Title: The Frontier Express and Buffalo Bill's Pictorial Courier

Date: 1895

Author: Buffalo Bill Wild West Company

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CIRCULATION, 1,000,000.


VOL. XII. No.95.





History—The Indian—The American.

THE origin of man and his distribution over the face of the earth forms one of the most fascinating subjects with which the scientist of this day has been called upon to deal.

Ages have passed away and nations have thriven and decayed, but many of them have left indelible traces of their existence upon the surface of the globe, and from these can be traced the fascinating story of other ages and other peoples.

The historical portions of the Holy Scriptures tell us of the creation of man in the Garden of Eden and that the Garden of Eden was located in Asia Minor. Every trace that man has left points to the fact that the race originated in that quarter of the globe.

From thence he spread to the northeast into Northern Asia and south and west into Europe and Africa. With the restless spirit common to humanity he moved ever forward and onward, seeking always to explore those unknown lands beyond his horizon, looking always for better things and anticipating ever lands of more genial clime, more toothsome dainties, more filled with gold and gems.

Nations rose and fell, whole tribes were lost and never reappeared, and yet, in the great scheme of creation, they fulfilled their mission and passed away when it was ended.

The face of the earth, too, was then, in some respects, different. We know that where the Sargossa Sea, that mysterious sea of weeds in the South Atlantic, now is, there once existed islands which are now sunk beneath the waves. These islands formed the basis of the charming Spanish legend of the Island of St. Brandin, but, more than that, they furnished a comparatively easy means of crossing from the African coast to that of South America.

Turning to the north, where now is Behring Straits, was a much narrower passage or waterway and from the Asiatic coast to North America was an easy journey.



And so we see the North African finding his way into South America and followed in turn by the Egyptian, whom he called the Inca, and who introduced the arts and built houses and bridges and roads of perfectly Egyptian fashion and design and taught the art of mummying the dead exactly as he did it on the banks of the Nile; thence he found his way, leaving traces behind him, up through Central America and into Mexico.

Turning the other way, the Northern Asiatic Tartar crossed the Behring Straits and found his way into the great North American Continent and overran it to the eastward until the mighty waters of the Atlantic checked his footsteps, and southward to the great river, the Rio Grande, and here these two living streams of humanity met once more, one having circled the globe from the east and the other from the west in the centuries that had elapsed since they were exiled from the Eden of Asia Minor.

Differing conditions had worked great changes in the nature and habits of the people who wandered through the tropic heats and through the southlands, but the high courage and haughty spirit of the Tartar found nothing to check it or obliterate it, and never has to this day. The Aztec welcomed his Spanish conqueror and amalgamated with him until his integrity as a race was obliterated. Not so the Indian. He welcomed his new-found friends to his country, to his mighty continent, but when he found his new friends were avaricious and warlike, his manly nature asserted itself, and from that day to this it has been a war of extermination on the one hand and of a gallant struggle for existence on the other.

Step by step the invader has driven him back, but inch by inch the Indian has defended his native soil. The country from Massachusetts to Oregon is covered with the battlefields that mark the struggle which has so lately ended. From the first shot fired within hail of Plymouth Rock to that grim conflict on the Little Big Horn, when Custer led his men to a charge more fatal than that of Balaklava, and that last sanguinary reply of Forsyth and the 7th Cavalry at Wounded Knee, [drawing] SITTING BULL—KILLED DEC. 1890. the Indian has remained true to his own conceptions of right, and to-day he is the only conquered nation which dictates terms to his conquerors and commands their respect. With him the Government makes treaties that are respected even as those with foreign governments. He receives recognition to-day from the Government in the shape of clearly-defined commonweal, land holdings, subsistence, etc.

The question of right or wrong in the past treatment of the Indian it is not the province of this article to discuss, but it is most desirable to call attention to the fact that in this great historical conflict, this sanguinary struggle for a continent, the Indian has stood and still stands alone. As a people they have been decimated; from millions they have been reduced to less than three hundred thousand, but they are unmiscegenated, pure blood runs in their proud veins and they sternly and sadly look forward to the fact that they are a fast-disappearing race.

They have seen the buffalo, deer, elk and antelope vanish, even the birds fly away, and where the great waters lay unpolluted they have seen great cities arise and many white-winged ships strain at their anchors. Yet no sign have they ever given that they have either sympathy with their conquerors or any desire to share in his luxuries.

The blue canopy of the heavens is as dear to the handful that remain as it was to their ancestors when it covered a mighty continent that was their own. The nature of the conflict has for the last hundred years restricted the association of the contestants in this great contest for the survival of the fittest. The millions of other races who have taken his place know little of him. The portals of the country flung wide open, civil and religious liberty guaranteed, and the people of the world flocked to these shores—the blonde, blue-eyed Norseman, the swarthy Italian and all the races between, found here a home, but they still know little of the people whose place they have taken.

Other races who have lived and labored and loved have disappeared, and with them their lost arts. We grieve as we read that they were living in ages when this was inevitable. The civilization of to-day, which had its birth in this continent, has changed all this. We can now preserve the records of our time, even as with the genii steam we have annihilated space and as the electric spark has illumined a night world.

Of others we have only the traditions of their passing, and so great and so natural is our desire to know of them and their times, that we have uncovered the buried cities of Herculaneum and Pompeii, invaded the tombs of the Pharaohs in the mighty pyramids, and set the obelisks of Cleopatra's reign upon the banks of Father Thames and by the waters of the mighty Hudson. It behooves us therefore to study carefully and guard religiously the history and the lives of this now fast-vanishing race. We now have for the first time in the world's annals an opportunity to observe the passing of a people, even as the passing of Arthur is told in the Arturian legends. The Government to-day is treating the remnant of the Indian race in a spirit of amity, fairness and justice. The philanthropists among our people are bringing him under the influence of a suitable educational system, and with the dawning of reason on his part there is ensuing the obliteration of the prejudices on his part which so long existed against the white man.

The result of this is certain in a few years more to insure his absorption into the body politic, where he will fall easily and naturally into his place as a citizen, husband and father. There was not long since a great prejudice against the "squaw-man," as the white husband of an Indian woman was called, but this prejudice, which was common to both whites and Indians, has now been so completely obliterated that it is rather the other way, and the "squaw-man" of to-day is, on the contrary, a great man, in that he is helping to absorb the Indian into this great amalgamated nation, and give it its first strain of pure American blood.

The opportunities of the present generation to see and study the Indian as he really is have been until now very limited. Except to those living on the frontier, his life has been a sealed book, or judged by sensational and highly inaccurate literature. The real romance of his tented life, his daily manners and customs, his amusements, and, above all, his management of his best friend—his horse—was never known to the world until Colonel Wm. F. Cody, his foe and friend, conceived and carried into effect his great Wild West Exhibition, which is truly American, and the greatest ethnological and historical exposition in the world's history.

The basis of this exhibit, its foundation in fact, is the only real American—the Indian. Its unique design and purpose have the highest educational value. It brings with the vividness of reality before the eye the rapidly vanishing panorama that tells with startling force the story of the redemption of a continent. No printed words can bring so vividly before the mind's eye every chapter of that marvelous story, which began with the landing of Miles Standish on Plymouth Rock, and ended with the Indian Encampment of Buffalo Bill at the gates of the World's Columbian Exhibition.

Between those two dates there lies a world of thrilling romance, a history which is so proud it makes the veins to thrill. On a bleak and barren coast a handful of hardy men and devoted women in the dead of winter find an inhospitable refuge. The Indian holds out his hand in amity to his new found pale-faced friend. The year finds them, as it seems, giving thanks on a day of thanksgiving for the blessings of the year. Then the story leads on and tells how the restless energies of the white man drove him further and further into the wilderness to find the secrets held in the heart of the continent. It tells of Daniel Boone, who crossed over the great mountain-pass and came into the blue fields and beside the crystal streams of Kentucky. It follows the footsteps of Fremont, the great pathfinder, as he pushed onward toward the setting sun, across vast plains, over the gigantic peaks of the Rockies, on, ever on, beyond the Garden of the Gods, in its majestic splendors, past the saline waters of the great inland sea of Utah, even to the portals of the Golden Gate and the placid bosom of the great western ocean.

And here are preserved the types of the men whose resistless onward march drove the aborigine step by step backward and still backward, who forced him to the foot-hills and beyond them. The men who drove him from the land of Massasoit to the land of the Dakotahs, and who never paused until standing on the golden sands of California, he strained his gaze, still eager for conquest, across the horizon of the mighty waters of the Pacific. Iron rails traverse the paths Fremont and Kit Carson trod not many years ago; the sound of the tramp of armed men echoes along the plains from which the buffalo has disappeared. The bright and vivid colors of that glorious picture are fading rapidly from the canvas, and but for Colonel Cody and his Wild West would even now be lost behind the curtain of isolation and distance, and only their memory remain. But a few brief years more and the story of the Wild West will be as remote from our physical vision and as historical as Cæsar's invasion of Britain.

In 1803 Louisiana belonged to the French.

In 1801 St. Louis was a Spanish City.

In 1806 Lieut. Zebulon Pike found the source of the Arkansaw and Pike's Peak.

In 1820 Major Long discovered the headwaters of the Platte.

In 1847 the Mormons crossed the Platte Valley as a highway to the unknown American Desert.

In 1848 we acquired Texas and all lands north of Mexico, from Mississippi to the Pacific.

Let the reader think how quickly the history of the West has been made—how facts eclipse in interest romance.

The Scout—Men who Wore the Buckskins.

THE true pioneer of American civilization was the Scout. He was the leader of its advance guard. Upon him rested the responsibility of the lives of his comrades, and the success of their mission. Verily he was a leader among men. As in every event in the history of the world when the situation demanded a certain type of man for its great emergencies, the man was always found to fill it. So it was with the "Buckskin" Scout, so called from his dress of that material.



In the early days of the country every state and section had its scout, who was and is to-day a noted historical celebrity. Simon Kenton, Kit Carson, Jim Bridger, Daniel Boone, General Beale of the United States Army, who, with Kit Carson, traversed the continent, and brought the news of the capture of California to the authorities at Washington, Major Frank North, J. B. Hickok (Wild Bill), Alexis Goday, Jack Stillwell, Frank Gruard, Yellowstone Kelly, etc., are all well-known names.

Many of the great and justly celebrated heroes of the Revolutionary War were trained to sustain well their great parts in that drama of freedom by their experiences as scouts on what was then itself the frontier. The warfare of the [drawing] GEN. FREMONT. time was of the kind that produces scouts, and even down to the present time many of our army officers have been famed for the peculiar qualities and frontier lore necessary to the successful scout, notably Custer, Mills, Merritt, Crook, Carr, Captain Crawford (killed in Mexico), Captain Bourke, Captain Bullis, Major "Jack" Hayes, Lieut. Casey (killed at Pine Ridge 1891) and others.

In Indian warfare the scout was always the most important factor for many reasons: He was dealing with a foe who had invented a system of warfare which was essentially his own. The basis of it was strategy, and that of a kind which involved a keenness of vision, and even of scent. He tracked his foe or avoided him by trifles as small as a twisted leaf, or the crushing [drawing] GEN. SHERMAN. of a blade of grass. All of this wood lore of his the scout was compelled to learn, and then by applying his knowledge beat him at his own game. The Indian was a scout by nature and inheritance, the white scout had to dominate and offset that by his superior intelligence.

Many of the celebrities of the Rebellion, also, were trained as scouts in the hard school of practical Indian warfare; a school in which they learned to acquire first of all self-reliance. The scout works alone, and this developed in a most

[Continued on Page 2.]



