Denison Daily News. (Denison, Tex.), Vol. 6, No. 98, Ed. 1 Sunday, June 16, 1878 Page: 2 of 8
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H ■ •
the Dailg flfws.
denison,
SUNDAY MORNING.
HUNT1NU WOLVES IN TEXAS.
Grndunl Extermination of the Prairie
Wolf—Traps Halted wltli Htryohnliie—
It* UaliltH—Running Down an old Buf-
falo Bull.
[From the N. Y. Sun.]
Forty years ago, when Ruxton camp-
ed on the plains, and Washington Irv-
ing made his tour on the prairies, wolves
were as plentiful as rabbits and consider-
ed more worthless. The trapper took
nothing but beavers, killing only enough
buffalo to keep him in meat. As the
beaver disappeared, bison were shot for
their hides, and the peltries of the
wolves became valuable. They brought
as much in market as a buffalo hide,
and as they were smaller and lighter
were packed from place to place with
greater ease. The building of the Pacific
Railroad drove the buffalo from the line
of the Platte and Arkansas into Texas.
Their range extended along the well
watered streams in the northern and
northwestern parts of the great State
The wolves followed the Buffalo, and
committed depredations upon the folds
and herds of the cattle kings. But with-
in the last ten years the trappers have
cleaned them out, and the occupation of]
the professional wolf hunters is gone.
Mr. James Graham, an old Texanl
hunter and trapper, is now stopping at
the Sturtevant House in this city. He
gives some interesting particulars of life
011 the buffalo range. The professional
wolf hunters, he says, gave up the busi-l
ness three years ago. Their great
hunting grounds were watered by the
lted River, the Big Wichiti, Brazos,|
Colorado, Concho, and Pecos. The
highest grade of hides, technically
termed "Southern fur," brought $1.76
apiece. Skins taken north of the Ar-
kansas were more valuable, because the
fur was finer and thicker. The wolfl
pelts were classed as follows:
No. 1... Fine Fur No. 8 Hair and Fur
No. 2 Coaser FuriNo.4MoreIIairthanFur
The price varied from $1.25 up, ac-
cording to the quality. The animals were
killed between the 1st of November and
the middle of February. After that their
coats became thinner and they began to
shed their hair, so that the skins were
worthless. Further north the season
lasts much longer. The coyotes were
hunted with the big gray wolf, but their I
hides, being much smaller, brought
only 75 cents.
One Bell of Fort Griffin is credited
with killing more wolves than any one
man on the plains of the Arkansas. In
one season he poisoned over 500. From
three to four good hunters used to club
together and hunt the season through
They started out with a wagon well
loaded with flour, bacon, sugar, salt,
and coffee. An extra pony or two came
handy to ride around, keep the baits in
order, and bring in the hides. The
trappers carried plenty of ammunition,
and when using breech-loading rifles
filled their own shells. As the'
Comanches were troublesome, the rifles
were kept loaded and the horses strict-
ly guarded. At night they were hob-
bled in the brush near the camp, so that
they could notgo astray. If the "sign"!
was good, camp was usually made in a
secluded spot near a running stream,
tributary to one of the large rivers. As
the wolves followed the buffalo, and the
buffalo cropped the juicy grass along
the streams, the "sign" was always
good in a wild and well watered section
of country. By the " sign"—the tracks
and half-eaten dead buffalo—the trap-
pers estimated the number of wolves,
and prepared their baits. Buffalo, an-
telope, or deer, were killed in an open
place, and strychnine placed in those
portions of the carcass first torn by the
wolves. But the trappers, as a rule, did
not plant the poison before sunset, for
the wolves of the air, the innumerable
ravens that shadow the plains and feed
upon dead animals, displaced the baits
if the traps were set before they went to
roost. The ground near the carcass
was sometimes sprinkled with dead ra-
vens. Small flocks staggered around
the dead bulls under the influence of
the poison, and gyrated through the
air like tumbler pigeons.
The colder the weather, the more
wolves. A nipping, frosty air seemed
to sharpen their appetites, and give
them a keen scent. While Graham was
on the Brazos, five winters ago, eight
bison were killed on the side of a hill,
and their bodies skinned and poisoned.I
During the night the wind veered to the
north, and the weather became intense-
ly cold. A storm of sleet made the
camp fire hiss, and the howls of the
wolves rang above the ravine in which
the hunters slept. With the first break
of daylight they visited their baits, fear-
ful that the ravens might tear the fur of
the dead wolves and damage the hides!
