Democratic Sentinel, Volume 19, Number 40, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 October 1895 — Page 6

THE AMERIGAN HARVEST HOME.

Gather!** the Wheat Cm la the Waited States.

IN country Life aD the poetry of the year is concentrated in the drama of the harvest—the hopes and feara, the Jagra and sorrows, the suspense and the teerard for toil or the certainty of selfdmlil for a year, makes the time precedh( the gathering of the great cereal crop eae of anxiety, and the condition of the wheat the subject of absorbing interest In a million families. Scarcely anything else is spoken of for Weeks. This wave of poetry, of emotion

WHEN THE DAY IS DONE.

that must have expression rises In Son them Missouri and Illinois and rolls northward from farm to farm, from May to September, always beginning somewhere and culminating otherwhere, until at last it dies away on the plains of Manitoba. While yet, to the traveler on the railroads, “the billowy bays of grain, ever rolling in shadow and sunshine,” are green and scarcely distinguishable from meadow land, the farmer has caught the first undergleam of yellow that creeps up the stalk from day to day, until the heavy head has turned to gold. Every day then is good or bad for the wheat. He wants the weather to be cool and dry; a thunder storm is a tragedy, a sky of brass a disaster. He looks to the signs in the morning, and waits impatiently for the freight train to creep by with the Government weather signal displayed. He goes to town for the paper to read the prediction, and he decorates his horses' ears with the heaviest beards he can find to keep up his courage. At this time he is a pessimist. A spot of rust on a yeUow stalk will make him despondent for a week. If hia daughter h counting on music lessons he will show her a Hessian fly found in the wheat, and the sight of a chinch bug will develop the whole family in gloom. With the first touch of gold on the beards a feverish activity begins. The farmer gets bis reaper and binder ready and arranges with the neighbors to trade off work. There are trips to town for binding twine, for stores of sugar and coffee, and the butter is not sold but is stored away in the milkhouse. A sheep or a calf is penned ■p to be fattened, and chickens are confined in the poultry houses. The first morning that smoke la seen from a thrashing machine down on the southern horizon is a great day. All day long it is watched. Perhaps it is busy at a small farm and is moved to another in the afternoon. Sometimes there Is unaccountable delay when, if the smoke still rises from the thrasher, the farmer will venture to predict that Sam Brown’s twenty acres are turning out better than he expected, and hopes rise. U,.the smoke ceases there are dire predictions that the machine has broken down, and before it is fixed a storm will come and drench the shocks. The farmer has finished the reaping an 4 the shocks stand in the open field amid the stubble, like nuggets of gold lying on golden sands. Already popples and Indian lilies missed by the reaper, have burst into flower and fleck the fields with crimson, the smallest cloud casts ■ sinister Bhadow and brings the whole family out in apprehension. Daily the thrasher creeps nearer, now east, now west, but always farther north. At length the men of the family ride away in thq big wagon to help a neighbor, returning at night with the news that “the machine may bo.here any day now.” The women are thrown into a flutter of excitement and the next day while the men are gone the oven is filled with loaves, then with pies and cakes. The soap kettle is hung on the crane in the yard and hams are boiled. All the buttermilk is saved to be sent to the field, and root beer is brewed. The chickens are dressed and vegetables gathered. Now the women sit down and wait The thrasher sends out a clear whistle at noon and 6 o’clock. If the whistle •hould blow at 11 the women know that a piece of work is finished and they

watch the roads to see if their turn is to come next. The field is fairly a dazzle with the golden shocks. ' Perhaps a quickly passing cloud scatters a few drops of rain and creates consternation. At last the thrasher, drawn by four hones, pulls in the wagon gate and other wagons follow loaded with singing, shouting men and boys, most of them neighbors, only a few traveling with the machine. The last wagon will contain women and girls, neighbors, who have come to help get supper and wait on the men. They come on to the house and have brought with them dishes, knives and forks and table linen to help out the ordinary family outfit. Such shouting and tanghlng and joking and good news and had news. The women learn that John Smith’s ten-acre patch tat-ngd out thirty bethels to the acre, and mat the engineer is just too sweet to- live and there at* new songs, strange ballads of city streets, sung by the mac Mae *nW»; and any. did Jennie know that fierJeJidw had asms with his team from five miles away

