Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, December 28, 1890, Page 14

o VM~ ‘.,‘ UNDAY. TALLS OF THE WILDER WEST. A Montana Miner Who Sheds His Skin An= nually Liks a Snake. WITH IDAHO ROBBERS. HOT RACE Joaquia Miller Relates an Experience of His Youth-sSad Story of Whitey Rupp—He Inter: viewed Five Bears. Dropping into the barroom of the Kalser hotel last evening, my attention was attract- el by quite an cxtensive cabinet of minerals, curiosities, and bric-a-bare, bceupying a proruinent positon in the place, says a Phillipsburg letter 1 the Butte Miner. ““You have an Interestang collection here,” 1 remarkedto the barkeepor. *Who owns it lasked, ““do,"* snia he, with a good dealof pride. The owner, Mr. Herman Kaisor, then gave me the history of the mostinteresting articles fi shegabinet. Themincralgpecimens were all obtained from theclaims and mines inthe immediate vocinity of Phillipsbure. “But thero isthe greatest curiosity that T bave,” said Mr. Kaiser, pointing to an article that appeared to me to be o fish-colored glove. **Now, you would take that to be a gloveat the first glance, wouldn't you?’? “I certainly would.” ““Well, it isn't a glove at all,"”saidhe. “Examine it a little more closely, and you will sce that it is the skin of a human hand.”” Such it reaily proved tobe. The palm, the thumb, the ingers were all there inone per- fect piece, There was no mistake abut that. That is indeed a curiosity,” I observed. “Some man must have been skinned here- abouts by the Indians.'” *“You aro mistaken, The man from whose hand that skin came is skinned alive once a e does it himself,and he resides in You don't intend to make me believe any- thing ot that kind, do you!” I askedin mazement, “*You can beliove it or not, as you please,” said e, “hut everything I tell you about Johuny Price is gospel truth, and it can be proved byovera hundred witiesses in this town, “That piece of skin, as [ said befor comes from a human hand-the right hand of Johnny Price, awell known resident of this town,” Ho sheds his cuticle every year, be- tween July 14 aud 10, This singuilar process has been going on ever since howas a_child. He is now thirty-seven years old. ~Sometime ago he wrote tosome Pittsburg doctors, de- scribing his case and sending them pieces of bis skin. They did not believe his state ments, but kept writing to him, and, finall to sutisfy themselves, they determined to make an investigat They hud mever heard of anythiog of the kind before. After considerablo correspondence, they agreed last spring to pay his expenses to Pittsburg and_returi, Accordingly, Mr, Price went to Pittsburg about two wecks before the usual time of the shedding process, in order to give the medical men plenty of time to study every stageof the case. Just before the skin begzins to peel off Mr. Pri becomes deathly sick, and remains so for two or thice days. He then recovers and strips himself of hisold cuticle and appears in avew skin. “Areiving at Pittsburg he was taken in charge of by the doctors, and, ture enough, about July 17, after his usual sickuess. change of skin took place. The cecded inremoving the _entire hiis necle and face down to the end of his toes. In one piece, Just the same as you would re- move a suit of tignts froman acrobat. This was done with a view of stufiing the skin, To say that the doctors were astonished and completely puzled does not begin to expro: it. Theyhavo made arrangements to take Mr. Priceto Europe nmext year and bring him before a conveution of the most eminent doctors of the old world and let them make s thorough study of the case for the benelit of science. Slo}n also be taken to cure the patient if possible. ALl Mr. Price's expenses arcto be paid, and if any moncy isto be made out of this singular transformation process heis tohavethe bene- fit of it, ashe isa poor man, He has had a lot of photographs taken, which he sells every nowand then, The doctors did not know what name to give to his singular case. They simply call it 8 freak of nature, and could in no way account for it. Mr, Prico was borm in Nebraska. Ho is five feet, seveninches in height, fair com- lexion, 'good looking, weighs 150 pounds, is onlmz form and very active. He is quite an athlete and wrestler, and has had several wrestling matches, all of which he has won. He is very popular anong all who know him. He formerly ran the Sitver Lake hotel in this town and everybody knows all about him. At present he Is mining over at Black Pine. He has three brothers and a sister, and has livedin Phillipsburgabout fifteen ‘years, “‘Price very frequently makes an exhibi- tion of nimself, but ho has become a chestnut here, Just after July 14,1f ho 15 seen com- Ing up the street, nearl v w mark: ‘It must be sk He has received u proposition from a dime museum, and may sccept it after his wip to Europe next year, “When Price undergoes the transforma- tlon he comes out in & newskin that is as white andsoftus that of an mfant. I have seen him come into this barroom with his sleeves rolled up and his hands having the appearanco of being encased in gloves. He had rolled down the skin from his armsand formed agauntlet at the