Within three hours they found the bod-1
ies of 56 large gray wolves frozen so
hard that they dragged them into the
ravine and thawed them out. All
agreed that if tbe night had been mild
the animals would have kept under
•over.
A wolf begins to feel the effect of the
poison within ten minutes. He stops
eating. His ears and eyebrows twitch,
and his limbs are cramped. Frequent-
ly he whirls around like a dancing
dervish, sweeping the ground with his
tail and throwing up tne dirt with his
fore-paws. His comrades cock their
heads to one side and watch his spasms
with curious eyes, but resume their feast
when the victim stiffens or starts for the
scrub. Few of the poisoned animals
died at the side of the poisoned buffalo.
Old hunters assert that the strychnine
produces a burning thirst, and the wolf
makes for the nearest water. This keeps
the band of trappers busy all the morn-
ing. While two of them skin the wolves
nearest the baits, the other mounts a
mustang and scours the chaparral and
banks of the river in a further search
for bodies. The ravens assist him, fill-
ing the air with wild cries, and flutter-
ing over the gasping animals in the
brush. Manv of the wolves are not dead
when discovered. The\ ■ atteredl
about in all stages of paralysis, and are
put out of their misery by the hunter.
Occasionally a dying wolf is found
stretched on the sands of tho river lap-
ping the water, but he does not rush in-
to the stream, and his body is never
found floating upon its surface. Even
in death he seems to have a horror of
wetting his feet.
The only adepts at skinning are the
professional hunters. The body is turn-
ed upon its back and work begins at the
forequarters. The trapper grips a leg
between his knees, opens up the hide-to
the brisket, and rips down to the tail.
The tail is the most valuable part of the
wolf. If injured, it spoils
the beauty of the robe. It is therefore
taken off with the greatest care. The
skinner then plants his foot firmly upon
tho neck, and by main strength peels
the hide up to the head. Here more
care is required. The ears and nose
are torn away with the skin, so that
spread upon tho prairie it presents a
perfect picture. The hide is then fold-
ed flesh side in, thrown across the back
of a pony and borne to camp. The fur
is then turned to the grass and the skin
stretched by pegs driven into the ground.
It dries according to the weather. No
salt is used. If the atmosphere is dry it
is taken up within three days, and turn-
ed over and sunned until ready for
market.
While the trapper is thus picking up
the skins of tho big gray wolf he does
not neglect the coyote. This is much
smaller than his gray brother. The
latter is nearly as large as a Newfound-
land dog; the former about twice the
size of a cat. The coyote fancies a
camp-fire, and sits on hillocks within
sight of its blaze barking for hours.
Tne gray wolf bays the moon like a dog.
Graham says he has seen them sitting
on the highest rocks gazing at its bright
orb with their heads thrown back utter-
ing unearthly howls. This wolf scorns
the coyote. When the large wolves
drag down an old buffalo-bull the coy-
otes huddle in the vicinity, licking their
chops and barking, as though begging
a share of the prey. Should they ven-
ture too near tne Big fellows utter om-
inous growls and the coyotes slink
away, tails between their legs and heads
turned over their shoulders. The coy-
ote quickly determines the status of a
hunter. If he finds him killing wolves
he keeps a respectful distance; but if
he is only hunting bear, antelope or
buffalo, the little fellow becomes quite
social. While a bear-hunter was butch-
ering game coyotes patiently watched
his operations, and a gray wolf loped
hungrily on an outer circle. The trap-
per threw a piece of meat to the small
fellows, who ran off and were waylaid
by the big wolf. They dropped the
meat and returned, but seemed to learn
nothing by experience, for they fed the
robber as long as the hunter chucked
them the meat.
Many coyotes pick up tlieir supplies
in the prairie-dog colonies. If one is
lurking in the streets and sees a dog
away from his hole, ho steals upon him
with the utmost secrecy, striving to cut
off his retreat. An old dog, however, is
rarely caught napping. Some of the,
fraternity are sure to espy the wolf, and
a warning bark sends the dog into his
hole with a tantalizing shake of the tail.
