LOAFING ON THE CORNER.
BY ROBERT YCI.EE TOOMUB.
j* w i [ i k\\ HE honeyed kisses of pretty
Of earthly blisses thegreatest
this is:
Loafing on the corner.
We do not wait among the great,
Nor with the idle scorner,
But early and late await our fate
Loafing on the corner.
Bome fun enhance in whirling dance,
Some seek it in a "horn," sir;
Yet each joy will annoy or cloy
But loafing on the corner.
We envy not another's lot,
We dread no man's scorn, sir;
We'll BOSS our day in bliss away
I .i a ting on the corner.
North Kaukauna, Wis.
MR. BAXTER'S DILEMMA.
rHE Rev. Thomas Bax.
ter was a curate of the
is turned out not un
versities and public
big, broad-shouldered
himself greatly both on the river and in
the cricket field, had taken a very re
spectable degree, for he was by no means
Afraid of bard work of any description.
&uch men often make capital parsons,
and Tom was hardly less energetic in his
parish work than lie had been in very
different spheres of action at Eton and
Oxford. But there were limits to Mr.
Baxter's endurance; he liked an occa
sional holiday, and this was the only
point upon which he and his vicar, the
Rev. Septimus Straightway, were not en
tirely agreed.
The Rev. Septimus was an honest man,
and took a severe and gloomy view of the
pleasures of life. He worked terribly hard
in an East-end parish, knew nothing and
cared less about outdoor sports, or, in
fact, about any form of amusement, and
fully expected his curates to follow un
hesitatingly in the extremely narrow and
steep path up which he led them. Hence
it came to pass that Mr. Straightway ex
perienced considerable difficulty in find
ing curates after his own heart; the
young men were continually leaving him
for less arduous duties, and the vicar's
opinion of human nature in general, and
of the younger generation of curates iu
particular, steadily grew worso. In Tom
Baxter, however, he really thought ho
possessed a treasure, and the danger of
working a willing horse to death never so
much as entered into his head.
Boor Tom did his very best to satisfy
Mr. Straight way's requirements, for he
really respected tho mau aud valued im
mensely his good opinion, but, as has al
ready been indicated, he could not help
longing that his superior would enter a
little more into his own harmless liking
for occasional relief and sympathize with
bis passionJ!or rowing aud all that was
connected with athletics.
At tho time 1 write of the cricket sea
son was in full swing, but Tom's duties
had not only prevented him from play
ing in a single match, but even from look
ing on at one a few hours from tho roof
of tho pavilion at Lord's. Moreover, tho
University cricket match, in which ho
took an absorbing interest, was fast ap
proaching, and ho was sorely troubled bj
tho dread that ho might not ho able tc
see it. It worried him during his visiting
and mission work, spoilt his rest, and oc
casionally obtrudod itself upon him in the
pulpit. Even tho absent-minded Mr.
Straightway at length noticed that his
curate's mind was ill at easo, and one day
he went so far as to inquire the cause.
Tom stammered out something about
being out of sorts, and ventured to hint j
that ne thought a day's holiday would do
him good.
"When I was your ago, Mr. Baxter, 1
never wanted a holiday," replied the aus
tere vicar, "but you are certainly not
looking well. Let mo see—to-day is
Juno 25. In about a fortnight I think I
can arrange a date for you. Say July 12."
"Can't it bo managed a week sooner?"
queried Tom, desperately, for the Uni
versity match was fixed for the 4th.
"Quite impossible," I foar, said tho vicar
decisively, for he was a terrible martinet
winf nis curares. So, with a wave or nis
hand, he dismissed the subject, and Tom
knew that further appeal was useless.
"It's rather too bad," grumbled Mr.
Baxter, as he walked home to nis humble
lodgings. "But it's no use talking to him
about cricket, and be doesn't know a bat
from a ball." And with a heavy heart he
tried to resign himself to tho inevitable.
But two days later a circumstance oc
curred which entirely routed Tom's virtu
ous resolutions. A letter arrived at the
reverend gentleman's lodgings which was
couched in the following terms:
Hi.athcote Hai.ii, Loamnbire.
