Democratic Sentinel, Volume 16, Number 11, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 April 1892 — Page 4

DAYS AND NIGHTS. fOgfier tlie dally hours of anguish rise, And mount around me a* the swelling deep, fill past my mouth and eyes their moments flow, And I am drowned in sleep. But soon the tide of night begins to ebb: Chained on the barren shore of dawn I lie, Again to feel the day’s slow-rising fiord. Again to live and die. —[Anne Reeve Aldiich, in Lippincott.

A NIGHT RIDE.

“Yes, boys, they’ve loft the Reservation, and are killing and sculping ter boat thunder. I met a scout terday, over in tker Big Coolies, an' he posted me. “How many are thnr of ’em, Jack?” "Wal, as near ns lie could tell, t!:ar was somewhars erbout thirty er thirtyfive.” “How are they off for shooting irons? or didn’t yer find out?” “I should say they was all hoelcd fer keeps The scout told mo that they all had Winchesters, an' a hull lot of ’em had six-shooters as well. And now, boys, we’vo got ter ride like siu-tor-morrow, an’ gother in all the critters, an’ push 'em over into the Deep Creek country fer safety. I hardly think the reds will navigate thet way. So here's fer a smoke, and then bed.” The speaker, big Jack Burns, foreman of the I. C. Horse Outfit, leisurely produced pipe and tobacco os coolly ns if the murderous Apaches were a thousand miles away instead of thirty. We were only seven men, c unting the Mexican cook, in the dug-out attached to the corral, and were employes of the big I. C. Company; and well we knew what an Apache outbreak meant, for wo all had suffered more or less from their cruel raids. But we had been intrusted with the horses, and we intended, if possible for human power to keep them out of the clutches of the redskius. to do so; for we had all received many little kindnesses from the company, and from the highest to the lowest there was mutual good-wiil and friendly feeling,—very different from some outfits, who treat their vaqueros with fur less consideration than they do their horses or cattle. “Jimmie did yer go down to the Cactus Ranch fer the six-shooter cartridges?" •‘Yes, bet I did, an’ got purtv close ter a thousand rounds.” “Thet’s kind er comforting. Did yer here tell of any news down thnr?” “Nothing perticler. They was a-talk-in’ erbout thet thar settler, over ou Antelope Flat; they allowed thet if trouble come with the reds, he would be in a purty tough place, specially as he are a tenderfoot. I'd hate ter see anything happen ter ’em. I passed thar the other day, and his loetlo gal come out, and says, sorter anxious like: “ ‘Mistor, hev you got a leetle gal?’ “So I says, ‘No. little sissy, I hain’t.’ “ ‘Nor no leetle boys?’ says she. “ ‘Nary one,’ suys I, and I told her thet she w.ir tko fust lcotlo un I’d seen fer many a day, an’ wo hed quito a leetle ■Confab, an’ then her mother come out, ah’ she war a very pleasant lady, she war, an’ sho snid sho allowed thet the leetle un war lonesome for other leotle tins ter play with. They’ve got a right young baby thar, too, but the leetle gal Bays that baby can't do nothing hut sleep, an’ laugh, an’—— “Hark! listen, men, listen!” and in second big Jack had pushed open the door, and was looking intently out over the moonlit prairie. “What is it, Jack?” asked the bovs, as they gathered outside. “Did yer hear shooting?” “No, but thar s a shod hoss a-comiug Jike blazes.”