Gen. Richard Irving Dodge, Gen. Sherman's chief of staff, states in his "Thirty Years Among Our Wild Indians": "The success of every expedition against Indians depends, to a degree, on the skill, fidelity and intelligence of the men employed as scouts, for not only is the command habitually dependent on them for good routes and comfortable camps, but the officer in command must rely on them almost entirely for their knowledge of the position and movements of the enemy.

"Therefore, besides mere personal bravery, a scout must possess the moral qualities associated with a good captain of a ship—full of self-reliance in his own ability to meet and overcome any unlooked-for difficulties, be a thorough student of nature, a self-taught weather-prophet, a geologist by experience, an astronomer by necessity, a naturalist, and thoroughly educated in the warfare, stratagems, trickery and skill of his implacable Indian foe. Because, in handling expeditions or leading troops, on him alone depends correctness of destination, avoidance of dangers, protection against sudden storms, the finding of game, grass, wood and water, the lack of which, of course, is more fatal than the deadly bullet. In fact, more lives have been lost on the plains from incompetent guides than ever the Sioux or Pawnees destroyed.

"Of ten men employed as scouts nine will prove to be worthless; of fifty so employed one may prove to be really valuable, but, though hundreds, even thousands, of men have been so employed by the Government since the war, the number of really remarkable men among them can be counted on the fingers. The services which these men are called on to perform are so important and valuable that the officer who benefits by them is sure to give the fullest credit, and men honored in official reports come to be great men on the frontier. Boone, Crockett, Bridger and others are historic characters. Fremont's reports made Kit Carson a renowned man. Custer immortalized California Joe. Miles, Merritt, Custer, Carr, and others made William F. Cody (Buffalo Bill) a plains celebrity "UNTIL TIME SHALL BE NO MORE."






JOHN M. BURKE, EDITOR. W. H. GARDNER, Circulating Manager.




The pages of history contain no more brilliantly fascinating passages than those which recount the innumerable romantic and realistic incidents which marked the extension of the borders of civilization slowly, but steadily and surely, into the interior of this erstwhile dark continent. They are the chronicle of deeds of "derring doers!" more thrilling and desperate than any achieved by the doughty knights-errant famed in mediæval warfare. Not only were those deeds noble and heroic, but they were performed in the face of unknown and therefore most appalling dangers. The New World was conquered by the personal heroism of brave men, who knew not fear, who bore no other talisman than their own courage and determination, and who had no genii of the Arabian Nights to smooth their pathway and succor them in the hour deadly peril. Into the dangerous mysteries of the primeval forests of the New World they boldly marched, wearing no enchanted armor but a dauntless spirit and aided by no magic but the power of incessant vigilance and ceaseless activity. And with what most marvelous result! Truly a miracle! from a wilderness of dark and tangled forests and vast expanses of trackless prairies has sprung a mighty and fruitful land, and from every mountain peak and across each fertile plain the reflected sun flashes the message to the world, "Behold us! yesterday an infant; to-day a giant, the mightiest, noblest and grandest power for beneficent achievement that has ever been or ever will be evoked to bless mankind.

And now the days are come when the romance and poetry of the history of that wondrous and mighty past are being effaced by the hand of material progress, and Buffalo Bill and his Great Wild West are all that remains to recall those pioneer days and keep green the memories of their methods, manners and achievements.

The current issue of this journal, with its wealth of illustration, will give the reader in advance some idea of the magnitude of the organization and of its component parts ere its appearance on the scene. The features which make up this great educational exhibition are such that every man, woman and child should see it, for it is in every respect authentic and genuine.

The unusually great number of persons of widely different race and nationality have not been gathered from among the cosmopolitan inhabitants of our own country, but are actual specimens gathered from every quarter of the globe; they are all genuine and exactly as represented.

They come together here and form the greatest aggregation of human beings speaking different tongues than ever before assembled together since the confounding of tongues at the Tower of Babel. From the steppes of Russia to the burning pampas of South America, is a far cry, but they have each here their representative men. To secure this unparalleled result it has required the co-operation and official cognizance of nine great governments and their efficient assistance to enable the management to carry out in good faith the brilliant promises of their prospectus so completely fulfilled.

In this age we see passing away rapidly all the signs and symbols of wild, adventurous pioneer life. The inventions of the past half century, the harnessing of steam and electricity as motive powers, are rapidly crowding out the horse and the horseman of the past, even as they have obliterated the buffalo from the plains, and are decimating the red man who hunted him.

To-day the Indian is the most interesting figure of contemporaneous life. Our thoughts and our literature are loaded down with speculations as to the "coming man," but so much more the reason to study the Indian, who is the "going man." Patrick Henry said "we can only judge the future by the past," and so you must judge the Indian by the conditions under which he lived, just as the coming man will be judged by the light of his widely different environment.

These are the last opportunities of seeing the Indian horseman, and to contrast him with the rough riders of the world.

The cavalrymen of the United States and of European nations are all men actually from the military service of their various governments, who have been furloughed in order to assist in this great educational work. These, with the native horsemen of the East, the Arab and the Cossack, form an organization never before assembled since the creation of man.

Col. Wm. F. Cody and Mr. Nate Salsbury, at great labor and expense, assembled them for the World's Columbian Exposition at Chicago and for New York in connection with the Wild West, the whole forming, with the American frontier pictures, the Indians, the cowboy and the scout, the most extraordinary and valuable entertainment ever attempted.

Here are to be seen and studied by the intelligent all the primitive horsemen of celebrity who have been identified with the horse by the historian, the sculptor and the painter. The reader will admit that this varied assemblage of equestrians, identified as contestants for the honors of supremacy by the historian of each separate country, form a subject that is as valuable as an instructor as it is entertaining alike to young and old.

No person, no matter what his years, can personally travel the world over and witness such a perfect ensemble from which may be judged to whom is due the laurel crown of centaur.

The career of the Wild West, since its last tour in America, has been one long series of triumphs. Modesty forbids its managers to vaunt its magnificence to the reader, and the bugle note of self-praise need not be sounded.

But it is desired to impress the reader with its overwhelming success in all the capitals of Europe, and its culminating triumph at the World's Fair in Chicago.

There, by the blue waters of Lake Michigan, it sat at the gates of that crowning triumph of man's art and skill without its lustre being dimmed.

By the side of the great Dream City, which cost twenty millions of dollars, and whose contents were underestimated to be valued at five hundred million, this proved the greatest attraction of them all and commanded an "exe quo" success.

Can anything more be said of this marvelous organization, which now, by an extraordinary combination of capital, is enabled to travel through this country, "even as an army with banners?"

A portable grand stand of prodigious dimensions; a city of tents; equine shelter for a cavalcade of horses; an army of men, and a commissary department as efficient as that of Napoleon III. before Sedan, are but part of the necessary equipment of this unparalleled organization. A portable and transitory electric lighting plant of enormous power; this 250,000 candle-power light shines upon the most complete and perfect organization ever known, and enables it to fulfil its mission as the greatest instructor and entertainer of modern times.

The result to the public, as to their interests, is guaranteed by the past career of Col. W. F. Cody (Buffalo Bill) and his partner, Mr. Nate Salsbury, whose business career has been marked by an integrity equal to his brilliancy, and by the fact that there is associated with them, on this tour, Mr. James A. Bailey, the Doyen of the Managerial Titans of the last two decades, whose successful career and vast experience with the firm of Barnum & Bailey is wide-worldly known. The results to the public, which are insured by this combination, can hardly be overestimated.

It can hardly be too strongly impressed upon the public that "The Wild West" is unlike any other entertainment ever offered, depending, as it does, upon its unique genuineness and the marked personality of its leading participants.

When its remarkable historical features have passed away, it can never be duplicated. Dependent also upon the courtesies of governments, represented by their soldiers, it can never be again put together.

A war in Europe would destroy its efficiency at once, and prevent its repetition; and the opportunity to see it, if once neglected, will never be afforded again.

Every person, therefore, and particularly those of the younger generation, who are in any way accessible to it, should not miss its benefits under any circumstances.

For the reason it is unlike ordinary shows, that come again year after year, this entertainment can never in the nature of things have a replica.

"It is of itself; in itself; and by itself!" It is the only great historical object lesson ever presented to any people, and as time passes, so will the mission of this passing study pass, and this marvelous historical drama vanish.

With the disappearance from the scene of the living heroes, who constitute its most intense interest and create its vivid realism, it will be numbered with the great monuments of the past.

To-day it stands alone in the world's history—it was never possible for it to exist before; it will never be possible for it to exist again.

See it now, or it will always be numbered in the sad category of the wasted opportunities of our lives—opportunities which come not back again.


From the New York World, January 6, 1895.

Great Managers Join Hands.


The negotiations pending between Messrs. Cody and Salsbury and James A. Bailey (of Barnum & Bailey) have at last been signed, sealed and delivered. So many conflicting reports have been launched involving the "Wild West," Forepaugh's show and "The Greatest Show on Earth," that it is necessary to announce their relative position.

They will be in no way connected with each other in any of their exhibition features. The "Wild West" retains "all rights, distinctiveness, name, fame and dignity" heretofore attained by it. It engages in no partnership other than the usual "sharing terms," which is one of the usual methods of the profession. No other combination with the circus has at any time been contemplated.

Barnum & Bailey's "Greatest Show on Earth," which has in its own field attained unrivalled prominence, remains, as heretofore, solely under Mr. Bailey's management. In the amusement world Messrs. Barnum & Bailey have for years entertained the American public in one field, while the Wild West Congress of Rough Riders, under the name of Buffalo Bill and the management of Nate Salsbury, have interested and instructed two continents with an enterprise essentially different in character and purpose. The latter has shown to the world certain characteristics of American life and action that have never before been presented, carrying even into the cities of Europe, from London to Barcelona, an instructive, moving panorama, and winning plaudits for "Old Glory" under the very shadow of the tricolor and the Cross of St. George.

The mutual respect which has been engendered by the merit and magnitude of these two grand exhibitions has been marked for several years past by a professional and personal friendship between Messrs. Barnum and Bailey and Cody and Salsbury as close and as warm as it is unusual in the field of professional rivalry. The result has been that on consultation it has been found mutually advisable and beneficial, in order to prevent clashing of dates, to combine the transportation facilities and attendant paraphernalia, including seating capacity, cars, wagons, electric lighting, draught horses and organized corps of experienced workmen and the mature experience of Mr. Bailey and his staff with the extraordinary exhibition familiar to the world under the title of Buffalo Bill's Wild West and Congress of Rough Riders of the World for a tour of the United States.

The "Wild West" will be given as a single, unique, ethnological, instructive and entertaining exhibition, alone and in its entirety, twice daily, on the same scale as it has been given in London, Paris and the other capitals of Europe, and as it was presented at the World's Fair in Chicago and in New York City last season. It will, if possible, be augmented by additional attractions, all of which will be apropos of its realism, and in no way will verge upon the province of the circus.

The production of the Wild West on the road will necessitate the use of three trains, comprising 52 double cars, 600 horses and 1,200 men. A canvas-covered grand stand, seating 12,000 people, in the form of a hollow square, entirely unlike the usual circus arena, will be a novel structure, designed on an enormous scale.

There will be two portable electric light plants of 100,000 candle-power each, the camp equipage, wagons and all the various other accoutrements of a vast outfit, forming an army unparalleled in its peculiar field, and making it the largest, most complete and gigantic enterprise known in the history of amusements.