Dearest Tom—\Vc urn actually coming to
town ! Only for tv.o .lays, though, and we uro
going to Lord sto hoc the match. Undo has got
a drtm there, Block B. Of course I shall never
forgive yon if you don't tome ami see rno
Wednesday afternoon we go t<, Esse* to hiil-v
with the ChivertoiiH, so thin is our only chance
of meeting. Do come; in terrible hanto Yours
lovingly, Ai.kk
From the foregoing it may bo gathered
that Miss Alice lioathcoto and Tom Bax
ter wore on to erably intim ite terms. As
a matter of fact, they bad been engaged
for six months, during which time they
very rarely met. Baxter's people were
well off, and ho had a very rich uncle,
among whoso possessions was an excel
lent family living, destined in the future
for Tom aud his bride. But tho uncle
was a stern and conscientious gentleman,
and he was determined, before he definite
ly agreed to give Tom tho vacancy—when
it occurred—to see what tho young gen
tleman was made of. And this was whv
Baxter bad been sent to help Mr. Straight
way in the East End, why he worked so
bard in the parish, nnd why he was so
desperately anxious to stand high in his
vienr's opinion.
When Tom read the letter bis first im
pulse, unclerical though it may appear,
was to use strong language. But he re
strained himself and fell to thinking over
the various means of escaping his duties.
A fresh appeal to Mr. Straightway ho
knew to be hopeless. That worthy ascetic
did not only look upon cricket as a friv
olous waste of time, but bo was a strong
advocate of tho celibacy of tho clergy.
Moreover, by merely asking tho question
Tom might offend him, and this he cer
tainly could not afford to do under the
circumstances.
There wrts nothing for it thou but a
pious fraud, nnd although Tom's con
science rebelled against the idea of de
ceiving his vicar, who trusted him im
plicitly, he could not make up his mind
to disappoint Alice or to deny himself
tho plea6uro of seeing her. Ho might,
under more favorable circumstances, havo
dined at her uncle's house in I'ortmnn
Square, but as luck would have it he had
undertaken to conduct nu evening class
on both nights of her stay iu town. So
he wrote a very affectionate answer,
promising that nothing short of an earth
quake should prevent him from appearing
at Lord's, and he at once set to work to
arrango a plot for the deception of Mr.
Straightway.
The day before that on which he had
promised to meet his intended, Tom told
his vicar that ho was passing the night
||
with a very old friend who had just como
home fromludia, in his rooms near Jer
myn street. This, it must be said, was
perfectly true, and, of course, Mr.
Straightway could offer no valid objec
tion, as Baxter had done all his work for
the day. The next day, however, Tom
slunk off to a telegraph office, and iu
guilty haste dispatched a wire to the ef
fect that ho was suffering from a severe
attack of lumbago, but would, if possible,
return in tho evening.
By 11 o'clock he was at Lord's. The
mere sight of the ground was so welcome
to him that he was determined to spend
as much time there us he possibly could.
He knew, of course, that he would be cer
tain to meet any number of his old
friends, ana that tho whole proceeding
was extremely risky, but ho consoled
himself with the thought that as Mr.
Straightway rarelv if ever went into so
ciety of any sort, Le was not at all likely
to hear anything about it. So he en
sconced himself in the pavilion and
awaited tho beginning of the play with
pleasurable impatience. The Heuthcoteß
were all enthusiastic crickoters, nnd ho
counted on their apponrance by 12 o'clock
at the latest.
The match commenced in duo course,
but upon its varying fortunes it is not
necessary to dwell. The lleuthcotes also
arrived, and Tom at once took up a
position on the drag by the side of Miss
Alice, the warmth of whose greeting at
once speedily banished all fears nnd
qualms of conscience from his breast.
Nothing, in fact, could have been more
perfect than Mr. Baxter's happiness up
to the luncheon interval. His stentorian
"well hit" or "well bowled" could bo
beard one hundred yards away. lie
clapped bis hands, stamped, and waved
his hat like the veriest schoolboy, and
meanwhile he was unremitting in bis at
tention to the girl of his heart. Two
o'clock struck.
The bell rang for lunch, and the occu
pants of Mr. Heathcotes drag prepared
for tho substantial meal which forms so
prominent a feature of the two great
matches at Lord's. Tom by no means
despised creature comforts. Mr. Straight
way's curates were expected, at all events
when with him on duty, to follow their
vicar's example in asceticism, so a good
lunch was very acceptable to him. He
had supplied Alice's wants, and was in
tho act of lifting to his mouth a piece cf
salmon, when suddenly he turned pale,
his jaw fell, his eyes dilated, and the
piece of salmon, accompanied by the
fork, fell unheeded to tho ground.
It was too true. Beside the very nex
drag, talking to a gentleman on the boi
seat, stood a tall, lean man, in clerical at
tire, whose figure was horribly familiar t<
tho guilty curate. He could not bo mis
-1 taken; it was Septimus Straightway,
I though what could have brought the rev
erena gentleman to Lord's was beyond
Tom's imagination. The vicar had hii
back turned, and evidently did not sus.
pect his curate's proximity. Instaul
flight was the only hope.
