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46

wins, and the young chief, "YELLOW HAND," drops lifeless in his tracks after a hot fight.
Baffled and astounded, for once in a lifetime beatem at their own game, their project of
joining "SITTING BULL" nipped in the bud, they take hurried fight. But our chief is satis-
fied. "BUFFALO BILL" is radiant; his are the honors of the day. From page 35.

THE GREATARTIST, FRED REMINGTON, WRITES FROM LONDON TO "HARPER'S WEEKLY."

The most noted depicter of Western scenes of the present day is without doubt the eminent artist. Mr.
Frederic Remington. His study of the subject renders him a most competent judge. In returning from an
expedition in Russia, passing through London, he visited Buffalo Bill's Wild West, and it is with pride that
the projectors point to his indorsement, standing side by side in artistic merit as he does with the grand
artiste, Rosa Bonheur:

The Tower, the Parliament, and Westminster Abbey are older institutions in London than Buffalo
Bill's show, but when the New Zealander sits on the London bridge and looks over his ancient manuscripts
of Murray's Guide-Book, he is going to turn first
to the Wild West. At present ever one knows
where it is from the gentlment on Piccadilly to the
dirtiest coster in the remotest slum of Whitechapel.
The cabman may have to scratch his head to recall
places where the traveler desires to go, but when
the "Wild West" is asked for he gathers his reins
and uncoils his whip without ceremony. One
should no longer ride the deserts of Texas or the
rugged uplands of Wyoming to see the Indians
and pioneers, but should go to London. It is also,
quite unnecessary to brave the fleas and the police
of the Czar to see the Cossack, or to tempt the
waves which roll between New York and the far-
off Argentine to study the "gauchos." They are all
in London. The Cossacks and "gauchos" are the
latest edition, and they nearly complete the array
of wild riders. There you can sit on a bench and
institute comparisons. The Cossacks will charge
you with drawn sabres in a most genuine way will
hover over you like buzzardson a battelfield--they
soar and whirl about in graceful curves, giving an
uncanny impression, whcih has doubtless been felt
by many a poor Russian soldier from the wheat
field of central Europe as he lay with a bullet in
him on some distant field. They march slowly
around over imaginary steppes, singing in a most
dolorous way -- looking as they did in Joseph
Brandt's paintings. They dance over swords in a
light-footed and crazy way, and do feats on their
running horses which bring the hand-clapping.
They stand on their heads, vault on and off, chase
each other in a game called "chasing the handker-
chief," and they reach down at top speed and mark
the ground with a stick. Their long coat-tails
flap out behind like an animated rag-bag, while
their legs and arms are visible by turns. Their
grip on the horse is maintained by a clever use
of the stirrups, which are twisted and crossed at
will. They are armed like "pincushions," and
ride on a big leather bag, which makes their seat
adbormally high.

The "gauchos" are dressed in a sort of Spanish
costume, with tremendous pantaloons of cotton
and boots made of colt's skin, which in their con-
struction are very like Apache moccasins. They
carry a knife at their back which would make a
hole wchih a doctor couldn't sew up with less than
five stitches, if, indeed, he was troubled at all.
They ride a saddle which one of the American
cowboys designated as a "--------feather bed" and
they talk Spanish which would floor a Castilian at
once. They ride bucking horses by pairs, and
amuse the audience by falling off at intervals.

The great interest which attaches to the whole
show is that it enables the audience to take sides on
the question of which people ride the best and have
the best saddles. The whole thing is put in such