Jasper Weekly Courier, Volume 14, Number 29, Jasper, Dubois County, 23 August 1872 — Page 2

Bret HarteN l.at.

MISS RLAVOHl'S HOSI. And you i-re the roee, and so you w.mt Siuieihtiig hut in it - a theme nr Inav ? Somei hin at nt h.r the imi-c won't runt In yonr olJ pet:cl necromania Why.i'tii' hull . it you port - y-.u oin't deny Donatrn-Wt'ic iaa.- wagg) i 4k I'limce . i meet Uut it'tt.v.. i-jprt:i. !ii.it 1.1 fii:h Kit A rufir r god lr.-. terir S trmii the sky. ' 'v )iti fl.Ji ..! t Wo I ay ctl-.t, .l.tu !y. Quite tit Ht MTtiir. stagM fu ut i.-rot her. What if r'rol.i vnu my own romance" WNM re poet if u I take thein, 0n thir.l MM th ri'St what chance Of in .in an. I matrt ico t.-.iy i'lio.Kf U make . ti taste " (Jive me ten n.inute before you Koller at window we'll mit tone' her. I Jnrirf the currents tht ebb u .1 flow. WHolItt the world as it drift below, I'p the hot nvenue'i dusty glow. -les t h eieewirtv thisbrtrtit .Ttine weather? VI ell. H was after the war broke out, And I was a -rlui.il girl, freth train Paria. Pata had contracts ami roamed about. And I did nothing for 1 wa an heiress : Picked oaie lint, now I think. Perhaps Knitted iome stockings a doien early, Havelocks made for the soldier' cap. Stood at the tair-tables and peddled trap Quite at n profit. The shoulder traps Thought I nu pretty. Ah, thank you, really) Still, it wa. stunid. Katata-tat ! rhose were the sounds of that battle summer. Till the earth seemed flat. Iarehnt. round an. And every foot-fall tap of a drummer: And day by day down the avenue went Cavalry, infantry, all together. Till tu pitying angel one day sent My fate in the shape of a regiment That halted just as the day was spent Here, at our door, in the bright June weather. Jtonc of your dandy warriors they : Men from the West, but where I know aot; Haggard and travel-stained, worn and gray. Vita never a ribbon, or laee, or bow-knot : And I opened the window, and leaning there I felt in their presence the free wood's blowing ; My neck, .'nd shoulders, nnd arms were bare I did not dreim they might think me fair But I had Mime flowers that night in icy hair. And here, in my bosom, a red rose glowing. And I looked from the window along the line. Dusty and dirty, grim and solemn. nil an eye lite a boyonet flash met mine. And a dark face grew from the darkening column: And a quick hair. flash leaped to my eyes and Till cheeks and shoulders burned altogether. And the next I fuund myself standing there m ith my eyelid wet, and my cheeks less fair, adu me rose irom my oosom tossed Dich in air, Like a blood-drop falling on p'.ume jpg feather. Then I drew back quickly there came a cheer, A rush of figures, a noise and tussle - And then it was over, and high and clear My red rose bloomed on Aw gun's black auntie. Then far in the darkness a sharp voice cried, And slowly and steadily, all together. Shoulder to shoulder, and side to aide. Rising and falling, and swaying wide, but beaming above them the rote my pride They marched away in the twilight weather. And I leaned from the window and watched my rose Tossed on the waves of the surging column. Warmed from above in the sunset glows Borae from below by an impulse solemn. Then I stmt the window. I heard no more Of my soldier friend, my flower neither. Bet lived my life as I did betöre: I did r igpge as a none to the war Mck folks to me are a dreadful bore. So I dient go to the hospitals either. V on smile. 0 poet, and what do yon ? You lean from the windows, an watch Life's column Trampling and struggling through dust and dew, I ilred with its purpe.se gravi ind solenn ; And an aot. a gesture, m faee- who knows ? x oucnes your tanejr to thrill and haunt you. And you pluck from yuur bosom the verse that gr wa. And down it flies, like my red. red rese. ni you sit ana dream aa away it goes, And think that your duty is done now, don't you: T know yonr answer. I'm not yet thronah Uok at the phetngrapi - In the Treooaes"xnai aeaa man in tneeoat f biae tj Holds a withered rose in his hand. That etenobes Nothing 1 Except that the sen paints true. And a woman sometimes is prophetic-minded. Aid that's my romance. And, poet, you lake it and mold it to suit year view. And who knows but you may find it to Ootae to yonr heart ones more as mine did. THE EMERALDS. One wintry afternoon in January, away up in ine DieaK attic ot a wretched tenement house, a pale, sad-eyed .vornan sat sewing. The garment upon which she was engaged was very rich and costly, being a handsome party dresi. The twilight closed in rapidly, with a blinding fall of snow, and a bitter, wailing blagt, that made the win dows rattle in their .casements. Still the pale-faced woman stitched on. "Mother," piped a slender voice from the cot beneath the window. 