—most want te get on the good side of the old man. Within half an hour boys are dispatched to the field with kegs of water, buttermilk and root beer, and along in the afternoon a clothes basketful of bain sandwiches and pails of lemonade are sent out. Six teams are in the field hauling the wheet to the thrasher and two men are feeding the insatiable maw. All the golden afternoon the golden straw climbs and fails over in the smoky air; the chaff sties In a blinding cloud, the grain is caught In two-bushel canvas bags and loaded onto a wagon. Now and then a cheer goes up, and the women, catching the excitement flock out to the porch and wave their handkerchiefs and aprons. “Twenty-two bushels to the acre,” shouts the boy as he trundles his wheelbarrow into the yard for a fresh supply of liquids. The feet of the women seemed winged by the good news, for they are not disposed, tike the farmer to growl because there were not twenty-five bushels How blistering hot it is—ideal harvest weather, but now there are fears, and prayers, maybe, for neighbors. In the common fortune or misfortune of fair weather or storms, the neighborhood is all one family, and they suffer for one another. Many of the men wear red flannel shirts and all of them wide straw hats, and the field scene is tropical and foreign, with the big red thrasher belching clouds of smoke, and the mystic stair climbing, climbing, and the work all done in secret. The wagons drive a-field, load up from the shocks and return to the machine. The rick of golden straw increases to a yellow hillock, and the children climb up to the base. How hot it is! The mej drink gallons of liquids and keep wet sponges In their hats. The women wonld be anxious for the men If they had time. The long afternoon is too short to prepare supper for twenty famished men and half as many women and children. The soap kettle Just holds the carcass of a sheep, the wash boiler is filled with chickens and a big sirloin is in the oven. There is a bushel of potatoes to peel, beans and

corn to prepare, cold slaw to make, tomatoes to peel. A harvest supper table is a thing to remember when seen by one bred in a city where portions are calculated so exactly. If there is a long veranda to the farmhouse the table is spread there —the extension pulled to its full leugth aud pieced out at the ends with tables from the kitchen. Perhape the white table cloths will not cover the board, and turkey red cloths make brilliant squares at either end. At intervale are stacks of white aud brown bread, rolls of butter, pitchers of milk, dashes of apple sauce, pickled beets and jam. Platters of chicken cut iu pieces, sliced ham and beef and mutton, and bowls of vegetables are placed conveniently for the men to help themselves as quickly as possible. Plates, knives, forks, spoons and glasses are at each man’s place. When the 6 o’clock whistle blows there Is a flutter of excitement in the house. The girls run for the butter and cream and milk, and some middle-aged woman,

AT THE DINNER TABLE.

an old and tried hand at making coffee by the gallon, begins the important concoction. Everything is ready by the time the men have unhitched the horses and flocked up to wash at the pump. As fast as they finish they stand around the the yard fanning themselves with ’their big straw hats. The girls in pink and blue ginghams and white aprons give a last touch to their bangs and flutter around the porch, peeping through the vines at the engineer, who has the controlling interest in the thrasher. He is usually a stranger, and is considered a capitalist. Jennie’s fellow is dying to go into the house, but is afraid of being chaffed. When they do come in there is precious little standing on ceremony. The oldest privileged neighbor sinks into a seat at the end of the table and starts th* conversational ball to rolling with the remark: “Mrs. Smith, I just took the liberty of informing the company that they wouldn't get no better grub anywhere than they get right here, nor prettier girls to wait on ’em. For these and

all other blessings the Lord makes ns truly thankful. That will do for a blessing. Pitch In, boys.” In ten minutes the bread plates are empty and are filled again with hot biscuits. Coffee cups are filled and replenished, and the meat platters make several journeys to the kitchen. A dozen apple and custard and berry pies disappear like snow before'the sun. Then comgp watermelon and cake, and if there is an icehouse on the farm the feast is topped off with ice cream, and the hostess gets,three cheers and a tiger after the men go back to the yard. “Where on earth did they put all that food?” is the admiring plaint of the women, who manage to find enough to satisfy themselves and the children from the