wrist. Ho asked me what [ thought of his gloves, and] re- pliddthat thc{ looked quite stylish, Hethen showed me what ho had done. 1 certainly thought he had ona pair of gloves. After E1s annual illness, and when his skin begins to peel off, he uses a littlo oil to soften itand make it more pliable. Ihad the entire skin of his back in that cabinet two years ago last sgrll‘[(, but he cameand got itand sent it to the Pittsburg doctors,” Twas lying we-bound at T.ewiston, Tdaho. Men wanted tosend money to their fricnds or familis; merchants, anticipating tho tremendous rush, must, get letters through the snow to Walla Walla. Would I got Could I got writes Joaquin Miller in St. Nicholas, The snow was decp. The trails, over open and monotonous mountains, were drifted full, Could any living man face the drifting snow -nd find his way to Walla Wallat At first the merchants bad tried hire Indians to undertake the trip and deliver their letters, Not onecouldbe found to go. When the storm abated alittlethe men who kept the fexry across tho Shoshono viver scraped off the snow and cutting down the upheaved blocks of ice made itpossible to eross with a horse. At firstT meant tocarry only lotters, but haviug finaily consented (o take a little gold for one merchant I soon found I should lose friends ifI did not take goid for others. The result wasthat I had to take gold worth nearly $10,000, A fow muftled-up friends came down to the ver bank to see me of. It was @ great event. For two weeks we had not had aline from thy outer worid. And meantime the civil war was mging in all its terrible fury, Aslset out that bleak and icy moming, after I had mounted my plunging pony | saw in o crowd several fieds that T dld not ke, There was Dave Euglish, who was hung on thatspot withseveral of his followers, not forty duys later; there was Boone Helm, huvg in Montana; Cherokeo Bob, killed in Millersburgh; and also Cauada Joo. This last lived with some low Indians alittle way Qown theriver. Sowhen he rode ahead of me | was rather glad than otherwise; for I feltthat he woulduot go far. I kept watch of him, however. And when I saw that he skulked around under the bill, us if he were #oing home, and then firlly got back into the trail, 1 knew there was troublo ahead, Byt the “Rubicon” was now behind, M mmpetun , Va LIt At il bl @ snow and [ was soon tearing through the storm up e kil Oneo fairly on my way I loked back below. Dave English and Boon Helm wer bidding goodby to two mounted ¢ boys at the forry house, Teu minutes later, Tlcoked bk through the blinding suow, 1 aw that these o desperate fellows were fol- lowiug me True, thero was nothing eriminal 1n_that. Tho two highwaymen had a vight toride be- hind molf they wished, Aud Canada 406 had just s good a right to vide uhead of me. But to be on @ horsedeepin the blinding snow and loaded down with gold was bad smough. 1o have & desperado blocking the narrow trail before you with his two friends behind me was foarful ! I tad two six-shooters close at hand under the bearskin flap of my saddiebag where the goid was, whero a small sixshooter warm and ready, Once, as the snow broke away up the mountain, I saw Canada Joe with his head bent down in the storm still pushing on ahead of me at a safe distance, A fow moments aftor, as I climbed the farther bank of an ugly canon, the two robbers came close enough to hail me. One of them held up & bottle, "They evidently in- tended toovertake me if they ess to be friendly. This I must not al urged my am bitious horse to his be my dismay as [ hastened up a narn found that I was not far behind Canada Joe, Thislow-browed black fellow was reported to be the worst man in all that country, And that was saying he was bad indced R I was ina tight place now and had to think fast. My first plan was to ride forward and face this'man before the others came up. Bus [ was really afraid of him, Ttseemed a much easier task to turn and kill the two rear men and get back to town, But no! no! All this was abandoned almost as soon as the In those days, even the most desperate had certiin which their surviving friends would enfo 4 I was now but a few hundred yards be. hind Camda Joe, So far as Icould find out, the robbers were closing in on me, But we had riddenover the roughest part of the road and were within a fow miles of the high plateuu, sothat the w 1 was tear. ing past in a glee, and the drilting snow al- most blindea me, Suddenly 1had a new thought. Why not take to tho left, gain the plateau by a new route, and let these bloodthirsty robbérs close their net without having me insidet I rose in my saddle with excitement at the idea, “and _striking spurs to my brave lorse, I was soon climbing up the gradual slope at aguilop. Ah! but | was glad! Gallop! gallop! gallop! I scemed to hear many horses: Turning my head sud- denly over my shoulder 1 saw my two pur- guers nota huudred yards bebind me. They shouted | T was now on the high plateau and now was not so decp. Galiop! gallop! wp! Canada Joo--thank Heaven—was ay to the right, and fast falling behind, Gallop? gallop! gallop! 