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HE AND SHE.
••If I were king,” he said,
“And you v, ere just a lowly beggar maid,
NV ith my strong hand I’d lift you to my side
And crown you queen; and in the great king’s
bride
Men would not know,
Or would forget, the beggar maid.-
“If I were queen,” she said,
“And you, a careless, wandering minstrel,
strayed
To my fair court, I’d set you on the throne:
And being there,the greatest king e’er known,
1 would kneel down
And serve you as your maid.”
—Elizabeth Bisland, in Outing.
SAVED BY THE POGONIP
BY E. L. MERRILL.
Joe Frost was one of those fortunate
men whom the newspapers mention only
on occason of their birth, marriage and
death—three times in all; and as Joe
was still living and not yet married, the
“mighty engine of public opinion” had
Ihus far contented itself with a very
brief notice of his advent into this I
world.
Joe was my partner, and I was as much
like him as one man can well be like an
other. We were both “no-account”
men, raised “way back” in an eastern
county, and had taken the gold fever
and gone to California together about
five years too late to achieve success.
At last, in ’64, we drifted around to
the then young mining town of Austin,
Nevada, at about the time its citizens
;were engaged in a “friendly” war for ex
istence with the “city” of Clifton, lower
down the mountain, and were building
the famous “grade” which gave Austin
the lead and Clifton the “go-by.”
But Joe and I failed to “strike it rich”
there. The best we could do was to
labor by the day at the quartz mills, for
we had no capital to set up at silver
mining on our own account. All bread
stuffs were so dear at that time that it
took about all a man's earnings at good
wages to pay his board.
Potatoes and garden vegetables had
to be brought, either on mules or in
wagons, for hundreds of miles. In fact,
a mess of potatoes was literally worth its
weight in silver, for all the neighboring
country is a desert of mineral ledges’
rocky hills and alkali “sinks.” I wish
to give no present offence to Austin peo
ple, but that, at least, was what it looked
to us at that time—a place where, by no
possibility, anything like a kitchen gar
den ever could flouri-h.
Joe and I used to “prospect” a little
now and then during the first six montns !
of our sojourn at Austin, for we were
still hoping “to strike it” somewhere.
One day we did strike it, though mod- !
estly and not in the way we had ex
pected.
•b- At a distance of eight or ten miles
from Austin there is a rivulet which is
dignified by the name of a river—“ Reese
River.” It flows down from the north
ward, and not far below Austin 10-es it
self entirely in the desert, and that is the
end of it, for it differs from most rivers
in that it gets larger as you follow it
back toward its source.
i As we were making across the coun
try, we came to a kind of creek, or arm
of Reese River, at a distance of twenty
five or thirty miles from Austin, where
there was—it seems almost incredible—a I
little soil of alluvial formation, a plot a :
few acres in extent where it looked pos
sible to cultivate. We had stopped near
the spot to make coffee and fry bacon,
and noticing how much darker the earth
was in color, and how mucn better
grown the grass stalks and sage brush
jvvere, Joe remarked that he reckoned
“truck"’ might be raised there.
! Nothing more was said about it at that
time, but, as we went back to town, we
got to figuring up what a common truck
patch would bring in to a man at Austin.
The enterprise promised so handsomely
that Joe became really somewhat excited,
enough so to exclaim: “By hemp, let's
try it!”
They told us at Austin that no vege
tables could be grown thereabouts, but
we were not satisfied with their dis
couraging statements. I wrote to a man
I knew in C alifornia to send me a bushel
of the “seedends” of Irish potatoes, and
Frost wrote home to his brother—it was
the first time he had written for more than
two years—to send him a lot of garden
seeds and a quart of sweet corn, in two
packages, by mail; also some “string”
beans and pease.
In a few weeks we got in quite a
quantity of such seeds, also the potatoes, j
for the transportation of which I paid j
se\ en dollars. Then in March we bought
a mule and went out to the scene of our
proposed effort to sunply Austin with
garden-truck.
First we built a “root-out” shanty,
which vve thatched w r ith dry grass stalks j
and other brush, and then set to work to
grub up a couple of acres of the soil.