"Good gracious, Tom!" cried Miss
Alice, "what on earth is the matter? You
look as white as a sheet."
"I don't feel very well, dear. Excuse
mo one minute," stammered Mr. Baxter.
And ho rose hurriedly, upsetting his
plate, and jumped to the ground. Just
us he reached terra firma ho saw the
clergyman shuking hands with his friend
on the box-seat; he was turning toward
Mr. lleathcote's drag; in another second
detection would follow. Tom glanced
hurriedly round, the door of the drag
was open and no one was looking. He
accordingly plungod iu head foremost,
shut the door, and to make assurance
doubly sure, pulled up the wooden blind.
Then ho breathed more freely, But what
on earth would tho Heathcotes think?
A confederate was absolutely necessary.
Tho Heathcotes'family butler, Mr. Binns,
was an old fr end of Tom's aud might
be relied upon. Baxter espied Biuns
opening a bottle of champagno and at
tracted bis attention as noiselessly as
possible.
"Binns!" he whispered, in groat agita
tion, "please say to Miss Alice that I am
not well, and that I have gone to take a
walk, to bathe my head—say anything,
Binns—but for mercy's sake don't let her
know that I'm in hero. Don't let anybody
know. You won't tell, will you?" he con
tinned, piteously.
Mr. Binns thought that Tom was off his
head, but his impassive face betrayed no
surprise.
"Certainly, sir. Any other message?"
"No! that will do —and, Binns, come
hack hero at once; I want you to do some
thing else. "
" Yessir."
Tho message caused some little sur
prise and much Rvmpathy.
"Poor fellowl" said Miss Alice; "it all
comes from working so hard iu those
terrible slums, and never taking a koli—
day."
When Binns returned. Tom asked him
in tho same agitated whisper:
j "Did you notice a tall, thin gentleman
—a clergyman—standing beside tho drag
just now?"
"Yessir."
"Do you see him now?"
"Yessir," said Binns, almost whispering,
"he's a-standing close here."
"Good gracious!" murmured Tom.
"Look here! come and tell when he's
gone."
| And Tom pulled up the other wooden
blind half-way and cowered on tho floor
amon',' tho cushions and dust-cloaks. It
was terribly hot nnd stuffy, but he dared
not move until Binns returned, and that
persona "o was absent for no less than
half an hour by Tom's watch. Tho cup
tlvo was growing desperate, when at last
a welcome face appeared at the window
above tho blind.
"Mr. Baxter, sir," whispered Binns,
"the clerical gent, sir; he's on the roof
of our drag."
"You don't say so!" groaned Tom.
"Be is indeed, sir. lie and master
seem very thick; they're talking over old
Cambridge times. I never waited on him
before, sir."
"Of course," said the curate in despair.
"I see it now. Old Septimus was at Cam
bridge, so was lleathcote. They are old
friends. How in the name of providence
am Ito get out of this? I say, Binns.
do you know I must stop here until he
goes. You will keep it dark—now won't
you?"
"Most certainly, sir," said the sym
f.athetic butler. "Won't you have some
unch, sir? Nobody will know."
Tom smiled in his misery at the idea.
After all, why shouldn't he?
"Well, Binns, I really think I will."
And the trusty servitor disappeared to
return with a huge plateful of cold pio,
a bottle of champagne, nnd some straw
berries.
"Thank ye, Binns," said Tom, grate
fully; "now go away and don't come back
till the clergyman has gone. Whew!
Now hot it is!"
It was hot and no mistake. On a
scorching day the interior of a drag, with
the windows shut, is nbout as agree&blo
a resting-place as the Black Hole. Tom
could not let the blinds down, so he drank
n tumbler of iced champagne, which made
him much warmer than before, though it
inspired him to smile at his position.
His stiff collar was growing limp, and his
heavy black garments began to grow in
supportable.
"Wonder if I dare to take my coat off?"
he asked himself. The mental answer
was "Yes," and he proceeded to do so.
Then he felt better, finished the plate of
pie, and had another tumbler of cham
pagne. "I feel halt inclined to go out
and face him," reilected Tom, but his
heart failed him. He piled the dust
cloaks, coats, and umbrellas in one cor
ner and tried to make himself comforta
ble. Presently, however, the match was
resumed, and then his real suffering be
gan. Tom had never ondured such tor
ture. Loud applause frequently broko
upon his ears; shouts of "Well hit!"
"Well bowled!" "Well caught!" and
sometimes, more maddening even than
these sounds, there was a deep hush oi
suspense in the noisy crowd or a distinct
ly audible sigh of relief, which told bis
practiced ears that some oxciting crisis of
the game had come or gone.