remnants of the feast. The farmer waits for his wife at the kitchen door and whispers to her that if present prices keep up there will bo nearly SI,OOO in the bank, and winds up with: “You are going to have a black cashmere dress and a new cloak if it takes the whole pile. Yes, Jennie can have music lessons, too.” Unless it is a large farm a few hours in the morning will finish the work. There will be breakfast to get only for the machine men, who will sleep in the barn lofts on the newly thrashed straw after an evening on the vine-clad porch. The women are washing dishes in the kitchen. but they subdue the clatter if there are songs, and after awhile the harvest

THE STEAM THRESHER AT WORK.

moon conics up, und the katydids begin their mutual recriminations. It takes a week to restore the house to its ordiuury aspect. In tho meantime the men are awuy helping neighbors. The first Sunday after the farmer counts his grain bugs and stows sundry samples away in little bugs and he reads the agricultural paper and city weekly, poring for hours over the market columns, and nobody disturbs futker, who is figuring on mysterious elements that enter into prices. “You bet I am going to stand out for the three-fourths of a cent,” he announces at the supper table, and he informs his wife that prices have been skylarking around the 75 mark all week, settling at 76%. “Who cares for a quarter of a cent?” says Miss Jennie, with a toss of the head. “The speculators do. They make millions by jiggling prices up and down while the fools make dollars working like niggers.” The farmer is pessimistic again, and growls the whole evening. But no one is much downcast by it. In a week or so he puts on his best suit of clothes, puts a little bag of wheat in his pocket und drives to town in a buggy. There he finds neighbors and the village buyers, who ostentatiously display telegrams from the Board of Trade, teliing the ruling price. The buyers rush about sampling this bagandthatandmaking offers. These are generally rejected unless a farmer is hard pressed for money to pay a mortgage. It is a miniature Board of Trade with but one or two buyers. The farmer has his advices, too. He talks learnedly of the crops in France, Austria-Hungary and the Columbia River, and their effects on the market.

The report of the Hessian fly, smut, rust, or chinch bug makes him go up 5 cents in price to the irritation of the local buyers, who remind him of the surplus in Italy. “All goes into macaroni. So does the Swiss wheat, and you needn't talk to me about Columbia River and California products now standing in bags iu the field. It all goes to Loudon around the Horn and sells at 3 to 5 cents higher there because it is so dry the voyage doesn’t hurt it. It’s Canada aud India and Russia that’s going to hurt us, if anything is.” “Yes, and Argentina!” retorts the buyer. “Reports from there ” ,“Oh, get out, that’s on the other side of the world, don’t harvest for four months, and it doesn’t enter into the visible supply yet.” “These farmers knows too much for their own good,” growl the buyers. Meanwhile the farmers stand together and perhaps go home without selling. The buyer, in the end, makes his money on small margins and handles large quantities. He is really nllowed only a small commission. Only now and then does he make a shrewder bargain or find a farmer who must have money. “Well, I guess I’ll go home and put in winter wheat until the price comes round my way,” he announces as ho drives • away, and he keeps up this assumed indifference by not appearing for a week, saying, when he comes back again: “I see there will be nearly three billion bushels this year. Guess the speculators won’t starve if my wheat lays where it is. Got it insured to-day.” So he has the buyer at his mercy, and in the end he gets the highest price if he is shrewd enough to know what that is. He rebels 365 days in the year against competing with the heathen of China and East India, where wheat i» still

thrashed with the flail, saying that a hundred coolies don’t represent the capital put into a thrashing machine; aud Argentina, cultivated by Iti-iana and Spanish immigrant labor, seems an unwarranted invasion of his rights. Saturday 1* the day generally agreed upon as the day to sell, because then the farmers are gathered ia the market towns in the greatest number. Then actual wagon loads of wheat are hauled in and before the horses are unhitched and the farmer tilted back against the front of his favorite store, a buyer saunters over and makes an offer, which the farmer declines. “Brought this in to sell, did you?” “Well, so long. That’s the market price. Best I can do.”

