Newspaper Page Text
The Montgomery Monitor.
D. C. SUTTON, Editor and Prop’r.
Yellow Roses.
*Tis the “old, old story" of youth rtnd maid,
Thro’ memory's chasms, le-cehoins low,
Os rich yellow- roses n cluster he sent
In the tony: Hire.—in the toiler ago.
A wee, dainty note in his le-firt lay hid
’Mony the Inids concealed, like a fairy
sprite.
“At (lie hall,” it read, “if with me you’ll wed.
Wear a rose to-nig-bt—wear a rose to-niyhl."
Hcwildered by light, hy sound and sight,
Willi nascent hope his spirit glows.
Now the heart beats fast, for she comes at
last;
But alas! no rose—alas, no rose!
Without one word, unseen, unheard,
With smothered sigh and downcast eye:
With a cheek that burns and a heart that
breaks.
He passes by—he passes by.
With a breast that throbs and a brain on Are;
Witti a bated breath and a sudden start,
Her lover’s "good-night" to the host she
hears.
Liken knell at her heart—like a knell at
her heart.
Years many have flown, o’er oceans un
known,
Tho’ roaming he ever remembers that day;
“Lang Syne" is sweet, once more they meet,
Their lucks are gray—their locks are gray.
“ 'Tis a fancy interred in the tomb of our
years,
Youth has ever," ho muses, “for ago a
charm,”
So he tells her at last, for the tempest is past,
And his heart is calm—his heart is calm.
“Golden roses, as rich as the oriole's wing,
That day on my heart is engraven,” cries
she;
“But the note 'rnong the roses, so carefully
hid,
Was ne’er seen by me—ne’er seen by me.”
Then she lifts with oarc from a “oaskot
rare,”
Oft sunned by smiles, oft bedewed by tears,
The yellow roses, still treasured by love.
Thro' those weary years—thro those weary
years.
Silken corn of the sky’s lightest blue she un
ties.
Like a gem in the earth at the cluster’s
core
Bests tho dainty, triangular, sweet-scented
noto,
Never found before—never found before.
Ahl there’s many a wreck on time’s rough
sea.
That tho world knows not—shall never
know—
And there’s many a heart guards its faded
rose
Os the long ago—of the long ago.
—.T. Hooker Hamorsley.
THE LOST KING.
Next to our own homestead lay Kes
trel House. No farm-land was attach
ed to it. It was simply a park and gar
dens, built for a rich man’s pleasure;
and in its midst stood a fountain, bend
ing over which a stone mermaid comb
ed hercarven hair with a carven comb,
using the basin for a mirror.
I There had bceti a time when tho
-Skater arose and played in showers all
over the mermaid’s head and shoulders.
Tan down her tresses and dripped over
3ier hands. Those who had seen it said
it was a pretty sight; but the machinery
was out of order, or, perhaps, hail
jbeen turned oil', and it played no
more.
f The house, handsome and pictures
que as it was, was all shut up; the win
dows barred and the doors fast; moss
covered its stone steps and balustrades,
and the flowers were all gone, save such
liardy bushes as took to a wild life
kindly, and bloomed a little every
year.
“I wonder they don’t live here, the
people who own this place,” my young
Uncle Morris used to say when he spent
bis vacation with us. “It’s a jolly old
place; it’s a shame it should stand like
that.”
And then my mother would say:
1 “Something very dreadful happened
there years ago.”
I hail heard that before. It was a
story 1 was not to hear, and I wondered
why.
All my uncle’s vacation I trotted
about with him, and as he was fond of
■fishing I took to fishing too. He gave
ime a rod and line, and taught me how
rto put on bait and we used to go to a
fine stream a long distance off and fish
together.
I never caught anything, but he as
sured me that I would some day, and
i felt very manly as I trotted away
beside him with my rod over my shoul
der.
I The not always welcome care of my
mother and aunts relaxed, and I heard
jit said that Ned was sure to follow
Morris everywhere, and to come homo
quite safe.
! uncle’s vacation was a very happy
time to me. When it was over a change
came. Feminine rule began once more.
I was forbidden to go to the river-side
•lest I should be drowned; and my
'rambles were limited to our own prop
erty and the deserted park of Kestrel
House.
j After his return to college my uncle
often wrote to me, and I was careful to
jreply, hunting up the big words in my
'little dictionary, but it was humiliat
ing to confess tliat I was considered too
small to go a-fishing in the river,
i However, one day an idea came into
my head which enabled me to obey my
relatives, and yet indulge in the sport
1 knew my uncle thought so much of.