The reader is advised to peruse carefully the descriptive advertisement on PAGE 7 of this paper. Our columns are too small to contain all the interesting historic items that the subject and our hero furnishes, as it would fill many volumes—so the explanatory matter relative to the "Wild West" is confined to accurate pictorial displays, pages 4 and 5, article from New York papers, page 6, and announcement on page 7.

The Scout—Men who Wore the Buckskins.

[Continued from Page 1.]

extraordinary degree the great virtue of independence of character. Personal courage was a sine qua non, danger was ever present, and he who was a great scout was a brave man among brave men. Skill in woodcraft, quickness of eyesight, endurance, fleetness of foot, superb horsemanship—in short none but the most intrepid braved the dangers and the sufferings incident to the life of a scout.

George Washington, beginning life as a young surveyor, the duties of his profession in those days carrying him, with his theodolite and chains, into the trackless wilderness, possessing all the qualities enumerated above, soon became not only a surveyor but a pioneer and a practical scout. Here were laid all foundations for [drawing] DANIEL BOONE. his future greatness, and it was always a great pride to the scouts that from their ranks arose the Father of His Country and the pioneer of popular government. In the wilderness he developed all that simplicity and greatness which, with his unfaltering courage, carried him through the hardships, dangers and sufferings which founded the greatest nation on earth. Communing with nature in the solitude of the forest, he breathed the air of freedom until it became the very warp and woof of his being, and this was the first step which he took toward the presidency of a free people. As a scout he learned warfare, and showed his skill and courage as the scout and saviour of the ill-fated Braddock Expedition.

His ancestor, Col. John Washington, laid the foundation of the soldier trait in the family by his prominence in Indian warfare in Virginia. When the corrupt Colonial Governor Berkley, for cowardly and mercenary reasons, met not the requirements of the occasion—a threatened Indian massacre—there arose the "young and [drawing] INDIAN. gifted orator" and captain, Nathaniel Bacon, the most romantic figure of his time, whose success with his "men in buckskin" on the warpath caused the governor's jealousy to outlaw him, resulting in his driving Berkley to the eastern shore of the Chesapeake and made himself famous as a premature patriot who sought to throw off the abuses of government one hundred years before the time. His sickness and death cut short what history records as "Bacon's Rebellion."

The grandfather of Abraham Lincoln was a compatriot of Boone, was killed by Indians, avenged by his son Mordecai (President Lincoln's uncle), who became "an Indian-stalker"—and the illustrious Lincoln himself was a cabin-born product of the prairie.

The pages of New England's early history gleam with thrilling stories of its frontier heroes, from "the first real buckskin warrior of New England, Benjamin Church, who beat the savage at his own game by learning the art of skulking, the ambuscade, the surprise," until the doom of despair buried or drove westward the Mohawks and Pequots. [drawing] KIT CARSON. In the early days of Indian warfare, when the whites were but as a handful and the Indians were countless thousands, when the border line of civilization was but a comparatively short distance from the sea-coast, the scout acted chiefly on the defensive. His was the mission to watch the wily red man, to guard against the sudden attack and surprise, and to lead the forces in their efforts to repel them; but as the years have rolled by and the conditions have changed, he began to abandon the defensive and, as the advance guard of the superior force and race, to attack and hunt the red man in his turn.

In the time of General Harney it became necessary to pass across the plains and open up the heart of this vast continent. It was imperative to open the trail from the Atlantic to the Pacific and thus foster the traffic and commercial future of the country. Then arose a new form of scout and scouting, in which shines brilliantly the names of Generals Sherman, Sheridan, Custer, Miles, Merritt, Carr, Crook, McKenzie, and other brave men, among whom shone conspicuously that child of the plains, Colonel William F. Cody (Buffalo Bill), as good an all-round plainsman as ever lived.

The conditions, too, had changed. No longer the scout opposed a people armed with the bow and arrow and spear; these had become obsolete, as had the flint-lock musket of our Puritan Fathers, and these deadly foes now confronted each other each equally well armed with the deadly repeating rifle and the merciless revolver. These were terrible weapons in the hands of a desperate foe. By this time (from 1860 to 1885) the Indian had reached the zenith of his capacity for doing harm. Realizing fully the hopelessness of the struggle with the white man, who was as the sands of the sea in number, he faced the problem of dying, but with his face to the foe, and leaving as many of his conquerors dead as his valor could annihilate.

It was during these years that the mantle of his famous predecessors in history fell upon the worthy shoulders of Colonel Cody. The prominence into which he sprang, almost at one bound, would have been absolutely unattainable without the great natural and inherent qualities necessary to enable him to rise to the occasion.

Under the eagle eye of the great generals who have been the principal factors in contemporaneous history, like those already named, he found at once a field to put to good use his every strategic skill, knowledge of the habits and traits of the Indian. His previous training enabled him to meet cunning with cunning; craftiness [drawing] DAVY CROCKETT. with craftiness; and when his patience, endurance and courage were combined with these he triumphed, for he was as the eagle to the fox.

Christopher Columbus may perhaps not improperly be placed first among the great scouts, although he was not one of the famous "men in buckskin" who came after him. His was the true spirit, however, of the scout and his the dauntless courage. His destiny led across the pathless waters and not across the trackless plain, but the pluck and perseverance with which he held upon his way, despite all obstacles and the entreaties of his discouraged sailors, show that he alone among them was of the true metal of which scouts were made.

Although, as has been said, every settlement had its scout of local fame whose deeds are local tradition, men deserving monuments, the name of Daniel Boone shines forth a star of the first magnitude in the constellation. He is described as having been a man of medium height, with a peculiarly bright eye, and a robust and athletic frame. He possessed sagacity, judgment, intrepidity and withal gentleness of manner and a humane disposition.



The outer garment of these men, and one which has, with few changes, been perpetuated to this day, so well suited is it to its purpose, is described as follows: A loose, open frock or hunting shirt made of deerskin, beautifully dressed and tanned, long leggings of the same material, and moccasins upon the feet. The broad collar and the leg-seams were adorned with fringes of bright hue, a leather belt encircled the body, in which were worn a hatchet, ammunition pouches and a hunting knife.

Accoutred in such fashion, Boone penetrated the mountains from North Carolina, and on the seventh of June, 1769, from the top of an eminence near the Red River, saw the beautiful land of Kentucky, soon to be known as the "dark and bloody ground."

Four years later Boone led a small party of settlers into this new country and made a lodgment. The events of the succeeding years are part of the history of our country. Constant Indian warfare, the capture and recapture of their children, and the capture and escape of Boone himself, are among the most romantic and thrilling stories in the history of the New World.

With the name of Daniel Boone will ever be associated in the pioneer annals that of his friend, Simon Kenton. At the age of sixteen he engaged in a rough-and-tumble fight with a rival in the affections of a neighbor's daughter, and thinking he had killed his opponent he plunged into the forest and thenceforth led a life of peril and adventure until congress gave him a pension and Kentucky a grant of land, on which he passed his last years.

Kenton was a picture of manly beauty. Over six feet in height, well formed, handsome and graceful. His fair hair, bright complexion and laughing gray eyes added to the attractiveness of his appearance. As a spy and ranger he had no equal, and he was brave to the point of recklessness. Frequently captured, he was compelled eight times to run the gauntlet, that fearful ordeal, and three times he was tied to the stake. Several times in his adventurous career he owed his life to the impression made on the susceptible female heart by his splendid presence.

The dark and bloody ground of Kentucky produced the man who was destined to be the successor of its discoverer, Daniel Boone, and take equal rank in border annals—Christopher Carson, known everywhere as "Kit" Carson. He was not only like Boone and others in skill, sagacity and self-reliance, but he had the more uncommon virtues of modesty, sobriety and perfect self-control. Though small in stature, Carson was broad-chested, compactly built and remarkable for quickness and agility. He passed his early years in hunting and trapping, and his skill in these pursuits led to his employment as [drawing] GEN. MILES AND CODY, PINE RIDGE, 1891. scout by Gen. John C. Fremont in the explorations of this great pathfinder in his trips across the plains and over the Rockies.

During the civil war his services to the Government in New Mexico, Colorado and the Indian Territory were invaluable, and he rose to the rank of brevet brigadier-general. In one of his expeditions with Fremont, alone with one companion, he pursued a body of predatory Indians, dispersed the Indians who occupied four lodges, recaptured thirty stolen horses, traveled in the pursuit and return over one hundred miles, and was back in camp in thirty hours.

Incredible as these feats seem to those of us who dwell in cities, similar achievements in the same line of duty have been recorded in our own time to the credit of Colonel Wm. F. Cody, (Buffalo Bill) who stands to-day the most prominent of the last living exponents of that famous historic band of scouts who have passed away forever.

Incredulity being excusable when generalized assertions are made, the writer deems it stronger to quote authorities, and will therefore submit a few excerpts from recorded writings of known personages as sufficiently impressive for the general reader and more acceptable to the public as matter of interest to the occasion.

Cody's connection with the Regular United States Army has covered a continuous period of fifteen years, and desultory connection of thirty years, in the most troublous era of that superb corps' Western history, as Guide, Scout and Chief of Scouts, a position unknown in any other service, and for the confidential nature of which see General Dodge's extract on page I. This privileged position, and the nature of its services in the past, may be more fully appreciated when it is understood that it brought its holder the confidence of commanding generals, the fraternal friendship of the commissioned officers, the idolization of the ranks, and the universal respect and consideration of the hardy pioneers and settlers of the West. He holds a commission in the National Guard, State of Nebraska, of Brigadier-General. "Bill" Cody's children can point with pride to recorded services under the following officers of world-wide and national fame:

Gen. Sherman, Gen. Greeley,
[Gen.] Miles, [Gen.] Sheridan,
[Gen.] Merritt, [Gen.] Penrose,
[Gen.] Tony Forsythe, [Gen.] Sandy Forsythe,
[Gen.] Rucker, [Gen.] Dudley,
[Gen.] Crook, [Gen.] Terry,
[Gen.] Carr, [Gen.] Emory,
[Gen.] Augur, [Gen.] Custer,
[Gen.] Bankhead, [Gen.] Ord,
[Gen.] Fry, [Gen.] Hancock,
[Gen.] Crittenden, [Gen.] Royall,
[Gen.] Switzer, [Gen.] Brisbin,
[Gen.] Duncan, [Gen.] Palmer,
[Gen.] Smith, [Gen.] Gibbon,
[Gen.] King, [Gen.] Canby,
[Gen.] Van Vliet, [Gen.] Blunt,
[Gen.] Anson Mills, [Gen.] Hayes,
[Gen.] Reynolds, [Gen.] Guy Henry,
[Gen.] Harney, [Gen.] Hazen,
And others.


The following extracts speak for themselves, and will form interesting reading as authenticated references:

From Gen. "Phil" Sheridan's Autobiography.

General Sheridan refers to his meeting "Buffalo Bill." "He undertakes a dangerous task," chapter xii., p. 281-289, in his autobiography, published in 1888. The world-renowned cavalry commander maintained continuous friendly relations with his old scout, even to social correspondence, friendly assistance, and recognition in his present enterprise up to the year of his death. After relating his conception of the first winter campaign against Indians on the then uninhabited and bleak plains, in the winter of

[Continued on Page 3.]