A SELF-BINDING HARVESTER.

“Oh, I guess I can haul it back. Horses haven’t got anything else to do.” In a few minutes another buyer appears and makes the same offer. The price is agreed upon beforehand among the buyers. As the hours go by other farmers come in, and perhaps a sale is made. Thou, as the furiners begin to hitch up ngnin, the buyers begin to bid against each other in their efforts to secure the wheat. A miniature Board of Trade is thus organized Impromptu, and the storekeepers come out of the shops to see the fuu. One after another the loads are purchased ami driven off to the warehouses or freight cars standing on a side track, for the buyer may be .under

orders for an immediate delivery in some big city. With the selling of the wheat trade begins. The merchants order fresh stocks, for they know the farmers' wives and daughters will be in to buy. The blacksmith and machinist do a thriving business, debts are paid, tho bunks have money to loan, the saw mills aud grist mills begin to run and building is resumed. This is the whole secret of the revival of trade. The surplus in the treasure-house of the earth revives confidence, irrespective of the gold reserve held by the nation. In the economy of nature wheat bears tho same importance in the vegetable kingdom that iron does in tho mineral. It is improbable that it will be ever superseded by any other cereal, for no other contains in the same ratio the same elements of food, and this has been proved to be the most perfect nutriment. The wheat fields of California yield greater returns than the gold fields, and those of the Columbia River are more precious than the vast forests that cover the mountains. The great American desert is no longer marked on the map, since 30,000 acres of the Dalrymple farms are under cultivation and return a higher per cent, on the investment than the mines. The original home of the wheat plaut is thought to be Messopotamia, whence it extended in early times to the Canaries on the east and China on the west. In the western hemisphere it was unknown until the sixteenth century, Indian corn or maize being the native cereal. Humboldt mentions that wheat was accidentally introduced into Mexico with rice brought from Spain by a slave belonging to Cortez, and the same eminent authority saw at a mountain monastery near Quito the earthen vase in which a Flemish monk had brought wheat from Ghent into South America. From these two beginnings 250 years ago the cereal has spread all over both continents, so

that in the United States two years 9. g0 34,000,000 acres were sown in spring wheat alone. In the Smithsonian Institution one can gather an idea of the supply of the world by specimens from Norway and Sweden at 65 degrees north latitude; from Switzerland at 1,200 feci above the valley of Zermatt, or 6,500 above sea level; from the Straits of Magellan, Teneriffe, Cape iof Good Roderiguez, the Philippine Islands a,ad Malay. Twenty-eight out of the United States produce wheat, many of them a surplus. Some times when a man dies, the mourners are sorry because they can’t feel more sorry than they d(k

BRINGING BORROWED DISHES.

HUMOR OF THE WEEK

STORIES TOLD BY FUNNY MEN OF THE PRESS. Odd, Csriou* and Laughable Phases of Human Nature Graptdcally Portrayed by Km incut Word Artists of Our Own Day—A Budget of Fun. gprinkles of Spice. Put away the blythe straw hat-let And the trouseroons of duck. Soon we’ll don our winter ulster— That is, if we are In luck. —Washington Star. Little Girl (to her mamma) —What Is a dead letter, please? Mamma—One that has been given to your father to post.—Household Words. Passenger—That fellow back there Is raising a great row because he has tc stand. Conductor—Yes; lie’s riding on a pass!—Chicago Record. Cholly Yachtsman—O, could Ibe your mainstay? She (looking at thp clock)—You are. No one else stays after half past 11. —Syracuse Post. Blxby—What idiots girls are when they imitate men! Marie (flattered)— Do yop think so? . That proves how excellent the imitation is.—Truth. Fogg says they are quite stylish at his boarding house. The servant is not in lively, but the breakfast is, six mornings in the week.—Boston Transcript

