instant. The thermometer has been from 4 to 28 degs. below zero at 7
a.m., and from 2 to 16 degs. below at 2 p.m. The 5th was the coldest.
The mercury dropped to 28 degs. below at sunrise; in some places 32
degs. below. On the 6th, 22 degs. below at 7 a.m.; at 12 m. 4 degs.
below; at 5 p.m. 10 degs. below. Domestic animals were kept closely
housed, except while being watered. Where they were exposed to the
weather, they froze. We have not had such continued cold weather since
January 1864, when for ten successive days it was intensely cold. Some
farmers are short of coarse feed, and are shipping bran and middlings
from Minneapolis, and corn from Kansas and Nebraska. Many farmers who
were shipping milk to Chicago, are now taking it to the cheese
factories. There has been an over supply of milk in the city. The
dividends for October were from $1.16 to $1.25 per cwt.
J.P.B.
* * * * *
THE PRAIRIE FARMER
AND
YOUTH'S COMPANION
ONE YEAR, $3 FOR THE TWO.
It is not required that both papers be sent to one address, nor to the
same post-office.
Address PRAIRIE FARMER PUB. Co., 150 Monroe Street, Chicago.
* * * * *
BREEDERS DIRECTORY.
The following list embraces the names of responsible and reliable
Breeders in their line, and parties wishing to purchase or obtain
information can feel assured that they will be honorably dealt with:
CATTLE.
Jersey.
Mills, Charles F.....................Springfield, Illinois
HORSES.
Clydesdales.
Mills, Charles F.....................Springfield, Illinois
SWINE.
Berkshire.
Mills, Charles F.....................Springfield, Illinois
Chester Whites.
W.A. Gilbert......................Wauwatosa Wis.
SHEEP.
Cotswold.
Mills, Charles F.....................Springfield, Illinois
* * * * *
LIVE STOCK, ETC.
Jerseys for Sale.
One heifer, 2 years old in May, due to calve in April. Heifer, 2 years
in June, and due to calve in April. Cow, 4 years old, due to calve in
May. Bull calf 5 months old, and one good yearling bull. Address
L.P. WHEELER. Quincy, Ill.
* * * * *
SCOTCH COLLIE
SHEPHERD PUPS,
--FROM--
IMPORTED AND TRAINED STOCK
--ALSO--
NEWFOUNDLAND PUPS AND RAT TERRIER PUPS.
Concise and practical printed instruction in Training young Shepherd
Dogs, is given to buyers of Shepherd Puppies; or will be sent on receipt
of 25 cents in postage stamps.
For Printed Circular, giving full particulars about Shepherd Dogs,
enclose a 3-cent stamp, and address
N.H. PAAREN,
P.O. Box 326, CHICAGO. ILL.
* * * * *
HOUSE PLANS FOR EVERYBODY.
By S.B. REED, Architect.
One of the most popular Architectural books ever issued, giving a wide
range of design from a dwelling costing $250 up to $8,000, and adapted
to farm, village, and town residences. It gives an
ESTIMATE OF THE QUANTITY OF EVERY ARTICLE USED
In the construction, and probable cost of constructing any one of the
buildings presented. Profusely illustrated. Price, postpaid, $1.50.
Address
PRAIRIE FARMER PUBLISHING CO., Chicago
* * * * *
MAP
Of the United States and Canada, Printed in Colors, size 4x2-1/2 feet,
also a copy of THE PRAIRIE FARMER for one year. Sent to any address for
$2.00.
* * * * *
AGENTS
WANTED EVERYWHERE to solicit subscriptions for this paper. Write
PRAIRIE FARMER PUBLISHING CO., Chicago, for particulars.
LITERATURE
THE WRONG PEW.
There's one who wrote in years gone by in clear and ringing rhyme--
A poet of an elder day and of a distant clime--
Who sang of mortal misery, of sufferers long and lorn,
"Man's inhumanity to man makes countless thousands mourn!"