'shall you fet the fine dress (fcmeT 6h mother, "m so hungry, if 1 could only have some tea, and a bit o' sausage." The mother worked on steadily for a few moments, pausing only to brush a tear from her white cheek, then she arose and shook out the glittering robe. 'Tis done at last," she said; "now mother's poor little girl can have her supper, only be patient a little longer, Flora. Ross, Roes, where are you, nay boy?" A manly little fellow came out from the little bedroom beyond. "The fine dress is done, Rom," said his mother, "and you must run home with it as fast as erer you can. Miss Garcia will be out of patince, I know. Tell her I could' t finish it one moment sooner, and ask her to give you the money. We must have it tonight. And vou can stor in at Mr. Raw's aa vrn come back and buy some coal, and we must nave some bread and tea. and a mite of butter, and you must get a sausage, Ross, for poor little Flora." "I'll get 'em all, mother," he said, "and be back in no time. You shall have a big sausage, little sis," he added, turning toward the cot. The little girl nodded her curly head J I Hfl ll.lt !.,. ml ,f..l I 1 IT c.v. gicni, vTinuui eyes paraied with delight. "And you shall have half of it, Ross' she piped, in her slender, bird voice. "Hadn't you bettor put on your thick jacket, my boy ?" continued the mother; "the wind cnta like a knife." "Pshaw, little mother; I don't mind the winl." And away he went, down the creak ing flight of stairs, and out in the storm. Miss Garcia Fontenay was in a peif'-et furore of impatience and anger. Her dear five hundred friends were assembled in th halls below, and her handsome dress had not come home. What did that begger woman mean by disappointing her? At that moment there waa a ring at the door, snd a voice in the hall.

I'leitM' toll Miss (larcia inv mother

could not finish it sooner, and she want tlio money to night. ilu;to took no the handsome drew and message. "I H never give her another stitch ol woi k," cried; the angry hemty: 'fought to h;ivi lia.LU three hour ago. Here F.inolion, come and dress mo at once tlmrv'ifno. a moment to lose! No. I can't my toniglit. 1 haven't tine. H lini-l ceXlfkniorrow." "nut wove no hie, ami nntliinc to '.-11,111111 HIV lllllt' .SHU T 1M Sll'K, CHI It ( the boy, pushing tip the grand stairway "Shut that dear. Fagch-n !' eotn . . j . ,. I. tmide.l Mi. tisVcia. ind: th door was closed in his face. From her perch attheparforwlndow, little Pansie wutcbrd the whole scene, her violet eyes digumded with childish amazement. "Poor little boy," she said, as Ross disappeared down the stairway, "sister (iarcia ouuht to pay iuui. :t must ue oreaaiut to nave no hre and nothing to eat." She stood for a mument, balancing herself on the tip ol one dainty foot, her rose bud face grave and reflective ; then a sudden thonjrut flooded her blue eves with sunshine), and natchinj; something from the table, she darted town stairs. I he servant had mst closed the street door, but she fluttered past him like a huiuininir bird and opened it. On the steps sat Ross, brave ittle fellow that he was, his face in his hands, sobbing as if his heart would break. "What's the matter, little boy?" ques tioned Pansie. Rom looked up, half believinc that it w:u the face ot an angel looking down upon him through the whirling snow flakes. "0, I cannot go home without the money," he sobbed; "poor mother worked hard, and little Flora is sick and so hungry." Pansie's eyes glistened like stars. "Here," she said, "do you take this, little boy, and buy her lots o' nice things. 