1 was gainng on the robbers and they knew it Fuinter and fainter came their curses and their shouts. And then: Whiz! Crack! Thud! I looked back and saw that they both had thrown themselves from their saddles and were taking deliberate aim. But tono purpose, Not onoe shot touched me or my horse, and | reached the first sta- tion, and finally rode into Walla Walla, with my precious burden, safe and sound. Jut to A story of an encounter between five bears and a boy, in which the latter came out vie- torious, reached this city yesterday. 'The heroof the anventure is said to be Bert Mon- roe, son of Henry Monroe of the valley the Helena Journal. The oy is about nine- teenor twenty years old, and is an enthus. fastic hunt d a deadshot. Last fall he killed the largest bear thathad ever been killed in this section, and he refused &5 for the hide. Although this latest adventure in which he issaidto have figured sc promi- nently sounds considerably like a bearstory his friends in this city a he would not he: s totackle one bear ora dozen if he came across them together, Young Monroe started out for St. Peter's Mission a few days ugo on a hunting expedi- tion, o was after bear and he found more thau he had bargained for. His journey took him up toward the head of Milkriver, and while notexpectingit he came face to face with a bear which emerged from what afer- ward proved to bea bears’ den or lair. He hadno sooner killed the bear with his trusty riflethan another oneappeared. He kil thisone m thesamo way aud the third ap- peared. He killed this one also and before he had time to realize that e was getting about all the bear he cared forin one day bearnum- ber four appeared. This felow was also killed and there was only one cartridge left in his magazine. He needed this cariridge, too, for afifth bearand larger thanany of the other four came out of his den and made for him. He fired his last. shot and though it probably hit Bruin it did not do the business, for he came straight at him. Monroe did not have timoto get another cartridge in his gun before the infuriated beast was on him. The animal made @ slap at him, which sent the useless gun flying out of his grasp snd he b had time to draw s hunting knife and ¢ Bruin an ugly cut inthe throat. In doing this he received a severe squeezo from the monster and a fearful bite on the shoulder, Then he lost consciousness. It must have been only & few moments, how- ever, for when he came to again his horse was between him and the bear. Thelatter was evidently hurt, for he was makinga feeble attack upon the horse aud was bleed- ing profusely from the wound in the throat. ‘When the horse turned tail to his adversary and began to kick the bear made off to the brush, leaving a trail of blood behind. Mon- roe found that e was hurt in his back and side, which had been terribly tornin his briof struggle. With dificulty he mounted his horse, which was quite unhurt, aud rode two miles to a point where men were at work on arailioad grade of the Great Northern, From there he was taken to the Piegan agency, where he now 1s. A party which went out the next duy found the four bears which bad been killed and a trail of blood leading as faras astream, made by the fifth bear. The gun was also found whereit had fallen, inclined _to think At theageof sixty-six, alone, unattended, worn out by the life he had led and without a friend in the world, J.J. Bayard, the boss crank of the American nation, died in s den, near Boerne, Kendall county, says a San Antonio, Tex,, dispatch to the St. Louis Globe-Democrat. He was a nephew of Thomas F. Bayard, ary of state under Cleveland, and was born in Delaware in 1524, The story of his life is a romantic one. He graduated from Yale at theageof twenty- one,and for ten years after led alifeo Lvll‘luul His father was wealthy and gave imanythinghe asked for. I cars ago he appeared in this section of the state, and brought some little money with him, He was a kind man to the uunununvc«»ple. and sr)r('\lily mado himself popul 1is visita- tions to the sick and_ charities to strangers are still remembered iu this city. At th time he was dressed more like legend: “0ld Grimes" than avy other character in fiction or history. Heused to wear a loug black coat, the primmest of white neck- ties and shoes that were always carefully polkhed. Tiring of life here he romoved to Kendall county, and purchased a fow acres of land about’ nine miles from town. Thenhe be- came a hermit. Such time as was not de- voted to religious meditation or healing the sick he put inin the manufacture of patent medicines, which he brewed fro herbs found mear his domicile, “This domicile was in itselfa wonder, In the side of a hill he duga cave, and near that built himself a log hut. Heconvected the two by & subter- rancan passage some four feet under the ground, and five feet high vy three wide. In the cave he brewed his medicines, and to it he retived when visitors called. The mouth of the cave where it opened on the surface was partially tlosed with stones, He staid there 50 long that they became woven togeth- er with moss, Behind this raupart hewould retire and hold conversation with his callers, 1f they wanted medicine the bottle was handed over the rampart and