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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.