Jhe place was along the east bank of
the little creek above mentioned. A i
rocky hill, or mesa, inclosed it on the
north and eastward at a distance _of a
couple of hundred yards, while t<s the
south the view opened out toward the
channel of the Reese.
We grubbed up our ground, planted
our potatoes, corn, beans and seeds, and
constructed a dam across the bed of the
arroyo to hold backwater for irrigation,
as we had seen done in California =
It was by no means the best of soil.
Nevertheless, the most of the seed came
up, and the vegetables thrived much bet
ter than we had expected to see them.
On the seventh week we were pedling
green truck in Austin, and found a good
market for all we had. It is rather a
large story-to tell, but before the first day
of October we had sold nearly six hun
dred dollar.--’ worth of truck grown on
two acres of land.
We decided to stick to the business;
at least, to try it another year. During
October and November we built an adobe
hut and corral, aud began work on a
large reservoir for storing up water, for
water was the one thing needful to make
truck grow, it was while we were at
work on the reservoir in the creek bed,
on one ot the last days of November,
that we were attacked by a party of
eleven Indians.
We knew very little of the habits or
distinguishing traits and appeaiance of
different tribes of Indians. These were
the first we had seen there, and at Austin
there had been no talk of Indians.
"Whether they were Utes or Apaches I do
not know.
Two days before—as we subsequently
learned—some wagons had been attacked
and plundered by a band of about that
number of redskins.
It was still cold, but bright weather.
The sun shone into the great hole which
we had excavated, and it was not uncom
fortable working. About noon we were
getting gravel up the bank in a wheel
barrow ; I had two bits of board laid up
the incline, and had just reached the top
of it with a barrow load, when spang!
came a bullet through the side of the
barrow, and another bored the air just
back of my ears at the same instant.
I dropped the barrow arms and looked
in the direction from which the sound
came. Joe, who was down in the hole,
ran up the boards behind me, at the
same moment, exclaiming: “Who’s that
firing?”
We both saw the powder smoke near
the mesa, and caught sight of four
mounted Indians galloping around
through the sage brush to the west of us,
with the evident intention of cutting
off our retreat that way.
We were so much astonished that for
a moment we stood staring at them, then
back at the smoke; but another ball sang |
past otir heads, and fully awakened us
to the fact that we were spoken for.
“To the doby!” muttered Joe, and we
both ran for our new mud-cake house. It
stood not more than thirty yards distant
from our reservoir. Seeing us running ,
to cover, the reds gave a whoop, accom- j
panied bj shouts of derisive laughter, j
Still another ball plugged into the clay i
wall of the house in front of us, as we j
ran for the door.
| We sprang in and closed the door, and
j this made the inside rather dark, for
there was but a single window hole, two
feet square, not as yet provided with a
shutter. While Joe barred and propped
the door, I seized our only weapon of de
t fence, an old Sharpe’s carbine, one of
i those with the joint at the base of the
j barrel, and sprang to the window,
j which was in the end next to our corral
| and truck patch.
The gun was loaded, with loose
powder aud a ball, having a “ patch ’’ of
cotton cloth; and we had a few charges
more. The corral partly obstructed the
view; but we could hear the feet of the
horses as they galloped around in the
rear of the hut. The corral wall was of
sods and mud, piled to a height of six
or seven feet—ust high enough to shut
the view from the window. Our mule
was grazing about the bottom. Never
was a hut worse planned for defense, but
Joe and I had nothing of the Indian
fighter in us and had never anticipated
trouble with the redskins there.
The savages soon discovered that we
were frightened and in a desperate situa- 1
tion. They worked gradually up quite
near to the hut. Two or three of them
came forward under cover of the outer
wall of the corral.
After a moment a tufted head rose
suddenly into view for a look at the
window, then as quickly drew down
again; and, although I fired. I was con
scious of doing so too late. Another de
risive yell responded to my shot, and
was repeated from all around the doby
and the corral.
We made haste to recharge the car
bine, but with sinking courage. Joe
looked as white as paper.
“Ed,” he exclaimed, in a husky
voice,, “we’re gone up !”
His hands shook. I know that I was
equally scared. One of the redskins
understood English; for w T e heard the
same voice repeatedly call out: “White
man, dog! White man, squaw! White
man, come out!” Then the others would
yell in derision. Yet, knowing that we
had firearms, they kept out of sight
from the window hole; nor did I
proach the door, fearing,
we might have a loop hole there.