Ho vainly peered over the half-drawn
blind to catch a glimpse of the players. He
could, however, see nothing but a forest
of black hats and variegated sunshades.
Binns returned not; Tom dared not quit
his hiding place, and despair once more j
possessed his soul. "Suppose I'm here 1
for the afternoon. Holy Moses, how ap- i
palling hot it is!" Heat is apt to relax [
the propriety even of a curates language. |
"Wish I dared to take some more of my j
clothes off!" And then his eye fell on the i
champagno bottle, which was nearly hulf
full. "Well, I can have another drink at
all events." And again his troubles
seemed loss. He stretched himself out as
well ns he could, for he was a big man
and the space was small, and by degrees
he finished the bottle. "If only I had a
weed," ho reflected; "haven't smoked for
months, it seems years." And growing
bold even to recklessness he bunted in
the pockets of the other men's overcoats
till he found a cigar-case. When he had
lit a cigar he felt comparatively i.t-ease.
It was very hot, ho thought, but a peace
ful feeling stole over him; the hum of the
crowd grew fainter and fainter; the shouts
of applause more distant; even the ham-j
mering of sticks and umbrella on the
drag within six inches of his head ceased
to annoy him. He pulled at his cigar
less energetically. Soon it fell from his
lips and the Rev. Thomas Baxter slept as
peacefully as a child.
Ho was awakened by a rough shako
and a shout in his ear of "Hi, wake up!"
Returning to semi-consciousness he in
distinctly heard exclamations of "Shame
full" "Disgusting!" "Who would have
thought it?* And then a familiar voice
said in somewhat quavering accents:
"Leave him to me, papa. I must see him
nlone." Tom pulled himself together
with a jerk, opened his heavy eyes, and
fouud himself confronted by Miss Alice
Heathcoto, who stood with flushed cheeks
nnd indignant expression at the door of
the drag.
"Are you awake, sir," she inquired,
with elaborate sternness.
"Awake! yes, why not, dear?" stam
mered Mr. Baxter.
"Then what is the meaning of this?
You leave mo hours ago and fray you
dou't feel well, aud here I find you sound
asleep when the play is over for the day,
and wo have been sending all over the
ground for you. And in your shirt
sleeves, too."
"Good gracious! I bog your pardon. I
forgot." Aud, blushing scarlet, the cu
rate huddled on his coat.
"And they all say that you are drunk,"
sho continued, with a naif sob. "Oh,
Tom, It's shameful."
"Drunk!" cried Mr. Baxter, indignantly
"I should like to meet anybody who sayi
that I'm drunk! Let mo explain, darling
I'll come out now."
And then ho caught sight of his vioai
again and shrank back, saying:
"Is that man uevor going?"
"What man?" asked Miss Alice, with
impatience. "Really, Tom, you must be
mad to-daw"
"Why, the clergyman, Alice, dear; do
you know who ho is?"
"Of course I do. It's Mr. Grayson, a
vicar somowhore in Yorkshire, nn old col
lege friend ol papa's; they haven't met
for twenty years. I'm sure he's not an
alarming person—in fact, the only strange
thing about him is that about twenty peo
ple have mistakon him for your man—
Mr. Straightway, you know. Are they at
all alike?
"Yes, they are—rather," gasped Tom,
scarcely knowing whether ho stood on
his head or heels. "Come and introduce
him to me, darling. I'll make it all right
with your father."
And he did; but it will be some time
before he bears the last of that cricket
match.
The Funiiel-Shaped Cloud.
When the colonel reached home the
hour was late, or early, rather. The
colonel's wife, who excuses none of the
foibles which men inculcate, met the
colonel with a freezing look. The
colonel, who is usually skillfully in
ventive, "lost his head" when ho saw
liis wife's face.
Wife —"What made you so late?"
Colonel (after embarrassing hesita
tion) —"I was detained."
"What detained you ?"
"Tell you w hat's a fact. Yesterday
evening a funnel-shaped cloud cavno
along and blew me against a wall—
'gainst a wall—and the doctor worked
five hours in trying to bring me around
all right."
"A funnel-shaped cloud?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure it was a cloud?"
"Course I am."
"I didn't know. I ibought that prob-
ably it was clearer tliau a cloud. OH,
yes, now I sec! A man took the thing
that looked like a funnel, put the small
end of it into a bottle and poured some
thing into it. Those funnel-shaped
clouds are very dangerous. They
throw men against walls and not infre
quently throw them on the ground."
"There you go! Most suspicious
woman I ever saw. Got 110 sympathy;
man works himself to death and woman
suspects him. Never saw the like in
my life. Haven't taken a drink in
three weeks. Never saw the like in
my life. Nobody to sympathize with
me. Used to think you cared some
thing for me. Now I know you don't.