I resolved to fish in the basin of Mer
maid Fountain in Kestrel Park, and ac
cordingly I carried my rod and line
there. Tho first day I had better luck
than usual, for I caught a small green
■frog.
i I looked at him a moment, reflected
dhat hi 3 frog mother might be anxious
!about him, and put him back in the
water; and I mentioned thi3 in my let
ter to Uncle Morris, who replied that
there was no knowing what I might
catch next; but I caught nothing more.
But one autumn morning, when all
the red leaves were falling and lloating
over the basin like little fairy boats, I
realized the fact that it was goowing
too chilly to sit with pleasure beside the
fountain waiting for a bite.
“Oh!” I thought, “if I could catch
something now, this last time! Some
thing to write to uncle about!”
L fA. *.l * r ' LL-J
up. I bail, perhaps, at last hooked a
lisle
Delighted. I carefully drew up the
line. Something glimmered upon tho
hook. It was not a fish.. However, 1
hastened to detach it. ami found it to
be a very handsome cluster diamond
ring.
Ignorant of its value as 1 was at that,
time, I could not but admire it. it spark
led so brilliantly. There was no mud
at the bottom of the spring.onlv shining
white pebbles. It was perfectly clean,
therefore, after its bath, whether that
had been long or short.
“I’ll give this to mamma," 1 said,
speaking aloud in my astonishment,
and ashamed of having done so when
1 heard the sound of my own words,
because it was “like the baby.” lint
the next moment someone answered
me.
“You have found my ring,” a voice
said in my ear; “you have found my
ring. At last, at last, thank lloaven!”
I turned.
The afternoon was drawing to a
close; the park was grey with shadow,
and misty with the autumn air; and
tho figure of a woman near mo seemed
misty, too —a liguro dressed in white,
with pale hair hanging to its waist in
curls, and a face that 1 could barely see
was fair and delicate.
“Os such is the kingdom of Heaven,”
she whispered, “Child, take the ring
to Marmadiike Kestrei. Toll him that
Agnes Hitt not lie. Tell him you found
it in the Mermaid Fountain, 'lull him
1 7
Her voice grow faint She was gone.
Who is she? Where did she go? I
was vaguely terrified, and clutching tke
ring tightly in one hand, I began to
run, but looking over my shoulder to
see if she was following me, 1 stumbled
and fell.
Someone picked me up. It was old
M armadnke Kestrel himself.
Sometimes I had seen him walking
sadly through the park by himself,
though ho lived a long distance off at
a hotel, and was often abroad. Travel
ing for his health, people said.
“What is tho matter, little one?" ho
said. “Have you hurt yourself?"
“No,” I said. “The lady frightened
me. She was—she seemed to go out
like a candle. She said it was her ring;
but she did not take it She said I was
to give it to you, and say: ‘Agnes did
not lie.’ Is she Agnes? Does she
always look lik« that? What did she
mean?”
Mr. Kestrel sat down upon the stone
seat beside the fountain, and held mo
by the arms, and stared into my face.
“Tell me what you moan, boy,” tic
said.
“I was fishing in tho basin of tho
fountain there,” said I. “and I thought
l had caught a trout, but it was no fish
at all, but a beautiful, shining ring.
Sec!”
1 held it out to him as well as I could
with his grasp upon my arms, and he
let go of me and took it from me. • lie
peered at it curiously, and said:
“Your eyes arc young. Head what is
engraved on the inside, child.”
And witli much pains, for it was
growing twilight, 1 spelled out these
words:
“To Agnes, from Marmaduko, 18—.”
Then he took it from me again and
said:
“Go on.”
“I thought it was a pretty ring,” 1
said, “and I would give it to mamma.
Aud then there was a lady there by
the fountain, fair, with long, light
curls, but like smoke or mist. I could
not help being frightened, and she
said:
“‘lt is my ring. It is found at last,
thank Heaven!’ —and words that Jesus
said in the Bible and then, ‘Give it to
Marmaduko Kestrel and tell him you
found it in the fountain, and Agnes
did not lie.’ Was she Agnes?”
He answered, “Yes,” and stooped
down and kissed me, and went his way,
taking the ring with him, and I ran
home to my mother and told her the
story. She" was frightened. She held
me close.
“What was she, mother?” I ask
ed.