The hand that held that golden pen--that golden tongue--is dust;
A dust that's dear to hearts that hold his homely truths in trust;
And you who read this simple tale of wrath, and ruth, and wrong,
May hear the echo of the sob that breaks upon my song!
I sat upon the Sabbath-day within the sacred fane,
The sunlight through the windows poured like rainbow-tinted rain;
While maids and matrons passing fair, and men of high degree,
All fashion's proudest votaries, knelt low on bended knee.
And there was one of stature tall, whose robe of silken sheen
Draped quiet grace and courtesy that might have shamed a queen,
Save only that her pallid face, and drooping, tear-dimmed eyes,
Looked like the Peri's, waiting by the gates of Paradise.
What is it moves that jeweled throng of dainty worshippers?
Their hearts have probed the cruel wrong that rankles sore in hers;
For she who sat beside her there--ah, heart of hardest stone!
Swept forth with stern and haughty stare, and left her there alone.
Then one, God bless her woman's heart! the loveliest woman there,
Stepped down the aisle with stately tread, and calm and steadfast air;
With gentle voice, and tender eyes distilling heaven's own dew,
She whispered to the shrinking girl, "I've room, my friend, for you."
I think earth's sorest sinners need a judge less stern than they
Who wear their ermine clasped across a breast of common clay!
I think heaven's loveliest angels come among us circling down,
To bear the cruel earthly cross, and then regain the crown.
Alas! alas! for paltry pride arrayed in rich attire,
And woe is me for priestly praise which is our heart's desire!
Would we could seek, like pilgrims gray, beside that sunlit sea,
The simple faith that lit the shores of sacred Galilee!
Sometimes it seems that ages past our souls have sojourned here;
But God's great angel guards the gate and stands beside the bier;
For when some mystic touch awakes the chords of memory,
His awful hand holds down the note, and clasps the quivering key.
Bend low, bend low the lofty brow and bring the sack-cloth gown;
Throw dust and ashes on our heads, and through the sinful town;
I think the green earth grows more gray, beneath its golden sun,
Because the good God sits in heaven, and sees such evil done.
--_Edward Renaud._
YIK KEE.
After father died some ten years ago, I found, that for three years we
had been living on credit. I was eighteen, strong and well, but did not
know how to work. In the little back room of the New York tenement house
(by the way, the landlady seized my clothes for our rent) I considered
my future. I had inherited a great faith in relatives, from my father,
so I wrote to seven. I received six polite notes, telling me to go to
work, and the following letter:
JONESBORO, COLORADO--JACKSON'S RANCH.
Dear Nell.--I'm your cousin Jack. Your father once give me
money to come out West. I've took up land, got a comfortable
home, no style or frills, but good folks to live with and
healthy grub. I've got the best wife you ever see and seven
fine youngsters. The city ain't no place for a friendless
girl. Wife wants you to come. She'll be a mother to you. Come
right off. I'll meet you at Denver.
Jack.
Inclosed was a check sufficient to defray expenses; so I started. Denver
was then only a large town and the depot a barn-like structure. I got
out of the cars and stood bewildered among all the emigrants and their
bundles. Some one touched me on the shoulder--a roughly-dressed,
broad-shouldered man with long, blonde beard and big blue eyes.
"Are you Nell?" he said.
"Yes; and you're Cousin Jack."
"I knew you," he said, as he led the way, "by your black clothes an'
sorrerful look, an' them big blue eyes, like yer father's as two peas.
We'll git the shader outer 'em when we get home. Yer father was a mighty
good man. Bless yer dear heart, don't let them tears come. This 'ere's a
dry country, we don't waste no water."
Comforting me in his kind, rough way, he reached his team, a big green
wagon, drawn by two wild-looking steeds which I afterward knew to be
bronchos. A fat, blonde boy, about twelve, held the reins.
