36

50

trouble. You have thousands of friends in the East. Gen. Miles and Capt. Lee can reach those friends. I have this confidence; there will be no war on the part of Gen. Miles, if you give up your arms, because through military discipline he can control his men, as soldiers have no interest to shoot Indians. Tell your young men to be calm and have confidence in Gen. Miles, who will see you through. But you must discipline and control your young men. Let every man who talks mean what he says, and not talk to evade the question. I, to show you what confidence I have in Gen. Miles that he will not fire upon you and your women and children when you are disarmed, I will promise to live in your camp until you have confidence that the white chief will see no harm come to you. I am glad to hear that some chiefs are going to Washington, and hope, instead of ten, twenty or twenty-five will go. I will be there to see you, and may go with you. Let us all work for peace between the white men and the red--not for a moment, a day, a year, but for ever, for eternity.

KICKING BEAR.

BILL CODY--(BY AN OLD COMRADE.)

You bet I knew him, partner, he ain't no circus friend. He's Western born and Western bred, if he has been late abroad; I knew him in the days way back, beyond Missouri's flow. When the country round was nothing but a huge Wild Western Show. When the Indians were as thick as fleas, and the man who ventured through. The sand hills of Nebraska had to fight the hostile Sioux; These were hot times, I tell you; and we all remember still. The days when Cody was a scout, and all the men knew Bill.

I knew him first in Kansas, in the days of '68. When the Cheyennes and Arapahoes were wiping from the slate. Old scores against the settlers, and when men who wore the blue. With shoulder-straps and way-up rank, were glad to be helped through. By a bearer of dispatches, who knew each vale and bill. From Dakota down to Texas, and his other name was Bill.

I mind me too of '76, the time when Cody took His scouts upon the Rosebud, along with General Crook. When Custer's Seventh rode to their death for a lack of some such side. To tell them that the sneaking Sioux knew how to ambuscade. I saw Bill's fight with "Yellow Hand," you bet it was a "mill." He downed him well at thirty yards, and all the men cheered Bill.

They tell me that the women folk now take his word as laws. In them days laws were mighty skerce, and hardly passed with squaws. But many a hardy settler's wife and daughter used to rest More quietly because they knew of Cody's dauntless breast; Because they felt from Laramie way down to Old Fort Sill, Bill Cody was a trusted scout, and all their men knew Bil.

I haven't seen him much of late; how does he bear his years? They say he's making educate now from shows and not from "steers." He used to be a judge of "horns," when poured in a tin cup, And left the wine to tenderfeet, and men who felt "well up." Perhaps he cracks a bottle now, perhaps he's had his fill. Who cares; Bill Cody was a scout, and all the world knows Bill.

To see him in his trimmin's he can't hardly look the same. With laundered shirt and diamonds, as if "he runs a game;" He didn't wear biled linen then, or flash up diamond rings. The royalties he dreamed of then were only pastaboard kings, But those who sat behind the queens were apt to get their fill, In the days when Cody was a scout, and all the men knew Bill.

[Gridiron]? Club,
Washington D. C., Feb, [18]?, 1891.

WM. E. ANNIN,
Lincoln (Neb.) Journal.

MACAULAY'S NEW ZEALANDER--THE LAST OF THE MONICANS,--THE LAST OF THE BUFFALO.

From Manchester Courier, April, 1888.

An addition which has just been made to the United States National Museum at Washington affords important subsidiary evidence, if such were needed, of the unique interest attending the extraordinary exhibition at Manchester illustrative of the Wild West,