'Tis worth a great deal: papa bought it for my birthday present, but do you tal.e it and welcome." She extended her dimpled hands, and something like a shower of falling stars tinkled to the boy's feet. He caught it up in a maze a necklace of meralds, lustrous, gleaming thing set in tawny Indian gold. "No, nol"' he cried, running up to where she stood; "I dan't take this, take it back." But Pansie shook her curly head. "You shall take it," she commanded imperiously. "I've lots o' jewelry and fine things run home now and buv your sister something nice to eat." bhe closed the door with a bane, and Ross stood irresolute in the stormy gloom. Should he ring the bell and re turn the jewels to Tansie's father, or should he do as she had bid him ? He thought of his mother and poor hungry little Flora watching wistfully for his return. He could not go back and see them starve. With a sudden feeling of desperation, he thrust the glittet ing necklace in his bosom, and dashed down the snowy street. The gas light blazftd brilliantly in a fashionable jewelry establishment, and its bland proprietor looked down inquiringly on little Ross, as he approached the glittering counter. "Would you like to buy this, sir?" There was a tremor in the boy's voice as he aiked the question, and the hand that held up the emerald necklace shook visibly. The lapidary took the gems, examined them closely for a moment, and then shot a sharp glance at the child. "See here," he said, presently, his voice stern and commanding, "I want to know how you came by this?'' The boy's clear eyes fell, he blushed and stammered, evidently embarrassed. The jeweler put aside the emeralds, and taking the lad's arm, led him into a small ante-room. "You are a thief, sir," he said. "That necklace belongs to Mr. Fontenay he bought it of me not one month ago i ou stote it. x ou ace a thief !" The little fellow straightened him self, and his brown eyes blaaed. "I am not a thief." he retorted. " didn't steal that necklace a kind little girl gave it to me, and I know it was wrong to take it, but but mv mother ana smer are starving." i ne jeweler hesitated. "You don't nnr lilr a a ft hiof " Vin mmlA - i ii in ii v , mv rm , "but I will send for Mr. Fontenav: that win seme tne matter at once, He dispatched a messenger ncenrrl ingly, and Ross sat down in one corner. and sobbed bitterly, as he heard the - - T driving winds, and thought of his mother and poor little Flora. In half an hour Mr. Fontenay came, bringing ms aaugnter, little ransie, with him The little creature darted in like i humming-bird, her cheeks ablaze, her eye nasning Ugntmng. "He didn't steal my emeralds I" she : i iii . .. . . cric-u. i gave em io mm to sen em and buy bread for his little sister." Rose sprang to his feet, struggling hard to keep back his tears. He put x I 1 . . 1 . . ... . oui ins nine Drown nana, which .Pansie instantly clasped in both her chubby natu. "I am not a thief, sir," he said at last, addressing Mr. Fontenay;"! never stole anything tn my life. I know if was wrong to take the necklace, but but sir, my little sister is sick and she is starving." . The merchant drew his hand aeroaa his eyes. "You're a manly little fellow." said, patting the lad's head, "and I do not in the least blame you, but we'll Uke back Pansie's emeralds, and aha shall give you something more availanie. tiere, I'ansie, give this little friend." to your He put a sold niece into PnnaiaV hands, which she tendered to Ross, with the injunction that he should run straight home and buy lots of goodies

for his sister; a command he was not

glow to obey. "I think we'll not lose sight of the little fellow," continued Mr. Fontenay, as Koss disappeared in the stormy darkness, "shall we, pet? Lei's see, what oan we do to help him ? lie's a promising youl; lad, and an honest one I'm eure. Mr. Lenox, you're in need of au errand boy. why not try him ? 1 wiah you would The jeweler consented, to Pansie's great o'elight, und on the following day Kus was duly established as errand boy in the fashionable establishment. Fifteen yearg after, one blustering March morning, u young man sat behind the counter oi a thriving jewelry establishment in one of tTie Northern pities. He waa a handsome man- a scholar and a traveler, a man of taatf, lute lleot and money, tor he was junior partner in the firm, which was a pros perous one. Hut despite all this good fortune, Koss Dunbar was net happy. His mother and little Flora had iione to tneir long home, and he was utterly i 1 I 1 a ' ilone, Without kith or kin in the wide world. Sitting alone that morning, with the roar ot the March winds in his ears, his thoughts were runninir back to the davs of his boyhood, to his mother's humble home. How vivid the nast seemed. asH iow dear and sacred, despite its priva tions and sorrow. His eyes grew dim and his heart swelled. All were gone over the wi ie waters of t'me and change. A tender smile softened his sad face as he recalled that stormy night when he Mi gobbing on the stens of Mr. Vnn. tenay's mansion, and little Pansie, taking pity on