The strongest contributing source of success in the amusement world is the establishment of confidential relations between a manager and his patrons. This once attained the pinnacle of managerial ambition has been reached. Success is the natural sequence. It is to establish confidence in the public mind regarding the statements contained in this publication that these lines are written. I respectfully submit them all as true in every particular. An unbroken series of triumphs for the past twelve years proclaims "Buffalo Bill's Wild West and Congress of Rough Riders of the World" to be the novelty of the century. Never since the arenic spectacles of Rome have such natural elements of human existence been combined in such gigantic form for human amusement and instruction. By the knowledge that experience brings, combinations have been made that will make the touring season of this exhibition an epoch in the history of amusements in this country. In this connection, I am happy to state that Mr. James A. Bailey, the world-known Director of the Barnum & Bailey Show, has associated himself with me in the touring details of this enterprise. No greater compliment could be paid to the "Wild West" than the participation of his masterful mind in this colossal undertaking.

"Buffalo Bill's Wild West" is not a show in the theatric sense of the term, but an exposition of the progress of civilization, illustrating in a series of vivid and realistic pictures the trials, episodes and vicissitudes of pioneer life on the American frontier. To heighten and embellish these pictures, the armies of America, France, Germany, England and Russia have been drawn upon and will be represented by fully-equipped regular soldiers, whose services have been secured by direct negotiation with their various governments. This addition to the educational features of the exhibition should be hailed with delight by every student of military affairs in this country, as it affords an opportunity for the first time in history of judging by comparison the drill, equipment and effectiveness of the five great armies of the world.

The central personality of the "Wild West" is, as all the world knows, Col. W. F. Cody (Buffalo Bill). I beg to assure our patrons that Col. Cody will be in the saddle and will give his personal direction to every performance, thus completing the most magnificent spectacle of the age.

Yours very sincerely,



The Scout—Men who Wore the Buckskins.

General "Phil" Sheridan's Autobiography.

[Continued from Page 2.]

1868, he says, "The difficulties and hardships to be encountered had led several experienced officers of the army, and some frontiersmen like old Jim Bridger, the famous scout and guide of earlier days, to discourage the project. Bridger even went so far as to come out from St. Louis to discourage the attempt. I decided to go in person, bent on showing the Indians that they were not secure from punishment because of inclement weather—an ally on which they had hitherto relied with much assurance. We started, and the very first night a blizzard struck us and carried away our tents. The gale was so violent that they could not be put up again; the rain and snow drenched us to the skin. Shivering from wet and cold I took refuge under a wagon, and there spent such a miserable night that, when morning came, the gloomy predictions of old man Bridger and others rose up before me with greatly increased force. The difficulties were now fully realized, the blinding snow mixed with sleet, the piercing wind, thermometer below zero—with green bushes only for fuel—occasioning intense suffering. Our numbers and companionship alone prevented us from being lost or perishing, a fate that stared in the face the frontiersmen, guides and scouts on their solitary mission.

"An important matter had been to secure competent guides for the different columns of troops, for, as I have said, the section of country to be operated in was comparatively unknown.

"In those days the railroad town of Hays City was filled with so-called 'Indian Scouts,' whose common boast was of having slain scores of redskins, but the real scout—that is, a guide and trailer knowing the habits of the Indians—was very scarce, and it was hard to find anybody familiar with the country south of Arkansas, where the campaign was to be made. Still, about the various military posts there was some good material to select from, and we managed to employ several men, who, from their experience on the plains in various capacities, or from natural instinct and aptitude, soon became excellent guides and courageous and valuable scouts, some of them, indeed, gaining much distinction. Mr. William F. Cody ('Buffalo Bill'), whose renown has since become world-wide, was one of the men thus selected. He received his sobriquet from his marked success in killing buffaloes to supply fresh meat to the construction parties on the Kansas-Pacific Railway. He had lived from boyhood on the plains and passed every experience: herder, hunter, pony-express rider, stage driver, wagon master in the quartermaster's department, and scout of the army, and was first brought to my notice by distinguishing himself in bringing me an important dispatch from Fort Larned to Fort Hays, a distance of sixty-five miles, through a section invested with Indians. The dispatch informed me that the Indians near Larned were preparing to decamp, and this intelligence required that certain orders should be carried to Fort Dodge, ninety-five miles south of Hays. This too being a particularly dangerous route—several couriers having been killed on it—it was impossible to get one of the various 'Petes,' 'Jacks' or 'Jims' hanging around Hays City to take my communication. Cody, learning of the strait I was in, manfully came to the rescue, and proposed to make the trip to Dodge, though he had just finished his long and perilous ride from Larned. I gratefully accepted his offer, and after a short rest he mounted a fresh horse and hastened on his journey, halting but once to rest on the way, and then only for an hour, the stop being made at Coon Creek, where he got another mount from a troop of cavalry. At Dodge he took some sleep, and then continued on to his own post—Fort Larned—with more dispatches. After resting at Larned, he was again in the saddle with tidings for me at Fort Hays, General Hazen sending him, this time, with word that the villages had fled to the south of Arkansas. Thus, in all, Cody rode about 350 miles in less than sixty hours, and such an exhibition of endurance and courage at that time of the year, and in such weather, was more than enough to convince me that his services would be extremely valuable in the campaign, so I retained him at Fort Hays till the battalion of the Fifth Cavalry arrived, and then made him Chief of Scouts."

Read through the fascinating book, "Campaigning with Crook (Major-General George Crook, U.S.A.) and Stories of Army Life," due to the graphic and soldierly pen of Captain Charles King, of the U.S. Army; published in 1890.

Incidentally the author refers in various pages to Col. Cody as scout, etc., and testifies to the general esteem and affection in which "Buffalo Bill" is held by the army.

The subjoined extracts from the book will give our readers an excellent idea of the military scout's calling and its dangers:

"By Jove, General!" says "Buffalo Bill," sliding backward down the hill, "now's our chance. Let our party mount here out of sight, and we'll cut those fellows off. Come down every other man of you."

Glancing behind me, I see Cody, Tait and "Chips," with five cavalrymen, eagerly bending [drawing] forward in their saddles, grasping carbine and rifle, every eye bent upon me, watching for the signal. Not a man but myself knows how near they are. That's right, close in, you beggars! Ten seconds more and you are on them. A hundred and twenty-five yards—a hundred—ninety—"Now, lads, in with you."

There's a rush, a wild ringing cheer; then bang, bang, bang! and in a cloud of dust, Cody and his men tumble in among them, "Buffalo Bill" closing on a superbly accoutred warrior. It is the work of a minute; the Indian has fired and missed. Cody's bullet tears through the rider's leg into the pony's heart, and they tumble in a confused heap on the prairie. The Cheyenne struggles to his feet for another shot, but Cody's second bullet hits the mark. It is now close quarters, knife to knife. After a hand-to-hand struggle, Cody wins, and the young chief, "Yellow Hand," drops lifeless in his tracks after a hot fight. Baffled and astounded, for once in a lifetime beaten at their own game, their project of joining "Sitting Bull" nipped in the bud, they take hurried flight. But our chief is satisfied. "Buffalo Bill" is radiant; his are the honors of the day.—From page 35.

"Buffalo Bill"—From Page III.

In all these years of campaigning, the Fifth Cavalry has had varied and interesting experience with a class of men of whom much has been written, and whose names, to readers of the dime novel and the New York Weekly style of literature, were familiar as household words; I mean the "Scouts of the Prairie," as they have been christened. Many thousands of our citizens have been to see "Buffalo Bill's" thrilling representations of the scenes of his life of adventure. To such he needs no introduction, and throughout our cavalry he is better known than any general except Miles, Merritt, Carr or Crook.

A motley set they are as a class—these scouts; hard riding, hard swearing, hard drinking ordinarily, and not all were of unimpeachable veracity. But there was never a word of doubt or question in the Fifth when "Buffalo Bill," came up for discussion. He was Chief of Scouts in Kansas and Nebraska in the campaign of 1868-69, when the hostiles were so completely used up by General Carr. He remained with us as chief scout until the regiment was ordered to Arizona to take its turn at the Apaches in 1871. Five years the regiment was kept among the rocks and deserts of that marvelous land of cactus and centipede; but when we came homeward across the continent and were ordered up to Cheyenne to take a hand in the Sioux war of 1876, the "Sitting Bull" campaign, the first addition to our ranks was "Buffalo Bill" himself—who sprang from the Union Pacific train at Cheyenne, and was speedily exchanging greetings with an eager group of his old comrades—reinstated as Chief of Scouts.

Of his services during the campaign that followed, a dozen articles might be written. One of the most thrilling incidents of our fight on the 17th of July with the Cheyenne Indians, on the War Bonnet, was when he killed the warrior "Yellow Hand," in as plucky a single combat on both sides as is ever witnessed. The Fifth had a genuine affection for Bill; he was a tried and true comrade—one who for cool daring and judgment had no superior. He was a beautiful horseman, an unrivaled shot, and as a scout unequaled. We had tried them all—Hualpais and Tontos in Arizona; half-breeds on the great plains. We had followed Custer's old guide, "California Joe, in Dakota, met handsome Bill Hickox ("Wild Bill") in the Black Hills: trailed for weeks after Crook's favorite, Frank Gruard, with "Little Bat" and "Big Baptiste," three good ones, all over the Big Horn and Powder River country; hunted Nez Perces with Cosgrove and his Shoshones among the Yellowstone mountains, and listened to Crawford's yarns and rhymes in many a bivouac in the Northwest. They were all noted men in their way, but Bill Cody was the paragon.

[Lack of space excludes volumes of interesting indorsements.—EDITOR.]

Reminiscent Review.

AT the time of the organization of the "Wild West," now some twelve years ago, the prejudice which existed between the white man and the Indian was intense, so much so as to be really remarkable.

It affords the writer, therefore, in his present reminiscent mood, much pleasure to dwell on the beneficial effect which the enterprise has had in dispelling that wholly unjustifiable prejudice. Ignorance always breeds distrust. A horse only shies at strange and unaccustomed objects, and in that respect he is very much like his master.

When the exhibition was first organized it was a source of much trouble in many places, where the feeling was so strongly developed that they threw stones at the Indians in the streets. Now this has all been changed and the mission of the exhibition has been fulfilled in that it has bred mutual confidence. The people of the East have learned that the Indian has a better side to his nature and that he is trustworthy when he is trusted.

Still another and even greater object has been gained in the remarkable educational effect upon the "Redskin." Hundreds of these men have been taken annually from their reservations and given the countless advantages to be derived from traveling all over our great county. Their surprise, interest and intelligent observation have been remarkable, and they have evinced the keenest interest in viewing the progress which their white brothers have made in the arts and sciences. With this organization, too, they have crossed the Great Water of their traditions, they have visited Europe, and, like their ancestors who accompanied Columbus to the court of Spain, they have seen the home of America's discoverer. This has been productive of much good and resulted in modifying greatly their views of life and in broadening their minds. With also the farther result that they have returned to their wigwams to tell the friends whom they left behind of the wonders they have seen, of the prowess of the white man and the marvelous things which he has accomplished.

More than that, too, he has taught the people with whom he came in contact to respect him, and he has, in turn, learned to respect and admire his fellow-men of other nationalities.

After an absence of eight years from the various cities which will be visited in 1895, the "Wild West" returns and will again be seen after its unique experiences abroad and which are referred to more extensively in another column of this paper.

This fast-decaying race will again be presented to the public, and this time they will be presented in conjunction with, and in strange and striking contrast to, many men of other primitive races and habits, but who like them are as races closely allied in their existence to man's best friend, the horse,—the Arab, Cossack, Gaucho, the Cowboy, and representatives of the cavalry of all nations.