The coyote despondently peers into the
hole, rakes away the dirt with a paw,
and sniffs at the lost meal. He gets his
eye on another dog, and crawls toward
the hole like a cat upon the mouse. The
warning bark is again heard, and a sec-
ond meal disappears. Infuriated by his
disappointment, the wolf frequently
turns upon the little sentry, and for a
few seconds makes the sand fly from the
entrance of his residence. Worn out by
his futile efforts, he flattens himself up-
on the sand behind the hole, and, mo-
tionless as a statue, watches it for hours.
If the dog pops out his head he is gone.
The wolf springs upon him, tho jaws
come together like the snap of a trap,
and the helpless little canine is turned
into a succulent supper. One Metley, a
well known buffalo hunter, was riding
across a dog town some years ago when
he saw what he supposed to be a dead
coyote stretched out at one of the holes.
He dismounted and lifted it by the tail,
intending to take the body to camp and
skin it. The coyote made a snap at his
leg, wriggled from his grasp, and sped
over the prairie more surprised than the
trapper. He was in a sound sleep when
caught. But tho coyote's greatest har-
vest is in the spring of the year, when
they fatten themselves at the expense of
inexperienced young dogs caught wan-
dering from home. Whole families en-
joying the cool evening breeze on the
mounds above their burrows are taken
unawares, and the tender young snapped
up before their parents can force them
under the ground.
The Indians say that the wolf has wo
home. He follows the buffalo, and is
ever skirmishing on tho edge of the
herd. Indefatigable in the chase, he
pursues his prey for days without sleep.
He catches his naps in the sunlight, and
does the bulk of his work at night.
Like the Indian, whom he resembles in
many characteristics, he never declines
an invitation to dinner. A great glut-
ton, he stuffs himself till his paunch is
distended like a bladder, and in this
condition is often run down and lassoed
by the cow-boys on ordinary ponies.
Some of the Southern tribes of Indians
never slay a wolf. They have a super-
stition that when they die their spirits
roam the prairies in the guise of wolves.
"Who slays a wolf may slay his
brother," is an Indian proverb.
Crael and voracious, the gray wolf is
an arrant coward. While on the Bra-
zos in 1878, encamped above what is
called "The Round Timbers," Graham
killed five buffalo for bait. He charged
three with strychnine, and in the morn-
ing fonnd five dead wolves. Three
great eagles were perched upon the
nead and shoulders of an unpoisoned
carcass, and two large gray wolves were
tearing the hams. The eagles regard-
ed the wolves with an evil eye. At in-
tervals the most powerful bird strode
over tho carcass with outstretched
wings and open beak. In an instant
the wolves cringed to the ground, and
slunk away with their heads over their
shoulders like whipped curs. With the
hair of their necks on end they furtive-
ly watched the lordly bird until ho re-
turned to his comrades. Then, with
averted eyes, they sneaked back to the
feast, and crunched and gnawed until
their rapacity again excited the ire of
the feathered nobleman at the head of
the table.
A striking peculiarity of the wolf is
his habit of running with his head over
his shoulders. Suddenly frightened, he
rushes off like the wind, with his face
turned back to the foe and his tail be-
tween his legs. "He ran like a scared
wolf," is a Texan's estimate of the speed
of a coward. No dog but a thorougli-
bred grayhound can overtake him. It
seems almost impossible for a wolf to
look any thing in the face. He will
hardly meet the stare of a grasshopper.
Graham declares that whon wolves have
been paralyzed by strychnine he has
held them by the ears, turned their faces
around, ana tried to force them to look
into his eyes. Not for a second was he
successful. They would look ovor his
shoulders or turn their eyes in any di-
rection, and even entirely close them
before they would meet his gaze. A
story is told of a Texas farmer who
caught a coyote cub, and stared into its
eyes uhtil the cub died.
The report of a gun, in old times,never
failed to put every wolf within hear-
ing on the alert. He immediately be-
gan to look for dead buffalo, and gener-
ally managed to secure his share of the
booty. In the spring, when the calves
ran with the herds, and the droves
were resting at noon, the big gray
wolves organized for an attack. Woe
betided the calf on the outskirts of the
drove. The ferocious beasts would cut
it out in a rush, after stampeding the
herd. If the calf was nearly full grown
they would ham-string it with their
teeth, but if young ana tender would
tear out tho throat loefore the dam could
come to its defense. Frequently a lone
wolf routed out an old bull, driven
from the herd by younger and more ac-
tive bulls. He caught him by the nose,
and hung on until shaken oft1. The at-
tack was kept up until the bull started
on a run. The wolf kept in the rear
until the old patriarch showed signs of
fatigue, when he resumed the attack in
front. The buffalo was not allowed to
fag. If ho fell into a walk he was
again seized by the nose. When nearly
exhausted the l\owls of the wolf drew
other wolves from their lairs, and be-
tween them the old veteran was ham-
strung and rendered helpless, and
finally torn in pieces by the pack.