him, dropped her string of emeralds. Darling little Pansie, the remembrance of her sweet face, as he saw it through the snow wreaths that night, haunted him constantly. In all the htteen years, never for one hour had he forgotten her. But she waa gone; lost to him forever. IT' 1 l , xiiB revery was oroaen oy the entrance of a customer, a lady closely cloaked and veiled. She approached the counter, with a jewel-case in her band. "Would you buy these, sir," she asked simply, in a cl ar, sweet voice that stirred the young man's heart as no other woman voice had power to do. Ue took the caaket and unclosed it. and spread out its contents. A watch, elegant and costly, a diamond ring, one or two rubies, and an emerald necklace. Rohs Dunbar barely sunnressed a orv of surprise as his eyes fell upon it. He turned it over with eager, trembing fin gers, and there on the clasp was the name that had lived in his heart for so many long years, "Little Pansie." "You wish to sell them all ?" he asked, striving to steady his voice, and the wild throbbing of hia heart. The lady hesitated an instant, then she put out a slender hand and drew the emeralds towards her. "I dislike to part with this," she said; "it was my father's gift and and but no matter, take them all; I must have the money." In her eagerness she had thrown aside her veil, revealing a lily face lit by lustrous sapphire eyes. Ross Dunbar stood silent a moment, every nerve in his manly frame thrilling with supreme delight. He had found her at last, the one moi ot nis lite. "They are very fine gems." he said af ter a moment "and I am willing to give you a iair price suppose we say one thousand dollars, will that do?" The girl flashed a dazzling glance of giau surprise irom oeneath her heavy veil. "o much as that ?" she said tremu lously. "You are very kind. sir. O you cannot know how much this money lilt aM win neip me r The young man made a polite reply, ana proceeded to put aside the jewels ana to draw a check tor the money the March winds were still blustering without, and the girl shivered and drew her wraps closer as she started out. "Won't you let me run down to the bank for you ?" said the jeweler, catch ing up his hat. "You can nlav shoo lady the while; it won't be but a minute or two." "But I am troubling you so," she fal tered. "Not a bit; just take this warm seat, please, you'll not be likely to have any customers." And seating her beside his desk, he took the check and hur ried out, Pansie Fontenay threw back her veil, 11 .. . . . 7 ana leaned ner head upon her hand; a 11 n . a r puzzieo, renective iook upon her sweet, saa i ace. "Where have I seen his face?" she asked herself over and over again. "It is so familiar; who in the world can it be?" His return broke in upon her meuitations, ana receiving her money, sne nurriea away to her humble lodg ings. TM x 11 ' Ai ids lonowing aiternoon was even more blustering and stormy; the wind roareu and tne sleet beat and tinkled against the windows of the little room in which Pansie and her father sat. Se vere misfortune and reverses had re uuced them to poverty, and the old man being an invalid, all the care fell upon i'ansie's slender shoulder. She sat busy with her sewing, while her father read aloud from a new book. which she had bought for him with some of the monev received for hr jewels. Her sweet face was wai. and sad, and her future stretched before her sad and hopeless and gloomy. i here was a ring at the door, and a servant brought up a package for Miss rontenay. An exquisite hunch of pansies, frasTant and golden hearted. done up in tissue paper, and attached to tnem a card, bearing the simnle word : "Ross Dunbar has not fortrotten Little Pansie." Pansie sat amazed for a moment, and then a rich bloom drifted un to her white cheeks. , I

"O father," she cried, "lluiuw him I