“Why, Mr. Councillor, you are trying to open the front door with your cigar.” “Really, now! I wonder if I’ve been smoking the latch key?”—Schome Blaue Donau. Realization.—Nephew—Do you know, uncle, I dreamt last night that you lent me $10! Uncle (generously)—ls that so? Ah! \tell, you may keep them, Otto.—La Perroquet. Uncle—“ You only write me once every month, when you want money.” Nephew (a student) —“I beg your pardon, uncle; last month I had to write twice.”—Lustige Blatter.. “Miss Passe indulged in somewhat withering sarcasm when she was talking of you.” “It is her privilege, poor thing. She is somewhat withering herself.”—lndianapolis Journal. “Papa, where are the most diamonds found?” asked Willie. “In somebody else’S' hand when they are trumps,” growled papa, who’d been having hard luck at whist.—Harper’s Bazar. “Yes,” said the business man to the clergyman, “I’ve lost a good deal of time in my life.” “By frittering it away, I suppose?” “Xo, by being punctual to my appointments.”—Boston Courier. “If dere’s any invention dat I have a profound respeck for,” said Movealong Mike, “it’s de founting-pen.” "Whut’s de reason?” inquired Plodding Pete. “Dey never works.”—Washington Star. Hazel—l have one of the nicest dentists you ever saw. Nutte— In what way? Hazel—Why, he pulled out the wrong tooth the other day and wouldn’t charge me a cent for it.—Xew York Herald. Mudge—Another man called me a liar last night. Yabsley—What did you do? “Well, as lie was three sizes bigger than I, I asked him why he couldn’t say something original.”—lndianapolis Journal. “Ah, but it's his good record that stands in his way.” “How?” “He has foolishly always made it a point to pay cash for everything, and consequently he hasn’t the least bit of credit.”—Chicago Evening Post.

“What was the most confusing case you ever had?” asked the doctor of the lawyer. “Case o’ champagne,” returned the lawyer. “I hadn’t got half through It before I was all muddled up.”—Harper’s Bazar. For various reasons men go to the sea, And manifold benefits glean; But fair woman’s reason Is best, you’ll agree— She goes to the sea to be seen. —Brooklyn Life. Oliver have any trouble with your wheel?” “Not yet,” said the Sweet Young Thing. “So far whenever I have run over anyone I have been able to get away before he got up.”—lndianapolis Journal. In Boston, of course: Hicks—“ But, really, what kind of a looking girl la this Miss Beekon?” Wicks—“ Well, I can hardly say; you see, she didn’t have her glasses on the day I saw her.” —Boston Transcript. “If you have anything to say, why don’t you say it, and be done with it?” “I never cast my pearls before swine.” “Well, I don’t know as I can blame you; it would be an insult to the swine.”— Boston Transcript. “There’s money In stocks,” said the man who is young and enthusiastic. “Yes,” replied his seasoned friend, “I’m sure there is. I have been putting half my salary there for the last four years, and it’s all there yet”—Washington Star. Clieerup (to Tom Hardup, who has a lot of bad debts and no money, but who is tlie only heir of a very old, very healthy and very wealthy aunt)—“Now don’t get discouraged, Tommy; there is your Aunt Maria.” Tom Hardup—“Yes, there she is; that's the trouble.”— Boston Transcript. Miss Towmsend—“Do you find much difficulty in keeping help here?” Mrs. Suburb—“lndeed, yes. It is next to impossible to keep a girl more than a week.” Miss Townsend—“ Why is that —tdh far from the city?” Mrs. Suburb —“Oh, no. I think not; but you see we have only one policeman in the town, and he’s married.”—Judge.

Hospitable.

A peculiar epitaph is inscribed on a tombstone in the old churchyard of an Ohio town. General Wayne was at one time in command of the fort mentioned In the epitaph. Margaret, Wife of David Gregory, Died August 12, 1821, Aged 66 years Here lies the woman, the first, save one, That settled on the Miami, above Fort Hamilton; Her table was spread, and that of the best, And Anthony Wayne was often her guest.

KILLING CATS AND DOGS.