Never saw the like in my life. Haven't 1
taken a drink in three weeks."
"I didn't say that you had been
drinking."
"No, but you might as well. Keep
hinting around. Never saw the like
in my life. Nobody to sympahize with
me. Used to think you cared some
thing for me, but now I know you
don't."
"If you haven't been drinking any
thing why is it you are so drunk V"
"Who's so drunk?"
"You are."
"There you go! Never saw the like
in my life. No use for a man to try to
do anything when his wife is against
him. Well, I must go to bed now.
Never saw the like in my life."—Arkan
-Baw Traveler.
STONEHENUE.
BY O. S. MATTESON.
X 1 HIS strange relic of a
forgotten people is sit
■ uated nine miles from
Sa lisbury, England, in
® ft great plain which ex
tends as far as the eye
can reach. The drive
way was onco ft broad
Maajfrv s frfd avenue, one-third of a
on £b with a bank
011 either side, and a
' ffl ditch, out of which the
earth was thrown, now
u overgrown with sod.
V nfcflr At the end is a mono
litli rising sixteen feet
high, and beyond is a
prostrate slab, bearing the marks of
tools.
This is called the "slaughtering
stone," as here it is supposed the vic
tims wero offel-ed to the gods.
Beyond these are two great circles
of upright stones from eighteen to
twenty feet high, some weighing thirty
tons each. The outer circle is 300
feet in circumference.
On the tops of these lingo pillars are
laid other stones which formerly
touchod, making a continuous circle.
Not half of the ancient one hundred
and fifty stones are now standing. In
side those circles ore two ovals, anil
innermost of all an "altar stone," lmilt
open to heaven like the pantheon.
Surrounding those stone circles are
acres of small burial grounds, where
the early chiefs of Britain wore inter
red. Some skeletons liavo heen found
with the knees gathered up to the head,
some extended at full length, others
burned to ashes and collected in urns.
Half a mile away, between two hanks,
is a raee-courso iIJO feet broad and over
a mile long.
The question is, Who built this mys
terious temple and others of its like in
Great Britain?— Chicago Ledger.
The Lion-Tamer's Secret.
The boldest individuals, says a Lon
don paper, who put their heads two or
three times a day into the lion's month,
havo told me that the best way to with
draw it from the gulf is, first of all, not
not to open the acquaintanceship with
this experiment; and, secondly, to per
form it with great nerve. Nerve, that
j is the great secret of the lion tamer—
| the sole cause of his authority over his
j beasts. When he has studied a subject
for some time, endeavoring to master
j its character—and among the higher
animals the character is very individ
ual, very accentuated—one morning the
man walks quietly into the cage. He
must astonish the beast and overawe
him at once. As to tlio training, it
consists—and here I quoto the words
of an export in such matters—in com
manding the lion to perform the exer
cises which plenso him—that is to say,
make him execute from fear of the whip
those leaps which lie would naturally
take iu his wild state.
There is one fact which no one would
suspect—that it is easier to train an
adult lion taken in a snai-e than an ani
mal horn in a menagerie. The lion of
the booth is in the same position as
sporting dogs which play much with
children. They are soon spoiled for
work. Pezon possesses five orsix lions
which he has brought up by hand. As
a rule they live with the staff of the
menagerie on terms of perfect familiar
ity, hut this frequently leads to tragic
Occidents. Lions, even lions in a fair,
will devour a man in fine style. Can I
say that the fear of such an accident is
ever sufficiently strong to make me
pause on the threshold of a menagerie?
No. I cherish, and, like me, you also
cherish the hope that some day, per
haps, you will see a lion tamer eaten.
This contingency sometimes occurs, in
fact more often than is usually suj)-
posed. For instance, without leaving
the Pezon menagerie, it is not a year
since the proprietor narrowly escaped
j being devoured by his bear, Groom, at
Chalons-sur-Marue. Ho would have
perished if his son, Adrian Pezon, had
not thrown himself, sabor in hand, be
tween the two combatants anil killed
the hear on the spot.
The Nerve Would Be Attended To.
Enter clerk with his face all swollen
up with an angry tootli.
"Ah," says a sympathetic friend,
"you should go to the dentist imme
diately and havo that tooth pulled out."
"I know I ought," said the sufferer,
"but the fact is, I haven't got the
nerve."
"Oh, don't bother about that. The
dentist will find the nerve."—Louis
ville Tost.
LEI) INTO OK LA II 0)1 A.
SKETCHES OF THE MEN WHO LED
THE ROOM RAIDS.