Yes, the thud, thud, thud, of ironshod hoofs were now plainly heard, and away opt 1} faint glimmer of dust sould be discerned. , t 2oys, I’m afeajed thet thar's tr >uble somewhere” continued Jack. “Wal, jodging from the way thet hoss is a-hitting the trail, we can mightv soon tell now,” said Hank Shover And soon the sight that greeted our eyes showed us that there was trouble somewhere, —for out of the dust and glimmer sprang a powerful white mare, while on her back, securely tied to the heavy frontier saddle, was the new settler’s “leetle gal." With astonished and anxious faces, we sprang to the mare’s side, and lifted the little maid out of the saddle; und big Jack carried her tenderly in:o the dugout, while with wondering faces the rest of us quietly followed. “Please, Mr. Big Jack. I’ve brought a letter from pap." “A letter, child. You’ve brought a letter twenty miles fer me. What in the name o’ tne Great Medicine war yer dad a thinkin erbout tor send a baby like you with it?” “I don't know, please, Mr. Big Jack, perhaps he’s hurt, ’cause his eyes were wet and mamma was crying. Then papa wrote a letter and put me on old Nan and told me to keep on the wugon trail till I got to the lone tree, and then head, for the Black Canon, and he gave me a switch to beat old Nan, ’cause ho •aid if Nan didn’t run good, baby Frank would never laugh uny more, —and that would be awful, go 1 beat her all tho and came drefful quick,"—and judging from the mare's heaving sides, the little one had ridden her for all she was worth.

“Wal, give mo ther letter, leetle un, un’ we’ll mighty soon seo what’s wanted.” The letter had been securely fastened to the little one’s dress, but it was soou In Jack’s hands. “Sissy, don’t yer feel like eatin’ a bite of grub, and drinkin’ a cup of coffee?” “No, thank you, sir, but I am sleepy, und very tired, and —” “Juan, keep the child sort of umused fer a minit. an’ boys come”; and big Jack led the way to the far end of the room. “Boys, here's the deuce ter pay.” In a low voice, he read the letter; To ti>« Boys at the Stone Corral: I wu« out on the ridge at t!ie hack of my •hant.r. ami not over twenty milee awav I «« * big baud of Apaches coming. They wit be here inside of hours. My little girl is a good rider, tnd the mare is surefooted and last, so I send this by her, asking you tor aid. Mov God guide her to you. If you Hkmiot help us, our doom is scaled Mj relatives live in I. . Michigan; write to them in regard to my little daughter. Hoping 8»d pr ying you are in sufficient few * • us. Fit AN K STAN lON. God knows I would not want help for mymtf. but think of my wife aod baby. Tears wero m our eyes, as Jack fnished the short and rather incoherent letter; and then,— good heavens, to think that we were only seven in ail. **© keys, if we were only a few more.” “What can we do. Jack?” "Wei, I'm efeared if we tried ter git help bam the Cactus Hunch it would be HHf? •' H

“Do the leetle gal know the trouble?’ “No.” “Wal, let’s ask hei cf liar dad hav go shooting irons.” s “Sissy, did yer pap hov guus, anc things ter homo ter shoot jaok-rabbitf 5 with?” “Yes, sir, he’s got a shotgun, and he bought a nice rifle that shoots without loading, and please, Mr. Big Jack, can go to bed now? I’m so tired.” “Jimmie, put the lectio un in youi bunk, an’ you kin’ turn in with me if we gets time ter sleep.” “But Jack, hain’t wo orgoin’ ter try an’ help ’em somehow?” “God knows I wish we could. But we have ter loave one man with tho hosses, an’ what are six agin a crowd?” And truly it looked hopeless,—but 0, to think of the fate of that gentle mother and tender babe. “Boys, this is maddening. We must do somethin’.” Jimmie had by this timo fixod the bunk and taken off tho child’s shoes. “And now, dearie, pile in, an’ take a real good snooze.” “But, Mr. Jimmie, you must hour me say my prayers first.” if a sholl had como crashing into the dug-out it could not have created moro astonishment than tho simple request of the child. Quick-witted Jimmie hud, however, pulled himself together quickor than a flash, and before the child noticed tho astonished and confused looks, ho lmd carefully spread a bearskin on the dirt floor, and gentiy as her own mother hade her “sav her prayers.” The beautiful Lord's Prayer was repeated in the clear voice, and them came, “And please, my Heavenly Father, bless mv own dear papa and mamma, and little baby brother, and Mr. Big Jack, and all the boys at the Stono Corral.” Starting up nnd drawing tho back of his hand hastily across his eyes, and endeavoring to steady his voice, big Jack said: “Jimmie, you an’ Juan stuy an’ tend ter the leetle un. Wo uns nro ergoin’ to holp the folks.” Crash, and the dug-out door flew open, and five doternined men —yes, men in every sense of the word that night—rushed to the corral, buckling on the heavy six-shooters as they ran. The heavy stock saddles are slapped on, and m iscular arms tug and tug at the long lntigo straps, until tho chinchas Beem ns if they would cut through hair nnd hide, so tight are they. “Be sure and cinch ’em well, boys, wo can’t stop to tighten 'em after wo got started.”

