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taken for real Indians, ripe for repine and revenge, and ready to do the most fearful crimes for ducats, yet we can confidentially assure our friends that "these sons of the forest" are harmless and without guile; that the pale-faced maiden is in no danger from their presence, and that the white man may follow their path without let or hindrace. We can further gurantee that some of these Indians are not Indians, but merely imitators of the noble red man, and that their mission is not death to their natural foes, as the dime novels would lead us to believe, but peace and good-will to men who patronise them, which is all they ask. In honor of these savages, we shall compose a few verses of soul-stirring poetry about

THE SCOUTS.
With bowie-knives uplifted, with terrifying frowns,
These valiant Western fighters swoop down upon our towns;
They are all decent fellows, and not maranding scamps--- They do not cry for vengeance, but only thirst for "stamps!"
They seem a famous study for men of every rank, From daring "Bison William" to "Arizona Frank;" "Wild Bill" and "Dashing Charlie," with long and tawny hair.
Too often are their targets the beautiful and fair!
Without a "Jack" from Texas the pack is not complete,
Wene'er he throws his lasso he takes us off our feet;
Of'ate, he lariated a beauty standing by,
New York's delightful dance, "The Apple of our Eye."
Fred Maeder and Ned Buntline will guard the flowing tills ---
We hope they'll find the money when they present their Bills.
We only fear these rivals may meet, to dine or sup.
In some sequestered village, and --- chop each other up!

taken for real Indians, ripe for repine and revenge, and ready to do the most fearful crimes for ducats, yet we can confidentially assure our friends that "these sons of the forest" are harmless and without guile; that the pale-faced maiden is in no danger from their presence, and that the white man may follow their path without let or hindrace. We can further gurantee that some of these Indians are not Indians, but merely imitators of the noble red man, and that their mission is not death to their natural foes, as the dime novels would lead us to believe, but peace and good-will to men who patronise them, which is all they ask. In honor of these savages, we shall compose a few verses of soul-stirring poetry about

THE SCOUTS.
With bowie-knives uplifted, with terrifying frowns,
These valiant Western fighters swoop down upon our towns;
They are all decent fellows, and not maranding scamps--- They do not cry for vengeance, but only thirst for "stamps!"
They seem a famous study for men of every rank, From daring "Bison William" to "Arizona Frank;" "Wild Bill" and "Dashing Charlie," with long and tawny hair.
Too often are their targets the beautiful and fair!
Without a "Jack" from Texas the pack is not complete,
Wene'er he throws his lasso he takes us off our feet;
Of'ate, he lariated a beauty standing by,
New York's delightful dance, "The Apple of our Eye."
Fred Maeder and Ned Buntline will guard the flowing tills ---
We hope they'll find the money when they present their Bills.
We only fear these rivals may meet, to dine or sup.
In some sequestered village, and --- chop each other up!