51

Naturalists have not too soon become alive to the remarkable fact that those shaggy monarchs of the prairie, the ponderous buffalo tribe, are well-nigh extinct. They have dwindled away before the exterminating tread of the hunter and the march of the pioneer of civilization. The prairie no longer shakes beneath the impetuous advance of the mighty herd, and even individual specimens are becoming scarce. The representatives of the Smithsonian Museum in American therefore sent out an expedition into the West in search of what buffaloes there might be remaining, in order that the country might preserve some memento of the millions of those animals which not many years ago roamed over the prairies. Twenty-five animals in all were captured, six of which have been arranged in a group for exhibition. One of the American papers describes this as the transference of a little bit of Montana--a small square patch from the wildest part of the Wild West--to the National Museum. The idea is one which is exactly applicable to COLONEL, W. F. CODY'S collection, which is approaching its last days of residence among us. Those scenes in which the primeval forest and the vast expanse of prairie are represented, with elk and bison careering about, chased by the hunter and the scout, is a transference from the Wild West which, as we now learn, should be even more interesting to the naturalist than it is to either the artistic or the historical student. We leave out of view for the moment the ordinary spectator who goes only to be amused or entertained, independently of any instruction that may be afforded. These scenes, moreover, are all the more interesting to the ethnological student because of the association with them of the red men who have been indigenous to the prairies and their surroundings. The occupation of Uncas, like Othello's, is gone; palatial buildings and busy streets have succeeded to the wigwam and the hunting grounds, and the successor of Fenimore Cooper may find his representative Indians, not where the hunting knife and tomahawk are needed, but in the arena of mimic battle and adventure. The Indian is going out with the buffalo; mayhap we shall ere long see the last of his descendants, with the contemplative gaze of Macaulay's New Zealander, sitting before the group in the Smithsonian Museum, looking upon the last representative of the extinct buffalo, fixed in its prairie-like surroundings. These considerations of facts which force themselves upon the imagination, distinctly enhance the interest of those "pictures" from the Wild West presented with such force and realism by the ruling genius who, anent the purport of these reflections, is so appropriately named "BUFFALO BILL." In the course of a very short time these pictures will permanently vanish from English soil, as they are to be produced in America soon, and it may be expected that those in arrears in information respecting them, and who appreciate, as they deserve to be appreciated, their instructive features, will give to them a concentrated attention ere it is too late.

A POSITION DIFFICULT TO ATTAIN.--A "PLAINS CELEBRITY."--A TITLE IMPERISHABLE.

To gain great local and national fame as a "plains celebrity" in the days of old was not an easy task; rather one of the most competitive struggles that a young man could possibly engage in. The vast, comparatively unknown, even called Great American Desert of twenty-five and thirty years ago was peopled only by the descendants of the sturdy pioneers of the then Far West--Illinois, Missouri, Arkansas, Iowa, Minnesota, Kansas, etc., born, raised, and used to hardships and danger--and attracted only the resolute, determined adventurers of the rest of the world, seeking an outlet for pent-up natures, imbued with love of daring adventure. Hundreds of men achieved local, and great numbers national fame for the possession of every manly quality that goes to make up the romantic hero of that once dark and bloody ground. When is brought to mind the work engaged in, the carving out of the advance paths for the more domestically inclined settler, of the dangers and excitements of hunting and trapping, of carrying dispatches, stage driving, freighting cargoes of immense value, guiding successfully the immense wagon trains, gold hunting--it is easy to conceive what a class of sturdy, adventurous young spirits entered the arena to struggle in a daily, deadly, dangerous game to win the "bubble reputation." When such an army of the best human material battled for supremacy, individual distinction gained by the unwritten law of unprejudiced popular promotion possessed a value that made its acquirer a "plains celebrity," stamped indelibly with an honored title rarely possessed unless fairly, openly, and justly won--a prize so pure that its ownership, while envied, crowned the victor with the friendship, a prize so pure that its ownership, while envied, crowned the victor with the friendship, following an admiration of the contestants. Thus Boone, Crockett, Carson, Beal, Fremont, Cody, Bridger, Kinman, Hickok, Cosgrove, Comstock, Frank North, and others, will live in the romance, the poetry, and history of their rach distinctive work for ever. The same spirit and circumstances to have furnished journalists innumerable, who, in the West, imbibed the