“I do not know,” she answered. “It
is in our family to see strange things.
Perhaps you have scon one of them. l>o
not talk about it, and say your prayers
to-night very carefully.”
An hour or so after this my father
drove home from the nearest town in
his light trap.
“Something happened at the hotel
this evening,” he said. “Marmaduko
Kestrel is dead. He came back very
pale after a walk in Kestrel l'ark, they
think; and a fall was heard in his room
soon after. They found him on the
floor beside his desk, already dead; but
he had written on a paper words nearly
like these:
•“I have doubted the purity of the
sweetest woman who ever lived. Let
them bury me near the fountain in Kes
trel Park, with the ring I wear upon my
linger, and write upon my stone these
words:
“‘“To the memory of Agnes, most
faithful and beloved wife of Marma
duke Kestrel, whose body lieth here, but
whose soul hath gono to ask pardon of
her he wronged in thought for twenty
bitter years.”’”
And my mother, with a cry, clung
to his arm and told him my strange
story.
“What does it all mean?” I asked.
“Who was Agnes? What did Mr. Kes
trel do to her? What was it I saw iu
the park? Was it a ghost?”
But my mother put her hand over my
mouth, and my father told me that there
were strange things and wicked stories
in this world that children could not
understand, but that Agnes Kestrel was
said to have died of a Broken heart be
cause her husband was cruel to her,
and thought she had given away a ring
ahe swore she had lost.
MT. V KIvNON. MONTGOMERY, 00., <i.\„ THURSDAY, DECEMBER 2, I88(i.
"SUB DEO FAC 10 FORT IT FR ”
Afterwards I" understood what this
story might be; but 1 cannot explain to
myself what it was that happened in
Kestrel Park any more clearly than I
understood it in my childhood.
HO HACK GREELEY.
A IJrookly ill to Toll* of n Novol Exporl
i»ih*o With tlu* Philosopher*
Said the gentleman to a Brooklyn
Eagle contributor:
“Years ago I was staying with a
friend in a flourishing town in New
Jersey, on a short visit, lie was a pub
lie spirited man, and worthily desired
to become a popular one. lie thought
that if he secured Horace Greeley to de
liveran address to the citizens of the
place they would be both gratified and
instructed.
“Mr. Greeley accepted tho invitation,
and his acceptance was widely an
nounced. lie was to arrive at my friend’s
house the evening before the day ap
pointed. and was to speak the after
noon of that day. The sudden illness
of a relative called my friend away,
and he enjoined on me to represent the
facts to Mr. Greeley and to make him
foci at home.
“I was a young man then, had mot
the philosopher only once before and
that casually. You may imagine that 1
was desirous of having him appreciate
the hospitality of our host, especially as
the latter had made mo his representa
tive.
“Mr. Greeley was expected at 8 P
M., but tho Camden and Amboy road
ran as it pleased in those days, and
when tho train had not arrived at 11
the family felt more regret than sur
prise and closed up the house for tho
night. I occupied the room over the
porch, in which were two large, old
fashioned mahogany four posters, one
of them meant for the expected guest.
“About half an hour after midnight I
was awakened by a furious assault on
tho outer door, made by some one work
ing tho old brass knocker for all it was
worth. The strokes were the impet
uous ones of an impatient and angry
man. liaising the window, I inquired
who was there?
•‘ ‘Horace Greeley,’ was tho quick
reply.
“1 hastened down, let him in, ex
plained the circumstances and express
ed the hope that he was not ignorant of
the delays of tho Camden and Amboy
Railroad company.
“ ‘l’ve had a liberal education on
that subject to-night,’ lie replied,‘and
shall give the readers of the Tribum
full information on the matter.’
“With this expression of an intention
to make a newspaper article of his mis
haps, Mr. Greeley became quite cheer
ful. The purpose seemed to relieve it is
mind. lie chatted pleasantly, undress
ed quickly and, to my surprise, tumbled
into the same bed I was occupying,
with tho brief request to ‘get over a
little.’
“Soon wo both went to sleep. After
awhile I was awakened by a terrible
nudging in the ribs and found it came
from the very acute elbow of my bed
fellow.
‘“What do you want, Mr. Greeley?’
I asked.
“ ‘Nothing,’ lie replied in a high fal
setto, but with uncommon meekness <>f
spirit, ‘except that I do wish you would
keep your feet off of my stomach.’
“The request was so reasonable that
I complied and so funny that I laughed,
saying to hint:
“ ‘The other bed was intended for
you.’