knew him I Owehuve found Ross at last I" An instant later Koss was in the room, clasping her fluttering hands in his, and looking into her blue, eyes with a glano that brought the rosy blushes to her face. And a few weeks later, when the blustering winds vote over, and tinblue birds sang in the hedges, and the golden hearted pansies bloomed on the garden borders, little Pansie became Ross Dunb u s bride, and lor tier bridal gift he gave her back her string of emertdds. agpmmmgrmmm Personal. , jtiRoi.icua V. Xsav is worth et-'OO.tKjO. Tug Kinpgiyr Iw'illisnJ of Germany has a private iTutnill of tfwa million thalers. CoMMOOOItl v ANDI1BILT. it is said, has deteiuiined to join ihu Methodist Church. A room lady of Lee, Mass., recently sold her hair, which reached almost to the ground, to a hair-dealer for $55. Ezra Cornell is about to give ift00,t)00 to the labor department of the university which bears his name. One of the most brilliant paragrapbists in the country is Mr. Charles T. Conudon, who writes the minor editorials for the New York Tribune. The Kansas City Times learns by private letter, that a daughter of W. G. Brownlow attempted to elope with a hnoxville stone-cutter, and has been immured in a convent. When Ben. Butler gets mad he swells up like a toad, an 1 discharges oaths as a boy projects paper wads from his blow-gun. Miss Rye has quitted Liverpool with a fresh consignment of boys and girls to her orphanage at Niagara, whence the little emigrants are successfully drafted off into various lines of colonial life. Gen. Jvdson Kilpatrick has gone into a wholesale libel business. He has sued the New York Times, the Bath (Me.) Times, and the Bangor Whig and Courier, laying damages at $30,000 in each case. It is all about a fast woman which those journals alleged that Kilpatrick had taken to Chili. a 1Ja m a a you. ieay lost, g tew aayg since, two diamond rings valued at twelve hundred dollars, on the bathing beach at Narragansett Pier. A London letter says that American women who visit England are greatly and tenderly affected at the sight of the Prince of Wales. Albert Edward is quite bald. In Boston, the other day, Iwakura. head of the Japanese Embassy, was nresented with the most elegant copy of wetisters l naondgeu Dictionary ever produced. The work is in two volumes, printed on very heavy linen tinted paper, with wide margin, and elegantly IJOU1K1 1 u lurKey morocco, eiaoorateiy t .i ' - , . igilt. T ne eues are partly gut, and in tront a representation of the Japanese flag entwined with the stars and stripes ; on the edges at the end are also Japanese insignia and the coat of arms of the recipient. A Great Tree-Planting Contract. Mr. S. T. Kelsey, ot Pomona, Kansas, is certainly the king of American treeplanters. Besides the immense plantations he has made at Ottawa and at Pomona, amounting to many thousands of acres, he has now a contract with the Atchison,Topekaand SantaFe Kilroad Company to plant along the line of its road a one-quarter section every ten miles, from Hutchinson to the weetline of the State, the distance being in the neighborhood of three hundred miles. He has eight years in which to accomplish the work. Mr. Kelsey is to furnish the stock, plant, and care for it. For his services the road deeds to him a section of land at each point of planting, the or.fl-quarter section to form a portion of it, and to be his property. While this in time will constitute a fortune for Mr. Kelsey, the railroad company will be the greatest gainers by the enterprise, for it will add millions to the value of its remaining lands. It will also be a blessing to the whole country of the great plains in demonstrating, if succesbful, what varieties of tret s do best upon it, the period neces sary to produce a remunerative forest, tne increased value ol farms having timber lots, and the best methods of planting and cultivating forest trees. It will also stimulate the thousands now settling up the plains to like efforts to beautify and develop them. When the story of Mr. Kelseyr8 life work is written up, it will constitute one of the most interesting and valuable chanters of Western historv. and it will h a proud memorial to his ability, industry and enterprise. May his days be lengthened to see the full fruition of his la bors. Prairxe r arm er. Down with the Side-. Saddle. Ever since Grace Greenwood went to Yo Semite Vallev and rode a str.iddle. the spirit of reform has been in the air. It is argued that the side saddle is a piece of barbarism, and as such should be abolished. It certainly is hard unon the hore, and it renders a lady comparatively helpless. Not until a woman ih privileged to ride a straddle will she stand on equality with man. Grace Greenwood pronounces in favor of the change, antf we are sure th. horse will not object. Down with the side-saddle. Turf, Field and Farm. Tut new Paris Opera-House will cost .n,UUU,Ut"J. i he masonry, locksmithery, and carpentery have already cost f.U00,("JO, and will certainly reach $5,700,000 5 ornaments, $300,000; sculpt.uro ana painting, fZU,UUU ; Bite, $2,200,000.

