"BUFFALO BILL."
INCIDENTS AND FACTS IN THE FAMOUS SCOUT'S LIFE.
THE GRAND DUKE ALEXIS-ENCOUNTER WITH YELLOW HAND-A PROPOSED TRIP TO EUROPE A LITTLE GRAVE.
The coming of "Buffalo Bill" to this city, two weeks from this evening, gives additional interest to the following from the Rochester, N. Y., Sunday Moring Herald:
Wm. Cody, o "Buffalo Bill," as he is familliarly known from New York to San Francisco, has been playing with his company to crowded audiences at the Opera House in the city during a portion of the past week. It is not our purpose to speak, however, of the play, but of the man, in this article.
Several years ago, when he first visited our city, he, Texas Jack, and two newspaper men took a sleigh ride up East avenue, one fine winter afternoon, bringing up finally at Prof. Ward's, whose aquaintace Buffalo Bill had made on the plains. One of that party had not met the famous scout to talk with him since until yesterday morning, when, on a pressing inviation, Mr. Cody walked into the Herald sanctum; but he has a observing eye and a retentive memory and instatly recalled both the individual ad the occasion.
Mr. Cody's splendid physique, frank and daring look, and long, flowing hair, are familiar to thousands who have seen him on the streets but have never met him personally. In apperance and manner he is the beau ideal of the western hunter and Indain fighter, the chevalier of the plais. Every feature idicates power and courage, but all are softened by the light of a naturally kind and courteous nature.
The story of his life has been often told. Orphaned at an early age by an Indain massacre in the West, he grew up the foe of the red man, and in many a fair fight has paid of the indians in leaden coin, for that butchery tha robbed him of his parents. He was chosen by General Sheridan to acompany the Grand Duke Alexis and his party on a hunting expedition over the plains, when that Russian prince visited this country. Since thenm on several occasions he has acted as Chief of Scouts for our troops in their expeditions agains the Indians, and was eith General Crook, in that capacity, engaged in the same general movement with Custer when the latter's command was massacred.
For several years BUffalo Bill has been giving dramatic exhibitions, illustrating life on the plains and he has become really an actor of considerable merit. His exhibitions are immensely popular. He has acquired quite a fortune, and now owns a large rach, about three hundred miles west of Omaha. When he visited us, yesterday, we wasked him about his intentions for the future.
"I am going to San Francisco in March," he said, "and play there. Afterwards I will go to Europe, and then come back and setle down on my ranche."
"You'll get tired of that," we remarked.
"No! I love the plains and could spend my life on them. Inever feel so well as when out there, hunting antelope and buffalo."
"So you're going to California?"
"Yes. And, by the way, California is te place for a whole-souled reception. They are wide-awake and generous."
While talking about the Crook expedition, Buffalo Bill told us the story of his encounter with Yellow hand. Our troops were engaged in a skirmish with the Indians, when Yellow Hand shouted out a challenge to the "long-haired man" to come out and fight single-handed. The challenge was acepted. To have declined it would have lost im his prestie among the Indains, and might have been followed by serious results. The Indian and "pale-face" warriors rode toward each other, firing their rifles; both horses were killed, Yellow Hand was shot through the thigh, and "Bill" was slightly wounded. The two men were then close enough to grapple, and before Yellow Hand could prevent it the scout had finished the fight ad slain the Indian with his knife. When Mr. Cody goes to europe, if the Grand Duke Alexis is not at sea, he will probably visit russia, and Alexiswill have the opportunity to show the American what hunting is, as praticed by royalty.
What has become of Two Bears, the Indian who was with you here?
"That was one of the worst Indians we ever had. He gave us all sorts of trouble. He was trecherous, surly and ungrateful. At one place where we were stopping, I had him at one of the best hotels, where I was stopping myself, and treated him handsomely. But the rascal had the impudence to balckin his face somewhere, and go to a policeman with a story he made up about my abusing him. He pointed to his face, and gesturing, said: 'Ugh! Buffalo Bill. Strike. Kick.' The policeman thought I had been pounding him, and I was sent for, but as soon as I went into the office he changed his story, and laid it to the interpreter. the officers, however, found that they could wash the scars off and dismissed him. When I took him back o the plains I bought him a blak braodcloth suit and stove-pipe hat. He strutted around a good deal on the reservvation; but he next spring a party of young bucks sarted on a stealing raid and he aompanied them. When our troops got into a fight with the party, they saw a fellow with a stove-pipe hat on, and thought he was a white man, so they peppered him with bullets. Afterwards they found it was Two Bears with the hat I gave him.
The hero of out aricle was for one term a member of he ebraska Legislature, and has popularity enough now, or will have, when he sttles down on his ranche, or election to conress. Mrs. Cody and the rest of the family are now in Nebraska. Friday afternoon Mr. Cody paid a visit to a small, snow covered mound in Mount Hope, where a little son-Kit Carson Cody- was tenderly buried when the family lived in Rochester. The far away mother could ot sonsent to have he father visit Rochester and carry back no word from the little one's grave.
BUFFALO CHIPS THE SCOUT.
WRITTEN FOR THE NEW YORK CLIPPER AND DEDICATED O BUFFALO BILL.
IN THE MOUNTAINS, BRITISH COLUMBIA, MARCH 8, 1879.
The following verses on the life and death of poor old Bufalo Chips are founded entirely on facts. His death occurred on September 6, 1876, at Slim Butes. He was within thre feet of me when he fell, uttering the words creditied o him in my poem.
Yours truly,
Capt. Jack Crawford
The evenin sun was settin' droppin' slowly in the west,
An' the soldiers tired and tuckereed out in the camp would find that rest
Which the setin' sun would bring [word], for they marched since break o' day
Not a bite to eat' cept horses as were killed upon the way;
For, ye see, our beans an' crackers an' our pork war outen sight,
An' the boys expected rashuns when they struck our camp hat night:
For a little band had started for te bring some cattle on,
An' hey sruck an Indian village, which hey captured jest at dawn.
Well, I war with that party when we captured them at Sioux,
An' we quickly sent a courier to tell old Crook he news.
Old Crook!-I should say gener'l, cos he war with the boys
Shared his only hard tack, our sorrows and our joys;
An' thar is oe thing sartin he never put on style He'd greet the scout or soldier with a social kind of smile,
An' that's the kind of soldier as the prairie likes ter get,
An' every man would trump death's ace fur Crook or Miles, you bet.
But i'm kinder of the racket, cos these gen'rals gets enough
O' praise without my chippin' so I let up on that puff;