By a wise provision of the National Government and with a view to extending the educational advantages of this employment, a new, untraveled band of "Blanket" Indians are selected to travel with the "Wild West," thus affording the public interesting studies of all the types of this remarkable people.

This season a careful selection has been made, which has resulted in bringing together one of the finest bands of representative Indians, most of whom are noted warriors and all of whom have historical and contemporaneous reputations among their tribes, not only for valor, but for [drawing] COURIER CO. BUFFALO, N.Y. LITTLE BILLIE. skill in the chase and for eloquence in the councils of their nations.

During the years in which "Buffalo Bill" has been taking these dusky children of the plains to all the courts of Europe and displaying them to the older nations of the world and vice versa, a new generation of young people has sprung up in our own country. There are now a new race of the descendants of Priscilla, the Puritan maiden, and of the progeny of Lars Larsen and of the many other races that make up our composite population.

To those who have never seen it the great historical and ethnological features of this exhi- [drawing] ROSA BONHEUR PAINTING COL. CODY AND HORSE, PARIS, 1889. bition will come as a revelation and an object lesson, all the more precious for the reason that the next generation will know it only in history and thus to those who come after us it will be no more a reality in its vivid picturesqueness than the stories of the Arabian Nights. The Indian is presented here in all his proud and glittering harness. He is gaily painted with the bright pigments which he has digged from the bosom of the earth, and crowned with the gorgeous plumes which he has plucked from the pinions of the eagle of the sky.

His superb physique and matchless agility and endurance will be presented as he careens upon his faithful friend, the cayuse or Indian horse. He will be seen at home (if a nomad can be said to have a home) within the protection of his tepee, or tent of skins. The every event of his life is vividly portrayed, both in times of piping peace or stirring war. His daily habits, manners, customs, his ingenuity in the chase, his strategy and valor in war, his independence, helpfulness and his bitter resentment are all brought out in striking and vivid colors.

This most remarkable exhibition is absolutely unique in that no complete and absolutely perfect presentation of the national life of any people has ever been attempted or placed before the public in the perfect verisimilitude which is the striking and charming feature of the "Wild West."

There are no lessons which are so valuable, so impressive, as object lessons. The impressions made through the eye are more lasting than any other. Here we see the last of this great people in mimic representations of the historic scenes which have rendered crimson with life-blood the pages of his past history. Here we realize the bravery and endurance exhibited by him as he sullenly retreated, step by step, from the coast line to the mountain's shelter. We see in realistic tableaux the thrilling events which illumine intelligently the mind of the visitor, when perusing the stories of that sanguinary past, or contemplating the canvases of the artists who portrayed the life of the plains or viewing the work of the sculptor, past or future. These scenes in mimicry of the past will soon be beyond the possibility of reproduction. In all our great country, once his sole possession, there will be left no trace of the aborigine. His virtues and his faults will have been buried with him. And as the years roll by and time softens the harsh outlines of history, his virtues of bravery and gratitude, as well as of hospitality, will alone be preserved in the memory. The dead past will be swallowed up in the brilliant future that awaits him.

  "Here lived and loved
   Another race of beings."

And so we, too, go forward toward the change that must come to us, as to all who have gone before, knowing that   "All the tribes that tread the earth are
   But a handful to those that slumber in her bosom."

Buffalo Bill From Boyhood to Fame.

IT may not be amiss just here, while writing of this "Land of the Setting Sun," its changes from savagery to civilization, to refer to one who has done so much to aid those who followed the Star of Empire toward the Rocky Mountains.

I refer to Col. W. F. Cody, known in almost every hamlet of the world as Buffalo Bill, one upon whom the seal of manhood has been set as upon few others, who has risen by the force of his own gigantic will, his undaunted courage, ambition, and genius, to be honored among the rulers of kingdoms, as well as by his own people.

Nearly forty years ago, in Kansas, a handsome, wiry little lad came to me, accompanied by his good mother, and said that he had her permission to take a position under me as a messenger boy.

I gave him the place, though it was one of peril, carrying dispatches between our wagon trains upon the march across the plains, and little did I then suspect that I was just starting out in life one who was destined to win fame and fortune.

Then it was simply "Little Billy Cody," the messenger, and from his first year in my service he began to make his mark, and lay the foundation of his future greatness.

Next it became "Wild Will," the pony express-rider of the overland, and as such he faced many dangers, and overcame many obstacles which would have crushed a less strong nature and brave heart.

Then it became "Bill Cody, the Wagon-master," then overland stage driver, and from that to guide across the plains, until he drifted into his natural calling as a Government scout.

"Buffalo Bill, the Scout and Indian Fighter," was known from north to south, from east to west, for his skill, energy, and daring as a ranger of mountain and plain.

With the inborn gift of a perfect borderman, Buffalo Bill led armies across trackless mountains and plains, through deserts of death, and to the farthest retreats of the cruel redskins who were making war upon the settlers.

Buffalo Bill has never sought the reputation of being a "man killer."

He has shunned difficulties of a personal nature, yet never backed down in the face of death in the discharge of duty.

Brought face to face with the worst elements of the frontier, he never sought the title of hero at the expense of other lives and suffering.

An Indian fighter, he was yet the friend of the redskin in many ways, and to-day there is not a man more respected among all the fighting tribes than Buffalo Bill, though he is feared as well.

In his delineation of Wild West life before the vast audiences he has appeared to in this country and Europe, he has been instrumental in educating the Indians to feel that it would be madness for them to continue the struggle against the innumerable whites, and to teach them that peace and happiness could come to them if they would give up the war-path and the barbarism of the past, and seek for themselves homes amid civilized scenes and associations.

Buffalo Bill is therefore a great teacher among his red friends, and he has done more good than any man I know who has lived among them.

Courtly by nature, generous to a fault, big-hearted and brainy, full of gratitude to those whom he feels indebted to, he has won his way in the world and stands to-day as truly one of Nature's noblemen.

One of the strongest characteristics of Buffalo Bill, to my mind, was his love for his mother—a mother most worthy the devotion of such a son. His love and devotion to his sisters has also been marked throughout his lifetime.

When he first came to me he had to sign the pay-roll each month by making the sign of a cross, his mark. He drew a man's pay, and earned every dollar of it.

He always had his mother come to get his pay, and when one day he was told by the paymaster to come and "make his mark and get his money," his face flushed as he saw tears come into his mother's eyes and heard her low-uttered words:

"Oh, Willie! If you would only learn to write, how happy I would be."

Educational advantages in those early days were crude in the extreme, and Little Billy's chances to acquire knowledge were few, but from that day, when he saw the tears in his mother's eyes at his inability to write his name, he began to study hard and to learn to write; in fact his acquiring the art of penmanship got him into heaps of trouble, as "Will Cody," "Little Billy," "Billy the Boy Messenger," and "William Frederic Cody" were written with the burnt end of a stick upon tents, wagon-covers, and all tempting places, while he carved upon wagon-body, ox-yoke, and where he could find suitable wood for his pen-knife to cut into, the name he would one day make famous.

With such energy as this on his part, Billy Cody was not very long in learning to write his name upon the pay-roll instead of making his mark, though ever since, I may add, he has made his mark in the pages of history.

All through his life he was ever the devoted son and brother, and true as steel to his friends, for he has not been spoiled by the fame he has won, while to-day his firmest friends are the officers of the army with whom he has served through dangers and hardships untold, as proof of which he was freely given the endorsement of such men as Sherman, Sheridan, Gen. Nelson A. Miles, Generals Carr, Merritt, Royal, and a host of others.

Kate Field

Thus describes the tableau given at Chicago in the World's Fair celebration of Columbus Day by Buffalo Bill's Indians:

What delighted my soul was the appearance, in two tableaux, of twelve Indians from Buffalo Bill's Wild West. Grouped first in the landing of Columbus, and, secondly, as exhibits—if I may so term them—before the Court of Spain, these twelve Indians were so splendid in pose, expression and statuesque immobility as to excite a genuine furore. If they wanted a victory over their conquerors they had it that night in Jackson Park. The white man, bedecked in velvets and jewels, was a physical nervous pigmy beside these bronze children of the plains, whose lordly bearing and repose were worth all the paintings in the Art Palace. Here was no counterfeit presentment. Here was nature giving art a lesson. I shall never cease to be grateful to a woman for having brought American Indians into what is called "society" and shown their infinite superiority to their fellow-actors and their audiences in grace, dignity, bearing and nerve.—Kate Field's Washington.

Buffalo Bill and the Romans.

I'll take my stalwart Indian braves
  Down to the Colosseum,
And the old Romans from their graves
  Will all arise to see ' em;
Pretors and censors will return
  And hasten through the Forum,
The ghostly Senate will adjourn
  Because it lacks a quorum.

And up the ancient Appian way
  Will flock the ghostly legions,
From Gaul unto Calabria,
  And from remoter regions;
From British bog and wild lagoon,
  And Libyan desert sandy,
They'll all come, marching to the tune
  Of "Yankee Doodle Dandy."

Prepare the triumph car for me
  And purple throne to sit on,
For I've done more than Julius C.—
  He could not down the Briton!
Cæsar and Cicero shall bow,
  And ancient warriors famous,
Before the myrtle-bandaged brow
  Of Buffalo Williamus.

We march, unwhipped, through history—
  No bulwark can detain us—
And link the age of Grover C.
  And Scipio Africanus.
I'll take my stalwart Indian braves
  Down to the Colosseum,
And the old Romans from their graves
  Will all arise to see ' em.

Colosseum visited 1890.

Rosa Bonheur.

No more permanent good has been accomplished by the Wild West's existence than the influence that it has had on art, sculpture and painting. The wide-of-the-mark idea artists—especially in Europe—have had of the American aborigine is strikingly illustrated by two figures at Sir Walter Raleigh's tomb in Westminster Abbey which attracted the attention of Kicking Bear, Short Bull, Rocky Bear, and other chiefs, on a visit to that historic edifice. The dress, bows, arrows, ornaments, and body figures were Indians, but the heads were those of the short, curly-haired African Negro.

This visit of Buffalo Bill was a revelation to the art students, and every facility was given them morning, noon and night to visit and paint. Every city in Europe furnished scores of professional and distinguished amateurs to whom the life and blood scenes were a revelation—a [drawing] [Cour?] [Buffalo?] feast. Munich, Rome, Florence, and other art centres, revelled, and in the future the stirring scenes of the Western American frontier will occupy the space it deserves in all the art galleries of the Old World—a permanent story of a theme as rich in heroism as that of their own mediæval knights-errant.

Among the distinguished names of its art votaries is none other than that of the immortal ROSA BONHEUR, whose fame can never die and whose last works will be inspired by the data collected by a summer's tri-weekly sojourn in the Wild West Camp at Paris in 1889. At that time she painted Col. Cody, mounted on his white charger, and presented him this rare work of art—as it is the only instance in which she has painted a living subject with the animal. It is now in this country and will eventually be hung in our National Art Gallery.

The Wild West at the Vatican.


One of the strangest spectacles ever seen within the venerable walls of the Vatican was the dramatic entry of "Buffalo Bill" at the head of his Indians and cowboys this morning, when the ecclesiastical and secular military court of the Holy See assembled to witness the twelfth annual thanksgiving of Leo XIII. for his coronation. In the midst of the splendid scene, crowded with the old Roman aristocracy, and surrounded by walls immortalized by Michael Angelo and Raffael, there suddenly appeared a host of savages in war paint, feathers and blankets, carrying tomahawks and knives.



