VOL. XV.
ISJ IS W BLOOMFIELD, IJ.A., TUESDAY, JULY It), 1881.
NO. 29.
THE TIMES.
Au Independent Family Newspaper,
II PUBLISHBDBVBRT TUBSDAT BY
F. MORTIMER & CO. 1
TEHMS t
INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
f 1.30 PRIl TIO VII, PSTAiF. Fit EH.
SO' CTS. FOlt O MONTHS.
To suhHOiibprs reilillnR In thib cwnty, where
we have no poitaae to pav. a discount of 25 rents
from tlie anove terms will be made It payment Is
made In advance.
Advertising rates furnished upon appllca
tlon.
An Exciting Adventure.
A FEW years ago, wheu I was in the
cattle business, I started out pf the
little town of Cuero, Texas, on my
return to Ban Antonio. Cuero was and
is still a sort of headquarters for cow
boys, and it bas been the scene of some
of the bloodiest encounters ever wit
nessed. It was there that two factions
frequently met in the wretched, dirty
streets, aud the minute they caught
sight of each other they always began
popping away with rifle or revolver.
The most desperate villain counected
with this crowd was John Wesley liar
din, the son of a preacher, and a fellow
who, to my certain knowledge, has kill
ed more than a dozen men.
There was a good deal of drinking and
carousirjg in the town, and I hurried
through my business, mounted my
mustang aud struck off at an easy gallop
for San Antonia. Only a little way out
I drew up at the roadside and went into
cue of those miserable little Texan inns
to get something to eat. I bad scarcely
seated myself at the table when a small,
bright eyed fellow came in , set his gun
behind the door and sat down on the
other side of the table. We nodded
familiarly to each other, exchanged a
few words and passed such food as we
needed, we being the only two in the
room. He asked me which way I was
going, and when I mentioned "San
tone," as it is always pronounced in
Texas, he said he would accompany me
a short distance, but would have to turn
off before going far. We paid our bill,
mounted our mustangs and moved off
side by side. As my companion, al
though uneducated, was quite intelli
gent, I kept my horse down to a walk
so as to converse with him during the
short distance we were to be com
panions. 44 You're from the North, ain't you r""
he asked.
I replied that I was, but that I hud
been in Texas several years.
"What do you think of the country ?"
he asked.
" It has grand possibilities before it,"
I replied, with considerable earnestness ;
' its area is so prodigious that it la capa
ble of making a dozen good sized states,
aud its soil.clirrfate and natural facilities
mark it as the coming empire. But it
has its disadvantages also."
" What's them?" asked my friend,
more eagerly than grammatically.
" Well one thing Is the need of better
government. There is too much out
lawry. Texas averages a murder a day,
and I have heard the authorities state
that there are a full thousand murderers
running at large through her borders
to-day."
" That's too bad !" said he, apparently
juite struck with my , truthful state
went. I concluded I had a native Texan
with me, and I would give him a little
needed advice, or, more properly, Infor
mation. " I never saw any place where crime
is viewed with such leniency, If not
admiration, as in Texas. The greatest
glory of a Texau is to boast of being a
'bad man,' aud no one is of much,
account who has not killed some one.
All this has got to change before Texas
can make any really material progress.
The best thing she can do just now is to
hang her Longleys, her Thompsons,
and John Wesley Hardins and"
m Do you know any of those fellows V"
interrupted the little horseman beside
me.
" No, nor do I wish to, excepting that
I would like to pull one end of the rope
that was to hang them. I feel a special
hatred of John Wesley Hardin."
"Why so V"
Well, he's the son of a preacher who
named him after the great founder of
Methodism, aud he is the worst sort of
a desperado. He hasn't any redeemiug
features. He is a cowardly murderer, a
man who kills in mere wantonness, and
I would give five hundred dollars this
minute for the privilege of strangling
the life out of him. He Is a curse to
Texas and thero ought to be a reward
offered to the first man who will shoot
him on sight. The Lone Star State
must be purged of such pests before she
can thrive."
" That may be so," said my com
panion quietly, "but all I've got to say,
stranger, is that my name is John
Wesley Hardin."
Never until that minute was I prepar
ed to believe that a man's hair actually
rises on end when he is "struck" with
terror, but when that horseman at my
side announced himself as the terrible
desperado whom I had been denouncing
I distinctly felt my hat slide up my
forehead as my hair stiffened and liter
ally stood on end. I was transfixed
with fear. For a few seconds I couldn't
stir hand nor foot, nor could I speak a
word. I never had dreamed that the
horseman was anything other than a
Texan cowboy, rough but hospitable
one who had probably killed his man,
but who was not a dangerous character.