"That's Ted," said Cousin Jack. "Ted, this is Miss Nell, yer cousin;
give her a hug." The fat boy solemnly obeyed.
After this he seemed to have a special claim on my affections because he
met me first. Jack's wife was a jolly, plump woman, with brown eyes and
curly hair. She always had a baby in her arms and another at her heels.
She adored Jack. I never knew them to have a quarrel. I soon grew to
love the life at the ranch. I liked the big, half-finished house, its
untidyness and comfort--its pleasant, healthy atmosphere. I loved the
children, the household pets--Shep, the sagacious dog; Thad, the clever
cat; the hens and sheep; the horses Dolly, Dot, and Daisy, that did the
plowing, and the marketing at Denver, twelve miles away, and were so
gentle and kind we used to ride them without saddle or bridle. I learned
that cattle grew fat on the dry-looking grass and gave the best of milk.
I learned to love the broad plains and the glorious sunsets, and to
watch the distant bands of Indians with half fear, half interest. I
helped Cousin Mary, sewed and cooked, kept the house and children neat,
and lifted many burdens from her weary shoulders. We were so happy. The
children and I took long walks over the plains, and Ted and I took many
rides on Dolly and Dot, and in the long winter evenings I told the
children stories. Occasionally Harry White came over to visit us from
his ranch five miles away. He lived with his old mother; he and Jack
were dear friends. Harry needed a wife, Jack used to say, winking at me.
One day Jack went to Denver for supplies. He went alone, and coming home
later than usual, Ted and I and baby Mame went out to meet him. Jack
looked sober and guilty, and seemed ill at ease. If he ever drank, I
should have thought him intoxicated. In the wagon was a queer-shaped
heap under a horse-blanket. I was sure it moved. When we got behind the
barn Jack said, sheepishly, avoiding my eye.
"Well, Ted, I calkerlate I've got su'thing in that there waggin that 'ul
astonish yer marm."
Little Mame pulled the blanket off the heap; she had been peeping under
it all the while she was in the back of the wagon. There lay a human
being. Such an object; short and squat, dressed in a queer blue blouse
with flowing sleeves, wide trousers and queer wooden shoes. He had
small, black eyes, a shaven poll, from which depended a long thin queue.
His countenance was battered and bruised, his clothes torn and bloody.
"There was a row down to Denver," said Jack; "the Christian folks stove
in these 'ere heathen's winders, tore their houses down, an' killed half
on 'em. I cleared out soon as I could. When I got half way home I heard
a noise back o' me, and out crawled this thing. I was so dumfounded I
couldn't speak. He thought I was going ter send him back, an' he fell
ter cryin' an' jabberin' in that yap of his, an' clingin' onter my han'
an' kissin' of it. It sorter turned my stomach. I told him ter set down,
give him some crackers ter eat, covered him up an' told him he could
live with me. What do you s'pose marm'll say?"
"Oh! Cousin Jack," I said, "of course, she will not care. Your home is a
refuge for all the wretched and unfortunate."
"Now don't, Nell," he said, turning as red as a rose, and busying
himself about the harness. The Celestial looked at us solemnly: Mame
toddled up to him. He looked at her curiously, but did not move.
"Get out, John," said Jack, "you needn't be scared no more; we're to
home."
He got out stiffly, and, to my surprise, turned and lifted the baby
down. She caught his pig-tail, and pulled it in wild delight. He seemed
grieved when I took her away. When Jack told Mary, the good soul found a
thousand reasons why he should stay, and hurried to make him a bed in
the attic. The Celestial did not say much, but when Jack called him
"John," he smiled a sad smile.
"Melican man callee John. Hump. Yik Kee."
So with due consideration for his feelings we addressed him as Yik Kee.
He was of great use. He helped take care of the children, did the
washing (Mary did not fancy his method of sprinkling clothes) and helped
Jack on the farm. We made him one of the family. He was always pleasant
and smiling, but was a man of few words.