A vast multitude surged in the great square before St. Peter's early in the morning to witness the arrival of the Americans. Before half-past nine o'clock the Ducal Hall, Royal Hall and Sistine Chapel of the Vatican were packed with those who had influence enough to obtain admittance. Through the middle of the three audiences, the pathway was bordered with the brilliant uniforms of the Swiss Guards, Palatine Guards, Papal gendarmes and private chamberlains. The sunlight fell upon the lines of glittering steel, nodding plumes, golden chains, shimmering robes of silk, and all the blazing emblems of pontifical power and glory.


Suddenly, a tall and chivalrous figure appeared at the entrance, and all eyes were turned towards him. It was Colonel W. F. Cody ("Buffalo Bill"). With a sweep of his great sombrero, he saluted the chamberlains, and then strode between the guards with his partner, Mr. Nate Salsbury, by his side.

Next came the leader of the cowboys, who towered hugely above the tallest man in the Palace, his long hair tied back on his shoulders. Then came Broncho Bill, in buckskin, and after him trooped the cowboys, splashed with mud, and picturesque beyond description.

Rocky Bear led the Sioux warriors, who brought up the rear. They were painted in every color that Indian imagination could devise. Every man carried something with which to make big medicine in the presence of the great medicine man sent by the Great Spirit.

Rocky Bear rolled his eyes and folded his hands on his breast as he stepped on tiptoe through the glowing sea of color. His braves furtively eyed the halberds and two-handed swords of the Swiss Guards.

The Indians and cowboys were ranged in the south corners of the Ducal Hall. Colonel Cody and Mr. Salsbury were escorted into the Sistine Chapel by chamberlains, where they were greeted by Miss Sherman, daughter of General Sherman. A Princess invited Colonel Cody to a place in the tribune of the Roman nobles.

He stood facing the gorgeous Diplomatic Corps, surrounded by the Prince and Princess Borghesi, the Marquis Serlupi, Princess Bandini, Duchess di Grazioli, Prince and Princess Massimo, Prince and Princess Ruspoli and all the ancient noble families of the city.


When the Pope appeared in the sedia gestatoria carried above the heads of his Guards, preceded by the Knights of Malta and a procession of cardinals and archbishops, the cowboys bowed and so did the Indians. Rocky Bear knelt and made the sign of the cross. The Pontiff learned affectionately towards the rude groups and blessed them. He seemed to be touched by the sight.

As the Papal train swept on, the Indians became excited, and a squaw fainted. They had been warned not to utter a sound, and were with difficulty restrained from whooping. The Pope looked at Colonel Cody intently as he passed, and the great scout and Indian fighter bent low as he received the Pontifical benediction.

After the Thanksgiving Mass, with its grand choral accompaniment and now and then the sound of Leo XIII's voice, heard ringing through the chapel, the great audience poured out of the Vatican.

"He is King of them All."

MAJOR JOHN M. BURKE: DEAR SIR—I take pleasure in saying that in an experience of about thirty years on the plains and in the mountains, I have seen a great many guides, scouts, trailers and hunters, and Buffalo Bill (W. F. Cody) is king of them all. He has been with me in seven Indian fights, and his services have been invaluable.

Very respectfully yours,

Brevet Major-General, U.S.A.



Buffalo Bill Shooting from Horseback

Emigrant train attacked by Indians

Mexican Vaqueros

Stage Coach Attack

Gauchos of South America

Lassoing Cattle

Hunting Buffalo

Cowboys Fun = Riding Wild, Bucking Mustangs

Lassoing Horses

Hurdle Race

Some Actual Scenes

Buffalo Bill's Wild West and Congress of Rough Riders of the World.

Thrilling Episodes

The Race of Races


Attack on Cabin


Courier Co. Buffalo N.Y.


Buffalo Bill's Wild West and Congress of Rough Riders of the World

An Ethnological—Anthropological—Etymological Congress

Greatest Since Adam.






















Buffalo Bill's Wild Life.


I HAVE just returned from a visit to Manchester, where I had a last long talk with Buffalo Bill preliminary to his sailing for America. But before giving the interview running over the first chapters of his life, let me tell again of his stay in England.

No greater success has ever been made in history than that of the Wild West. Buffalo Bill has met even with more success abroad than at home. He [drawing] COURIER CO BUFFALO NY BEFORE H.I.M. QUEEN VICTORIA - WINDSOR CASTLE is as great a hero in the children's story-books of England as Jack the Giant Killer. His picture is to be seen in nearly every shop window in England. His exhibition in London, given twice a day from the 10th of May until the 30th of October last year, was thronged from the first to the last.

The personal success of Col. Cody was even greater than that of his show. This is something that is not generally understood by our people at home. Yet it is a fact that no American has ever visited England who has received more attention from conspicuous people.

Col. Cody has had a most eventful career. He has never known the education of the schools. As he himself says, he never had more than three weeks of regular school training. He began the struggle for existence at the age of ten years, and from that time his life has been one of adventure, hardship and wonderful changes. Had he been an ordinary man he never would have risen beyond the position of a ranchman, and perhaps never gotten beyond the cowboy ranks.

His early life as a child was spent in the freighting business. He has crossed the plains many times as a boy. He has filled every post of occupation in the border life. He has been freighter, mule-driver, pony-express rider, trapper and hunter, stage driver, scout, ranchman, Justice of the Peace, member of the Nebraska Legislature, an actor in a border play by Ned Buntline, and later one of the most successful educators of modern times.

His social success in London is one of the most remarkable features of his European experience. He came here during the Jubilee year, when London was crowded with royalties and notable persons. Yet in spite of the presence of these very prominent people he stood out among them all equally conspicuous and often more prominent. Instead of seeking to be presented to royal people they sought to meet him. The Prince and Princess of Wales were the first to come make the acquaintance of Col. Cody. Then the Queen came, and after her all of the royalties of Europe who visited London that season.

I was present at the private entertainment given to the Queen by the Wild West, and afterwards at the special entertainment where there were present four reigning sovereigns of Europe—the King of Denmark, the King of Belgium, the King of Saxony, the King of Greece—the Prince and Princess of Wales, several crown princes and numerous ladies of various royal families. I watched Col. Cody very carefully all through the presentations to the various royal personages, and I am sure every self-respecting American would have been proud of the manner of this most representative American. No one but the Prince of Wales among the men equalled him in ease of bearing and in simple, unaffected dignity. He bowed no lower to the royalties than he would have to any gentleman or lady. His manner throughout was exactly the same as if he were in the company of well-mannered people from private life. This dignified bearing and perfect simplicity contributed to his great popularity with the higher classes of England. If he had been in the slightest degree subservient or in any way overcome by the attentions of the distinguished people who came to see him, I feel confident that he would have soon been classed as an ordinary showman, and that the many houses which were open to him would have been closed after the first curiosity was satisfied.


From the very first day his success was brilliant and unprecedented. His desk in his tent in the camp at West Brompton was covered every morning with invitations to breakfasts, dinners and receptions at all of the great houses of London. He spent his mornings calling, and after his evening entertainment closed the graduate frontiersman would put on evening dress to go to some reception or late supper. Any ordinary man would have broken down under the tremendous pull of work and play, but the outdoor life incident to his entertainment seemed to tone up and restore the hero of the London balls and receptions, so that he never disappointed the English public by failing to appear at even one entertainment. This promptness and punctuality have contributed much to increase his great popularity with the English public.

All of the prominent men from the United States who came to London visited the camp of the Wild West. They were all received with full military honors. Many of these Americans had never visited the show in their own country, and learned to appreciate and admire it after hearing how crazy the English public were to see it. Curiosity to witness what so attracted the attention of the English people would send every new American visitor to the Wild West show on the first day of his arrival in London. Among the most prominent of the Americans who were entertained by Col. Cody during the year were Minister Phelps, James G. Blaine, Gen. Simon Cameron, Senator Hawley, Murat Halstead,Joseph Pulitzer, James Gordon Bennett, Chauncey Depew, Thomas Edison, Larry Jerome, Col. Thomas Duffy and Gen. Marmaduke, who was captured by Cody during the war. One of the pleasantest incidents of the Wild West camp was the visit there of Gen. Marmaduke last summer. He spent the entire day with Cody going over old war reminiscences. Other prominent American visitors were Ex-Attorney-General Wayne MacVeagh, Daniel Dougherty, Bret Harte, Marshall Mallory, Gen. McCook, Mrs. Nelly Grant Sartoris, Mrs. J. F. Mackey, Mr. and Mrs. W. W. Story, Miss Mary Anderson, Miss Georgie Cayvan, Lady Randolph Churchill and "Aunt Louisa" Eldridge—in fact every visiting compatriot was treated like a king. English politicians, literary men and actors were conspicuous in the throngs who came to West Brompton. Henry Irving was specially devoted to the show, and it was through his advice that it went to Manchester for the winter.


Mr. Gladstone was one of the first of the prominent visitors. He came before the show was opened and was formally entertained. After him came Cardinal Manning, John Bright, the Earl of Dunraven, Lord Ronald Gower, Archbishop of York, Justin McCarthy, Bartholdi, the sculptor; Marquis of Lorne and, in fact, all of the noted people of England.

A list of the royalties who came there during the season embraced: The Queen, the Prince of Wales, the Princess of Wales, Prince Albert Victor, Prince George, the Princesses Victoria, Louise and Maud of Wales, the Duke of Edinburgh, the Duchess of Edinburgh, the Princesses Marie, Victoria and Alexandra of Edinburgh, Princess Louise, the Marquis of Lorne, Princess Beatrice, Prince Henry of Battenberg, the Duke of Cambridge, the Duke of Teck, Prince Franz Joseph of Teck, the Princesses Victoria, Sophie and Margaret of Prussia, Prince and Princess William of Prussia, the King of Denmark, the King of the Belgians, the King of Saxony, the King of Greece, the Comte de Paris, the Comtesse de Paris, the Crown Prince of Denmark, the Hereditary Prince and Princess of Saxe-Meiningen, Crown Prince Rudolph of Austria, the Crown Prince of Sweden and Norway, and Prince George of Greece—in fact all the Royal guests from all parts of the earth who visited Her Royal Majesty Queen Victoria were received by Col. Cody.

In looking over a list of cards and letters and other souvenirs and visitors in Col. Cody's collection, I find in addition to the above list the names of Grand Duke Michael of Russia, Gen. Viscount Wolseley, Lord Sandhurst, Lord Sidney, Lady Monckton, the Marchioness of Ely, the Duke of Devonshire, the Duke and Duchess of Leinster, Lady Archibald Campbell, Lord Normandy, the Duke of and Duchess de Montpensier, Prince and Princess Antione, Princess Ellen of Orleans, the Duc de Chartres, Duc d'Aumale, Lord Charles Beresford, the Duchess of Abercorn, Mme. Nilsson and the Count de Miranda, all of the East Indian Princes who were in London, every prominent member of the House of Lords and the House of Commons, the Prince Kamatsa of Siam, the Duke and Duchess of St. Albans, the Duke of Portland, the Duke of Sutherland and the Princess Imperial of Brazil. I have selected but a few names at random. To give them all would be to compile a directory of the prominent and noted people moving in London society last season.

Col. Cody met every one of these visitors. None of them seemed to regard their coming to the entertainment as anything but a preliminary to meeting him. The Princess of Wales used to very often visit the grounds during the morning with her daughters. Sometimes she would come out late at night to see the closing. The Grand Duke Michael became so interested in the entertainment that once he went out during the show and rode with Col. Cody, shooting at buffaloes.