But they could see that the rest of the
hut was solid adobe, and did not hesi
tate to approach on the back side and
west end of it. Several large ies
were flung upon the thatch roof over our
heads, by way of testing it, I suppose.
In fact, the wretches had things very
much their own way. We were like two j
badgers in a hole; they had only to dig
us out.
Then three or four stones were flung
violently against the door; but it was
too well propped to yield. All the time
they kept calling out insultingly:
“White man, squaw! White maD, you
die very soon!” at all of which there was
great laughter and leering.
At length we heard them breaking up
the pieces of board at the bank of our
proposed reservoir, splitting and hack
ing them to slivers. It then suddenly
flashed into my mind, that they were
making kindling wood for a fire. I
thought of our thatch roof and shud
dered. Joe was equally quick to divine
what was coming.
“Ed,” he whispered, glancing up at
the dry moss, they’re going to burn us
out.”
What moments of agonizing suspense
those were! Soon we heard the blaze
crackling in the dry slivers. In our des
peration, we were on the point of throw
ing open the door to fire on them. But
what was one shot? They would pour
in a volley.
In a few minutes we heard the sound
of brands falling on the roof, at which
the entire party redoubled their shouts
and triumphant hooting:
“Squaw-man smoke! Squaw-man
burn up very soon!”
The roof was on fire, beginning to
blaze: we could hear it and see little
blue wreaths of smoke working down
through the thick moss—when an ex
clamation from one of the Indians, on a
different, key from the chorus of exultant
shouts, arrested our attention.
A sudden silence followed it; then
: other exclamations of “Pogonip! Pogo
nip!” and a moment later we heard hasty
1 steps, moving off, then the more distant
| gallop of horses.
Yet, fearing some ruse, we did not
I open the door at once, nor, indeed, until
the tire began to drop down upon us
from the burning brush and grass over
head. At a motion from ue, .Joe then
pulled away the props and hauled the
j door wide open. I stood ready to
; shoot.
No Indians were in sight; but a truly
| strange and well-nigh indescribable
spectacle met our eyes. Rolling down
from the mesa and envelopping the
whole bottom, writhing in vast spirals
and whorls and moving rapidly forward,
came a great white cloud, like steam in
midwinter. It seemed to fill the entire
heavens. A straDge elemental sigh of
the atmosphere and a sense of chill were
waited forward, in advance of it.
In a moment more it was upon us,
| with a gusty howl, and such a smiting
numbing sensation of icy cold as I nevei
! before experienced. The air was filled
j with minute crystals of ice. The blazing
| roof roared in it for a moment, and then
| seemed to be swept away, thatch, fire
I and all together.
AVe crouched down behind the adobe
walls and protected ourselves there, in a
measure; but our faces and our fingers
smarted with the cold, and a deadly
chill seemed to penetrate to our very
marrow:
It was dark as evening for a time, and
a layer of what seemed to be finely pow
dered ice beat in upon us and covered
the ground to the depth of two inches.
In the course of half an hour this
strange storm abated, and the weather
cleared again before sunset; yet it re
mained very cold throughout the even
ing. and we passed a very comfortless
night in our roofless doby, not daring to
venture forth lest the redskins might be
in the vicinity.
We saw no more of them, nor did we
ever hear anything further of their dep
redations. They rode away in haste, evi
dently to escape from the fury of that
icy tornado.
Next morning we found our mule
dead: and, although no tvounds w-ere
visible on the carcass, we were in some
doubt whether the animal had perished
in the tempest, or had met his death at
the hands of the Indians.
We had heard of the “pogonip” the
| previous winter, but had never encount
i ered a genuine one till that day. These
'singular ice-gales often come on during
i the brightest of weather. They are sup
-1 posed to originate in the sudden con
densation and freezing of vapor along
! the mountainous ridges of Nevada. In
an instant the air appears to be full of
icy needles, to inhale which produces ex
; cruciating suffering and may cause
death.
The old miners and Indians stand in
the greatest fear of a “pogonip,” and at
once make all haste to gain shelter.