“ ‘Why didn’t you toll me so?’ lie in
quired.
“ ‘Because,’ I rejoined quickly, ‘I
wanted to be able to say 1 bad slept
with Horace Greeley.’
“That was but the truth, yet I sa.*
that the implied compliment did not
displease him. He immediately and
very dryly remarked.
“ ‘Well, Horace Greeley, to be able to
say that ho slept at all, will take the
other bed.’ And he did.
“On awakening in tho morning, 1
discovered that the old man had dressed 1
and had gone down stairs. 1 found
him hard at work at the writing desk in
the study, driving a quill as fast as hi
hand could let him. When he got to
the twentieth page lie rolled up the
manuscript tightly till it looked like the
barrel of a horse-pistol, directed it to
•Sidney Howard Gav. Tribune, office.
New York,’ and in the corner wrote:
‘Must, to-morrow, H. G.’
“It turned out to be a ferocious attack
on the Camden and Amboy Railway
company, as he had promised tho night
before.
‘iDuring the day tho house was filled
up with other guests, among them many
lady friends of tho squire’s daughters.
We were the guests of the squire. After
the address in the afternoon, Mr. Gree
ley consented to stay over night, and
then went for a drive with the host,
who had returned that morning. I was
detained by a bad headache, and went
up to my room to lie down. As I near
ed the room several mischievous-look
ing girls emerged from it with: ‘Ex
cuse us; we were merely looking around
to sec that everything was made com
fortable for Mr. Greeley.’
“Something in their manner led me,
who had had experience with the tricks
of girls, to make an examination. That
examination led me quietly to move tho
bedstead I had occupied over to where
the one was which Mr. Greeley had oc
cupied and tho latter over to where tlie
Other ono had been. I held my peace,
and retired early. Soon the philosopher
came up in high spirits, undressed
quickly, put out the iight, and got into
bed. At least he tried to do so, but not
with entire success.
“ ‘What in thunder’s the matter with
this bed,’ he asked, but, as I was ap
parently asleep, no answer came front
me. lie struck a match, made a hasty
inspection while tho flame lasted, and
tried to get into bod again.
“‘Foots like l was iu a blamed bag.’
he muttered. Then there was t lie soumi
of a furious struggle in the bed. Tho
old mail, at this time, got up, swearing
like a pirate. Ho lighted tho lamp, and
strode with linn tread and many exple
tives. but iu only one garment, toward
the door, declaring that he would ho
blanked and double blanked if ho didn’t
litid out what the matter was.
‘‘As ho got liis hand on the knob
there was a chorus of frightened screams
outside, and as tho door opened by tho
light of the lamp which he carried 1 saw
four or live girls quickly disappearing
down the hall. Mr. Greeley called out
for tiie squire in no gentle tones. After
a period long enough to tenable the
squire’s wife to give him some informa
tion, the gentleman appeared and told
Mr. Greeley that “ho had just learned
that those fool girls had lqade tip his
bed pie fashion for fun, that nfwrnoon,
but chat he would lix ißright.’ There
upon the squire tul’ucd up the bed
clothes from tho foot and showed Mr.
Greeley how the girls had turned up the
under sheet half its length, which ex
plained why the gentleman ‘felt as if ho
was in a blamed bag.’
“By this time 1 was laughing im
moderately—too much so, because Mr.
Greeley turned round and said to me:
“ Til bo blanked if 1 don’t boliovo
you know about this.’
“1 did, but protested that 1 did not,
all the same.
“The next morning it was Mr. Greo
loy’s turn to laugh. I awoke, feeling as
sore as if 1 had been beaten all over
with Indian clubs. Those wicked girls
had packed the entire space between
tho feather bod and tho matress in my
bed with old-fashioned daguerreotypes
and umbrotypos. You know that tho
frames or cases in which they wore in
closed were us hard as iron. I had
been too much amused at Mr. Greeley’s
predicament to examine my own bod or
to notice anything especially hard about
it, at lirst. But 1 had just as much rea
son to inveigh against tho mischievous
sprites as he had, and more, too, for ho
secured a reform of their trickery iu his
caso and I did not in mine.”
Care of the Sick.