Cousin Jack added much to his income by trading in hides. Ranchmen
living at a distance sold their hides to him and Jack sold them to
traders who came around at certain times in the year. Harry White was a
partner in the business. He used to go on a sort of round-up and visit
the ranches all over the country. The cattle of the ranchmen roamed in
vast herds over the plains, protected only by the brand of the owner.
Cattle stealing was frequently practiced. Offenders in this respect were
shown no mercy. They were convicted, tried, and executed only in the
court of Judge Lynch. I never blamed the ranchmen for this; it was
impossible to guard the herds in the vast area over which they
traversed, and the cattle must be protected in some way. Gil Mead was a
wealthy ranchman, who lived about ten miles from us. He owned the
largest herd of cattle on the plains. They were branded with the vowels
of his name. E.A., which could be recognized anywhere. He always shipped
his cattle East to his brother in Chicago. I feared the man. He was tall
and gaunt, with deep-set black eyes and low forehead. His home was
unhappy; his wife cross and ugly, and his children wild and unruly. This
made him more than commonly disagreeable.
I think it was in the fall of '74 that Harry White brought the big load
of hides to Jack. Both were much pleased at the bargain they made. Harry
gave glowing accounts of a new customer--a ranchman from Chicago, who
had taken up an abandoned homestead. He had purchased many cattle from
his cousin, Gil Mead, and hoped to rival him in the number and quality
of his herd. Jack packed the hides away to keep till December, when we
expected the dealer.
One afternoon, not long after this, Gil Mead rode up to the house,
looking very agreeable and pleasant. A couple of strangers, also
ranchmen, were with him. They wanted to look at the hides, one of the
men being a trader, Gil said. Jack was in Denver, so Yik Kee and I went
to the barn with them. They looked the hides over carefully, and
conversed in low tones, Gil with a suppressed oath. Finally they thanked
us courteously and took their leave.
"Hump; no goodee," said Yik Kee, but he wouldn't say any more.
At five that evening, when we were at supper, a crowd of twenty-five or
thirty men rode up on horseback. Jack came out and met them, inviting
them in to take supper, in his generous, hospitable way. They wanted him
to go to Denver with them, there was to be a meeting there of importance
to ranchmen. The meeting would be at eight. They had brought with them
an extra horse for Jack. Mary looked around for Yik Kee to help her, but
he had mysteriously disappeared.
I faintly remembered seeing his white, horrified face peering around the
barn at the horses. I noted the visitors ate little--the food seemed to
choke them. Some of them watched Mary and the baby in a queer sort of
way. When Jack, as was his custom, kissed his wife and babies good-by,
one of the visitors, an oldish man, coughed huskily, and said: "Blest if
I kin stan' this." They all rode off, Jack the merriest of all, waving
his hat till he was out of sight.
When we were clearing up the unusual quantity of dishes, Yik Kee
appeared at the end window and beckoned me. I followed him out. Ted was
with him. Behind the barn were the three horses saddled. Shep was with
them, released from confinement, where he had been secured from
following his master.
"Foller 'em," said Ted in an excited whisper. "Yik's afraid they're up
to something."
"What is it, Yik?" I said, sternly. "No fooling now."
For answer he twisted his long pig-tail around his neck, tying it under
his left ear in a significant manner.
"Hump, he hangee; stealee cow."
"Oh, Mary," I sobbed, remembering Gil Mead's visit, and his strange
actions, and dimly seeing what Yik Kee meant, "I must tell Mary," I
said, wildly.
"Hump, no," said Yik Kee. "Yellee sick," and he closed his eyes in a
die-away sort of manner. "Go now--too latee."
We mounted.
"Mother'll think we're gone to ride," said Ted, as we galloped over the
plains. He was deathly pale, poor little fellow, but he sat erect and
firm. I saw his father's big Colt's revolver sticking out of his pocket.