50

trouble. You have thousands of friends in the East. Gen. Miles and Capt. Lee can reach those friends. I have this confidence; there will be no war on the part of Gen. Miles, if you give up your arms, because through military discipline he can control his men, as soldiers have no interest to shoot Indians. Tell your young men to be calm and have confidence in Gen. Miles, who will see you through. But you must discipline and control your young men. Let every man who talks mean what he says, and not talk to evade the question. I, to show you what confidence I have in Gen. Miles that he will not fire upon you and your women and children when you are disarmed, I will promise to live in your camp until you have confidence that the hite chief will see no harm come to you. I am glad to hear that some chiefs are going to Washington, and hope, instead of ten, twenty or twenty-five will go. I will be there to see you, and may go with you. Let us all work for peace between the white men and the red--not for a moment, a day, a year, but for ever, for eternity.

KICKING BEAR.

BILL CODY--(BY AN OLD COMRADE.)

You bet I knew him, [pardner]?, he ain't no circus friend. He's Western born and Western bred, if he has been late abroad; I knew him in the days way back, beyond Missouri's flow. When the country round was nothing but a huge Wild Western Show. When the Indians were as thick as fleas, and the man who ventured through. The sand hills of Nebraska had to fight the hostile Sioux; These were hot times, I tell you; and we all remember still. The days when Cody was a scout, and all the men knew Bill.

I knew him first in Kansas, in the days of [?]. When the Cheyennes and Arapahoes were wiping from the slate. Old scores against the settlers, and when men who wore the blue. With shoulder-straps and way-up rank, were glad to be helped through. By a bearer of dispatches, who knew each vale and bill. From Dakota down to Texas, and his other name was Bill.

I mind me too of ['76]?, the time when Cody took His scouts upon the Rosebud, along with General Crook. When Custer's Seventh rode to their death for a lack of some such side. To tell them that the sneaking Sioux knew how to ambuscade. I saw Bill's fight with "Yellow Hand," you bet it was a "mill." He downed him well at thirty yards, and all the men cheered Bill.

They tell me that the women folk now take his word as laws. In them days laws were mighty skerce, and hardly passed with squaws. But many a hardy settler's wife and daughter used to rest More quietly because they knew of Cody's dauntless breast; Because they felt from Laramie way down to Old Fort Sill, Bill Cody was a trusted scout, and all their men knew Bil.

I haven't seen him much of late; how does he bear his years? They say he's making ducate now from shows and not from "steers." He used to be a judge of "horns," when poured in a tin cup, And left the wine to tenderfeet, and men who felt "well up." Perhaps he cracks a bottle now, perhaps he's had his fill. Who cares; Bill Cody was a scout, and all the world knows Bill.

To see him in his trimmin's he can't hardly look the same. With laundered shirt and diamonds, as if "he runs a game;" He didn't wear biled linen then, or flash up diamond rings. The royalties he dreamed of then were only pastaboard kings, But those who sat behind the queens were apt to get their fill, In the days when Cody was a scout, and all the men knew Bill.

[Gridiron]? Club,
Washington D. C., Feb, [18]?, 1891.

WM. E. ANNIN,
Lincoln (Neb.) Journal.

MACAULAY'S NEW ZEALANDER--THE LAST OF THE MONICANS,--THE LAST OF THE BUFFALO.

From Manchester Courier, April, 1888.