Finally I managed to turn my eyes so
as to look at Hardin. He was a little
back of me, riding at a leisurely gait,
and was looking straight at me, with a
peculiar smile on his face a smile
which I was sure meant my death.
Hardin had shot down a Bberiff a short
time before lu cold blood and he thought
no more of a human life than be did of
brushing away a fly. I was certain he
would shoot me dead within the next
three minutes. I had my revolver at
my hip, but I did not dare attempt to
draw, for the instant I moved hand in
that direction he would send a bullet
through my brain. In fact I did not
dare move at all. I recall that my nose
began to itch terribly and yet I was
afraid to raise my hand to scratch it,
through dread of drawing his fire.
Byndbyl managed to stammer:
"I beg your pardon but I didn't
know it was you, Mr. Hardin."
" I judge not," he said, with the same
horrid grin on his face. "I've only got
a word to add. When you're traveling
through Texas learn who your parduer
is.. Don't talk too free about your bet
ters. Good day, sir." And he wheeled
off to the right, while I look the left.
I struck my mustang into a gallop, but
for a few moments I was sure Hardin
would send a bullet from his rifle after
me, and when he did that he never
failed to "hit hard." No pen can de
scribe my agony of apprehension for a
minute or so, but when"1 I glanced
furtively over my Bhoulder the little
horseman was riding leisurely along
beyond rifle shot and did not look be
hind him.
He spared my life that morning
merely because the whim happened to
take possession of him, for a more
heartless desperado and a more deliberate
murderer never lived than John Wesley
Hardin. He was what might be called
the product of the reconstruction days
of Texas, as he reached his young man
hood at the time when the state was
under military rule and vben public
feeling was such as to develop all the
iuhate deviltry in a man's nature.
It would require hours to tell the
sanguinary affrays in which he was
engaged and in which he emerged the
sole survivor. Borne of these, perhaps,
were defensible, as he was not always
the blamable party, but the majority
of them were simply cold-blooded mur
ders. About live years ago a noted bully
below Austin shot a young man on the
street one evening while he was prom
enading with a young lady to whom he
was engaged. It was done in pure
wantonness, and, of course, the fellow
was never punished by the law, but a
brother of the victim was so Infuriated
over the deed that he caught up a
double-barreled shot-gun and started out
for the murderer. Hardin warned him
that It would be sure death for him to
attempt any such thing. But the young
man would not be dissuaded. He meant
to shoot down like a dog the wretch
who had done the same to his brother.
" Very well," said Hardin, " I will go
along aud see fair play."
The young man caught sight of the
Wretch for whom he was looking on the
opposite side of the street and deliber
ately raised his gun and took aim. Just
as he pulled the trigger the criminal
observed him, but too late to escape or
get the drop on the boy. The latter
pulled the trigger and the gun missed
fire. The desperado smiled grimly and
drawing up his revolver, said :
"Now it's my turn ; that's just about
my distance, and to prevent uny acci
dent, my kid, I won't give you time to
say your prayers "
He had reached that point in his
address, when John Wesley Hardin
took a hand in the little game and the
speaker never completed his sentence,
and never will, inasmuch as he dropped
dead at the most interesting point, killed
by a Bhot from Hardin's pistol. This was
about the besHhlng Hardin ever did,
and yet, when I questioned him about
it, he would not admit that he did the
killing. The most that he could be got
to admit was, "they say I did it," and
that was all he would acknowledge con
cerning any of the Innumerable shoot
ings in which he was engaged.
Some time after Hardin met the
sheriff on the street and asked him
whether he had a warrant for his arrest.
The ofllcer replied that he had not.
" Well, I heard you had," said Hardin,
"and it's best to be on the safe side,"
and drawing his pistol in his lightning
like fashion, he shot the officer dead.
This murder was the last feather upon
the camel's back. ' Hardin had been
playing the Jim Currie business so long,
and unfortunately without the conclu
sion reached by Currie the other day at
Les Vegas, that his last crime roused a
strong feeling against him. Additional
rewards were offered for bid apprehen
sion. As he had committed many
similar deeds in Arkansas and Louis
iana, the aggregate amount offered for
his capture in the three States was
$20,000.