Over 21,000 Pot to Death in Eight Month* in New York City. New York’s Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals is now invested with full power to license dogs, and to capture, detain and, if necessary, to humanely destroy captured animals, so that the spectacle of a cage full of howling dogs and crying cats on their way to the pound is no longer seen In our streets. The first steps taken by President Haines, of the society, says the World, were to provide a suitable shelter for the stray creatures and to fix upon a humane method of putting them to death. Accordingly the old pound, at the foot of 102 d street and the East river, was converted into a home for estrays. The interior has been fitted up with every possible convenience for the maintenance of captured animals and for destroying them without pain in case they are not claimed within the time fixed by the law, which is for-ty-eight hours. Asphyxiation was decided upon as the kindest method. The society's service at the present time requires four ambulances and two

WHERE HOMELESS CATS ARE PENNED.

wagons specially constructed for their purpose, eight horses, with necessary stable room, and twenty-two persons, who are at work in different relays by day and by night. Only unlicensed dogs are seized. Any cat found without a collar bearing the name and residence of its owner is promptly captured. If a dog is taken to the shelter wearing a collar on which its owner's name and address appear, the person to whom the dog belongs is immediately notified, and an opportunity afforded for its redemption. Any dog may be redeemed for $3. The shelter has five or six pens for dogs, the floors of which are covered with dean sawdust Each of these pens, which are larger, lighter and better ventilated than most bedrooms In apartment houses In Xew York, is provided with a window. On the opposite side of the building are rows of cages for the reception of cats. In the center of the building stand two large iron kettles, In which the animals’ food is cooked. The cooking is done by steam. The animals are fed twice a day. The “death chamber” is a large room containing a tank in which the poor

DROPPING A DOG INTO THE “DEATH CHAMBER.”

dumb creatures are asphyxiated. This tank is ten feet long, four feet high and five feet wide. Every afternoon at 4 o’clock the tank is charged with gas, and the animals that have been kept for forty-eight hours are dropped in through a sort of trap door at the top.

BENDING BICYCLISTS.

They Are in Great Danger of Sustaining Spinal Concussions. Accompanying picture is from rough pencil sketches made by Dr. E. H. Woolsfey, of Oakland. Cal., to prove that bicycle riders who bend over are in greater danger from concussion than

STRAIGHT AND CURVED SPINE.

those who keep the back straight When the back is curved the vertebrae impinge upon one another at the ends.

Tired of Making Up.

Lizzie and Ferdinand Schiess, of St. Louis, seem to have broken the matrimonial record. No divorce petition is remembered in which so many separations and reconciliations are catalogued as In that filed by Lizzie Schiess, born Hambrecht She has been deserted in nearly every large city in the United States, but she never failed to put faith in her husband’s professions of repentance for past misconduct and promises of future good conduct. She kissed and made up every time, letting bygones be bygones, until July 11th, 1894, the fifth anniversary of their marriage, when Schiess gave her a ticket to St. Louis. Since then, she says, he lias not written to her.

Character Changed by Illness.

Chopin, the pianist and composer, was a very gentle man, and scrupulously considerate of the wishes of others. During his long illness his character seemed to change completely, as is often the case with chronic invalids. He became selfish, petulant and hard to please.

Another Bicycle Record.

Two hundred and thirty miles have been ridden on a bicycle without dismounting.

BANDITS ROB A CAR.