At the entertainment given in honor of royalties invited by the Prince of Wales, the Princess of Wales, two of the Kings and several of the Crown Princes rode in the Deadwood coach. All of the royalties rode upon the switchback railroad, and for the time were the guests of Col. Cody, and appeared to enjoy to the extreme the perfect freedom and lack of formality which they found in their visit to the Wild West Show.

[The present Kaiser of Germany was then a Prince; Unser Fritz was Crown Prince, afterwards Emperor; the Czarowitz is now Czar; the Crown Prince of Portugal is now King Don Carlos; Prince Wilhelm of Wurtemburg is now King, etc. So the present and the next two generations of Royal Rulers of Europe will remember the American Scout "Bill" Cody—EDITOR.]

Rough Riders of the World.

IMAGINE a kaleidoscope, with an object field four and a half acres in extent, occupied by a swiftly-moving mass of figures, individually picturesque, brilliant with metallic reflections and gay with colors, momentarily springing and flashing into new combinations and modes of motion which dazzle, confuse and fascinate the eye of the beholder. Such is the spectacle presented by the three hundred and eighty "rough riders," forming part of the "Wild West" show, when going through their evolutions together. All the rest of the show is interesting and remarkable; the marksmanship of Buffalo Bill and his men, the excellent acrobatic feats of the genuine Arabs, the Indian songs and dances, the combats between the scouts, cowboys, and redmen, and much more that need not be recapitulated; but, after all, the feature which arouses the enthusiasm of the spectators is the temporary centaur, the horseman combination seen in each of those rough riders when in action. Without horses the show would be tame and spiritless, with them it stirs the blood as no other spectacle could short of a battle, a shipwreck or an earthquake. When band after band of vaqueros, guachos, cowboys and Indians, galloping swiftly, with wild yells, fluttering drapery and waving lariats, are followed by ponderous German cuirassiers, dashing French cavalrymen, impetuous Cossacks, handsome "Royal Irish Lancers" of England, mysterious Arab horsemen and American cavalry, all in succession, charging up the field, wheeling with characteristic salutes, and retreating at full speed—the thundering of horses' hoofs, the snorting of the animals, the dull roar of the moving mass, the flaunting of the pennons and plumes of the riders and the flashing of sabres, send through the spectators a thrill of vital sympathy with the electric energy, magnificent force, and grace of the army of centaurs. Men and women rise in their seats, shouting, applauding, waving hats and handkerchiefs in their excitement.


With Buffalo Bill.


MILLIONS of people in both hemispheres have seen Colonel William Frederic Cody ("Buffalo Bill") in his "Wild West" arena at the head of his congressional delegations of rough-and-tough riders of the world, but it is not given to everybody to visit the Wild West—the actual, untamed West—in the company of that genial citizen. I have enjoyed that privilege. Seen in the arena, a cavalier in buckskins and a centaur in outline, Colonel Cody has something of the air of a showman. Seen on his native heath, among the people who have known him for years, surrounded by old plainsmen, trappers, soldiers, ex-scouts, ex-pony express riders, cow punchers and stage drivers, he is seen at his true worth and in his true light. There is no pinchbeck in "Buffalo Bill's" composition. Universal respect is where he is best known. It is not easy to fool the children of the prairies and the great canyons of the West as to manly attributes. And when they tell you, from personal knowledge, stories of the hunting prowess, the scouting sagacity and the fighting capacity of "Buffalo Bill" you realize that the man whom you have seen galloping, shooting and lassooing around the arena at Ambrose Park is genuine metal. It does not need the splendid testimonials from Generals Sherman, Sheridan, Miles, Hancock, Terry, Crook, Ord, Fry and other officers of the army—wherewith the home of the scout is decorated—bearing upon service faithfully and even heroically performed, to establish this man's status. For what are these compared with the recitals of the grizzled old scaphoid of the plains, who tells you, "I've knowed 'Bill' nigh on forty year." Brave, generous, kind-hearted and confiding, he is indeed a "Prince of the Prairie."

Colonel Cody is a product of Iowa, though he was early transplanted to Kansas, where his father was distinguished as an ardent abolitionist. It was in that fierce school that he was reared, but as a youth he blossomed in Nebraska as "bullwhacker" in the great transportation trains moving westward and driver for Ben Holliday on the Overland Stage line. Early in the war he had served under General Curtis as chief of scouts, with headquarters in St. Louis. * * * * * * During the war he served in Jennison's Jayhawker Cavalry.


It was in 1866 that the hunter and scout met General Sherman, and likewise the gentle flood which at turning tide led on to fortune. The General was moving with a body of troops to Medicine Lodge, where an Indian treaty was to be made. Young "Buffalo Bill" was an assistant scout with the detachment, and finding one day that the chief scout was leading the troops far out of the way he so expressed himself. His words were carried to Sherman, and the testy General sent for him. On being convinced that young Cody knew his business the General placed him in charge, and was led direct to the destination, much to the chagrin of the "Chief of Scouts." That was the making of Bison Wilhelm. From that time on he varied army scouting and messenger service with contract hunting for the builders of the Union Pacific and Kansas Pacific railways, and there was very little Indian fighting that he did not take a hand in. It was in 1868 that he met General Sheridan and served under him—the beginning of a close personal friendship which continued until the General's death. To-day "Buffalo Bill's" ideal soldier is General Nelson A. Miles. He regards him as the reincarnation of Napoleon, and is intensely proud of his friendship.

Perhaps somebody may doubt the right of "Buffalo Bill" to the title of Colonel. If so, the records will show that for years he has served on the staff of each successive Governor of Nebraska as an aide, with the rank of Colonel. Furthermore, he has a commission as brigadier-general of the National Guard of the State. A few years ago, when there was more or less ghost dancing on the part of the aborigines, the Nebraska militia was mobilized, and Bill took the field resplendent in uniform.

In my schoolboy days there was a vast amount of "Great American Desert" on that part of the map lying west of the Missouri River. There is a good deal to-day. Right in what was almost the center of the then known desert, between the Platte rivers, is the spot that entranced the youthful herdsman William F. Cody. He vowed that if fortune ever grinned his way he would have a ranch in that vicinity. And he has it to-day—over four thousand acres of as beautiful prairie as ever a gopher barked over. In the latter part of October I accompanied, by invitation, Colonel Cody to his home. North Platte is his town, and North Platte has a population of 2,500 souls. The Union Pacific Railway shops at that point pay out $30,000 per month. [drawing] COL. J. A. COCKERILL, EX-PRES'T N. Y. PRESS CLUB. The town should be called Codyville, for the beneficence of the great Wild Westerner rests upon its lintels. There is the "Cody Guards," a fine military organization; the "Buffalo Bill" Hook and Ladder Company, the "Wild West" Hooks, the Buffalo Bill Cemetery—a gift to the town; the Buffalo Bill Fair Ground, also a donation; and a silver-horned band, uniformed by Colonel Cody, which surpasses in gorgeousness anything ever seen outside the Cent Garde. All for the honor and glory of North Platte!


It was near midnight when our train reached North Platte. The coming of the Colonel had been heralded. As our train pulled up a volley was fired by the Cody Guards, drawn up in the station square, and timid old ladies in the Pullman cars, fearing that we were being held up by train robbers, manifested a disposition to slink under the bunks. As the gallant Colonel stepped upon the platform to receive the plaudits of hundreds of his vociferous citizens another salute was fired, and then the band played. As for the music, it was as broad and as generous as the bosom of the prairie which absorbed it. As for the hero of the hour, he was as modest as a sophomore, though one of the citizens assured me that this was his ordinary home-coming.

These North Platters love the man who has done so much for them, and who has carried the name of their town to the foot of thrones and the altars of cathedrals in the Old World. Colonel Bill, as he is familiarly called by his townsmen, returned thanks in a few words, and then across the street there were tappings of beer, the hewing of crackers and cheese and the burning of cigars. If anybody in that receptionary crowd went home dry or hungry or unnarcotized, it was because he fell down early and was trampled under foot in the rush.


Here in this North Platte home Colonel Cody keeps his mementos, his medals and his trophies of a wondrous life. The gifts of Queen Victoria, King Humbert, Emperor Francis Joseph, the crazy King of Bavaria, princes without end, and the written testimonials of his military chieftains take equal rank with tomes of flattering newspaper notices. Here the latch-string is always exposed, and here the Colonel with tell you, if urged, of his captures and escapes, of his hunting expeditions with Duke Alexis, English noblemen, "Larry" Jerome, Jas. Gordon Bennett, Earl Dunraven and other distinguished sportsmen.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Colonel Cody's "Scouts' Rest Ranch," where the Stars and Stripes float every day in the year, lies to the northwest of the town.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was no trouble to hook up a good team there, and between us we had some fine four-in-hand driving. Many a jolly gallop we had across the sunlit prairies to the old-time Western stage driver's refrain of :—

Pound 'em on the back, let the leaders go,
Never mind the weather so the wind don't blow.

Of course everybody knows that as a reinsman the ci-devant stage driver, "Buffalo Bill," is facile princeps, but it is as a whip that I admire him. He is the only man that I ever saw who can sit on a coach box and hit all four of his horses with one motion. No trout fisher ever cast a fly as gracefully as Colonel Cody can toss the beeswax into a refractory off-leader.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As I write these lines, in a cosy modern hotel, resting on the bosom of the Rockies—an opalescent pool of healing water at my feet, and the warm December sun streaming over the brown mountain tops—the thought occurs to me that in my lifetime the buffalo of the country have been reduced from 50,000,000 to a few menagerie herds; hundreds of Indian nations have been exterminated, and the big game of the West is rapidly disappearing. The day of the scout, the Indian fighter, the buffalo slayer is ended, and in big, generous-hearted "Bill" Cody we have seen, perhaps, the last of these superb types of fearless manhood that once filled the wild West with romance of heroism.

Col. W. F. Cody (Buffalo Bill) and The London Workingmen's Association.

On Saturday evening, October 1, 1892, a Conference of Delegates from the various branches of the London Workingmen's Association was held at the "Wild West," when an illuminated address was presented to Col. W. F. Cody.

The Chair was occupied by Mr. George Potter, President of the Association, who was supported by Mr. Fred Whetstone, Vice-President, Mr. F. Wigington, Treasurer, Mr. Robert Wilson, Secretary, and there was a large attendance.

Col. Cody was accompanied by Major John M. Burke and Mr. Nate Salisbury.

Mr. George Potter, in presenting the Address, which congratulated Buffalo Bill on the splendor of his show, its value from an educational standpoint, and the success which had attended his visit, now fast drawing to a close, said that those whom he represented admired the Colonel's pluck and appreciated his indomitable courage. He had taught us a lesson which would not be forgotten, and "Buffalo Bill" would ever be a household word with us. (Loud cheers.) Mr. Potter and those with him expressed the hope that after Buffalo Bill had visited the World's Fair at Chicago and settled down in his own country, to dwell among his own people, he would enjoy the remainder of his life in contentment, prosperity, and peace. (Loud cheers.)

Mr. Potter then read the following Address:—


Sir—The members of the London Workingmen's Association, representing large bodies of workingmen, have a friendly word to say at a time when your visit to this country is fast drawing to a close.

They desire to approach you in a spirit of congratulation, and to place on record their thorough appreciation of the enterprise and ability displayed by you in the conception and creation of the brilliant realistic spectacle known as the "Wild West," fully realizing its magnitude, and its value from an educational standpoint as a vivid picture of past life on the American frontier.