A feeding cup is useful when the suf
ferer is not too ill to drink, as liquids
can he given without tho head being
raisod from tho pillow. When there is
unwillingness to take food a little gentle
persuasion will sometimes overcome tho
difficulty. It is useless to say in tin au
thoritative tone “Yon must take this,”
that instantly rouses every spark of sell
assertion in the weakened mind and the
sick person immediately determines that
he aii.B do nothing of the kind and no
power on earth shall make him swallow
it. When the drink is refused and the
nurse finds that persuasion is of no
avail, if she takes it away for a few
moments and then offers it again with
no allusion to the past refusal, it will
sometimes be taken without any ob
jection. A spoonful may be taken when
a drink from a cup is indignantly re
jected, or vice versa. When food is
persistently refused, as in some forms
of mania, and it becomes necessary to
administer it by force, the hands should
be hold by one person while the nurse
holding tiie spoon full of liquid in her
right hand, with her left gently com
press the nostrils of the patient. This
compels him to open his mouth to
breathe and then tho fluid can bo
poured in. It should be given just after
the sufferer has exhaled a breathe, or it
will be sputtered out, and as lie inhales
tho air the food will slip down without
his being able to prevent St
itt feeding an unconscious or insen
sible person put the tip of the spoon be
tween the teeth and try to separate
them, the action will sometimes rouse
the sufferer sufficiently to induce him to
open them. When this cannot be done
insert the lip of the linger at the cornc*’
of the month and draw it away from
the gum sufficiently to pour in a litt.o
liquid. It will trickle iu between tho
interstices of the teeth and lind its way
down the throat unless all power of
swallowing is gone. Feed very slowly
and be sure that one spoonful has been
absorbed before giving another. Never
allow any food, especially milk, to
stand in the sick room. It should be
kept on a shelf outside a window in an
adjoining apartment. Elisabeth Hob
it t sun Scuvil, in Clood Housekeeping.
Dog-Day s.
• The appellation of dog-days, as ap
plied to August’s healed term,” said a
prominent dog-fancier yesterday, “prob
ably originated hundreds of years ago,
when droves of dogs were kept in
oriental cities, with the idea that the
animals were a sanitary necessity, as
they consumed a large portion of the
household refuse. These dogs being
unsheltered during midsummer were
subject to intense heat, which affects a
canine’s brain very quickly, and sends
him off into a mild sort of fit. The ani
mal then dashes around frantically,
making a great deal of noise, and at
tracting considerable attention, but
usually doing no harm whatever. Jn
years past it was no uncommon sight iti
Philadelphia for a dog to dart through
the city, alarming the residents on every
side; but now it is a very rare thing, as
all superfluous dogflesh is tlisjjosed of
by the dog-catchers, and those puppies
that are unmolested are generally
thought something of and wcH cared
for.
“A man who knows anything about
dogs can detect one of these Spells, and
can check it quickly. The animal will
#iok his tail between liis legs, whine
piteously, anti act as if startled. The
only remedy is to hold him under a
hydrant, allowing the stream to flow
over the head, thereby cooling the
brain. All dogs are liable to lie at
tacked. particularly tine-bred dogs which
have boon overexerted aud overheated.”
ThilatUlphia Hccord.
AN OUT LAW BEAUTY.
The IntfMont Caiiimml In Southern Colorado
by tin* Apponrstiu'o of n Dashing
Fnnitlo,
Nows lias been received in Denver,
says the News of that city, of the pres
ence of tho noted Texas female bandit
in Colorado. She and her male com
panions, with a complete camp outfit,
arc camped within four miles of Monte
Vista, near Del Norte, in the southern
part of the state. She and her gang
made their appearance there about two
weeks ago, and so far have resisted all
attempts at interview, and many efforts
have been made to ascertain their busi
ness in that locality. Tho citizens were
naturally curious about their presence,
and when all advances were repelled
by tho woman and her companions, the
citizens came to tho conclusion that
they were there for no good, probably
robbery. Not wanting them in their
midst, and not knowing exactly how to
get rid of them, a meeting was held
and a man commissioned to come to
Denver to consult Gen. 1). J. Cook. Tho
gentleman arrived in Denver, and held
a long conversation with the general,
but what plan, if ati v, was agreed upon
to rid the neighborhood of the suspi
cious characters, is not known.
Through tho courtesy of Gen. Cook a
reporter had an interview with tho
gentleman from Monte Vista.