Gray is the common color of the
wolves in Texas. Occasionally white
ones are killed. Graham says that he
killed eight in one winter with skins, as
white as the riven snow. The black
wolf is very scarce, and mostly found in
the timber. His fur brings the highest
price; but, during six years of trapping,
Graham declares that he never saw one,
and heard of not more than two or three
shot on the Clear fork of the Trinity by
a party of rangers.
A Gypsy Wedding.
From the day of the announcement
of the wedding to occur a week from
next Sunday, at the camping ground of
the gypsies at Fall Creek, the inter-
est has increased. The ladies of our
village are particularly delighted over
the approaching nuptials of tho Bohe-
mian subject with a Princess Royal.
The gathering of the tribes at this point
is to commence next week, and a large
assembling is assured. From the few
faithful already here some facts have
been gleaned. These people represent
the remainder of the real nomadic race
of gypsies now existing in this State
and a portion of Pennsylvania. Two-
thirds of the people called gypsies are
"poor white trash," scum of this and
foreign lands, with no ambition above a
full clothes-line and a dark night, and
no comfort not purely animal. The
genuine people who " tell you of the
future" if their palms be crossed with
silver, are loud in their condemnation
of the " Irish tramps on wheels," who,
going before them, prejudice townspeo-
ple against all of their ilk by imposi-
tions in the shape of lace and outrage-
ous steals in horse trades or any other
way possible. So none but the simon-
pure will be tolerated at the coming
wedding. They arc a most curious peo-
ple, and many of tho most ancient and
mystic of their traditional customs and
rules will be displayed in solemnizing
this union.
More than ordinary stress is laid by
them upon the coming matrimonial
event, because it is not only a royal
wedding, but the first that has occurred
among them in 23 years. The Queen
of the gypsies and mother of the bride
has almost absolute powej; over her sub-
jects, and is more feared than admired
by them. Her directions to the tribes
are enforced by secret and sure, but not
always scrupulous or commendable
measures. She is reputed to have ac-
cumulated considerable means, but no
one but herself knows the amount of her
wealth, or the manner of its investment.
Her horses and wagons and appoint-
ments therein are said to be very grand.
The daughter and bride is described as
an only child, and the heiress to the
throne of the gypsies—beyond the pow-
er of the Queen to pvevent—provided
she lives. She is said to be a beautiful
girl of the true Oriental type, over which
poets have raved from time immemori-
al, a tall, lithe, and perfectly rounded
figure, small hands and feet, the black-
est of hair and eyes, the blush of health
breaking through the dusky cheek, giv-
ing a glorious contrast to the whitest of
teeth. Of the happy groom but little
can bo learned, except tnat he is a young
and powerful man oi "many horses.
The ceremony is to occur in the open
air under a gorgeous canopy,
and in the presence of all the loyal of
the race that can be gathered at this
point. The date is now fixed for the 2d
of June, one week from next Sunday,
and doubtless if the day proves fair
hundreds of people from this community
will witness the strange union in addi-
tion to the invited guests.—Ithaca (N.
F.) Journal.
Vienna Rolls.—Have ready in a
bowl a tablespoonful of butter; melt it;
sift with 1 quart flour 2 teaspoons bak-
ing-powder; mix with the butter i pint
sweet milk, 4 teaspoon salt; knead all
together thoroughly; roll out about 4
inch thick; cut with a large, round cut-
ter ; then fold each one over to form a
half-round, wetting between with sweet
milk to make them stick together.
Place them in buttered pans so as not
to touch. Wash them over on top with
milk so as to give them a gloss; then
bake about 20 minutes. With good
butter they almost melt in one's mouth.
Edison, the inventor, is studying out
the theory of vibrations, and declares
that he will yet see the day when, with
a simple tuning fork ho will be able to
tear down a three story house.