That this strange gale should have
come rolling down from the mountains
| thus opportunely to aid us in our hour
of peril, always seemed to me little less
than providential. I have felt a singular
reverence for the phenomenon ever since.
I may add that despite our unpleasant
adventure, we continued our experiment
at market-gardening in the desert for
four years, aud did very well at it.
Youths Companion.
The Great Siberian Road.
From George Ivennan’s article in the
Century,vie quote the following: “These
transport wagons, or ‘obozes,’ form aj
characteristic feature of almost every
landscape on the great Siberian road
from the Ural Mountains to Tiumen.
They are small four-wheeled, one-horse
vehicles, rude and heavy in construction,
piled high with Siberian products, and
covered with coarse matting securely held
in piace by large wooden pin«. Every
horse is fastened by a long halter to the
preceding wagon, so that a train of fifty
or a hundred obozes forms one unbroken
caravan from a quarter of a mile to half a
mile in length. We passed 53S of these
loaded wagons in less than two hours,
and I counted 1445 in the course of our
first day's journey. No further evidence
was needed of the fact that Siberia is not
a land of desolation. Commercial pro
ducts at the rate of 1500 tons a day do
not come from a barren arctic waste.
“As it gradually grew dark toward
midnight, these caravans began to stop
for rest and refreshment by the roadside,
and every mile or two we came upon a
picturesque bivouac on the edge of the
forest, where a dozen or more oboze
drivers were gathered around a cheerful
camp-fire in the midst of their wagons,
while their liberated but hoppled horses
grazed and jumped awkwardly here and
there along the road or among the trees.
The gloomy evergreen forest, lighted up
from beneath by t|tf flickering blaze and
faintly tinged above by the glow of the
northern twilight, the red and black
Rembrandt outlines of the w-agems, and
the group of men in long kaftans and
scarlet or blue shirts gathered about the
camp-fire drinking tea, formed a strange,
striking, and peculiarly Russian picture.
We traveled without stop throughout
the night, changing horses at every post
station, and making about eight miles
an hour over a fairly good road. The
sun did uot set until half-past ‘J and rose
again about half-past 2, so that it was
not at any time very dark. The villages
through which we passed were some
times of great extent, but consisted al
most invariably of only two lines of log
houses standing with their gables to the
road, and separated one from another by
inclosed yards without a sign anywhere
of vegetation or trees. Une of these
villages formed a double row five miles
in length of separate houses, all fronting
on the Tsar’s highway. Around every
village there was an inclosed area of
pasture land, varying in extent from 200
to 500 acres, within which were kept the
inhabitants’ cattle: and at the point
where the inclosing fence crossed the
road, on each side of the village, there
were a gate and a gate-keeper’s hut.
These village gate-keepers are almost al
ways old and broken-down men, and in
Siberia they are generally criminal exiles.
It is their duty to see that none of the
village cattle stray out of the inclosure
and to open the gates for passing vehicles
at all hours of the day and night. From
the village commune they receive for
their services a mere pittance of three or
four rubles a month, and live in a
wretched hovel made of boughs and
earth, which throughout the year is
warmed, lighted, aud tilled with smoke
by an open fire on the ground.”
Our Eyes are Close Together.
The effort of the War Department to
secure a field glass for the service of
greater power than the one. they now
use, has discovered the fact that the eyes
of the average American are closer
together than those of men in foreign
countries. The double glass, known as
the field glass, now used, is weaker than
that used in the armies of Europe. It is
of only from five to six powers—entirely
too weak for the purpose. The only
glass they can get of sufficient power is
a single spy-glass, which is defective in
that it does not take in a broad enough
field. The best military field glass in
use is that with which the German army
is supplied. An attempt was made to
adopt them by the War Department,
but it was found that the eyes of the
glasses were so far apart that they could
not be used by Americans. Tha Depart
ment is studying now to overcome this
difficulty.— Pittsburg Dispatch.
CRATER LAKE.
ONE OF THE MOST WONDERFUL
BODIES OF WATER KNOWN.
A Caldron Six by Seven Miles in
Extent, Four Thousand Feet
Deep and Six Thousand
Feet Above the Sea.