He was a determined boy. Even in my despair, in my wild hope that I
could save Jack by begging on my knees, that I could cling to him, that
they would have to kill me first, I could not help a smile at the
comical figure Yik Kee presented on horseback. His loose garments
flapped in the wind, his long pig-tail flew out behind, and he bobbed
up and down like a kernel of corn in a corn-hopper.
It was a soft, warm night, lighted only by the pale young moon and the
twinkling stars. We rode as fast as our horses could gallop. Shep was
close at our heels. Way ahead, when we reached the top of a little hill,
we saw the crowd of horsemen. They were riding toward Denver. We
galloped on with renewed zeal. They turned into a cross road leading to
Mead's ranch. On this road was a bridge over Dry Gulch, which was in the
spring a roaring torrent. Beyond the bridge, across the fields, was the
hay-stack of Mead, where was stored sufficient to feed his domestic
cattle through the winter. We at last reached the turn in the road. They
were three miles in advance, riding rapidly. Yik Kee stopped at the
turn. "Hump! Can't catchee. Hangee at bridge. You goee!" He turned his
horse and sped across the field, deserting us basely.
We rode on, Ted and I. He was pale and still; my cheeks were burning. We
neared the bridge. The high mound of earth before us hid us from sight.
We stopped our horses and listened. The men had lighted torches, some
were preparing a rough gallows under the bridge; two were uncoiling
rope; some held the horses of the others beyond the bridge. The men were
masked now, and I could see by the lighted torches that this number was
increased. Jack was very white and sad, but he showed no fear.
"I am innocent, gentlemen," he said, slowly, "but I refuse to tell you
of whom I bought the hides."
I understood him. Could Harry White be a cattle thief? I felt as if I
were going mad.
"What shall we do?" whispered Ted, cocking his revolver?
Suddenly a bright red light illuminated the heavens, followed by clouds
of black smoke and a queer crackling noise. A yell from the men--Gil
Mead's voice above the rest. The hay-stack was on fire. It seemed to me
in the gale around it that I could see a foreign-looking human vanishing
across the plain.
The men mounted their horses, Gil Mead at the head, and set off across
the fields at a mad gallop. They must save the stack. They left Jack,
bound hand and foot, and guarded by one man.
Shep, the wonderful dog, had kept by us until now, slinking in the dark
shadows. Now, gliding sidewise and still, he reached the man on guard
whose back was to us, and with no warning growl caught him by the throat
with strong white teeth that could choak a coyote in a second. The man,
who was in a sitting posture, fell back with a groan. Ted struck him
over the head with the butt of the revolver, and pulled off the dog. I
cut Jack's bonds with a knife. He looked at us wonderingly and staggered
to his feet.
"Never mind how we came, Jack," I said; "quick, mount the horse beyond
the bridge, and ride to Denver for your life. They will not harm a woman
and child."
"Harry White," he muttered, the loyal soul that even now could think of
another's danger.
"I will tell him."
"No, no; not of this--only say, if he stole the cattle, to fly the
country. They will find out, sooner or later."
He galloped down the road. Ted and I mounted, calling off Shep, who sat
on his haunches watching the unconscious man, and then we, too, sped
down the road. The hay-stack was giving out great columns of black
smoke, but the fire was dead.
Ahead of us was a riderless horse, Dolly, who greeted her master with a
joyful whinny. Where was Yik Kee? Then Dot, my horse, shied from the
road at a recumbent black figure. It was the indomitable Yik Kee, who
had crawled all the way from the stack on his stomach, so that he could
not be seen, after lying in the ditch till the blaze had faded out.
"Hump! no catchee Chinee; heap sore," he said, laconically rubbing his
stomach.
He mounted Dolly, and we rode on to White's ranch. Harry rushed out at
the sound of horses' feet, at midnight. There, under the twinkling stars
I looked into his eyes, and I told him the whole story. He showed no
guilt, but only said we must stay the night at his ranch, for the men
would come back to Jack's for him, and then mounting his fleet colt rode
off down the road. I comforted his mother as best I could. At day-break
we rode home.