An addition which has just been made to the United States National Museum at Washington affords important subsidiary evidence, if such were needed, of the unique interest attending the extraordinary exhibition at Manchester illustrative of the Wild West,

51

Naturalists have not too soon become alive to the remarkable fact that those shaggy monarchs of the prairie, the ponderous buffalo tribe, are well-nigh extinct. They have dwindled away before the exterminating tread of the hunter and the march of the pioneer of civilization. The prairie no longer shakes beneath the impetous advance of the mighty herd, and even individual specimens are becoming scarce. The representatives of the Smithsonian Museum in American therefore sent out an expedition into the West in search of what buffaloes there might be remaining, in order that the country might preserve some memento of the millions of those animals which not many years ago roamed over the prairies. Twenty-five animals in all were captured, six of which have been arranged in a group for exhibition. One of the American papers describes this as the transference of a little bit of Montana--a small square patch from the wildest part of the Wild West--to the National Museum. The idea is one which is exactly applicable to COLONEL, W. F. CODY'S collection, which is approaching its last days of residence among us. Those scenes in which the primeval forest and the vast expanse of prairie are represented, with elk and bison careering about, chased by the hunter and the scout, is a transference from the Wild West which, as we now learn, should be even more interesting to the naturalist than it is to either the artistic or the historical student. We leave out of view for the moment the ordinary spectator who goes only to be amused or entertained, independently of any instruction that may be afforded. These scenes, moreover, are all the more interesting to the ethnological student because of the association with them of the red men who have been indidenous to the prairies and their surroundings. The occupation of Uncas, like Othello's, is gone; palatial buildings and busy streets have succeeded to the wigwam and the hunting grounds, and the successor of Fenimore Cooper may find his representative Indians, not where the hunting knife and tomahawk are needed, but in the arena of mimic battle and adventure. The Indian is going out with the buffalo; mayhap we shall ere long see the last of his descendants, with the contemplative gaze of Macaulay's New Zealander, sitting before the group in the Smithsonian Museum, looking upon the last representative of the extinct buffalo, fixed in its prairie-like surroundings. These considerations of facts which force themselves upon the imagination, distinctly enhance the interest of those "pictures" from the Wild West presented with such force and realism by the ruling genius who, anent the purport of these reflections, is so appropriately named "BUFFALO BILL." In the course of a very short time these pictures will permanently vanish from English soil, as they are to be produced in America soon, and it may be expected that those in arrears in information respecting them, and who appreciate, as they deserve to be appreciated, their instructive features, will give to them a concentrated attention ere it is too late.

A POSITION DIFFICULT TO ATTAIN.--A "PLAINS CELEBRITY."--A TITLE IMPERISHABLE.

To gain great local and national fame as a "plains celevrity" in the days of old was not an easy task; rather one of the most competitive struggles that a young man could possibly engage in. The vast, comparatively unknown, even called Great American Desert of twenty-five and thirty years ago was peopled only by the descendants of the sturdy pioneers of the then Far West--Illinois, Missouri, Arkansas, Iowa, Minnesota, Kansas, etc., born, raised, and used to hardships and danger--and attracted only the resolute, determined adventurers of the rest of the world, seeking an outlet for pent-up natures, imbued with love of daring adventure. Hundreds of men achieved local, and great numbers national fame for the possession of every manly quality that goes to make up the romantic hero of that once dark and bloody ground. When is brought to mind the work engaged in, the carving out of the advance paths for the more domestically inclined settler, of the dangers and excitements of hunting and trapping, of carrying dispatches, stage driving, freighting cargoes of immense value, guiding successfully the immense wagon trains, gold hunting--it is easy to conceive what a class of sturdy, adventurous young spirits entered the arena to struggle in a daily, deadly, dangerous game to win the "bubble repuration." When such an army of the best human material battled for supremacy, individual distinction gained by the unwritten law of unprejudiced popular promotion possessed a value that made its acquirer a "plains celebrity," stamped indelibly with an honored title rarely possessed inless fairly, openly, and justly won--a prize so pure that its ownership, while envied, crowned the victor with the friendship, a prize so pure that its ownership, while envied, crowned the victor with the friendship, following an admiration of the contestants. Thus Boone, Crockett, Catson, Beal, Fremont, Cody, Bridger, Kinman, Hickok, Cosgrove, Comstock, Frank North, and others, will live in the romance, the poetry, and history of their rach distinctive work for ever. The same spirit and circumstances to have furnished journalists innumerable, who, in the West, imbibed the