The Portland Oregonian gives the fol
lowing extracts from Mr. O. B. Watson’s
lecture delivered before the Alpine Club
in Portland on the wonders of Crater
Lake, situated on the summit of the Cas
cade range in Oregon:
By soundings made during the geo
logical survey the water in Crater Lake
was found to be four thousand feet deep.
The surface of the water is 6351 feet
above the level of the sea. Wizard Island
has an altitude above the suface of the
water of 845 feet. Liao rock rises per
pendicularly above the water 2000 feet.
Heliotrope station is 1965 feet above the
water, Shag rock 2115 and Dutton cliff
j 2109 feet above the water-level of the
| lake. These are some of the most promi
nent points. Mount Scott, near at hand,
I is 9117 feet high.
The lake is oblong in shape and has its
direction from northeast to southwest*
It is six by seven miles in extent, con
taining an area of f6rty-two square miles.
This is a little more than the area of a
township of land, or about 25,000 acres, i
You could drop 25,000 city blocks, as
you have them here in Portland, side by
side into it. Its depth is 4000 feet. All
the buildings and other structures of
New York and Philadelphia broken up
and thrown into it would not fill it to
the top of its present banks. And yet it
was once a mountain towering 10,000,
and possibly 20,000 feet, above its high
est point. And all this mass of matter
has been scattered and destroyed by tire.
The great fires of Chicago, Boston and
Moscow combined would have been an
insignificant glimmer compared to it.
There is no other known volcanic crater,
active or extinct, that is not a mere
dwarf when compared to this one.
Crater lake has a feature that is
peculiar to itself, that is it is completely
by gigantic walls, nowhere
less 1000 feet high, and in some places
reaching a height of more than 2000 feet,
or an altitude above the level of the sea
of 83 >0 feet; three-fourths of the height
of Mt. Hood, within 1000 feet of the
summit of ,'Mount St. Helena, and 2000
feet higher than the top of Mount Wash
ington.
The ascent is not remarkably steep:
in fact, wagons can be driven to the very
brink. All at once, and without a
moment’s warning, we rind ourselves
emerging from the timber into an
amphitheatre-like opening.
Towering rocks rise on either hand and
point skyward. Around us is spread a
scene of desolation. Huge masses of
lava, ashes, pumice-stone, and scoria lie
scattered about or piled in irregular
shapes. No sign of life outside ot our
own little party is visible; the silence
and solitude are almost oppressive. Just
beyond rises a half circle of peaks, from
two hundred to one thousand feet high,
embracing an area of about forty souare
miles.
A few moments more and we are on the
brink of Crater lake, where, standing on
a pinnacle of rocks, we gaze with silent
wonder into its awful depth.
Just imagine this a boiling caldron,
six by seven miles in length, four thou
sand feet deep, with its liquid fire, shoot
ing its tongue of flames skyward, black
ing and charring the walls' of its rocky
prison from base to summit. The tracks
made by the flames are clearly visible,
and will remain so for some time to come.
The walls arc composed of conglomerate
masses of rock, all showing more or less
the unmistakable evidences of fire.
These walls—or rather this wa'l, for it
encircles the lake completely—varies in
height from 1000 to 2000 feet above the
water. In places it is almost vertical,
and a rock dropped from the highest
point finds no obstacle in the way for
nearly 1000 feet, and in two bounds
strikes the water, more than 2000 feet
below. I tried the experiment. Lying
flat, my face beyond the brink, I dropped
a stone from my hand, and as I watched
it sink down, down, down, I was taken
with an almost irresistible impulse to fol
low. The experiment was too unpleas
ant for repetition.
Toward the west end of the lake is
Wizard island, rising 815 feet above the
water. Capt. Dutton properly calls this
island a cinder-cone. It is a conical
shaped monntain, quite regular and sym
metrical in form, having a hopper or ex
cavation in the top, which is usually filled
with snow. Its character shows it to
have been without doubt the last chim
ney of the old volcano, which, judging
from evidences already remarked, and
from the growth of timber on its sides,
has slept for age-, and to all appearances
will sleep on to the end of time.