Jew and Gentile.
Says the Cincinnati Gazette of May
80: Jewish and Geutilo circles oognl-
zantof the occurrence were alike startled
yesterday over a rumor of tho marriage
of a daughter of Rabbi Wise, editor of
the Israelite, to Mr James Molony, a
prominent young attorney of the Chris-
tian faith. Marriages between Jew and
Gentile are^«> rare, evon at this day, that
few comprehend the seriousness of their
nature to tho family of the former.
While there are no canons of tho Jewish
Church expressly forbidding intermar-
riage with Gentiles, traditions of the old
Mosaic prohibition of such marriages
are strictly observed. These aro ex-
plicitly defined in Josephus, and apply
generally to all such intermarriages.
The offense is greater when committed
by the daughter of a Jewish priest, as
expressed in tho twelfth verse of the
twenty-second chapter of Leviticus, as
follows: "If the priest's daughter also
be married unto a stranger she may not
eat of an ottering of the holy things."
She is excommunicated, debarred from
all fellowship with her people, and
theoretically as well as practically dead
to her own family, except she be left a
widow, or separated from her husband
and return to her own people. Jews
encourage social intermingling with
Christians, but adhere with unchanging
fidelity to their rules against intermar-
riage.
1? or a number of years the family of
the Rev. Isaac M. Wise and that of Mr.
Molony were neighbors on College Hill.
Rabbi Wise at the time was a widower,
with a grown-up daughter, Miss Helen,
and two sons. The daughter is describ-
ed as a beautiful girl of light complex-
ion, intelligent, accomplished, lovely
in manners, and lovable in disposition.
Mr. Molony is well known throughout
the county as a young attorney of con-
siderable promise and practice. A few
years ago he acted as Deputy Sheriff,
afterward as assistant to Mr. C. Whit-
taker, whon that gentleman was Prose-
cuting Attorney, and for the past two or
three years has been engaged in the
practico of law with his brother. Two
years ago he was a candidate for the
State Legislature on the Democratic
ticket. lis father, now dead, wa3 Pro-
fessor of English Literature in Farmers'
College. He had been a Catholic priest
in Ireland, but renounced that faith and
became a member of the Episcopal
Church. He was one of the founders of
Farmers' College.
While Mr. Molony is not regarded as
a member of any church, he has been a
regular attendant at the services of both
the Episcopal and Presbyterian churches
on College Hill. He is a young man of
fine personal appearance, tall, light
complexioned—on tho whole, such a
man as the average young lady might
be pardoned for falling in love with.
While living on College Hill the two
families were quite intimately associated.
Some of the boys of each were class-
piates in college, and, when a younger
brother of Mr. James Molony died a
few years ago, a brother of the present
bride acted as one of the pall-bearers.
A mutual attachment sprang up between
the two under discussion, which neither
for a time felt willing to acknowledge.
It was discovered by Rabbi Wise almost
before the young people themselves were
aware of its existence, and naturally
enough developed into an engagement.
Every cft'ortwas made to prevent it from
growing further, but without avail. The
young lady was sent East for nearly a
year, but a regular correspondence was
kept up between herself and lover. On
her return, the father, who realized sad-
ly the terrors of the impending blow,
argued, pleaded, and used every possi-
ble effort to cause a separation. The
young lady hesitated, consented to sep-
arate, and finally with more determina-
tion than over decided to adhere to her
lover. It was a case of devotion on
each side which resisted all pressure.
A year and a half ago Mr. Molony was
forbidden the Rabbi's house, but the
lovers engaged in a clandestine corre-
spondence, and had frequentinterviows.
A day was set for their elopement, but
was postponed at the time for prudent
reasons. The date was refixed for last
Tuesday. Miss Wise left home on Tues-
day afternoon at 3 o'clock, and, having
many relatives and friends in the city,
her absence for a day or two even would
not occasion surprise in her
family. Mr. Molony during the after-
noon procured his marriage license, and
succeeded in having its issue concealed
from public inspection for the time.
About half-past 8 o'clock they rode to
the residence of the Rev. C. W. Wendte,
No. 360 West Seventh Street. Mr.
Wendte was absent, but was sent for,
and on his arrival Mr. Molony introduc-
ed himself and presented his license.