“Everybody, in our neighborhood,”
he said, “don’t take much stock iu the
woman, believing her to be a man or a
boy who has assumed tho female garb
for a purpose, and that purpose is rob
bery. She (I’ll call her a she) and her
companions went into camp, l think,
about two weeks ago. Monday morn
ing two hunters struck the camp, and
were going forward to it, when they
were stopped by a girlish voice com
manding them to halt. When they re
covered from their surprise they noticed
a slim, girlish figure calmly seated on a
thoroughbred horse, a revolver in each
hand, seemingly awaiting their ap
proach.
“They hallooed that they were
friends and meant no incivilty iu at
tempting to approach tho camp.
“She made no reply but waved them
off with her pistol. No sooner had they
turned their hacks oil the hospitable
newcomer than she put her horse into a
gallop and circled around them, riding
with such Hkill and grace as to elicit
the admiration of the hunters. When
they came to Monte Vista and told
their story it was discredited, but since
then everyone in the place has had a
glimpse of her and several of her male
companions, and two or three have had
a few moments conversation with hor.
I am one of tho favored few In the latter
respect.”
“What is she like?”
“I should jttdgo him or her (o he
about 18 or 19 years old, long black
hair that is allowed to float down her
back, black eyes, a thin,-brown, at
tractive face, white teeth, and rather
thin lips. She is not over 5 feet 6
inches in height, lias a slim but well
rounded figure, and her whole make-up
reminded me of a wild cat. She hail
on when I saw her a tight, fitting gray
dress, short enough to disclose her
buckskin moccasins and leggings.
Around her waist was a white leather
belt supporting two scabbards, iu
which were two large ivory-handled re
volvers. On her head she wore a white
sombrero or cowboy hat, one side of
which was pinned up with a silver
bridle Lit. She was mounted on a
thoroughbred gray stallion, and was
one of the prettiest pictures 1 have Been
for a good while.
“1 asked her who she was, and sho
replied in a not unmusical voice, Imt
with a decided southern accent, that
sho was the ‘Texas Queen.’ 1 further
asked her what her business was and
she replied that it consisted in attend
ing to hor own business. J then asked
her why she would allow no one to en
ter her camp, and she replied that she
would allow no one to interview her,
and if she allowed one person to come
into her camp everybody else would
want to do tiie same thing, and she
wasn’t going to allow anyone to meddle
witli her surroundings.
“While talkiutr to Tier I had cradually
approached, but she took in my every
rnoveDicnt, and when 1 was within
about ten feet of her she wheeled her
horse and was off like an arrow. She
circled around mo for several minutes,
gradually narrowing tiie circle until
sho was iri about twenty feet, probably,
of where I stood, and suddenly reined
her horse hack on its haunches. Plac
ing the bridle-reins in her teeth sho
drew her revolvers, and, motioning
with her left hand to two small trees
which stood on either side, and about
the same distance from the trail, proba
bly about fifty yards ahead, sho urged
her horse to full speed, aud when what
seemed to me directly between the trees
she fired both revolvers, and without
turning to look around rode on in the
direction of her carnp.
“I was curious to sec the result of her
marksmanship, and on going to tho
trees found a bullet iu each one about
the same distance from the ground.
She has also displayed her wonderful
nmrkmanship to several others in our
place, and all of them assert that they
have never seen any one, even in this
land of good shots, so remarkable skill
ful with the pistol.”
“Has anyone else found out any more
about her than you have?”
“I think not She has been seen sev
eral times mounted on a superb bay
horse, which is as well trained as her
gray and probably as fleet To tell you
the truth, we don’t know what to make
of her. Sho won’t allow anyone to get
near enough to capture her, and as she
hasn’t done anything to warrant us in
using force to arrest her, we don’t know
what to do. There is one thing sure,
however, we don’t want her in our
neighborhood, apd for that reason L
VOL I. NO 40.
caiuo to Denver to consult with Gen. 1
Cook. We are not scared, but we are'
naturally curious, and want the mystery 1
explained. Not one among us who has l
Been the ‘queen’ but believes it is a man
masquerading in female attire.”
“Did you ever hear of the female out
law of Texas, who was chased into
Arkansas and then into Indian Terri
tory, where she was at last accounts?" i
“No; l never heard of her.” .
The ‘gentleman was shown a slip
from a St. Louts paper giving a de
scription of the beautiful outlaw and an
interview with her, in which she said
that slie had never been interviewed,
and declaring her intention of killiug
the first reporter that attempted to in
terview her.