My first visit wa3 in 1878, and at that
time we only discovered one place where
it was possible to reach the water, and
there extreme caution was required to
avoid an accident. I have, however, re
cently understood that other safe passes
have been discovered, especially on the
north side. At the point discovered by
us a causeway has been worn through the
cliffs by the breaking away of huge
masses of rocks, which, dashing upon the
locks below, have worn out this passage
as we saw it, leaving in the track rock
dust and ashes, into which one sinks
ankle deep as he slowly wends his way
downward. This passage is about one
hundred feet wide, and in places its
walls are from one hundred to four hun
dred feet high. It is almost straight,
and about twelve hundred feet in per
pendicular height, the descent varying in
its inclination from twenty-five degrees
to forty-five degrees.
Tito Lortiest Inhabited Country.
Thibet, most of which is just becom
ing known to Europeans, is divided by
General 8. T. Walker, of the Royal
Geographical Society, into a southern
zone, 10,000 to 12,000 feet above the
sea. containing all the towns and
villages of the settled population; a
middle zone, 12,000 to 14,500 feet high,
comprising the pasture lands of the
nomad Bodpas, or pure Thibetans; and
a northern zone, 14,000 to 17,500 feet
above the sea, partly occupied at certain
seasons by Turkish and Mongolian
nomads, but mostly abandoned to wild
animals. The country is about 14,000
miles long by 000 miles wide.— Arkansas
Traveler.
The Noisy Toucan Bird.
In the window of a bird store up town,
says the New York Telegram, is ex
hibited a large bird of such curious ap
pearance that he draws general attention
from strangers.
Black as a raven, the bird has a bright
yellow breast, with a touch of white
over and red beneath the tail; its eyes
look like big black heads set in light
green buttons the size of a five-eent
piece; but the peculiar feature is the
bill, which is six inches or more in
length, over half as long as the body,
about as long as the broad tail, and
brightly colored in yellow and green,
the hooked tip of red.
The bird is a Toucan, from South
America. . Said the dealer:
“The bird looks clumsy in the cage,
almost ungainly, as though his bill
weighed a pound, but when hopping
around among the monkeys of his native
forest he is distinguished for his grace
and deviltry.
“The Toucans never fly far, but they
jump like cats through the trees, always
in flocks, making as much noise as a
sawmill. This poor fellow is silenl
enough here, you wouldn’t suppose he
was such a jabberer, now, would you!
But a lonely prisoner in a strange land,
you can’t blame him. Business es busi
ness, you know: I can sell the birds
and feed the little mouths in the home
nest, but I do feel sorry for some ol
them, they seem to lose their spirits so,
aud even if they eat and keep well they
have the blues all the time; others,
though, don’t mind, and are as chipper
as if they were flying around in the open
air where they came from. Good deal
like human beings, they are, after all;
what will break one man’s heart anothei
won’t lose a meal ov r ”
“What do you feed this bird?” asked
the reporter.
“Fish, soft fruits, eggs—none of ’err
go begging with him. At home he'd
eat small birds, and snakes, and eggs,
and flower bugs; if you look at the bib
inside—see here,” and the dealer opened
the bird’s bill till the hole was big
enough to take in a boa constrictor, “do
you see these saw like edges! Well, he
saws off the top of the flowers and picks
out the insects with this long, slendei
tongue of nis; once the insects get
speared in these little barbs that point
outward all over the tongue, and they’n
done for. You bet he’s a hustler if he
wants anything to eat. The bill isn't
as strong as it looks, though; is sort ol
spongy, but it has bones in its mouth to
help it out. He can get away with
about anything he wants, I guess. They
feed in flocks, and have one fellow posted
as sentinel; his cry of warning if any
thing goes wrong sounds like the word
‘tuc-ano’; that’s where the name comes
from.
“The toucan is not bad eating, itself,
it is said, although its flesh is a little
tough. Its brilliant plumage often costs
the bird its life. Then they play havoc
in their fruit raids. The broods are
small, only two eggs being laid. The
nest is a hole in a tree.
The Rabbit Pestin California.
