the war dance, yet others to ac- company gambling and others again for the cactus-eating ceremonies. month hence some of the Indians are com. ing to Washington, where they will sing their songs and do their dances for the cd- ification of government scientists. SDR ESI THE GIRL WHO WAITS. And the M: Who Had Seven Anxious Wom as His Listeners. From the Detroit Free Iross. In a street car the other day was a young man and seven women. The young man was in that condition known as befuddled, and as the car rolled along he began to con- verse with himself, starting out with: “It was a wild night. The wind moaned and the rain drops had a sobbing sound. I was lonely and could not rest.” He spoke so loudly that all in the car could hear him. Three of the women at once became interested, but the other four sim- ply glanced at him and turned away again. “At 8 o'clock I rang the door bell,” con- tinued the young man, “and was instantly admitted and shown into the parlor and told that Miss Sweetbrier would be down in a moment. The dear girl was evidently ex- pPecting me.” The three women were doubly interested at this juncture, while the other four prick- ed up their ears and prepared to pay al tention and wondered if they had not lost @ good thing. “She came down—my darling Clara. She never looked more beautiful. She greeted me warmly—aye! lovingly, and 1 retained her hand as I led her to the sofa on which We, nad sat and passed so many loving ours.”” The entire seven women were now so deeply interested that none of them saw a runaway horse go by, and two of them hitched closer to the young man. “After a while,” he said, in a musing voice, and his eyes on his toes, “I put my arm around her slender waist and she laid her golden head upon my shoulder, with the sweet confidence of a child. It was a moment of supreme happiness.” The two women who had hitched before now hitched again, and the five others fol- lowed suit, and all of them wanted to kill the newsboy who opened the door and shouted his wares. “I saw the light of love in her eyes. I dared to press my lips to her maiden cheek. I knew that she was mine—mine forever. ‘That is, she was mine if I wanted her. Ah! That hour of happiness—will I ever forget it?” The conductor looked in to see seven wo- ren craning their necks and their eyes be- traying the greatest anxiety. They were now 80 close to the young man that no one could hitch nearer. “She waited for me to speak,” he went on, opening and closing his eyes as if sleepy, “but I was too happy. I didn’t ‘Want to break the spell. Besides, how can I support a wife on $8 per week? Besides, I don’t want to get married. The dear girl is still waiting. What! Didn't you ask her to be your wife?” demanded one of the females as she rose up with crimson face. “No'm. Too happy. Told her I'd call s’mother night. Eight dollars a week only buys my soda water and cigars, and how’m I goin’ to sup—' Seven feminine hands motioned to the conductor to stop, and one after another seven women dropped off the car and went their ways with angry looks and compress- ed lips, while the young man nodded and nodded and muttered: “What happiness! She waited fr me to speak, but I waz too happy. She's waiting yet. Let’er wait—I'm goin’ to shleep!” ——-_- 20s Unwise Econom: From Jenness Miller's Monthly. Do not buy anything that is not needed because it is cheap. Nothing is cheap to a purchaser that does not meet an immediate want. Goods laid away rot, grow old-fash- icned, yellow, and lose in value monthly. Bargain counters are dangerous foes to true economy, unless a woman has the clearheaded wisdom to decide exactly what she needs to purchase in advance, and the firmness of character to resist the wily as- saults of the salesman who makes unneces- sary purchases seem attractive at the mo- ment. If you need articles displayed on the bargain counters, look for them there; if not, avoid these fascinating displays as you would a moral pestilence, lest they prove too much for resistance. I know the force of the bargain counter, for I have, alas! mourned the waste of good dollars when too late, and bitterly repented me of articles for which I could find no rational use except the missionary box; and even thus disposed, my conscience has reproached me for ques- tlonable charities. OUR SHOP GIRLS. NOT EASY TO SMILE AND BE PLEASANT FROM 8 TILI. 5—NERVOUS FATIGUE FROM TRY- ING TO PLEASE EVERYBODY—THE REMEDY. “And it’s O, to be a slave Along with the barbarous Turk; Where women have never @ soul to save, If this be Christian work.” “It is fearfully trying to nerves and brain,” ing so quickly brings nervous irritability and ex- haustion and robs the body of its elasticity and health as trying to smile and humor the countless peculiarities of the throng of buyers. If statistics prove anything they show how surely Paine’s Celery Conpound recruits the nervous energy of just such weak and overtaxed women. Headaches cease, the tired, anxious leaves the tace; peuralgia, a sure Nerves, vanishes and white invalid. This is the universal testimony of