Both parties were strangers to the cler-
gyman, and his only duty appeared to
bo to satisfy himself that the young lady
Was of legal age. It never for a mo-
ment occurred to him that the Miss Wise
whose name he read on the license was
the daughter of the Rabbi with whom for
some time past he has been engaged in
a spirited public controversy. Had he
known it, he says he would have hesi-
tated as to his duty in the matter. So
he accordingly tied tho knot in the brief
form peculiar, to the Unitarian Church,
which can be accepted conscientiously
by Jew as well as Gentile. The newly
wedded pair repaired to the Gait llouue
for the night, and in the morning the
bride returned to her home, informed
her stepmother of the startling occur-
rence, and returned with her wardrobe
to the hotel, where they will remain un-
til their preparations are completed for
a wedding-tour.
—
A dentist in Munich (Dr. Weil) re-
lieves people of the pain of having their
teeth pulled by extracting the decayed
tooth while tho patients are under tbe
influence of aniestheties and filling it
while out. He koeps the tooth out of
the socket for an hour or two if neces-
sary, but finds that it becomes firmly
fixed on being replaced. He finds the
method applicable both to bicuspids and
molars.
" Can love die P" innuires Mary E.
Nealy in a recently published poem. It
can not, though it gets dreadfully ad-
journed occasionally.—Buffalo Express.
In England, recently, a mob broke up
the wedding of an old wretch of 80
years, who was marrying a girl of 18.
Inscriptions on Egyptian Tombs.
At the entrance of one of the tombs
at El Kab, in Upper Egypt, the stone
wall speaks as follows of tho Egyptian
buried within:
" He loved his father and brother,and
honored his mother. He never entered
his house with an angry heart. Ho
never favored the nobleman above tho
simple."
Of another Egyptian, also buried at
El Kab more than four thousand years
ago, the rook says, spoaking in the per-
son of tho deceased:
" On earth I was a prudent and wise
man, and my soul ever loved God. If I
was a brother to tho noble, I was a fa-
ther to the poor, and never scattered
hatred among men."
On the rocky wall of another tomb
the inmate thus addresses those who en-
ter it:
"I will tell you, O ye that live aftor
me, how it was with me during my life.
I was not haughty, neither did I curse,
neither did I revile, neither did I love to
quarrel with my neighbor. I never
withstood the poor and the oppressed,
but always sought by word and deed
for reconciliation."
The inscription on the statue of one
of tho priests of the Egyptian Pallas, at
Sais, who lived at the unhappy time
when Cambyses undertook his military
expedition against Egypt, begins in tho
same way with the words:
" I honored my father, and respected
my mother, and loved my brother. I
provided burial for those that died and
were not laid in the earth, and sup-
ported the children who were born. I
founded houses for them, and filled
them with good deeds, as a father deal-
eth by his own children. For, behold!
it was an evil time in Sais, when the
great disaster passed over Egypt."
The following touching confession,
inscribed on the side-wall of the famous
vault at Beni Hassan, does more honor
to the provincial governor whom it
commemorates, than the list of his war-
like traits, which the same stone re-
cords
" I will relate what I have done. I
was full of goodness,tand my love was
boundless. Never did I oppress the
poor man's child, never did I offend the
widow. I left the fisherman undisturb-
ed, and the shepherd in quiet. Never
did I burthen a man with forced labor.
There was no famine in my day, and the
bread never failed, for I planted the
fields of my domain, from north to south
to its utmost boundaries, that I might
distribute food to its dwellers, and that
none might go unfed. I aided the wid-
ow as I did the matron, and when I
gave away, I never preferred the man of
high standing to the humble."—Rev. Dr.
Washburn, in Sunday Afternoon.
An Indian Song.
There is a beautiful little song in the
Chippewa language which is full of
pathos and rhyme, and which the little
children sing when at play in the even-
ing. A traveler thus describes it:
"One evening while in tho Chippewa
village I was attracted by shouts of mer-
riment from childish voices, and I walk-
ed out to the green lawn skirting the
edge of the river to get a full view of
the players and hear their songs. A
group of children were at play gambol-
ing and chasing the fire-flies, millions
of which little insects filled the air,mak-
ing tho plain to literally sparkle with
phosphorescent light. The following
are the words which they addressed to
the insect:
" Wftu wau tay see I
Wivu wau tay see!