“Ay, ay, yer kin bet on us, Jack.” “Are yer all 0 K?” “You bet.” * “Then head fer the Baldy Mountain an’ if ever you spurred, spur this night.” Out and away, leaning low, until our breasts annost rested .on tho saddle horn, and with spurs tightly pressed against our bronchos' sides, we swept swiftly 1 away from the stone corral. Big Jack was on the left and n little in the lead; and ns we rushed over a low sand ridge, ! I saw him nnd his horse showing dark and clearly cut against the sky. lie was riding his best this night, and his blue I roan was stretching himself like a thoroughbred. Aud now we came to a long stretch covered with loose and jagged granite; at any other timo wo would have pulled up and carefully picked our way over. But to-night the stake we were riding for was far too precious to care for horseflesh, or even our own necks; so with slightly tightened reins and only our toes resting in the broad stirrups, we pushed j madly across, the sparks flashing as the J iron shoes clashed against the rough rock. Across at last, thunk God, and once more on the smooth plain, our gallant cayuses, with ears well forward, and distended nostrils, were stretching themselves nnd throwing dust like heroes. Out of the sand and up on the rim rock we tried n spurt, but the jaded animals were doing their best, and the steel i failed to get an extra jump out of them, j Another mile would bring us to a point j wLere we would he able if ij wc-ro dav- ! light to sqe the settler's cabin. TifhougTi a long J„g, then a dry creek | bed; crashing through the stunted willows that lined its hanks, we breasted the slight ascent, and in another minute were on the summit. We involuntarily checked our panting horses, nnd a thrill of horror ran through us as wo saw a bright glare of light ahead. “Too iate, too late, boys. The reds . have got ’em.” Jack's voice souuded almost like a groan. “llow far are we from the place?” “Erbout five miles 'round by tho wagon road, dut we kin lead our horses down the deer trail, and git thar in two.”

“Then let’s follow the deer trail; we may yit bo in firm ter help ’em some way." Leading our staggering, trembling horses, we cautiously crept down the precipitous trail, and mo ntaiu, bonded straight for the glare, which even in tho valley could be distinctly seen.

Nobody now remembered that we were only five to thirty, and, goaded and cut by the spurs, the cayuses carried us rapidly over the ground. When within half a mile we halted in the shadow of some overhanging rocks, while Hank cautiously crawled up, and out on a projecting shelf to reconnoitre, for if the Apaches had any Ecouts thrown out we should have to bo careful, as our only chnnco of success was to surprise them. While wo were waiting we carefully examined our six-shooters, and in another miuuto. to our great joy, Hunk was telling us that tho barn was on fire, but the dwelling-house was still intact, aud thut he could distinctly hear the crack of rifles, showing us plainly that the brave settlor was still defending his loved ones.