In Caliiornia the mule-hare or jack
rabbit as it is called, has of late; years
developed into a pest. Vineyards and
young orchards are the scenes of its
operations during the summer seasons,
when all other vegetation has turned to
russet. The juicy young shoots of the
vine and the tender bark of fruit trees
are, at that period, seductive morsels to
the ja k-rabbit, and, like its English
cousin, it gets in most of its work under
the cover of darkness. The rapid de»
velopment of grape-culture throughout
the State, especially in the northern and
central counties, has made the jack-rab
bit an undesirable neighbor. The chief
method hitherto employed to control its
operations has been to fence it out. The
objection to this plan has been the ex
pense, as it necessitates the construction
of a close picket fence, whereas an oSdin
narv rail fence will keep out almost
every other depredating animal. In the
San Joaquin Valley round-ups have been
devised for the extermination of
the pest, and the experiments made
in that direction have been very
satisfactory. Last year thousands of
jack-rabbits were slaughtered in Tulare
Valley at one of these round-ups. Every
settler in the district turned out and
performed his share in driving the ani
mals into an enormous corral prepared
expressly for the purpose. This week
the experience was repeated with fair
success, the rainy weather interfering
somewhat with the operations of the
drovers.
If these round-ups were systematically
conducted in all of the valleys of the
State during ihe winter season, there
would soon be an end of the jack-rabbit
pest in California. The animal is migra
tory in its habits. In the summer it as
cends the hills and works on the unpro
tected orchards and vineyards during
the night, retreating under the cover of
chaparral and forest during the day. As
the rainy seasons set in, the jack-rabbits
descend again into the valleys and gather
in vast numbers on the great plains,
where round-ups, like those adopted at
Bakersfield this week and in other parts
of the San Joaquin Valley last year, are
easy to carry out, if all the settlers will
only co-operate. —San Francisco Bulletin.
Mysterious Fate of Mexican Exiles.
For many years Yucatan has been the
Siberia of Mexico, says the Philadelphia
Record, whither are exiled the offenders
whom the Government does not know
what to do wdth, since the amended con
stitution of the Liberal party practically
does away with capital punishment. It
is handy in case of political prisoners and
troublesome people generally —who
might turn up again if banished else
where—for from that bourne none has
ever returned. It has been the fashion to
conduct such obnoxious persons under
military guard to the front er of Yucatan
civilization, or to some out-of-the-way
landing place along the coast, and sim
ply let them go. What becomes of them
none can tell. The interior is known to
be populated by a warlike people, who
have towns and cities, and a certain de
gree of semi barbaric civilization.
Whether they enslave newcomers, or
natuiali/e and make citizens of them, or
put them to death, is food for conjecture.
Probably the mystery of it adds to the
punishment its greatest terror. How
ever, it is a well-known truth that among
the unfortunates condemned to Yucatan
few reach their destination, the soldiers
in charge having secret orders to give the
prisoners opportunities to escape and to
shoot them down the instant the seeming
cha ace is acted upon.
INDIAN BELIEFS. '
SUPERSTITIONS OFTHE PUEBLO
AND NAVAJOE TRIBES.
The Eagle anti the Snake Held In
Sacred Estimation—A Hid
eous Kite—Afraid of
the Camera, Etc.
A San Mateo (New Mexico! letter to
the St. Louis Globe-Democrat says: The
Pueblos—commonly called Indians, but
really descendants of the ancient Aztecs
—have numerous superstitions. The
eagle is a sacred bird with them—the
winged throne of .heir emperor god,
Monteezuma, for whose promised second
advent they still patiently wait. In any
of the Pueblo cities you will find the
great, dark eagles, either tethered upon
the housetops or penned in litPe corrals
of cedar, and religiously tended. The
Pueblo hunter always ha marvelous
luck if he carries with him a iny stoue
image of a cayote with a tiny arrow
head lashed to its side. Though nom
inally converted to CothoEcism, the
Pueblos are still secret but ardent tire
worshipers. The snake, too, is sacred to
them, and you will find its symbolic
coils in their rock sculptures and on
their quaint silver jewelry.
Some Pueblo towns used to keep each
an enormous snake in a closed room,and
feed it with children. The Pueblo of
La Cla, twenty-five miles west of Ber
nalillo, was nearly depopulated thus. It
had a snake of enormous size, kept in a
room whose doors and window's were
walled up. In the roof was a small hole,
sealed with a heavy flat rock. The first
day. of every month the! people drew
lots to see w'hose child “hould be sacri
ficed to the snake-god. The chosen babe
was carefully bathed and anointed, aud
then tossed, naked, down tl uoletothe
hungry serpent. It is om six years
since this hideous rite was -t- pped by a
priest, who finally prevailed u the Pu
eblos to tear down the walls d kill the
snake.