The hunt for Hardin became so hot
under this extraordlary temptation that
he saw the advisability of emigrating,
at least until the excitement should blow
over. Texas is a big State, but it was
loo email for him, and it soon - became
known that he had disappeared. He
might have gone into the Indian nation
or beyond the pale of civilization, but
no one interested in his capture could
form the least idea where to look for
him. But the munificent reward await
ing the man who should deliver Hardin
to the authorities, incited the best men
to engage in the hunt.
One of these ps a member of Lieut.
Hall's rangers, as they are called.
Texas, as may not be generally known,
is provided with a hundred brave and
tried men, who constitute what may
be called her mounted police. They are
under command of Lieutenant Hall,
aud roam the State from one end to the
other of the settled portion, hunting
horse thieves, murderers, and all crim
inals that are wanted by the authorities.
Lieutenant Hall is a prepossessing
young man of sandy complexion, and a
splendid rifle shot. All his men have
been tried by the fire and can be relied
on. It was one of these that determined
to capture Hardin, and who went about
it in the only fashion that promised
success. He went off beyond Austin,
where the father of young Hardin was
running a ranuhe, and giving out ' that
he was hunting for similar property In'
the same neighborhood, finally bought
the one immediately adjoining that of
the retired preacher. This done the
officer, as a pretended cattle-raiser,
stocked It and went to work.
Month after month he conducted
himself In the regular way, and grad
ually became quite Intimate with the
old gentleman. 'After the day's toil was
over they would sit together In front of
one of the houses, smoking their pipes
and talking about everything that came
Into their minds, with the exception
that John Wesley was never alluded to
by either one of them. They spent
hours la this fashion, and at other times
would gather in the village store near
by, which answered as the port office,
where they would join in gossip and
discussion while smoking their pipes
in the manner so popular all through
our country.
The months passed in this fashion
and the summer was pretty well gone,
when one day the elder Hardin took a
letter to the office to mail. It was a
crumpled, yellow envelope, and directed
in a scrawling hand. The detective
walked to the store with Hardin, who
carried the letter in his pocket, and he
made up his mind It was intended for
his son, John Wesley. This was the
very clue for which the officer had been
wasting all these months, and this was
the first time he had seen the reverend
gentleman take a letter to the ofllce. It
was necessary to see the directions upon
the missive, and not only that, but he
must be sure that the discovery was
made without attracting the slightest
suspicion to himself. He saw no chance
to do either while on the road.
Within the ofllce, Mr. Hardin bought
a three-cent stamp, solemnly Icke it
and then pounded it upside down on
one corner of the soiled envelope with
his horny fist, and finally passed it over
to the village postmaster. While he
was engaged in this deliberate proceed
ing the detective approached the counter
and asked the postmaster for a news
paper. The ofllcial turned to look for It.
The instant his face was turned the
ofllcer glanced over the shoulder of Har
din and read the superscription on the
envelope. He saw it was directed to a
Mr. Samuel Jones, of whom he had
never heard and whose post ofllce ad
dress was a remote town in Florida. It
made no difference. ' The detective was
convinced he had discovered the where
abouts of John Wesley Hardin, for
whose capture such a large reward was
waiting.
The conversation went on as usual
through the evening. The same parties
congregated night after night and the
detective and the Rev. Mr. Hardin met
and smoked their pipes as before, while
the weeks and months passed by. Final
ly Mr. Hardin's neighbor said he guess
ed he would take a run up to Austin to
see about selling some of his cattle.
Accordingly he bade his friend good
lijte for several days, mounted his mus
tang and galloped off. He never stop
ped traveling dispensing with his
horse as soon as possible antil he reach
ed a certain remote town in Florida,
where, gotten up as an ordinary every
day laborer, he took a little tramp
through the surrounding country. He
was fortunate enough that day to catch
sight of the mythical personage at work
in the field of a farmer. One searching
glance was enough. The high, broad
cheek-bones, the small piggy eyes, the
beardless face and slight muscular figure
belonged to John Wesley Hardin, and
no one else. That young man walking
about was a moving treasure box of
$20,000, waiting for some one to come
aud turn the key and walk off with the
contents. Did the ofllcer do It? Not
by any means. He simply took the one
all-sufficient glance and passed by and
out of sljbt. He would no more have
ventured over the fence Into the Meld to
arrest the desperado than he would
have attempted to put a bit in the mouth
of a raging Bengal tiger.