“Now boys, here’s thor best plan I kin think on—l hnin’t extra much of a gineral, but 1 hev au idea thet it’s the best way fer us ter do. We’ll lead our critters down this gully till we git ter thet scrub brush—wo kin do thet without the reds kelching on tor us —then we’ll mount. Yer see by that time the cayuses will be gitting their wind purty well. Then we’ll ride ’right squaie down on ’em, yelling like fury an' whatever a red gits up we'll down him. Then if they make it too hot for us, we'll dodge inter the cabin.” “An’ what then, Jack?” “Wal, we’ll sorter help the settler to hold the fort. Anyway we kin keep ’em from setting the shanty atiro, ’till the cavalry comes. By this time the troops must be on the trail an’ afier ’em red hos. They can’t be a great ways off, nohow.” Silently as spectres then we led our horses down the gully, carefully avoiding the rocks that here und there cropped out through tho sand. Reuching the scrub willows, wo found ourselves within 300 yards of the house, and peihaps about 400 from the burning barn. ! Climbing quietly into our saddles, we bent low to keep out of the glare, and Jack whispered. “Are yer all ready?” “Yes,” whispered back, and we pressed our sombreros tightly down ow our head*.

With a rush and a crash we ton through the brush nnd rode at full speec out into tho clearing, now almost as ligh' as day, for the big, heavy barn timber: were burning clearly nnd steadily. Across we wont, our excited animali plunging and leaping like panthers, bul still no Indiaus. Past the house and within a few yards or the burning barn we pulled up. Tht silence confused us. Were we to lat< after all? Mechanically we closed up—a fatal move, for with unearthly yells nnd blood-curdling whoops, the Indians from u low sag in the ground on the left sent a murderous volley crashing intc our midst. Down went our brave horses, auc d.»wn went their riders. Four of us scrambled to our feet as we cleared ourselves from the stirrup leathers, only t< throw oursolves behind our lead-riddled dying animals just in timo to save ourselves; for again the villains poured their lead into us —this time, than! heuven, doing us no harm. I'sing our horses for breastworks. w< tried to return their tire, hut they wer* effectually concealed. “Anybody hit?” “Yes, I saw Hank throw up his hand* and fall face down.” “Boys, we’vo got ter get out of this ot they’ll surround us sure.” “Kin we make a break for the cabin?’ “I think we might manage ter crawl thar, by kinder keepinc the horses be. tween us and the red cusses.” “Hark, somebody is hollering!”

Looking over our shoulders, we saw that the door of the shanty was part I j open, and the settler vigorously beckoning to us. “We must try an’ Sio if poor Hank is clean done fer, fust.” One of the hoys crawled cautiously around to tho dead horse and fallen rider, and returning in the same manner, whispered sorrowfully that “poor Hank hed passed in his checks.” “Now, boys, we'll make a run for it, — stoop low,” and with a spring, away we rushed for the door. Another streum of lead whistled by us, but nobody fell, and in another second, we were inside tho heavy door, and helping the settler barricade it. “I heard you when you charged by, men. but it took mo some time to open the door, as l had a hull lot of things piled agin it?” “Are ye all *afe so far, Stanton?” “Yes,thank God. My wife is guarding the hack of the house, and I'm watching this part. What we feared most is that they will fire the place, like they did the burn My little daughter reached you safely, did she?” “Yes, and is staying in the dug-out at the corral. We left two of the boys with her.”

“Now, men, I'll show you the loopholes in the logs, and I’ll go and toll the wife tho little one is safe.” Hour after hour we strained our eyes, peering through tlie loop-holes trying to catch sight of tho redskins. But they were very wary aud seemed to have a wholesome dread of venturiug into the fireiit space in tlie front of the house. Presently Stanton came quietly in and said: “Boys, there's something going ou at the hack that I don’t understand.” . Leaving one man in the front room, we repaired with him to the room in the rear of the building. Jack pressed his face close to a loophole and stared steadily out into tho darkness. Suddenly he stepped back, and, pulling his six-shooter, pointed it through the loophole and fired. A wild yell of rage answered the shot. “Aha. Ithougbt 1 could fetch him. I saw him crawling up, an' had a burning stick under his blanket. I guess he won’t burn no more shanties. Give me a chaw of terbneker, somebody.” And now wo saw a faint streak of dawn in tho east, and soon the sun was gilding the distant Baldy Mountain, and —what to us was a far more welcome sight still—was glistening on the scabbards and accoutrements of a company of Llnclo Ssm's boys as they came through the pass at a sharp trot. Ths SarTlcaueu d<>or was quickly thrown open, nnd rushing out we saw tho Indians in full retreat a mile out on the mesa. Judging from their haste they must have seen the cavalry, for they were pushing their ponies. The cavalry had also caught sight of them, for they were coming line the wind, and as they swept by, in spite of our weariness and grief at the loss of our nurd, we cheered them until wo were hoarse.