uo money taken, 1f they wished to talk Bayard would verse from behind bis intrenchment, Ifthey wished to inguite into his past history théy were promptly cequested to leave. He “became Known among the farmers as a hermit who posseessed strange healing powers and who preached a very simple religion, which called upon men to do their vest, one for the othor aud to believe in the Savior. His medicines have been demonstrated to be of the plainest character, Such natural purgatives and fo- brives as he could find bhe divided into doses, and always accompanied a gift of them with an explanation of their strongth and effects, aud always refused to treat complicated or chroniccases, He per. sistontly refused to take money from any- body and seemed 1o live altogether upon the little capital ho had stored away, paying cash for anything he bought, andbuying very little indeed. He occasionully walkea fnto Boorue, but was neverseen t0 g0 near the postoftico or to have correspondence of any kind. To the day of his death he persistently refused 1 tulk about nis velatives in Dela- ware, orto allude fn any way to his past life. Wihen he died yesterday bis premises were invaded by & curious mob who wished to know just how he had lived and what effects heleft behind. They foundan old trunk, a rough mattress, & pair of blankets, and in one corner of the cave a few articles of soiled underclothing, There were uo papers of any kind, Standiog against the wall were a few bottles of medicine, His relatives in Dela- ware were telegraphed, but have not res- pouded. I kept my lefthand in my pocket | drifting and blinaing | uld and pro- | pass 1 | YOV ELS, 0, NOVELS!" Livrary Journat, tood oh, novels, oh, novels!! m: *People, oh, why do At a library d Crying, And T said you say ‘Giive us novels, oh, novels, oh, novels! 1s it weakness of intellect, people,” I eried, *Or simply spaco whers the brains should abide y answer me not, for they only feplie ve us novels, oh, novels, oh, novels! Novi to th Here are thousands of books that will do you more good Than the novels, oh, novels, oh, novels! You will weaken your brain with such poor mental food As the novels, oh, novels, oh, novels ! Pray ke history, music, or travels, or plays, Biography, poetry, scicn ce, es 8y Or anything else that move wisdom displays Than the novels, ob, novels, oh, novels! face About novels, oh, novels, oh, novels ! And may think that with patience he may raise the taste Above novels, oh, novels, oh, novels ! He may talk titl withace bis round shoulders arc bent, And the white hairs of time 'mid the black ones are sent, ‘When he hands his report in, still seventy per cent Will be novels, oh, novels, oh, novels! PRIVATE SMITH'S RETURY, HAMLIN GARLAND, IN THE ARENA, L Thenearer the train drew toward La Crosse, the soberer the little group of “yets” beenme, On the long way from New Orleans they had beguiled the te- dium with jokes and friendly chafl; or with planning with claborate detail what they were going to do now. after the war. A long journey, slowly, irreg- ularly, yet persistently pushed north- ward, When they entered on Wiscon- sin territory they gavea cheer, and an- other when th reached Madison, but after that they sank into a dumb expec- tancy, Comrades dropped off at one or w0 points beyond, until there were only four or five left who were bound for Crosse county. Thice of them were gaunt and brown, the fourth was gaunt and pale, \{izh signs of fever and ague vpon him. One had a great scar down his temple; one limped, and they all had unnaturally lurge bright eyes, showing emaciation. Th o no bands greeting them at tations, no banks of gaily-dressed ladies waving handkerchiefs and shout- ing “bravo,” as they cume in on the ca- boose of a freight tramn into the towns that had checred and blared at them on their way to war, As they looked out or stepped upon the platform for a mo ment as the train stood at the station, the loafers looked at them ipdifferently. Their blue coats, dusty und grimy, wore too familiar now to excite notice, much less afriendly word. They were ths last of the army to return, and the loaf- ers were surfeited with such sights. The train jogged forward so slowly that it seemed likely to be midnight be- fore they should reach La Cros The little squad of ‘‘vets” grumbled and swore, but it was no use, the train would not hurey, and ad a matter of fact, it wasnearly 2 o'clock when the engine whistled “down brakes,” Most of the group were farmers in districts several and all were poor. “*Now, boys,” said Private Smith, he of thefever and ague, “we are landed in La Crosse inthe mght. We've got to stay somewhere till mornin’. Now I ain’t got no $2 to waste on a hotel. I've got awifeand children, so I'm goin’ to roost on a bench, and take the costof a ved out of my hide.” ‘‘Sume here,” put in one of the other men. *‘Hide'll growon again, dollars come hard. It's goin’ to be mighty hot skirmishin’ to find a dollar these days." ““Don’t think they’ll be a deputation of citizens waitin’ to ’scort us to a hotel, eh?”’ His sarcasm was too obvious to re- quire an unswer. Smith went on: ““Then at daybreak we’ll start for home, at least T will.” “Well, I'tl be dumned if I'll take $2 out o' my hide,” one of the younger men said, “I'm goin’to a hotel ef I don’t neverlay up u cent,” “That'll do f'r you,” said Smith, **but if youhad a wife an’ghree young 'uns dependin’ on yeh—" ““Which I aint, thank the Lord! and don’t intend havin’ while the court knows 1tself.” The station was deserted, dark as they came L living miles outof town, chill and into it at exactly a quarter to2 in the morning. Lit by the oil lamps that flared a dull red light over the dingy benches, the wait- ing room was not an inviting place, The younger man wentoff to look up a hotel, while the rest remained to camp down on the floor and benches. Smith was at- tended to tenderly by the other men, who spread their blankets on the bench for him, and by robbing themselves, made quite a comfortable bed, though the narrowness of the bench made his sleeping precarious. It was chill, though August, and the two men sitting with bowed heads, grew stiff with cold and weariness, and were forced to rise mow and again and walk aboul to warm their stiffencd limbs, It didn't oceur to them, probably, to con- trast their coming home with their go- ing forth, or with the coming home of the generals, colonels, or even captains —but to Private Smith, at any rate, there came asickness at heart almost deadly, as he lay there on his hard bed and went over his situation, In the deep of the night, lying on a board in the town where he had enlisted three years ago, all elation and enthusi- asm gone out of him, he faced the fact that with the joy of home-coming was mingled the bitter juice of care. He saw himself sick, worn out, taking up the work on his hall-cleared farm, the inevituble mortgage standing ready th open jaws to swallow half his earn- ings. He {mu given three years of his life for a mere pittance of pay, and now— Morning dawned at last, with a pale yellow dome of light rising silently above the bluffs which stand like some huge battlemented = castle, just east of the city., Out to the left the great river swept on its massive yet silent way to the south, Jays called” across the river from hillside to hillside, through the clear, beautiful air, and hawks began to skimthotopsof the hills, The two *'vets” were astiv early, but Private Smith had fallen av last into a sleep, and they went out without waking him. He lay on his knapsack, his gaunt face turned toward the ceiling, his hands clasped on his breast, with & curious pathetic effect of weakness and appeal. An engine switching near woke him at last, and he slowly sat up and stared | about it. He looked out of the window, and saw that the sun was lightening the hills across the river. He rose dnd brushed his hairas well as he could, | lighted ~ by | a@inner time,” | tack £'r me, | around, and A librarian may talk tillhe's black in the | 800.~-SIXTEEN PAGES. find his companions, . They stood gasi Silintly ut the river and st the e ® | RING OUT THE OLD “Looks nat'ral, don’t i8¢" they said, he came out. A That's what 1t does,” he replied. “An’ it looks good. D'veh see that peak? He pointed to a ‘beautiful sym- metrical peak, rising like a slightly truncated cone, 8o high that it seemed the very highest of thamall. It w the morning sun till it glowed like an beacon, and alight scar of gray morning fog was rolling up its shadowed side. “My farm’s just beyond that. Now, ef 1 can ‘only ketch a ride, we'll be home by “I’'m talkin’ about breakfast,” said one of the others, T guess it's ono more meal o' hard- " said Smith, They foraged finally found a restaurant with a' sleepy old’ German behind the counter, and procured some coffee,which they drank to wash down their hard- tack. “Time’ll come,” said Smith, holdin upa piece by the corner, *‘when this'l be a curiosity.” “I hope to God it will!” Tbet I've chawed hardtack enough to shingle every house inthe coolly, TI've chuwed it when my lampers was down and when they wasn't, 1've took itdry, soaked and mashed. I've had it wormy, musty, sour and blue-mouldy. T've had it in little bits and big bits; *fore coffee an’ after coffee. I'm ready f'r a change. 1'd like t’ git hol’ jest about now o’ some of the hot biscuits my wife ¢’n make when she lays hersell out 'r company.” “Well, if you set there gablin’, you'll never see yor wife “Come on,” sald Private Smith, “Wait o moment, boys; less take suthin,’ It's onme,” Heled them to the rusty tin dipper which hung on a nail beside the wooden water pail, and they grinned and drank. (Things were primitive in La Crosse then.) Then shouldering their blankets and muskets, which the were “taking home to the boys,” they struck out on their last march, “They called that coffee Jay grumbled one of them, “but it nev went by the road where government Jayvy resides, 1 reckon I know coffee from’ peas,” They kept together on the road ulong the turnpike, and up the winding rond by the river, which they followed for some mile The river was curving down along its sandy beds, pa ing now and then under broad basswood trees, or running in dark, swift, silent currents under tangles of wild grape- vines, and drooping alders, and haw trees. At one of these lovely spots the three vets sat down on the thick green sward to rest, ‘‘on Smith’s account.” The leaves of the tree were as fresh and green as June, the jays called cheery wreetings to them, and kingfishers darted to and fro, with swooping, noise- less flight, T tell yeh, this knocks the swamps of Loueesiana into kindgon como.” “You bet. All they e'n raise down Ihl]'l'u is snakes, niggers, and p'rticler hell,” “An’fightin'men. If T had a good hook an’ line I'd sneak a pick’rel out o’ that pond. Say, remember that time I shot that alligator—"" ST guess we'd better be ecrawlin’ along,” interrupted Smith, rising and shouldering his knavsack, with consid- erable effort which he tried to hide. “Say, Smith, lemme give you a lift on that.’ “I guessI ¢'n manage,” said Smith, grimly. ‘’Course, But, yeh see, I may not have u chance right off to pay yeh™ back for the times ye've carried my gun and hull caboodle, Say, now, gimme that gun, anyway.” “All right, if yoh feel like it Jim,” Smith rex‘)llcd, and they trudged along doggedly in tho sun, which was getting i r and hotter each half mile. Aint it queer they aint no teams comin’ along?” “Well, no, seein’s it’s Sunday.” “By jinks, that’s a fact! It is Sunday. I'll githome in time f'r dinner, sure. She don’t have dinner usially till about 1on Sundays.” Andhe fell into a muse, in which he smiled, “Well, I'll git home just about 6 o'clock, ' jest about when ‘the boys are milkin’ the cows,” said eJim Cranby. “T'll step into the barn,fan’then I'll say, ‘Heah! why ain’t this milkin’ done be- fore this time o’ day?’ An’ then won’t they yell?” he added, slapping his thigh in great glee. 3 Smith went on. *“I'll jest go up the path. Old Rover’ll come down the road to meet me. He won’t bark; he'll me, an’ he'll come down waygin’ h an’ showin’ his teeth. That’s his way of laughin. An’ so I'll walk up to the kitchen door, an’ I'll say, ‘Dinn hungry man!’ An’ thén she'll jump, up, an'—" He couldn’t go on. His voice choked at the thought of it. Saunders,the third man, hardly uttered a word, He walked silently behind the other He hadlost his wife the first year he was inthe war. She died of puéumonia caught in the autumn rains while working in the fiolds on his place. They plodded along fill at Tast they came to a parting of the ways. To the right the road continued up the main valley; to the left it went over the ridge. “*Well, boys,” began Smith, as they grounded their musketsandlooked away up the valley, “*here's wkere we shake hands. We've marchel together a good many miles, an’now I suppose we're done.” **Yes, I don’t think ve’ll do any more of it f'ra whiie. I don’t want to I know,” “T hope T'll see yoh, nce in a while, boys, to talk oyer old times.” HOf course,” said Saunders, whose voice trembled a little, too. “It aint exactly like dyin’.” “But we'd ought'r go home with vou,” said the younger man *“Youll never climb that ridge with all them thingson yor back,” “0, I'm all right! Ton’t worry about me. ery step takes me nearer home, veh s Well, zood-bye, bays, " They shook hands. “Good-by, Good luck,” “Same to you. Lemme know how you find things at home.” He turned once befors they passed out of sight, and waved hiseap, and they did the same, and all yelled, Then all marched away with tieir long, steady, loping, veteran step. The solitary climber in blue walked on for a time, with his mind filled wi'h the kindness ot his comrades, and musing upon the many jolly (luXu they had hadtogether in camp and fie'd. He thought of his chum,* Billy Tripp. Poor Billyl A ‘‘mink” "bail fell into his breast one day, fell wailing like a cat, and tore a great ragged hole into his heart. He looked for- ward to a sad scene with Billy’s mother and sweetheart, They would want to know all about it. Hetried to recall all | that Billy had said, anl the particulavs of it, but there was litle to remember, | just that wild wailingsound high in the air, a dull slap, a shet, quick, expul- sive groun, and the boylay with his face inthe dirt in the pliughed field they were marching across, That was all, But 1ill the scenes he had since been througn had not dimmed the horror, the terror of that moment, when his boy comrad¢ fell, with only a breath between a lwgh anda_doath groan, Poor h.m?mm Billy! Worth willions of dollars was his young life | foldea his blunkets up, and went out 0 [ These sombre recolections gave way 1890. 11 RING IN THE NE 1891. Carnival and Grand Masquerade AT THE COLISEUM, ew Year's Eve, Dec. characters. tume. BEA costume. 