sands. Paine's Celery Compound sends new, pure to the heart and takes away the weary feeling that comes from debility. The costliest condition for a man or woman in any station in life is that of weakness and disease. Paine’s Celery Compound permanently kind of nervous disease. It quickly furnishes new material to the worn-out nervous system. ‘The forms that nervous diseases take are legion: Dyspepsia, sleeplessness, headaches, heart trouble, rheumatism, depression and nervous prostration. Paine’s Celery Compound goes to the root of the trouble. It creates a new appetite and prepares the digestive organs to build up @ strong, bealthy body. Strange bow people sbut thelr eyes to the Plainest facts and live at ease im the midst of evident danger. Scrofula, eczema, jaundice, scalp and skin diseases show as plain as sunlight a Vitiated state of the blood. Paine’s Celery Com- pound soon eliminates every trace of impurity from the blood. Sound, lasting health, with its attendant hap- piness, surely comes from Paine’s Celery Com- pound. Nono are too old to be helped by Paine’s Celery Compound; none are too young to be benefited. Celery Compound ‘s the great modern remedy for stomach, heart, Uver and kidneys. It makes pure, vigorous blood and quiet, healthy nerves. ‘Try it. Big Sale of SHOES —Now in Progress. E are rime the stock and’ offering “ail “broken lots" of shoes at greatly reduced prices. ‘We have just received (a month lot of later than ordered) « ft LADIES’ KANGAROO AND CALF ENGLISH WALKING —" SHOES — —Which we intended at $5 ; and pair—being finest shoes je. fn | vo the lateness of arrival we will Let Them Go At $4. Cannot be matched in America the price. = Hoover& Snyder 1217 Pa. Ave. NOW FOR A COAT OF YELLOW. For ‘week we will sell Men's $5.00 Hand-sewed Russia Calf Bals and Bluchers For $2.50. ‘irs of these Shoes have been at this We've lots of Ladies’ and Men's Black Shoes that must now go, whether we get cost or not. Come see us’ quick. THE WARRER SHOE NOUSE 919 F Street N. W. “Plen’s Wear. E DONT SAY MUCH about our Men's Furnish- ings Department, but it isn't because we are ‘Weak there—for we're pot. Shirts for example. OC. Ne oer a Men's Unlaundered Shirt made of N. ¥. Mills Cot- & pore linen bosom, and you'll find oy and Te. Plates for Receptions. Nell'to linpest our atock of FINE DROS 0 our sty PIN} CHINA PLATES. All sizes. All BREAD AND BUTTER PLA’ $1.35 to $20 EXQUISITE TEA PLATES from $2.75 to $22.50 BREAKFAST PLATES, $3 to $40 dos. OYSTERK PLATES in many pretty decorations, SINNER PEATIS. doe INN] 2 . Some as low as $3.75 Others as high as $250 doz, - A assortinent of all sizes. No need to hunt all over the city for china, but come to us and we are sure to please you. ll. W. Beveridge, Y AND PORCELAINS, jal2 1215 F and 1214 G st. If You Are Married We'll Furnish Your House MAMMOTH GREDIT MOUSE, Every Woman Will Hunt Bargains-- And we offer—at 1710 14th st. nw.— 8 BED ROOM SUITES. WORTH $40 TO $70. NOW $21 TO $43. SEE THEM. HAIR MATTRESSES, $15 TO $12. SEE THEM. 20 CARPETS, containing 20 to @ yards, AT A SACRIFICE. . 12 NICE TABLES, LEATHER DINING CHAIRS, ROCKING CHAIRS, OFFICE CHAIRS, SIDEBOARDS, And, in fact,as bousekeepers would say if they will take time-THIS IS A CHANCE. W. H. Houghton bas inspected these goods and Pronounces them good as new. THE HOUGHTON CO., 516 oth St. N. W. 1710 14th St. N. W. te ()} See the bargains at > 516 Oth of same styles. Also the celebrated LEWIS COUCH, $8.50. 1252. $a12-2r° REMINGTON’S Sure Cure Rheumatism And Gout \ perbaps the most wonderful of 19th century remedies. Tt owes tts existence to its unfailing success. Cures every case, no matter how se- vere. Eradicates entirely the dis- ease, banisbes the pain, reduces Swelling, cures gout and sciatica, @rives away neuraizgia and chronic @ inflammatory rbeamatism—in short, restores a sufferer to perfect health. Has myriads of testimonials. SOLD BY Tiertz’s Modern Pharmacy, ja2-eo8m AND OTHER DRUGGISTS. 9 Don’t Be Hoodwinkea.| “Coffee Cups’ Insist On Having The “Reversible” Mattress. see —decause it bas just twice the service * in it that the “one-sided” Mattress °° bas and IT COSTS NO MORE. | ' For Sale by Dealers Throughout the District. 12 If You Want a “Grip” soo > mat you cam depend on or a TRUNK | ** °° that reliance can be placed in, drop in * °° and sce us. We may be a little out of | your way—we're near 6th and the ave.. | but you'll fing we ask lower prices for Migher in quality guods than the uptown | folks. lz ee ee oe LUTZ & BRO, 497 PA. AVE. REDUCED. Te. A $1 “After Dinner” Coffees now The. $1.50 “After Dinaer” Coffees mow $1. Swall lot of Roval Worcester “After Ditwer”, Cups and Scucers from $1.50 to Fluted-edge Bread Knives Only soc. Per Set of 3 Sizes Wilmarth & Edmonston, Crockery, &c., 1205 Pa. ave. jal2 NATURAL PRESERVES.—BATORY'S NATURAL Zim are, the best, the sosst_contuly mae, free of chemicals, soperior to aay ed. Prices moderate. We ha’ saSceded the past’ thee “sears to tstroguce Sam toe ee SS oe ham _ Sold by all first-class groceis. I. BATORY & CO. iy gous Baltimore, Mé@ 02)-3m