The next day wo obtained horses and safely escorted the settler, his wife and baby to tho Cactus Bunch. —[Overland Monthly.

Wild Mustangs in Pennsylvania.

On Black's Island, five miles from the City of Philadelphia, on tho Delaw:- •■> Bivor, are a drove of eighty or more unturned mustangs, not ono of which has ever been shod or touched with a strap of harness. The island is a bleak waste of meadow land, covered by a heavy growth of thick grass. Here the mustangs live, as wild and uneared for as though on the Western plains. The horses are owned by Messrs. Richard and Lewis Wistur, two wealthy and eccentric Philadelphians. In 1873 they took a couple of Chincotoaguo mares up from the South mid placed them on Black's furm, just below Fort Mifllin. Both tho mares were iu foal, and they were turned out on the island and allowed to run wild. From that beginning the herd has increased us stated. The ponies are at perfect liberty nil the year round,and are without sholter in winter us well as summer. In fact, they are to all intents and purposes, as wild as the wildest mustangs in tho West. The co'ts lire foaled without shelter of any kind, and grow up strong, rugged and as wild as though hundreds of miles from civilization. During the winter, when the ground is coveroJ with snow, the horses ure obliged to paw holes in the snow in order to get nt the dead grass undernouth. After the manner of wild horses they divide thomselves into smaller herds, each having a stallion for a leader, i There appears to be a rivalry between these herds, and royal battles are waged between the stullions. In color the horses are mostly bays, creams and piebalds, ai d range from thirteen to fifteen hands. Although the Wistar brothers have not visited tho island for thirteen years, they steadily refuse to part with uny of the ponies under any consMorat'.on.—[Philadelphia Record.

A WORTHY SON.

“ I just had a pleasant chat with you friend, Col. Gilkerson." “So? Whatjvere you talking about?” “The colonel was telling me what a fine family of children he had. Eight sons, I think he said, und every one an honor and a comfort to his father.'’ “Why, the old liar! His eldest son is serving five years in the penitentiary for a gilt-edge embezzlement.” “Yes, so the colonel said; but he didn't give up tho money.”—(Det oit Tri bane.

TREATING TYPHUS.

Bow New York ratio" Are Cared For at the North ifrotlier Island Hospital. When a contagious disease is contracted in New York City, the patient is immediately hustled off to the contagious disease hospital at North Brother Island. North Brother Island is at, the extreme north end of the archipelago in the East River, and is dotted with Institutions for the suffering and the criminal of the city. It is cut off from the Ford ham shore by only 700 yards of water, too short a distance, perhaps, for absolute safety to the inhabitants of the city. Yet tlie girth of water which divides it from the 6hore is an effective guarantee against anything but a general epidemic. The Health Department hospital boat Franklin Edson. which has left the Reception Hospital, at the foot of East Sixteenth street, daily for the past eight weeks, invariably conveyor two or more afflicted passengers for North Brother Island, has had on every trip to pass this string of refuges. North Brother Island is the dumping ground for typhus-stricken patients. It is scarcely twelve acres in extent, and with South Brother Island, a little less in size, almost fills the Sound opposite 138th street. It is not unlike a reclaimed sand bank.

In combating the typhus epidemic the Health Department has erected a number of walled tents on North Brother Island for the treatment both of suffering and convalescent patients. The plan of housing patients in open structures of this kind is comparatively modern, and some eminent authorities claim that patients down with the fever are more likely to be cured in structures of this character than in brick or stone buildings. In tents, the authorities claim, the ventilation is better, as the patients in them enjoy the advantage of a constant circulation of pure air without being exposed to any draughts. Chief

Clerk Craig explained the course of treatment to which a typhus patient was subjected from the time of quarantining until a state of convalescence and cure was reached.