Krnnuiin A Hlu. üoo Tale. HV JtlHN a. SAX. A fegMW merchant, who l,M. uia.1A flue ttttat,, hy h,.i,,t tratlr w ith "reign tutrlei,-C Isehsggaa fl he tailur ot a firm in Franc,, ' ft as several oarg. .us U$l at sät j .TiVV'-'Urw,or 11 POoroOUW be; V't all in. riches mu inn nought, hil. indeed, the lrair timuht KenernUH ilee.lt in heiu-r dBV W hi. h m-iiiii remembered t . hi .rU4 Of these, a Uriiliiiiin, wh.. Ii .,( known I Ii merchant SM kU wealth hud down And how ha uelped the took and jnior. f.ntered. ono day. hi one.-) door And xiiid. " My friend! I FaoVlOg wellli our former Hate: and whnt befell 1 hat all wa.t lost ; and well I know l our noble life, nnd fain would show (Since I have nuwer lluaven he ad-red!) How all your wealth may he restored Now ploHse attend : W bene'er you see A Krahinin who resembles me I n looks and ilresa. (and auch an one w ill enter here at set of sun.) Just strike him on the forehead-thrice-And lot his lamra, in a trice. J ill turn to solid gold I Of these Cut off as many its you pleaxe, (The ten will make a goodly tum,) And thus the Bruhmin-fortii will come W henever you have need of nid. Consider well what I have told t" With this, the llruhinin went away. And, sure enough, at close of day, st run if er. like the other, came So like, indeed, he seemed the same, And Ml him down ; nnd quick a' thought The blow are struck, the charm i wrought And all hi lagen turn to gold I Q wondrous sight ! nd now behold The hai'iiy merchant rich ooce mere ts in hi thrifiy days of yore) A barber, curious to know Whence II this sudden wealth might flow, Jy watching, morning, noon and night. The magic Hrahmin brougnt to light ; At leaet, be thought beyond a doubt He'd found the golden secret out: And straight he called three llruhinin in. And hade them sit : For so I'll win," The fellow reasoned, "thrice as muoh A if a single man 1 touch : The more the men, the more the gold 1 I'll have a much a I can hold In all my iocketa. at a blow!" Hut when he struck the Brahmins, lo ! They turned not into golden ores. But turned the barber out of doors ! And, angry at hi scurvy trick, K.ic'. heat him soundly with a stick I MORAL. To all who read this pleasant tale. The barber's fate may serve to teach. How sadly imitator fall Who aim at thing beyond their reach I Varieties. Willie being rsked what he wouldlo when he became an old man, said he would have his clothes made by a tailor. Toe mother of a charming Danbury girl would not let her marry a conductor, because she didn't want her doors slammed off. One of the younc men belonging to a choir here had his hair cut by a generous barber, S tturday. Sunday he sang lor a solo, " Cover my defenseless head," and blushed like a lobster while doing it. Danbnry News. H Now, mv little boys and girls," said a teacher, " 1 want you to be very still, so 6till that you can hear a pin drop." In a moment all was silent ; when a little boy shrieked out, " Let her drop." "An, ladies," said an old bon vivant as he opened a bottle of wine, " what is more deliühtful than the nonninir of I . m . ".. . . rrm . m - I a champagne cork 7 The popping of the question I" unai lanimously cried the ladies. A bccolic editor Is forced to the conclusion that the young ladies of his village are not alarmingly like St. Paul, inasmuch as they pay rather more attention " to things which are behind" than he did. "I sav, Jack, what a beautiful complexion Miss Smith has 1 Do you know her?" "No, but I know a cirl who buys her complexion at the same store." Mr. John W. Newlin, editor of the Millville Republican, while endeavoring to extinguish a fire in that place the other day, was robbed by some inhuman wretch of nine dollars the savings of a lifetime. Newark Courier. Fannv Firn says that when she sees "a pretty man, with an apple head and raspberry mostache with six hairs in it, paint on his cheek, and a little dot of a goatee on his chin, with pretty little blinking studs in his shirt -bosom, and a little necktie that looks as if it would faint if it were rumpled, she always feels a desire to nip him with a air of sugar-tongs, dropping him genty into a pot of cream, and strew rose haves over the little remains." Archaeological Discoveries In Colorado. The archaeologists have pretty clearly established that a race of men familiar with the arts that belong to civilization inhabited America previous to the rule of the Indian. The red men of the forest are disapp aring before the advance of civilization, as civilization once disappeared before the advance of the savage hordes from the North. Is thre not some poetic justice in all this? The remains of ancient civilization are abundant in the Western Territories. In Colorado many evidences of antiquity are presented. The Puebla People states : "Un the Las Animas river, in thecounty of the same name, there are multi plied proofs of the former habitations of a race of men entirely different in their habits and modes of living from the savage tribes of the plains. These proofs consist of the remain! of stone houses, traces of ;Tigating ditches, broken pottery, stone trays, which were evidently used for crushing grain, and earthen pipes of an entirely different shape and make from any in use among the savages. On San Franoisco creek and the Chicoso, in the same county, the same evidences of the occupation of the country by an extinct race are abundant On the stream last named there is the course of an ancient ditch, ")?,rft U' f dlt' llltjL T&tJZ fWil rLf!!: plain ly and diatihetlv trseAiffle' fbr many miles. At Canon City, in Fremont county t4lw of 'th. sawie nature were found on the first settlement of that place." California contains a greater proportion of foreigners than any other State in the Union 3.16,393 natives, and 300,889 foreign born.

The bold-Klarere