Cnpt. D. L. Payne, Oklahoma Harpy Hill,
ami W. L. Couch—Their Charadem ami
Their Adventure*—A Curiou* ami Ex
citing Chapter ot Recent Western Ainer
ican History.
[XCthe opening of
Oklahoma the atten
lieen anil are still
being made to arrive
t3 at satisfactory ar
rangements with the Indian owners
whereby this country can be thrown
apen to settlement.
The adventurous raids made into
Oklahoma will always be interesting
history, and a correct and accurate ac
count of these forcible raids at this
time will prove of interest, as they
were all made across the Cherokee
Strip, the present land in dispute.
F. K. Albright, of Caldwell, Kan.,
writing to the Chicago Times, gives an
interesting history of the various raids.
Back in the '7os, he says, when good
Government land was still to be found
in large lots, Oklahoma began to at
tract attention and be coveted by those
who bad visited it, because of its great
richness and splendid location.
It was in 1879 David L. Payne, an old
soldier and scout, better known under
the title of the "Cimarron Scout," be
gan to make speeches on the Oklahoma
question at Wichita, Kan. Payne had
been doorkeeper at the National House
of lleprcsentatives and had there learn
ed that the Indian? had no clear title
to the land known as Oklahoma, and
returning to the West inflamed with the
spirit of the adventurer hail begun his
lifework.
C. C. Carpenter started to boom the
opening of Oklahoma several years be
fore Captain Payne formed his Wichita
colony. He had headquarters at Cof
feyville, Kan., and from there issued
circulars, sotting a day in 1879 for a
grand raid, and telling of the beauty of
location and fertility of soil in the
Oklahoma country.
These circulars created great excite
ment in parts of Kansas, Texas, Mis
souri, and Texas.
Among those who received anil read
one of these Carpenter circulars was
Harry Hill, then a youug man stopping
at I'ort Worth, Tex. Hill is a lven
tuckian by birth and a natural-born
trader and adventurer. After reading
this circular issued by Carpenter ho
conceived the idea of joining him with
a Toxas colony, and gathering a crowd
of fifteon together, ho telegraphed his
wife at St. Louis that if she wished to
see him again soon, to come to Fort
Worth at once.
As soon as steam could bring her
Mrs. Hill joined her husband and in
sisted on accompanying him on his
FORCING A CONFESSION.
trip to Oklahoma. Hill fitted up a
wagon for her and the children, and
the first Oklahoma expedition left
Texas in 1878.
There were just fifteen in the party,
and all went well until the Bed Iliver
was reached. Hero a desperate gang
of horse-thieves lived anil hail head
quarters. The boomers camped there
all night, and at all hours the cries of
owls and wolves coulil be heard in the
I woods. These cries were signals ut
| tereil by the horse-thieves. The men
in the camp had to remain awake all
night and guard the horses, and the
next morning, rather than face the
hardships and dangers of the raid, five
of the party went back, while Hill,
with the rest of his train, went on,
confidently expecting to find Carpen
ter on his arrival at the North Cana
dian country.
As the party moved north they en
| countered many hardships and dan
gers. Indians and desperadoes flooded
I the country, nnd several more of the
Texas contingent dropped out and took
i the hack track for homo. By the time
I Oklahoma Hill reached the old Jack
Wantland ranch, three miles southeast
! of the present site of Oklahoma City,
! his party consisted of himself, wife,
tw o children, and three men.
J They rebuilt the old ruined cabins
I about the Wantland ranch and settled
down to await Carpenter's arrival into
the country. The old pony express
route ran close to the ranch on the old
Arbuckle trail, and from a man whe
passed along several days after theii
first advent into the country it was
learned that Carponter would bo along
soon, and they were advised to hold
the fort. Long, weary months passed
away, and the raiders failing to appear,
Hilt's three Texas companions deserted
him and went back home, leaving tha
plucky leader alone iu his glory, sur
rounded by Indians and horse tliieves.
About this time Captain David L.
Payne was just beginning his Okla
homa talk and gaining a reputation,
while Carpenter had dropped out oi
| sight forever.
It was at this time that Harry Hill
i returned from Pratt County financially
ruined anil desperate. He said that
lie was not in circumstances to make
a boomer, but that if paid for it he
would agree to pilot Pay lie and his
j party through the soldiers' lines and
| land the colony safe in Oklahoma. II
ho did this he was to receive a certain
stated sum and if ho failed he was to get
nothing. Judge Locke of Wichita was
to he paymaster.