“Now, let us suppose,” said Mr. Craig, “that Dr. Kdson has received notice by postal card addressed to the Health Board from a tenement house in this city that a certain person, say a 7-year-old child, is suffering from contagious disease of some kind. Dr. Edson sends a reexport examiner of the department immediately to determine the disease. The disease is determined as scarlet fever. The physician finds that the child is attending school. He decides that it must be removed from home. The mother protests. He gives her the option of dressing and coming along with her child. Maybe she comes, maybe she doesn't. The child is taken in an arribulanee. the house disinfected and all clothes removed in a wagon. The child is taken to the Willard Parker Hospital, where the mother can remain until the patient is discharged. Just as soon as Dr. Edson has notice of the case he 6cnds to the principal of the school the child attended notice of the outbreak of the <li>e.ise and instruction not to allow any members of the family to attend. “If the case was defined as one of typhus the patient would be taken In an ambulance to the foot of East Sixteenth street 1?j the Reception Hospital. Here the patient would undergo a special system of disinfection established by the board. The hospital itself is protected from the street by a high fence. Once within the building the patient is stripped of all clothing and put into one section, where he is kept for transmission to the island. The rooms are divided by a galvanized partition, and his clothing and effects are left in the other section for ‘baking’ or destruction as the department may see fit.” Mr. Craig thus described the processes of “baking” and destroying. Tbs former is a system of disinfection

THOUGHTS AND THINGS PICTURED.

with bichloride of mercury, including inclosure of the effects ina retort, which absolutely renders them safe for use on a future-occasion. The latter, of course, means absolute destruction by burning. This is also a recognized system in the transmission of patients to North Brother Island. Half of the Reception Hospital rests on the dock, arid patients have merely to be shifted out of it into the little steamer Franklin Edscn that conveys them up the Sound. The vessel is a miniature hospital and everything is provided in it for the comfort of the patient. On approaching North Brother Island a system of signals is interchanged between the boat and the shore. A long and a short whistle from the steamer announce that typhus is on board the little vessel; three short blasts announce smallpox; two, scarlet fever; and four, measles. Yesterday afternoon fortunately it was a long, shrill whistle, which meant that there was a clean bill of health on board, and none were more thankful than the overworked officials.

Tlie Record of the Chicago Councilinen Charged with Doodling. William J. O'Brien, Alderman of the Sixth Ward, is professionally a

with his mother, his father being dead, and he grew up around the corners of what is now the Fifth Ward, much as other boys grew up

ONE OF THE TENTS USED BY PATIENTS.

there before and have since. At the time of the Are he happened to be in jail on complaint of a young woman, and the prisoners accused of the lesser offenses being liberated on that occasion to save their lives, he escaped and proceeded to get as far away from Chicago as he could. He landed in Boston, where he became a bartender, and finally got a saloon of his own. O'Brien got into trouble with the Boston authorities, and, rather than have further difficulty about it, fled to Canada. From there he returned to Chicago in 1876. Three years ago he was elected Aiderman of the Sixth Ward, and was reelected last spring. D. K. O’Orien. Daniel R. O’Brien, Alderman of the Twenty-third Ward, is a product

of that peculiar part of the city known as “Goose Island.” He is 35 years old, and was “born in what is now the First Ward, but his parents soon moved to the North Side, and he grew up in the peculiar] political and moral' atmosphere which existed and still

exists in the North Market and Franklin street saloons. He gotwhat education he has received at the old Kinzie School, and went into politics at an early age. He was first employed in the office of the North Town Clerk, and afterward became North Town Clerk himself. He was elected Alderman six years ago, and has been twice re-elected. S. M. Gosselin. Stephen M. Gosselin, Alderman of the Seventeenth Ward, is a native of Chicago, descended of German parentage. He is now but a little over 30 years bid, and is a graduate of the local public schools and West Side high schools. He is a lawyer, having been admitted to the bar about five years ago. He is now serving bis first term In the Council, having