"That settles it,” he said. "That is
the identical girl. 1 was under the im
pression that the ‘queen’ was a man,
lint the fellow who wrote that certainly
had better opportunities to know who
and what site is than I have had or
anybody in our community. lie has
described her characteristics exactly,
and especially her aversion to being in-'
terviewod. What ho said about her
fancy shooting is true, as I and others
can swear to.”
"Will Gen. Cook go to Monte Vista?”;
"1 suppose he will, lie says if we 1
want him to go ami and arrest her and
her companions, lie’ll do it I will have'
to consult with tho boys when I get
back, and if we ngree in having the)
party run in, we'll telegraph thogcuoral
and he’ll come.”
Strange to say, Gen. Cook had never;
heard of the Texas female outlaw. After!
reading her description and characterise
tics he is inclined to the belief that the*
strange character camped near Monte'
Vista is one and the same person. When
asked if he were going to attempt her!
arrest ho said he hadn’t heard anything 1
about it, but if ho attempted to inter
view her he would do so. He says he is 1
satisfied that she and her male com
panions are horse thieves, and the soon
er they are run out of the country the
better oil’ the country will be. Whether
she is a horse thief or not he thinks 1
Colorado can get along very well with
out any of her class.
In an Old RngllHli Kitchen.
.ftist outside tho gate and across tho
way from the shop of tho potato and
pork merchant’s there stands, as it has
stood for a couple of centuries, the old
I’alstalt Inn. We went in uuder tfie
sign through a low doorway, overgrown
with ivy. At tho end of the hall was a
lovely old kitchen with a floor of cool
tiles and a gorgeous dinner service of
purple, rod, blue, and gold displayed in
wiiln r/w.ks npiiimt the watt. A
fire was burning, the red coal glowing
between the bars of the grate, and a
deal of cooking was going on. The
kettle was boiling witii a fussy effusion
like that, of a comfortable, home keep
ing, good-hearted, motherly woman,
bustling about to get tilings ready for
her good man anutho children. A log
of lamb was roasting before the lire. A
string, or thin iron chain, I believe it
was, was fastened from the mantle
shelf, and from the other end hung the
meat, dangling directly in front of the
grate bars. A plate was set under
neath to catch the drippings. 1 had a
bit of that lamb with some mint sauce
for my dinner, and 1 can attest that it
was most excellent eating. I wish l
had some of it at this moment.
A trim young woman, wearing tho
whitest of mob caps, the cleanest of
white aprons, stood before the fire
broiling a chop. She had a long-han
dled, double tin broiler or gridiron in
her hands. The chop was shut up in
this, and she patiently held it before tho
lire as we would hold up a wet towel to
dry, turning it round now and then;
and what with the tea-kettle, the burst
ing of the skin of this leg of tho lamb,
the sizzling of the savory chop, most
comforting, if deafening, noises filled
the cozy room. The girl turned a rosy
face at us and smiled comfortably. Tho
smile, the goodly old kitchen, tho rows
of delf on the wall, the nodding red
hollyhocks out in the garden, the recol
lecting of that swinging jolly old Fal
stall’, of the charming windows and
deep window seats warmed me to the
heart with enthusiasm. —Catherine Cole,
in New Orleans I‘icayune. *
Character In Curl I’apers.
Curl papers show character. Subtle
distinctions of personality, based on the
curl pa|>crs of a young woman, may be
as positive as they are intricate anil in
teresting. Your creature of principle,
who eschews curl papers as deceptive in
results must of course be left out of this
category. And the fortunate feminine
whose hair kinks and curls better on a
rainy day, or in a sea breeze, or on a
melting summer afternoon than at any
other time, cannot bo counted either.
Hut among the devotees of the curl pa
per, variations of character may be safe
ly and successfully catalogued by a study
of the times and the manner of its use.
Os course a society belle never uses pa
per for her frisot. It is done up on a
pretty patented arrangement of kid or
something else, and this genus of curl
paper is never seen outside of its wear- i
er’s own private apartment Hut in
tho ordinary home paper is usually used
to curl the front hair. And it may be
set down as an infallible rule that the
young jierson who appears at tho break
fast table with her forehead adorned by
frizzes, in prospect rather than in reality,
is lacking in a sense of the fitness of
things; she who wears her frizz papers
until lunch time is both lazy and selfish,
while she who wears them all day and
never takes them down until sunset
needs no other sign to show her ignor
ance and her vanity. A crusade against
tho curl paper would mean, first of all,
tho preaching of the doctrine of an all
day comeliness instead of that spas
modic chrysalis sort which is associated
with its me.—Boston Record. <