850 IN GOLD to best group maskers, not less than five $10 IN GOLD to best represented comple en-masque. GOLD WATCH to best represented male character, GOLD WATCH to best represented female charactors HANDSOME CANE to second best male character cos- IFUL VASE to secoud best female character DIAMOND RING to handsomest costumed lady. $500 IN PRIZES. SILVER-HANDLED SILK UMBRELILA to best male comic costume, GOLD-HEADED SILK UMBRELLA to best comic costume. HANDSOME CARE to best *“Uncle Sam.” female BOX OF CIGARS to best “Harlequin.” DIAMOND PIN to handsomest costumed gentleman, Grand March of Characters,en masque, at9 o'clock p.m Dancing at 9:30 p.m. Raymond’s Jewelr Havana Cigar Store, 1406 arnam, Getty’s Confectivnery, 1417 Douglas, Kinsler's Drug Storo 1. L. Robertson & Bro. pter’s Drug Store, Saxe’s Drug Store, Fifteenth and Farnam, s onary | Store, Fifteenth aad Douglas, Max Meyer & Bro., Sixteenth and Farnam, Fullor’s Drug Store, Fourteenth and Douglas, ixteenth and Farnam, Cigar Store, 216 5. xteenth end Farnam Building, ynore’s Cigar 15th Street. at length to more cheerful feelings us'ho began to approuch his home coule. The fiolds and houses grew familiar, and in ono or two he was greeted by people seated in the doorway. But he was in no mood to talk, and pushed on steadily, though he stopped and_accepted a drink of milk onceat the well side of aneigh- bor. The sun was getting hot on that slope, and his step grew slower, in spite of his iron resolution. He sat down soveral times to r Slowly ho crawled up the rough, reddish brown vond, which wound along tho hillside, under groat trees, through dense groves of jack onks, with tree-tops far below him on his left hand, and the hills far above him on his right, He crawled along like some minute wingless variety offly. 7 He ate some hardtack, sauced with wild berries, when he reached the sum- mit of the ridge, and sat_there for some time, looking down into his home coule. Sombre, pathetic figure! His wide, round, gray eyes gazing down into the beautiful valley, seeing and’ not seeing, the splendid cloud-shndows swe over the western hills, und acro green and yellow wheat far below. hend drooped forward on his palm, shoulders took on a tired stoop, cheek bones showed painfully, An ¢ server might havesaid; *'He is looking down upon his own gravi [CONCLUDED NEXT W ) The Census and City Populations. Representative William M. Springor points out in the December Forum that the population of the United States has ncreased between 1880 and 1890 from 50,000,000 to 64,000,000, or about 26 per cent. Deducting the urban population, the fucronso of rural population is found to be only 8 pev cent, while the incre: 50 of the urban population is more thun 57 per cent. This classification of urban bopulation includes only cities of 8,000 Pbabitants and upward, It the classifi- cation should embrace cities of 4,000 in- habitunts and upward, it would undobt- edly appear that the rural population had debrensed during tho decade, while the total inerease would be in the cities. This general result has been brought about notwithstanding the immense in- crease in population in the rural dis- tricts in extreme western states, such as the Dakotas, Minneseta, Nebraska, Kan- sus, Arkansas and Texas, Table showing the . increase of the total population of several states una the increase of the city population: Total Incrouse Tucreaso in Clty 00, Populitlo Maine e M i18etts. . Tilnols eH 4 70, The percentages of the increase of city population to the whole increase of populution, between 1850 and 1890, in several stutes, ave as follows: In Maine there was an actual decrense of rural population, the increase in the cities Iwmg more than the total increase in the state. In Massachusetts the increase in cities was 60 per cent of the whole in- crease, 1n Connecticut 95 per cent, in Rhode Island 70 per cent, in New York more than 75 per cent, in Pennsylvania nearly 50 per cent, in Ohio more than 50 per cent, in lilinois 87 per cent, —_——— Are You Going South This Winter? Parties contemplating a visit to the far-famed Sutherland, the favorite re- sort of O maha people, or to other points in Mlor@M, will find that the rates and time are the same viaThe Burlington to Chicago and thence via Cineinnati or Louisville, as via St. Louis, with the ad- ditional advantages of the vestibule limited trains und elegant dining car service which are characteristic of this route. The Burlington also has on sale round trip tickets to all southern points either via Kansas City and Memphis, or via St. Louis, offering a greater variety of routes than any other line, For fuil information, tickets and sleeping berths call at city ticket office, 1223 Farcam street. W, F. Vaill agent. A STORY OF LOVE AND LUCRE, He Had Plenty ‘of Passion But Preoion Little Pelf. SHE WAS THE PINK OF PROPRIETY. The Reward of Genlus—A Very Pointed Suggestion—He Only Retaliated—Kept Time to the Tune He Sang. William Barelay Dunham in Life, Your foo is the tiniest that trips, love, ‘Thro’ the maddening maze of the waltz; Ty o blossoming buds are your lips, love, Your eyes say your heart is not false. Your hands are so dainty and white, love, Your figure so wondrously fine, That I'm tempted aimost, but not quite, love, To say I udore you!--be mine! Butno! there'sa frightening fear, love, That will not allow me to spe Youwre spending three thousand a year, love; I'm making twelve doliars a week, A Matter of Course, Philadelphia Time: Whoever for reasons of his own Has loved a single horse, That he should come to love the race, Ts but a thing of course. A Losing B LLN Munsey’s Weekly: Liner—Do you work for the Buzoo any more? Spacer—No, indeed. You know I did that artiele on the “‘Gamblers of New | York,” for the Buzoo. Liner—Yos. Spacer—Well, Tlost #500 getting my points and got $16.00 for the'article, The Pink of Propriety. Smith, Gray & Co.’s Monthly: He— Now, Miss Evelyn, you wouldn’t kiss a young mau under "any circumstances, would you? She—Of course not, Ho—And why? She—Because he should take the in- itative. & A Level Headed Girl Strect & Smith's Good News: Mother —Now that youhave become a chiropo- you going to settle? Ambitious Youth—I think, mother, 'l go to Nebraska. All the papers say that is a great corn state. A "(.)"Il!!