THE INDICTED ALDERMEN.

ward politician and incidentally a saloonkeeper. He was born in Gloucester, Mass., thirty-eight years ago, his oeopl e being Usher folk, and he worked s on the Ashing tsmacks which belong to that port. When 16 years old he came to Chicago

W. J. O'BRIEN.

D. R. O'BRIEN.

been elected r. year ago through the votes of the young men of the ward. Nicholas Cremer. Nicholas or “Nic” Cremer is a native of the First Ward, which he now

N. A. CREMER.

and Plymouth place, and at the death of his father inherited considerable property, the lot on which his Sherman street home was located becoming in time extremely valuable. Aid. Cremer had, until he was elected to the Council, enjoyed a good reputation and stood well among the German residents, of whom his father was one of the oldest in Chicago. l'hillp Jackson. Philip Jackson, Alderman of the Fourteenth Ward, was born in the

old First Ward of Chicago in 1856, of Hebrew parentage. He started in making a living for himself at an age, being Arst newsboy and them branching out as ni general newsdealer.' Then he became a Areman, beginning a s a member of the old

First Ward Volunteer Department, and when the paid department was established he joined it. Becoming tired of this, he opened an insurance and real-estate office in the ward he now represents in the Council, and has been engaged in that business ever since. He was elected to the Council Arst three years ago, and ran again last spring. J. F. Dorman. John F. Dorman, Alderman of the Tenth Ward, was born in Germany

forty years ago. He came to Chicago with his parents when a boy and received his education in the Lutheran parish schools of the southwest section Kof the cit y. In fftthe winter of 1887’BB he was one of \t h e Representatives of the Fifth

J. F. DORMAN.

Senatorial District at Springfield. He has been a committeeman from his ward for a number of years, has held minor appointive positions in the City Hall and other public offices, and has been more or less of a local politiejan for a long time. He was electecr to the Council a year ago.

* P. J. Gorman. P. J. Gorman, Alderman of the Thirty-third Ward, was originally an

iron - worker. He was born in Lowell, Mass., thirtyfour years ago, and came to South Chicago in 1874, where he was for a long time employed in the rolling mills of the Illinois Steel’ Company. He became prominent in labor organizations, with which he had been for

many years identified, and was electr ed to the Council in 1880, when South Chicago was annexed to the city. He was re-elected two years ago.

HE SAVED WASHINGTON.

Thomas O. Harter Prevented Lee from Knterlng: the Capital. When Jerry Simpson, in the course of his remarks on the floor of the House,, not long since, solemnly ex-

claimed, “Now, Mr. Speaker, I have a constituent of my own here from the State of Kansas, who, I will venture to say, has done more for this country in regard to valuable services rendered in the war of the rebellion than any man rec-

T. O. HARTER.

ommended to a position in this Congress, I do not care wnere he comes from,” he referred to Sergeant Thos. O. Harter, of Ulysses, Grant County, Kansas. He continued: “He actually saved the army of General Pope from destruction in 1862, saving the city of Washington from capture by the rebel army. He was a man in the employ of the Sc-

represents in the Council. He was born in Sherman street thirty-two years ago, when his father was a small cigarmaker, and as he grew up extended the business until it assumed fair proportions. He was educated at the Jones school, at the corner of Harrison street

PHILIP JACKSON.

P. J. GORMAN.

cret Service, and went through the lines into Richmond, entered the rebel army, becoming a spy, and got intelligence that would save the army of Pope. As soon as he obtained the intelligence, he worked his way through the rebel lines, swam the river, got across safely, and informed General Pope of the danger which menaced him. And he has evidence to show for it, being the signatures of Generals Pope and Sigel.”

DEER CAPTURED BY TRICKS.