K now e sliin
Tasliebwan lie baun e wee
Hoe cghaun-be cghaun-e weo
Wa wan tay see
Wa wan tay nee
Was sa koon ain je gun
Was sa koon ain ja gun."
Literally translated, they would read:
Flitting white tire-fly,
Waving white Are-bug,
Give me light to go to bed,
Give mo light to go to sleep.
Or, by a slight transposition of the words
in the original language, Mr. Goodrich
has made them read, when rendered in
free translation:
Fire-fly! flro-fly! blight little thing,
Light me to bed while my song I sing;
Give me your light as you fly o'er my head,
'I'll at I may merrily go to my bed:
Give me your light o'er the gra>-s as you creep,
That I may Joyfully go to my sleep.
Come, little flre-fly, come, little boast,
Come, and I'll make you to-morrow a feast;
Coine, little candle, that flies as I sing,
might little fairy-bug, night's little king;
Come, and I'll dance as you guide me along;
Come, and I'll pay yon, my bug, with a song.
—Harper'a for May.
Two Remarkable Accidents.
In the transaction of the Medical So-
ciety of New Jersey, for 1877, Dr.Ryerson
reports the case of a child which lived
four weeks with over an inch of No. 1
sewing needle in the heart. Search for
the needle before death was unsuccess-
ful. At tho autopsy it was found to
have passed partially through tho car-
tilage of tho fourth rib, into the wall of
the right ventricle. Pus welled up
through tho perforated cartilage, and
loose in an abscess holding an ounce or
more of pus, in tho muscular substance,
lay tne needle. It was supposed that
until loosened by suppuration the broken
end of the needle remained fixed in the
rib, thus pinning tho heart to the chest-
wall.
A still more remarkable accident,
with recovery, is reported in the Trans-
actions of the Medical Society of Penn-
sylvania, for tho same year. In this
case a boy of 14 was impaled on the end
of a carriage shaft, the point of tho shaft
entering ono inch below the left nipple
and coming out at tho back. Tho vic-
tim was swung throe times into the air
by the rearing of the horses, then push-
ed himself off, and walked home with
some assistance. No cough or hemop-
tysis followed and apparently little
shock. Effusion into the pleura oc-
curred with discharge of pus, front and
back. This gradually lessened, and
finally both wounds closed, tho one in
the breast last. The boy has recovered
robust health.—Scientific American.
An explosion of grain-dust, similar to
that which wrecked the Minneapolis
flour-mills, but not at all destructive,
occurred the other day at an Alleghany
(Pa.) brewery. A small piece of iron
got between the stones where the bar-
ley is broken, striking out sparks which
caused tho dust to ignite and explode;
the only damage done was the singeing
of tho wood-work.
THE TOWN OF THE ANGELS.
Something About that Curlou* Old CltT'
With It Wonderful Groven and > ! «•
yards.
[From the Syraeuso (N. Y.) Courier.]
San Fkanoisco, May 12.—The dis-
tance traversed by rail to reach Los
Angoles is about 460 milos. In going
and returning you take in even more
than the usual diversity of soil and cli-
mate in California; you are constantly
moving through luxurious pastures or
enormous wheat fields extending on
eith r side of tho road, far beyond the
power of human vision, or in the " can-
yons" or on mountain sides, or over ap-
parently endless deserts, like tho Great
Mojave, with its interminable sage brush
and dry alkali clay or sand, or prairie,
with enough of vegetation to pasture
sheep, which roam over those regions in
fiocks of a thousand or more, usually at-
tended by one shepherd, sometimes on
foot, and sometimes mounted, and al-
ways accompanied by one or more dogs.
In passing the range of mountains on
tho line of this road, engineering diffi-
culties present themselves, which hard-
ly have a parallel oven in the Rocky
Mountains. The elevation is so high
that to overcome it George Gray, once
chief engineer of tho New York Central
Road, constructed what is termed " The
Loop." The mountain tops are bound
with iron, much after the modern fash-
ion of a crayat, around the neck, includ-
ing the bow. Standing on the rear plat-
form, in full view of the sinuosities of
the tie, you are tempted to repeat the
negro song of
Sioh getting up stairs i never did see.
But the contrivance is a complete tri-
umph, as it works admirably in prac-
tice. A single locomotive is able to run
up at a fair speed with an ordinary pas-
senger train. In something less than
twenty-four hours we reached the old
Mexican town of Los Angeles.