CHICAGO ELECTRIC PATRONS BOLDLY PLUNDERED. Murderous Brutality Shown by the Daring Marauders—Passenger* Assaulted, Money, Watches and Diamonds Taken and Thieves Escape; Bandits Shoot to Kill. Four masked and armed men held up a street car on the Evanston electric line at Edgewater, a Chicago suburb, Monday night in true Western style. They succeeded in carrying off between S2OO and S3OO, besides several gold and silver watches. Of the twenty-three persous aboard the car only three offered resistance, and one of these was shot and the other two badly beaten. The highwaymen stopped the car in Evanston avenue at the corner of Berwyn. Evanston avenue between Montrose boulevard and Edgewater is a lonely place at night. The street is not paved, except in the car tracks, and there is no travel either by teams or pedestrians,’ When the men stopped the caT two of them jumped on in front and two behind. The front men were masked, with white handkerchiefs tied over the lower part of their faces, while of the two in the rear one had a black mask and the other a red one. They all carried revolvers. The man evidently the leader, a tall, slender fellow, with deep sunken eyes and wearing a light overcoat, ordered the motorman, J. O. Merrimau, into the ear, threatening to shoot him if he disobeyed. Merriman, however, obeyed promptly, and the robber, following him in, immediately commanded everybody in the car to give up whatever of value he or she had in hi» ( or her possession. In the meantime the two robbers oa the rear platform had also driven the conductor, W. G. Osborn, inside, and then a robber stood at each door, threatening to shoot any one who attempted to get out, while the other two went down the aisle, grabbing watches from the men, searching their pockets for money, and seizing what-: ever women’s pocketbooks happened to be in sight. After that the robbers had' things their own way, and robbed the passengers at leisure. More than S6OO in' personal property and money was secured 1 from the passengers. Some of the ladies had ear-rings torn from their ears. Passengers Are Daated. For a moment nobody attempted any resistance. The men in the car seemed dazed and the women, of whom there were seven, did considerable screaming. Finally, when the robbers came to N. OG. Johnson, of Galesburg, 111., who is in Chicago visiting friends at Edgewater, and whose wife was with him, he strongly objected to parting with a valuable watch and SOO which he had in his pocket. The robber grabbed him by the shoulders and Mr. Johnson struck at him with his fist. The robber replied with a heavy blow with the butt end of his revolver, striking Mr. Johnson under the left eye and at the same time his companion beat him badly over the head. Just then A. E. Wostman.also offered resistance and was set upon and also badly beaten. He had a cane in his hand which he attempted to use against the robbers, but one of them took it away from him and used it against himself. Just then Thos. P. Nesbitt made the strongest fight which had yet been made against the robbers. Mr. Nesbitt is a man fully six feet tall,' with broad shoulders, anil built like an ■athlete. He jumped up from the rear end of the car, overthrew one of thq robbers who was in his way, gave another one a blow which knocked him against the side of the car. The robber in the light overcoat, who seemed to be the leader of the gang, leveled his revolver at him and fired one shot. The bullet took effect in Mr. Nesbitt’s left thigh, and, while inflicting only a flesh wound, still brought him to the ground. The whole affair took five minutes. When the robbery was completed the highwaymen all gq£off the front platform, taking with them the lever with which the motorman controlled the motor. They also swung the trolly off the wire and cut the rope, leaving the car in darkness and stationary on the track.

UNCLE SAM’S MITTS ON.

Prize Fighters Will Not Be Allowed to Meet on Federal Domain. Commissioner Browning of the Indian office has taken prompt and decisive action to prevent the Corbett-Fitzsimmons prize fight taking place in the Indian Territory. He has prepared a letter of instructions Jo Agent Wisdom at Muscogee, I. T., directing him to see that the laws are enforced and to eject forcibly any intruders who may enter the Indian country for the purpose of creating a disturbance or engaging in anything that may be detrimental to the Indians. The .commissioner states that the statutes of the United States are ample to cover the situation and to prevent the fight. The agent will have at his back not only the Indian police but all the United States troops necessary to eject the fighters. The statutes give the United States authority to keep out of the Indian Territory all persons whose presence would be detrimental to the peace and prosperity of the Indians. The commissioner says there is no doubt that the presence of the prize fighters and the gang that would follow them into the Indian Territory would be very detrimental to the Indians and that it is therefore the duty of the Indian office to keep them out. He says that the agent at Muscogee has not as much authority as the agents on reservations, but nevertheless has enough to prevent the fight taking place in tho Territory of the five civilized tribes. The commissioner intends also to notify ail the governors and head men of the five civilized tribes that they must not allow the fight to take place and must'assist the United States authorities in preventing it.

Captain Gerge A. Armes.

The retired soldier who was arrested in Washington recently for sending an insulting letter to General Schofield.

Sparks from the Wires.

At Belmore, Ohio, the stave and heading factory burned, throwing 200 men out of employment. Loss, $75,000. People of Washington and California discredit the report that a schooner is being fitted out in Oakland Creek for piratical purposes.