How South American Indians Lay In a Supply of Venison. The manner in which the South American Indians hunt deer in the Cordilleras is very interesting and somewhat ingenious. They Arst ascertain the lofcdity in which the animals congregate to graze, and then the men, women and children of the tribe make extensive preparations to hem in the herd. In order to cause a stampede they blow horns, yell and make other bewildering and outlandish noises. Asa natural consequence the frightened deer quit their grazing places. They form in line in regular marching order, the elder males leading the way, followed by the females atd young, while the rear of the column is brought up by the young bucks, who act as protectors to the centers. The Indians now close in upon them, seeing which the animals prepare to do battle for their lives. The hunters then proceed to prepare the instruments of destruction, consisting of large lances, resinous torches and nooses Axed to long poles. The worst enemy of the deer is the jaguar and wildcat, and their animosity to them is such that they have been known to leap over a hunter in order to attack either of these feline foes. The Indians, knowing this, employ it to great advantage during these hunts. The* women stuff a number of jaguar and cat skins, which are placed in prominent positions on the edges of precipices, in full view of the deer. Immediately the bucks make a violent effort to get at them, in order to hurl them into the abyss beneath, but are thus treated themselves by the wily hun-| ters, who push them over the cliff, : where they are quickly hamstrung or otherwise disabled by the women, who are stationed below. After the Arst onslaught on the stuffed Agures, the remaining deer seem to recognize the fact that they have been tricked, and huddle together, awaiting another attack.

Then the Indians throw lighted tbrclres among them and a panic ensues. They make desperate efforts to escape, but the relentless hunters drive them over the crags until they see that a sufficient number have been captured—usually four or Ave hundred. They do not usually harm the females and fawns and also allow a few bucks to escape. Very seldom is a doe killed, and if a doe fawn is captured it is immediately liberated. The flesh is eaten by the Indians and also carried to the villages to be sold.

NEBRASKA’S BUILDING.

It Is of a Unique Romanesque Style. The style of the Nebraska World’s Fair building is Romanesque, and its arrangement combines to a remarkable degree the qualities of utility, beauty, and small cost for construction. The building will cover 9,652 square feet, not including a large veranda on the side adjoining the little .lake. The agricultural and general exhibit is to be arranged in a hall 100x60 feet. Facing the exhibit hall on the Arst floor are offices, balconies, and a lobby. The . second story has another large hall for art and educational exhibits.

NEBRASKA’S WORLD’S FAIR BUILDING.

The height to the top of the dome is 84 feet, while the extreme dimensions are 100x112 feet. The cost of the building will be not less than 815,000.

A Helpful Virginia Girl.

In the family of George Munday, living between Waterford and Wheatland, the father, mother, a son and daughter were all down with the grip, leaving only the youngest daughter, Florence, about 18 years of age, to aid the rest. She attended to the household duties and the sick, and for two or three days fed and curried six horses, fed and milked six cows, and also walked through the snow about a quarter of a mile carrying corn, and when she reached them, feeding it, with straw and fodder, to thirty head of cattle. Having to go to a neighbor to send for a doctor for one of her sick, their condition was discovered, and of course, there was plenty of help afterward. —Richmond Dispatch.

What's in a Name?

The lady was talking to an old friend about the marriage of her daughter to a wealthy man. “I understand,” said the friend, “that Madge has married very well.” “Oh, yes,” replied the gratified mother, “very well, indeed.” “But he had such a peculiar name; Frizzlewiggle, wasn’t it?” “Yes.” “That’s perfectly horrid, don’t you think?” “Well,” hesitated the mother, “it doesn’t sound very melodious, possi bly, but it is perfectly beautiful on a check. ”-*Detroit Free Press. In the case of the anarchists, the Supreme Court decides that the rule of the common law, that a. defendant must be present when sentence is passed upon him and has the right to object to the sentence, applies only to the court that passes the sentence and not to the appellate court which does not sentence but only affirms or vacates the sentence or judgment of the inferior court. This would seem to be almost too plain for serious argument.