The little hand left Arkansas City,
Kan., in April, 1880, and, guided by
Harry Hill anil H. H. Stafford, slowly
ontered the forbidden country. After
many adventures with soldiers and
Indian scouts they landed near the
present site of Oklahoma City anil be
gan to build a town iu -a jack oak for
est, calling the place Ewing City, after
General Tom Ewing. It rained inces
santly, .and. Para a. being takpu sick,
was "piloted by Hill to the old cabins
which ho had himself used the year be
fore. Here the rations pave out and
raiders were in distress.
Captain Huffbar had a heavy insur
ance on his life, and made up a scheme
to throw out the impression that he
was dead. For this reason he stranded
his wagon in the quicksands of the
South Canadian River, and leaving his
shoes and some other distinguishing
marks he fled to Texas, while the man
with him came on back to Wichita and
reported him dead. This man gave
such a sensational account of the af
fair that many of the people began to
look on Hill as his murderer. Not be
lieving that the man was dead, and not
liking to live under a cloud of suspi
cion, Hill took Marshal James Cairns
into his confidence, and together they
hung Huffbar's friend up by the
thumbs in a lonely spot on the Arkan-
TIIF. DEATH OF CAPTAIN PAYNE.
sas River until lie divulged the whole
plot. Captain Huffbar afterward re
turned, and now lives in Sedgwick
County, Kansas, on a ranch.
When Oklahoma Hill and his supply
train reached Ewing City they found
that the Holdiers had been before them
and captured the boomers. Captaiu
Payne had left a note in a secret hol
low, as agreed on between himself and
the scout.
The boomers returned again, how
ever, and they wore not disturbed foi
months.
Captain Francis Moore, at the head
of four companies of cavalry, rode into
camp the morning of August 7, 1884,
and arrested Captain Payne, his then
chief of scouts, "Hoc" Worrel, and
several other leading men.
Captain Payne was only held a short
time after his capture and made to take
forced marches behind a prairie
schooner. At last he was once more
turned loose 011 the Kansas line with a
warning not to return, and he nevei
did. but it was death, and not the sol
diers, that prevented the old "Cimarron
scout" from another raid.
He consulted with the Wichita Town
Site Company, of which he was the
champion, and then took up headquar
ters at the Hotel Barnard, Wellington,
Kan. He had raised another large col
ony and was once more ready to invade
the promised land at the head of a
larger colony than ever. The morning
of Nov. 28, 1884, Payne came down tc
breakfast and sat down to his meal.
His first act was to drink a glass oi
milk. As he did so he seemed to be
seized with a spasm, and hastily grasp
ing a cream-pitcher he emptied it and
fell back dead. No inquest was evet
held, but the loading friends of the dead
patriot are sure in theirown minds that
he was poisoned.
Then Captain W. L. Couch assumed
command of the forces of tho boomers.
Lnte in the fall of 1884 Captain Couch,
at the head of four hundred and fifty
men, entered the Territory from Ar
kansas City. They called their new
city Stillwater.
The 12th day of January, 1885, a de
tachment of soldiers from General
Hntch's command surprised tho set
tlers and ordered their surrender, but
Couch refused to accede to their de
mand.
Then Stillwater was surrounded with
the military and the settlers were lit
erally starved and frozen out.
The boomers reluctantly abandoned
their position, repairing to Arkansas
City. Five of the leaders were releas-
THE BHOOTINO OK CAPT. COI'CH.
Ed by the courts. Couch next went tc
Washington, secured the services oi
tho Hon. Sidney Clarke, and the two
drafted the original bill for the forma
tion of the (iklahoma Territory, which
was ] mssed by tho Fiftieth Congress,
in 1889. Capt. Conch was elected
Mayor of the town of Guthrie. His
claim was contested by another "soon
er," J. C. Adams, who secured tho fil
ing from the Guthrie land-oiliee.
Couch again went to Washington in
the interest of the "sooners." He met
with no success and returned. Having
resigned the Mayoralty, Capt, Coucb
.settled upon his claim upon his return.
In fighting for the possession of this lit
was snot t>y j. u. Adams, ana aiea
from the effects of the wound on the
2Md of last April. Capt. Couch was
l>orn in Wilkes County, N. C., Nov. 2,
1850, and was consequently less than
40 years old. He was a brave, honor
able man, greatly respected by all who
came in contact with him.
Spring Pinnniiig.
Petted Daughter—Mamma, 1 saw
such a beautiful set of diamonds down
town at Stoneking A Co.'s this morn
ing! And they arc marked only $2,500.
I'm sure papa will buy them for me if
you say so.
Doting Mnmrna—Ethel, your papa
docs not expect to fail in business till
the Ist of Mnv. You'll have to wait
till after he has compromised with his
creditors. If he gets them for you
when we start for the seasido in June
that will bo soon enough, won't it,
darling?