Mary was in a wild state of alarm. Where had we been? Where was Jack?
and how cruel we were to leave her alone. She said that at one o'clock
three masked men had come to the house and searched it and the
premises, and had not molested her or the children, only asking where
Jack was, very sternly and sharply.
At noon Jack, Harry, the sheriff, and a party of armed men from Denver
rode up, stopping only a moment to tell me they would be back at night.
I dared not tell Mary, and she worried all the afternoon at their
strange conduct. At night Jack and Harry came home, looking tired but
happy. Then Jack told Mary, and she clung to him as though she could
never let him go.
It seemed the pleasing ranchman from Chicago was one of a band of cattle
thieves. He sold the hides to Harry, who, honest and open himself, was
slow to suspect wrong dealings in others. The sheriff had caught the men
skinning a cow that belonged to Mead, and had captured the gang and
taken them to Denver.
The men concerned in the attempt to lynch Jack were sincerely sorry.
Their regrets would not have availed much, however, if they had
succeeded in their purpose. They gave each of the children ten acres of
land; they gave Ted sixty-five, and me, whom they pleased to consider
very plucky, one hundred and fifty acres. I felt rich enough, and time
has made it very valuable land. The man on guard was our warmest
admirer. He thought Ted, Shep, and I wonders of courage. He said when I
came down on the bridge with the open knife, he thought his last hour
had come.
Gil Mead committed suicide not long after this. He was always queer. No
one ever knew that Yik Kee set the stack afire. I tell you Jack rewarded
the faithful fellow--gave him a good farm, taught him to work it, and
built him a house. The funniest thing was Yik Kee had a wife and three
queer little children back in China, and Jack sent for them, and Yik Kee
and his family are as happy as they can be. The children play with
Jack's (he has twelve now) and get along finely together.
In '75 I married Harry White, which, I suppose, was foreseen from the
beginning--at least, Jack says anybody could have seen it. The most
serene and satisfied face at the wedding was that of the Celestial. In
my inner consciousness, notwithstanding he is a "heathen Chinee," I have
the conviction that as great a hero as is seen in modern times is the
man of few words, Yik Kee.--_The Continent._
HUMOROUS
"A LEEDLE MISTAKES."
"I see all how it vhas now," observed Jacob Handonder, as he came out.
"Oh, you do! You are the man who got drunk and raised a fuss on a street
car?"
"I vhas der man, and I tell you how it vhas. You see, I vhas tight. I
took too much beer."
"Can a saloon-keeper take too much beer?"
"Vhell, maype I vhas seek. I shtart to go home. Vhen der sthreet car
comes along I pelief it vhas my house. I got in und look all aroundt,
but I doan' see Katarina. I call out for der shildrens, und eferybody
laughs at me. Maype dot makes me madt, und der drifer calls a boliceman,
und I vhas galloped down here."
"So it wasn't your home?"
"Not oxactly. It vhas a leedle mistake."
"It'll cost you $5."
"Vheel, dot ain't so bad. I pay him oop und go home to preakfast."
"Be careful next time."
"Oh, I vill dot. Next time I vhas tight I go home on some shtreets
midout cars. If I take some ice-wagon for my house I pelief I got cooled
off pooty queek."
SHARPER THAN A RAZOR.
A long-waisted man, with the nose of a fox and an eye full of
speculation, walked up to a second-hand clothier, in Buffalo, the other
day, and said:
"See that overcoat hanging out down there?"
"Of course."
"Well, I've taken a fancy to it. It's rather cheeky to ask you to go
down there, but I'll make it an object; I won't give but $8 for the
coat, but I'll give you $1 to buy it for me. You are also a Jew and know
how to beat him down. Here are $9."
The dealer took the money and started off, and in five minutes was back
with the coat.
"Good!" chuckled the other. "I reckoned you'd lay him out. How much did
you make for your share?"