(‘ Suggestion This, ke's Mugazine: He (rapturously) ground which is trod D —I love the ve by your fairy feet, She (innocently)—Arve you aware that this land does not belong to my father? Why She Added to Their Safety. New York Herald **Your new wait- ress is a very atwractive looking per- son.” and it has added largely to our There is always a police- safety 3 man ‘on duty in the kitchen.’ The Reward of Genius, Munsey’s Weekly: Crosby—What is the largest price’ you ever got fora single poem? Mr. Rondo—Well, Iconsider that some verses I wrote to Miss De Rocks before we were mal netted meabout $70,000, Tooth i Smith, Gray & Co.’s Monthly: Maua —1 have such o terrible pain in one of my teeth, but I am afraid to have it drawn, 4 Cholly—Why don’t you haveit photo- graphed? Kept Time to the Tune, St. Joseph Herald—Mother—W here s Harry? 1sent him Into the yard for a bucket of conl and told him I wanted it i @ht away. That must be an hour ago, T Daughter—He was there a short time BANGLE BRACELE FIVE POUND BOX OF CJ And numerous other prizes to individuals and groups. ago forT h 0 bost **Goddess of Liborty.” NDY to best “Topsy.” Two Bands of Music Tickets Admitting Gentlemen, $2. Tickets Admitting Ladies, $1. Boxes Seating 8 Persons, $15. S NGRS RE @ RESINBERASTE== Gladstone & Co., Grocers, 1308 Douglas, Kuhn's Drug Store, Fifteenth and U(luuhm’ Bicher & Kipplinger Cigar Store, First N ational Banle News Stands nt Principal Hotels, Stove Corner, 16th and Dodge, Leslie & Leslie, Druggists, 16th and Dodge. Wm. Gladish, Druggist, Dodge street. And at the Cohseum. ard him singing “'Swift as a bird.” More Coheslve. St. Joseph Herald: Mrs, H.-—I think they will always love one another devot- edly, there are such ‘*Bonds of Love" between them. Mvs. B.—‘‘Government Bonds” better, Couldn't Stand the Racket, Clothier and Furnisher: He—Did yo use those neckties I gave you to maki quilt? She—VYes, He—Can I see it? She ~I am sorry, but 1 had to give i away to a deaf and dumb asylum, are An Exhausting Place. Munsey’s Weekl Mistress—I am at a loss to understand your motive in leav- ing. Bridget—The work is too harrud, mum, and it’s worn out I be entirely. Mistress—Why, I have done most of it 1 myself! %h'i(]gl-t —Yes, but it’s worn out I be hearing yez tell me of i The Romance New York Sun: of a Window. The first morning I came down town on Third avenue elevated with the bald-headed man he called my attention to a womon who sat sewing near a window not more than thirty feet from the station. Sho was both ‘wood-looking and happy. *Often see her husband up there with his arm around her,” suid bald-head, “Cosiest couple I know of., Always look in on them. She’sdevoted to him and home, and my ideal of a wife,” After that 1 always looked for the womun, Sometimes the bald-headed man and I exchanged words about her, but there was nothing new. One morn- ing, after ubout three months, bald-hew observed: “She's got an anxious look, is probably sick.” Three days later ho said; “She’s awfully worried, probably worse,” Two or three duys later we saw her in mourning, and it was no use to tell each other that her husband had passed away. *Toobad! Toobad!” sighed my friend. “Well, she'll reverence his memory all the rest of her days,” Almost every morning for three months we saw her at the sewing machine as the train pulled up at the station. On one occasion my friend ed out: Sad! She’s got into second mourning It's probably o case of y. 1 suppose she can be just as in'that.” month later we saw hor at the glass curling ber hair, My friend didn’t say arything, but he looked uneasy. wasn't a fortnight before her second mourning had disappeared, and we heard her humming o lively uir as she threaded u spool. 1 looked atmy fr “Probably visits his grave eve day,” he replied. *“Light-heart never get over grieving, She’s singing to ease the pain in her heart,” Just & month from that day she stood at the window. There was a man bheside her. he had her head on his shoulder, “Murried again, by thunder!” almost shouted my friond. “But I ihought you said she would never-—,” Husband Husband s ver said a durned word about hor, gosh durn her!” he cried; and now we never look into that window any more, Our romance hus been shattered and dispelled. s COhange Cars? No, Among the many axigencies of modern travel there is one requirement which is always popular and always in demand, and that is “'a through service.” Life is too short to “change cars” every fow hundred miles, and the travelling pub- lic have very properly rebelled aguinst all such .lll~lun|1innmfrulh'(uulim@ The through equipment of the Union I"acifie, *the original o route,” provides for a through ca for all pointe west frow the Missourl river,