The old adobe houses have given place
to elegant brick or wooden edifices, or
been shut up and abandoned. Almost
all brick structures are externally plas-
tered, giving them exactly the appear-
ance of light colored stone, and this
plastering never cracks or sloughs off.
But the feature of the valley is its im-
mense, thrifty and beautiful vineyards
and orango groves. There are several
in the immediate neighborhood of the
city,but the most elegant, and highly cul-
tivated and valuable of these estates be-
gin at "San Gabriel Mission," about
twelve miles to the northeast. This
mission, including a queer looking and
primitive old brick church, was estab-
lished just about a century ago; and it
is said all the tropical and semi-tropical
fruits now grown here were cultivated
by the Jesuits. At some three miles
from the mission we approached tho
mansion house of Mr. D. L. Rose, a
gentleman of German extraction, who
is said to have the most extensive, best
cultivated, and most valuable estate in
the valley. It is difficult to convey
any adequate idea of the combined
charms of his establisment. You enter
the grove and vineyard by a splendid
road a mile from the masion. On eith-
er side are rows of orange trees, those
growing nearest the road almost form-
ing a bower, protecting you from the
sunshine.
Beyond these trees you get a view of
the California vineyards. Whether or
not they are so arranged for effect, the
impression is as powerful as it is singu-
lar, and few who have seen this mag-
nificent landscape will be likely to for-
get it. Instead of the grape-vine we see
near Seneca Lake, Lake Keuka, and
elsewhere, each stem sustained by a
diminutive telegraph pole, you are in
full view of thousands of stumps, ap-
parently of well grown trees, but not
more than six inches to a foot high, and
full six inches from which, in diameter,,
spring the stem leaves and already
formed clusters of fruit, presenting, at a
little distance, much the appearance of
a full-grown hill of potatoes. When
you come to view, from a gentle eleva-
tion, a hundred and fifty acres of such
grapes in one body, the" rows, arranged
so that from any point of view there is
absolute precision, and not a weed or
spear of grass or any vegotation to be
seen intermediate, you are impressed
with the marvelous bounties of nature,
as well as the skill, industry, and pa-
tience which utilized them and achieved
such a success in grape culture.
The treatment of the orange groves
seems to be a part of the same system,
for they are equally neat and clean, and
in the entire space between the trees tho
proprietor might safely offer a large re-
ward for the discovery oi a weed or'
blade of grass. In fact, every foot of
their fields (not less than 500 acres)
presents the appearance of having been
traversed by a corn cultivator within
tho past twenty-four hours.
The beauty and richness of the fruit
(oranges), now just in season, beggar
description, and the promise contained
in their golden clusters as you ride un-
der them is more that realized when
you come to taste them. The generous
proprietor insisted on filling all the
available space in our carriage with his
choicest wines and most delicious fruit,
and we departed without the slightest
fear of being arrested as vagrants, for
we had abundant "moans of support."
Orange are not tho only fruit trees, for
there are long rows of English walnut,
lime, lemon, olive, and almond trees,
all of which are very successfully culti-
vated, and a great abundance of apples
and pears. The whole farm is said to
embrace full 5,000 acres, much of which
is admirably fenced, and all of which is
utilized for stock, grain, or fruit.
Mr. Rose is a member of a firm in
New York, the point of distribution for
his wines and brandies. His mansion is
unpretentious, but spacious, neat and
convenient, and is an appropriate hab-
itation for the owners and occupants of
this earthly paradise.
A., LAI?Y from K*celsior, Mich., re-
cently related her experience in " shoe-
ing hens." Thd objfect lis to prevent
their scratching She makes a boot, or
stocking, of stout cloth, and ties it on
the feet. I hen the fowls are let loose
6arden and fields, ami they kill
off the insects but do not injure the
crops in the least. «• It is amusing to
see them walk—as though they were
treading on eggs—at first, but they soon
become accustomed to it."
— >«
Pie Crust.—1 cupful lard, 1 cupful
butter, 1 cupful water, ♦ cupfuls flour.
*
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Denison Daily News. (Denison, Tex.), Vol. 6, No. 98, Ed. 1 Sunday, June 16, 1878, newspaper, June 16, 1878; (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth326948/m1/2/: accessed June 28, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Grayson County Frontier Village.