_ The Novajoes, now the strongest and
richest tribe of Indians in the country,
are all enormously superstitious. Their
oldest terror, perhaps, is that which they
cherish for the photographic camera. l
Plant a tripod within a quart.:- of a mile
of a Novajoe hogan and the dusky in
habitants will liee as from the plague.
It is their solemn belief that a picture is
actually subtracted from t - entity of
the sitter—that he is so much the less
by the operation. How many pictures
they would think it would be necessary
to take before the person would be all
gone, and his whole being diverted into
the counterfeit presentments, I have
never been able to learn, but, apparently,
they deem the fatality as rapid as it is
certain. The snake they hold in holy
abhorrence. Of the violence of their
prejudice against it I had a striking proof
some years ago. Chit-chi, brother of old
Mannelito, the boss silver-mith of the
tribe, is a very good friend of mine and
has made me some remarkable specimens
of native jewelry. On one occasion I
employed him to make me a bracelet in
the form of a snake. He had it about
half finished when some of his fellows
chanced to call at the hogan. To say
that they were horrified when they saw
what he was about is putting it very
mildly. They fell upon the obnoxious
figure and destroyed it, and then reported
Chit-chi to the elders of the tribe, who
promised him an artistic stoning to death
if he ever dabbled again in such tabooed
workmanship.
But the most vivid of all Navajoe su
perstitions cluster around the bear—
Shash, as they call him. “Bear heap
sabie” —in fact they deem him the wisest
of created things. His clairvoyance sur
passes that of the best mediums in whom
so many of our own enlightened fellow
countrymen believe. The Navajoes never
kill a bear, save tinder the direst necessi-.
tv. He is an evil spirit whose wrath
they are scrupulously careful not to in
voke. If a bear kills a Navajoe, and it
can be proved conclusively which bear
did the murder, a force turns out
and slays the bear—albeit with many
lamentations, and deprecations and apol
ogies. But, save in this extreme ease, his
ursine majesty is left severely alone. If
a Navajoe spies a bear’s track or cave, he
takes to his heels, at the top
of his voice. Some weeks ago I offered
one of our Nava oe shepherds $20 —a
fortune for him—if he would show me
the cave of a bear which was beginning
to thin the flock, but the proffer was
vain, as I knew it would be. The Na
vaioes firmly believe that if one of them
were to show the retreat of a bear, or in
any other way incur his displeasure,
Shash would know the culprit and incon
tinently devour him and his entire fami
ly. The mountain lion’s skin is of su
preme value among them; but no Nava
joe can be hired or driven to touch a
bear skin. Such is the effect of super
stition upon a race who were until re
cently the bravest native warriors on the
continent, except the gruesome Apache.
Flannel Made of Vegetables.
Vegetable -flannel is a textile material
largely manufactured in Germany from
the piuus sylvestris. The fibre is spun,
knitted and woven into undergarments
and clothing of various kinds, for which
medical virtues are claimed. There are
two establishments near Breslau, in
which pine leaves are converted into
wool and flannels. The process for con
verting the pine needle into woo? was
discovered by Mr. Pannewitz. In the
hospitals, penitentiaries and barracks of
Vienna and Breslau, blankets made from
that material are exclusively used. One
of their chief advantages is that no
vermin will lodge in them. The material
is also used as stuffing, closely resembles
horse hair and is one-third of its cost.
When spun and woven the thread re
sembles that of hemp, and is made into
jackets, spencers, drawers and stockings,
flannel and twill for shirts, coverlets,!
body and chest warmers and knitting
yarn. They keep the body warm with
out heating, and are very durable. The
factories are lighted with gas from the
refuse of these manufactures.
Mis-mated.
Wife—“l hear that young Mr. Sissy
and Miss Gushiugton are to be married.”
Husband—“ls that so?”
Wife—“ Yes, but the union will nevei
be a happy one?”
Husband—“ Why not?”
Wife —“Because he parts his hair in
the middle and she parts hers on the
side. ” — Epoch.