In a desultory talk with the station
agent, who was also the telegraphist
nearby, the ofllcer learned that Sam
Jones was accustomed once or twice a
week to take the cars and ride to a
station about twelve miles above, where
he was paying his addresses to some
lady, ' The officer made an arrangement
by which the agent agreed to telegraph
him at the upper station whenever the
mythical Sam Jones should board the
train. Of course the , agent could be
trusted to keep the secret, as that was a
pare of his business, though he was far
from suspecting the importance of the
case. Having done all he could the
detective took the cars to the station
above, where he spent several days iu
lounging about and smoking bad cigars
while watting for the dispatch. At the
end of three days it came.
: Jones has just boarded the
train ; sits in last car; man with him ;
nobody else iu car. . , Agent.
The ofllcer had just enough time iu
which to complete his arrangements.
It was a warm, sultry day, even for
that season, and as the little locomotive
came wheezing into the depot, with two
rickety cars behind it, there were five
passengers waiting at the depot appar
ently to get on board, but as the cars
lowed up one of these men with a
Winchester rifle at full cock, stationed
himself at the side window, assuming
such a position that neither of the two
young men, who sat in their shirt
sleeves, noticed him.
The ltfxt minute two other men,
fully armed, boarded the rear platform
and entered the door; at the same
instant the detective and a friend en
tered the front door and moved care
lessly down the aisle in the direction of
the two passengers. The latter glanced
up sharply, but saw nothing to cause
misgiving and continued talking. The
next moment the ofllcer reached a point
in the aisle directly opposite the couple.
Stopping suddenly, he exclaimed :
" How are you, John Wesley Har
din?" As quick as lightning the desperado
threw his hand back to his htp to draw
his revolver. - As he did so one of those
behind him grasped his arm and the
fight began. The two strong men pre
cipitated themselves upon Hardin, who
though disarmed, 'fought, like a wild
cat. They overpowered and put the
nippers on him. While they were
doing this the other two officers were
engaged in a deadly struggle with the
other desperado, who showed an over-,
weening ambition to mingle in the
business. The only way convenient to
dissuade him was to shoot him dead,
which was done. All this time the
other friend held his position on the
outside with his cocked Winchester,
rather more than willing to fire if only
a suitable pretext should present itself.
Hardin was taken back to Texas,
tried, found guilty and sentenced to
twenty-five years imprisonment. He Is
now in the State penitentiary at Austin,
where I saw him three years ago. He
told me be was suffering from a wound
in his side, but Is not without hope that
he will be pardoned by the governor
after serving a few more years. Judging
from the fashion in Texas, this hope is
likely to be gratified, though the crimes
he has committed could not be expiated
by a dozen such worthless lives as his.
Patient and True.
The Chicago Inter-Ocean relates the
following story that, notwithstanding
the many obstacles In the way, had a
happy termination : "Twelve years ago
a young couple fell in love as they journ
eyed on shipboard from Sweden to
America. They were poor, and resolv
ed to get a little start in the world before
marrying. She went into service in
Chicago, and he sought bis fortune, in
the far west. During all these years of
struggle they remained tiue to each
other. The blooming Swedish girl has
donned her glasses, and it is safe to be
lieve that John is not as young as he
was, but success has attended his work,
and yesterday the expectant bride, fitted
out with all comforts by many loving
friends, left for Denver, where she Is to
meet her expectant groom and take pos
session of the, new home his Industry
has prepared for her. This little ro
mance is all truth, and Is a good lessou
of patience and fidelity."
Queer Advertisements.
Borne of our advertisements are as
comical as Punch. One landlady, en
tirely innocent of grammatical knowl
edge, advertises that she has "a fine,
well-furnished bed room for a gentleman
twelve feet ' square;" another has "a
cheap and desirable suit of rooms for a
respectable family in good repair ;" still
another has "a hall bed room for a
single woman 8x12." An English
widow became rather mixed by her
grief, but when announcing the death
of her husband she was uot so mixed
that she lost sight of the main question :
" His virtues were beyond price, and
his beaver hats werw only seventeen
shillings. He has left a large stock to
be sold at the old stand. He was
snatched to the other world just as he
had concluded an extensive purchase of
felt which he got so cheap that his
widow can sell felt hats a fraction less
than any other house in London. Peace
to his ashes; the business will be car
ried on as usual." Ex.
t3T Energy will do anything thatcau
be done In the world ; and no talents, no
circumstances, no opportunities, will
make a two legged animal a man with
out it.