The word cyclone w as first proposed
by I'iddington in 1848, to describe the
violent hurricanes of the tropics, in
which the wind rot ates, in the northern
hemisphere, opposite to the hands of a
watch. The term anticyclone was first
used by Mr F. Galton in 1808 to repre
sent yvind motion in the opposite direc
tion.
CYCLING FOR FAIR LAI'JKS.
An Expert Tells How tho Art It to Bo
I.earneri and Practiced.
HE bicycle season
soon be here,
V®®* SjjjjwurJl and just a word to
J! all of the ladies: Af-
A M r tor r^n £ a wheel
* or a .y ear am ready
S&Ssf&iiflqß? * 0 fi* ve m .T tostinio-
as to its efficacy
cases °f inactivity
T" I a 11d bad conijdex
*ona* A physician
SPC ma do the frank state
. to me that if
'V**"*"" more women would
ride bicycles the doctors would have
less to do. It will tire you at first, but
about two weeks' practice will do away
yitli all 1 hat. After the first distance
I rode upon alighting my knees were
powerless and I absolutely had no con
trol over my limbs, but' now, well, I
never tire. lon will be as tliin and
black but as strong and well as though
reared on a farm, and, vlien winter
comes, you will reap the benefit of the
riding. \ollr muscles will strengthen,
your skin will clear, and you will gain
A MODERN DIANA.
in flesh. Learn to mount the wheel;
yes, its hard work for some, but a pretty
trick after you master it. If you are
sensitive, take a moonlight night and
a broad side street; be sure the street
is broad; riding-schools are rather
cramped for exorcise of this sort.
Don't he discouraged if you fail ninety
nine times, for the next time it may
come to you, and then you will wonder
how you ever could have been so stu
pid as not to understand at once. Some
ladies readily conquer all the require
ments of good riding, while I know of
one young woman who lias been riding
three years, yet her husband holds the
wheel until she is safely seated. Have
the saddle as high as you can reach;
don't let your knees bump your chin,
as many do. By the way, there is a
fortune for the man who will invent a
comfortable saddle for a lady's wheel.
Some will advise no corsets ; I think
that a great mistake, for a corset loose
ly worn is n great support to the back,
and gives neatness to the figure, which
latter is so essential to a woman in so
conspicuous a position ,-Chicaijo Times.
The Fnir Typewriter Girl.
§|ERE is a good
J word in behalf
Io f that much
* maligned person,
the typewriter
girl, which we
find floating about
without credit.
We fully indorse
every sentence,
line and word in
it: "Now that
ladies are so gen
erally employed
as stenographers
and typewriter
11 m 1 operators the col
li 1 II limns of news
-Ihi |\t\ papers are bur-
II J/1 J V !\ dened with coarse
Mil 1 \i\ attempts at hu-
I I I iJBk mor > ' n which the
1 !' | baßEa pretty amanuen-
Ifr,, x alu l hor al-
WBffisßP''" leged flirtations
with the business
™ men are the in
spiring theme. Ferhaps these jokes,
on account of their insipidity, are
harmless, and do not deserve the dig
nity of a remonstrance, hut, neverthe
less, wo enter our protest against any
attempt to place in a ridiculous or im
proper light the honest and worthy oc
cupation of a woman. All honor to the
girl who has the energy, pluck and de
termination to qualify herself to be
self-sustaining and make herself use
ful in the great world of business, and
blighting, withering shame be liis por
tion who would place the lightest
straw in her way. There are enough
actual follies, weaknesses and foibles
of men to laugh about without making
innocent women the subject of ridicule
by mnkiug them figure in incidents en
tirely the product of an impure im
agination. Tho shafts of ridicule
should he aimed only at those who de
serve punishment, and there are
enough of this class, God knows; nnd
wit and humor lose their charm when
indulged in at the expense of auything
that is good and useful. A woman's
reputation is too delicate to be roughly
handled, nnd any light treatment of
her occupation injures her who is iden
tified with jt."
No Sale.
Miu Fancer- What a lovely puppy t
Are you sure he's gentle?
Touir—Yes, lady. His mother, be
hind me hero, comes from a nunnery
in Sibery, where he was ejjicated by
th' sisters. — Judge.
What She Told Jack.
She was a little bit of a blue-eyed
woman with the innocent face of a
child. The horse-car in which she
sat with a femalo companion stopped
suddenly, but the mild-faced little
woman went right on talking in her
natural key, so that everybody heard
her say:
"The man never walked the earth
who could boss me, and I just told Jack
go, and he hasn't peeped once since. I
didn't marry to have any man lend me
around by the nose—l guess not!"