Democratic Sentinel, Volume 18, Number 37, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 September 1894 — FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. [ARTICLE]

FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS.

ANTELOPE AND COYOTE. A companion and myself were riding slowly and quietly across one of the uplands of Middlo Turk, in Colorado, some years ago, when wo witnessed a pretty example of the self-defence that can bo made by a very gentle creaturo against a fierce one. I had just passed a thicket of bushes when I caught sight of a doe antelope coming backward over alow ridge a little way off at the left, pursued by a coyote, or prairie-wolf; and bohind her, sticking close to her heels, was a young saw nimble, elegant little creature, the miniature of its mother, whose great soft eyes were now distendod with wild alarm. A lifting of my hand chocked my companion, and nearly hidden by the thicket, we sat quietly in our saddles and watched the contest. It was, of course, the tender fawn that the wolf was pursuing, and well did both the mother and the little one comprehend his design and their own danger. Lot the coyote make never so quick or clever a dash, there was the active aptelope ready to moot him. Her head was down level with his own snarling countenance, although she had no horns to uso In self-de-fence, as had her absent mate; and whenever the wolf caino near enough to give her an opportunity, she would spring into the air and try to strike him with her foie-hoofs, hold straight out and close together. He was afraid of theso hoofs, as he had good cause to be. Thoy are long, narrow and very sharp-pointed, and he would dodge each blow warily, but had very narrow' escapes in splto of his utmost agility. Two of the quickest animals of the plains were matched against one another in a contest of skill and activity. And all the time, no matter how artfully the coyote manumvred to separate the fawn from its dam, it kept close at her heels, knowing that there only was it safe. Perhaps it had already seen a brothor or sister lost by some failure to observe this caution, for the antelopes usually have two fawms at one time, and cannot always protect both. Whether the wolf would finally have given up the chase, or the antelope have succeeded in crushing his skull, nobody knows. Both animals had great endurance, yet it is doubtful whether the marauder would not have tired out the poor little mother and captured the fawn before night; but wo could not stay to watch the affair to its natural issue, and my companion, sympathetic, as usual, with the weaker party, exorcised hiij higher power, A rifle-crack rang out at my olbow, the coyote sprang into the air and fell back dead, and the doe and fawn bounded away like gray shadows fleeing down the yellow hillside.— [Youth’s Companion. SHE MELTED THE EMPEROR. A little American girl has just softened the heart of the stern German Emperor in a very pretty way. Every young German man has to serve a certain time as a soldier after his education is completed, and this little girl, who lives in this country, journeyed all the way over the soa to visit a certain “dear uncle,” only to find that he w'as off at the barracks doing his soldier duties. She was greatly disappointed und much distressed, and as she was told that no one but the Emperor could help her, with true American independence she decided to write to him. She did so, telling him how sorry sho felt to find her dear uncle away, and saying that sho had often heard of the Emperor’s kindness, and was sure, when he knew all about the circumstances ho would arrange for her uncle’s return. Tho letter reached the Emperor, and eventually arrived at the War Office, with instructions attached to it. Eight days after, the “dear uncle” wag informed that he might either postpone his military duties entirely until next year, or receive permission to spend some days in his native village. The quaint appeal of the trusting little neice having quite won the monarch’s heart.— [New' York Times. FEEDING THE DOVES. Any one visiting the office of the Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, on Milk street, Boston, any morning about 11 o’clock and chancing to stand at one of the windows on the Hawley street side, will see a large number of doves perched along one of the upper ledges of the opposite building. He will notice an air of expectancy among tho birds, and a frequent flight of many of them across the street to his window’. The birds are the Old South pigeons, and the reason of their congregation in the neighborhood of the M. S. F.P. C. T. A. at that hour is their knowledge, that something good awaits them there. It is the hour when, according to the society’s custom for years, about half a peck of corn is distributed among the pigeons by the president or vicepresident. A» soon as meal time is announced

by throwing open the windows tho birds fly in a perfect cloud, and fo* two or three minutes there ensues upon the window sills a fierce scramble for the grains of corn which fall in abundance from the kindly hand of the feeder. The birds are tame and familiar with their provider, and peck the corn eagerly from his hands. They devour their meal greedily, und it must be said selfishly, not one of the brood caring whether its companions secure a coveted grain or not. The space on tho window ledges being narrow’, tho birds are bunched together in a fluttering, feathery mass, in which the spectator imagines that some of them must be smothered. They emerge from the confusion safely, however, and, shaking their ruffled plumage, fly back to tlieir j roost across tho way, or disappear down tho street for an after-dinner flight Their appearance denotes the kind care winch they have reeoived every day for yoars, some of them being so plump and large that they arouse the appetite of the less humane observer whose taste for pigeon pie has not undergone tho moral reform through which the officers of the society have passed. Their good treatment lias made them lose something of tho gentle nature attributed to their species, as tho daily inoal is follow’ed by an unseemly pecking and fighting among t hemselves which is quite shocking to one who expects nothing from doves but tho traditional billing and cooing. They arc fed twice and sometimes three times every day, and the only fear entertained by tho good-hearted officers of tho society is that their proteges will eventually lose their self-respecting industry and givo up all effort, to earn their own living. In that care the society will bo obliged to ineroaso its present, supply of corn und open its windows more frequently during tho day, as the appetite of its proteges is something onormous for doves, and will roquiro much more generous rations to bo w’holly satisfied.—[New York Observer.