To those whose domestic cares and necessities prevent them enjoying the luxury of travel, and its acknowledged advantages in forming proper ideas of foreign peoples and strange races, your enterprise has brought not only entertainment for the moment, but has enabled thousand to enjoy more fully the books, histories, paintings, and sculpture that come under their observation This alone is something of future value to every nation you have visited (among all classes), as well as the fraternal feeling of the general brotherhood of man that your introduction of national and racial differences in one body for mutual instruction produces.

Neither the costly outlay through which these results have been effected, by the difficulties of presenting the best specimens of these primitive peoples, nor the talent displayed by the performers, could have secured the enormous audiences, had not careful attention been paid to fidelity of depiction, the mastery of detail, and ample provision for the comfort of the public.

That the marked success of the undertaking is in a large measure due to your own personal supervision affords an additional ground for offering our meed of congratulation to you as a workingman.

With this we couple our sincere hope that upon your future retirement you may find, in well-earned repose, no reason to regret your visit to England—of 1887 and 1892—and you may rest assured you carry with you the good wishes of the millions whom you have so liberally entertained.

We are, on behalf of the Association,


FRED. WHETSTONE, Vice-President.

F. WIGINGTON, Treasurer.


American Wild West Exhibition—First Meeting for International Arbitration.

The American Exhibition, which has attracted all the town to West Bromptom for the last few months, was brought yesterday to an appropriate and dignified close. A meeting of representative Englishmen and Americans was held, under the presidency of Lord Lorne, in support of the movement for establishing a Court of Arbitration for the settlement of disputes between this country and the United States. At first sight it might seem to be a far cry from the Wild West to an International Court. Yet the connection is not really very remote. Exhibitions of American products and scenes from the wilder phases of American life certainly tend in some degree at least to bring America nearer to England. They are partly cause and partly effect. They are the effect of increased and increasing intercourse between the two countries, and they tend to promote a still more intimate understanding. The two things, the Exhibition and the Wild West Show, supplemented each other. Those who went to be amused often staid to be instructed. The Wild West was irresistible. Colonel Cody suddenly found himself the hero of the London season. Notwithstanding his daily engagements and his punctual fulfillment of them, he found time to go everywhere, to see everything, and to be seen by all the world. All London contributed to his triumph, and now the close of his show is selected as the occasion for promoting a great international movement with Mr. Bright, Mr. Gladstone, Lord Granville, Lord Wolseley and Lord Lorne for its sponsors. Civilization itself consents to march onward in the train of Buffalo Bill. Colonel Cody can achieve no greater triumph than this, even if he some day realizes the design attributed to him of running the Wild West Show within the classic precincts of the Colosseum at Rome.

This association of the cause of international arbitration with the fortunes of the American Wild West is not without its grotesque aspects. But it has a serious import, nevertheless. After all, the Americans and the English are one stock. Nothing that is American comes altogether amiss to an Englishman. We are apt to think that American life is not picturesque. We have been shown one of its most picturesque aspects. It is true that "Red Shirt" would be as unusual a phenomenon in Broadway as in Cheapside. But the Wild West for all that is racy of the American soil. We can easily imagine Wall Street for ourselves; we need to be shown the Cow-boys of Colorado. Hence it is no paradox to say that Colonel Cody has done his part in bringing America and England nearer together.

A Day With the Wild West.


WHEN General Sherman, that grim old warrior whose name will always recall "from Atlanta to the Sea," first saw Buffalo Bill's Wild West, he turned to his old scout with tears in his eyes.

"Billy," he said, with that affection which the old soldier displayed toward "my boys," "for my children and grandchildren who can never see these things as we saw them I thank you."

The Wild West was then only a handful of men.

A little army is encamped on the shores of New-York's Bay. It lives under canvas, like soldiers in the field. The white tents stretch out in perfect alignment over a green plain, as if in the rolling West. Soldiers in uniform stalk along the little lanes between the canvas walls. A guard stands to challenge a man who goes the wrong way, and troopers stretched at full length in their tents look around with a lazy indifference to what does not concern them. There is a military air everywhere in the camp. The notes of a bugle float over the plain in the morning, and at evening they sound again. For all that appearances count, here is an armed body of men resting for a day, to take up their march perhaps to-morrow.

That is the Wild West of to-day, encamped on the many acres of Ambrose Park, at South Brooklyn. There are 700 men within its lines—and such a mingling of men! The German soldier dreaming of the Rhine sleeps in a tent that is neighbor to one whose occupants sing the "Marseillaise," Cossacks, the daring riders of the Russian steppes, are here, and soldiers from the Royal Irish Lancers sweep along with men of Custer's own 7th Cavalry. There are Mexicans, South Americans, cowboys, Arabs, and mingling with all there is the red man from the West.

It is safe to say that not many people who go to see a performance of the Wild West recognize how much they are seeing or appreciate how dramatic and tragic a part some of these cowboys, Indians and soldiers have taken in Western history. If you look to your left as the crowd is pouring through the gates, just before the performance begins, you will see a soldier in the uniform of the 7th Cavalry of the United States—Bugler Connelly. He stands before a tent in a military attitude, his right hand holding a shining bugle, his yellow plume waving gently in the breeze. He is waiting for a signal from another tent opposite him, where Colonel Cody has his headquarters. The scout of a dozen famous generals comes forth from his tent across the road accompanied by Sergt. Lear, and the soldier, erect and straight, of handsome face, with bronzed complexion, blue eyes and fair mustache, makes a military salute. Colonel Cody lifts his hand, the bugler places the mouthpiece of his glittering instrument to his lips, and a ringing call sounds through the camp that makes your blood tingle, and brings forth from a score of tepees Indians in their war-paint and feathers, and from the long lows of tents soldiers wearing the colors and tokens of the greatest powers of the world, to hurry away to the rear of the big arena, there to mount and ride out at a gallop before the spectators.


On a cold day of December four years ago this same bugler's horse stood on a slope with troops massed behind him. The cavalryman was erect and attentive in his saddle, his bugle in his hand. At a signal he raised it to his lips, calmly as you just saw him raise it, and sounded the charge of the 7th Cavalry at the Battle of Wounded Knee Creek.

Some of those Indians who just trooped forth from their dingy tepees were in that same campaign, and the "boys in blue" whom you just saw going to the stables with their clanking swords were there, too. So was Colonel Cody, with the State troops of Nebraska, of which he is a Brigadier-General. And to-day as you see them swarming at the lower end of the camp, they are dressed and equipped just as they were in the Bad Lands.

You can't have 700 men in a camp doing rough riding, making daring leaps on horseback, bold cavalry charges and lightning-like maneuvers, without having bad falls, twisted joints, strained tendons and now and then a broken limb. You want to examine the hospital tent, the matron's tent, the repair shops, the barber shop, the postoffice and Major Burke's odd-looking Pine Ridge log cabin; but the signal out in the grounds among the white-sided tents has been given, the cavalryman has raised his bugle to his lips, and its notes float away back to you, wavering on the air. The show is about to begin.


You have seen them all getting ready by this time. The Indian warriors have oiled their bodies until they glisten in the sunlight. The paint has been daubed on, in streaks, on legs, arms and upper body, and in a solid mass on cheek and forehead. Their hair, free and flowing, has been rubbed to a glossy shimmer. Eagle feathers are in the raven locks, and glittering baubles on brown wrists. Only a pony is wanting, and the red man is in his glory.

If you go to the Wild West, walk directly down the broad way, enter the grand-stand and wait for the show to begin, you will applaud the Indians as they come racing out, band after band, on their ponies. For the Irish lancers, bold and dashing, handkerchiefs wave and hands clap. The heavier-looking German cuirassiers, with their cream-white uniform, brilliant breast-plates and shining helmets and crests, move you to a deeper feeling than can be expressed with bits of lace or linen, and you stamp your feet. The Cossacks, riding like mad, whipping wildly, leaning far over, swinging and swaying, make you cry out with enthusiasm. You clap for the Mexicans, laugh at the squaws, greet the South Americans generously, and begin to yell when those reckless, devil-may-care cowboys come dashing like mad down the plain, circling at the end, as all the others have done, as swiftly as the curved flight of a bird, sweeping around and back of the others now formed in long ranks across the arena, and coming to a halt in perfect alignment. When the 7th enters the arena, away back there, with yellow plumes streaming out behind them and sword-blades glittering aloft, and comes rushing down toward you—well, that is the old 7th—Custer's 7th—the cavalry that has always had the brunt of the fighting when there has been fighting to do, and that is the same old flag, the stars and stripes, whipping splendidly in the air as the color-bearer's galloping horse dashes along, and the spectators clap their hands, stamp their feet, wave handkerchiefs frantically, cry out loudly, and cheer, for the troopers and the colors are their own.

The soldiers are in their cavalry boots and crested or plumed helmets. Their chests fill their braided jackets, and their hands are gloved with gauntlets. Their swords rattle in their scabbards, and spurs jingle, as they troop back from their quarters, all mixed together, red man and white man, European and American, Arab and Mexican, Cossack and Gaucho—and every one of them, like Richard, looking for a horse.

Back of the scenery, where no one in the grandstand can see it, is a little tower. It has a narrow window, and from it one can see every inch of the plain. Up here sits Buffalo Bill. He glances over the plain and then at the army beneath his tower. They are all horsemen now; Indians, commanded each band by a chief; cowboys, headed by their leader, a strapping, dark-faced, handsome fellow, and each troop of cavalrymen by a sergeant. Colors are waving, swords are drawn, and sharp commands and ringing out—in French where the tricolor waves, in German where the Emperor's flag shows, over gleaming helmets and shining breast-plates. The Indian's cries are high-pitched and shrill, but where the Irish lancers sit under Great Britain's standard and where the Stars and Stripes float the English commands are clear and sharp.


The riders keep their restless horses reined up, each nationality in rank or groups. Before them is an ascent, then a descent, and then a wall of scenery where the gate is. From the tower the signal is given and the gate swings back. A dark-skinned, almost naked, group moves swiftly out from the heterogeneous mass, horses at a trot. With a shrill cry a band of Indian horsemen appear over the ascent. Straight and swift, like a feathered arrow, the group shoots into the open, taking its flight down the plain to where the applause is swelling. With a swoop it curves at the end, spreads like an opening fan, circles and is stretched across the plain, motionless. Another band follows, this followed by another and still another, crying shrilly, singing in thin voices or chanting mournfully. Behind them, with a splendid sweep, ride the Irish Lancers by fours, leaning far over in their saddles as they turn at the end, and still with galloping horses they fall in behind the Indians. With that swift rush there come on wild Cossacks, the whooping cowboys; the Arabs, with their streaming draperies; the Mexicans, with wide sombrero and flapping trousers; the heavier Germans; the gallant Frenchmen, and then the horsemen of the 7th, with their yellow braid and plumes, the Stars and Stripes with them. By fours and sixes they have made that rapid flight along the plain, coming around in wheeling alignment at the turn, and circling like a moving wave of color until the ranks rest, one behind the other. Behind them all rides Buffalo Bill, bowing as his horse gallops with long and even stride, his long curls waving in the breeze, his hat held above his head.

It is a splendid picture then—rank after rank of horsemen from all the nations stretching across the plain, shining with steel and aflame with color; tossing manes, running along the lines like wheat moving under a breeze; above them the plumes and the bright crests, and still higher, held in upstretched arms, the white flashing sabres, until at a signal the ranks melt into moving streams of color and light, the horsemen threading their way in and out past one another, circling, halting, advancing, receding, reforming by fours and sixes, trailing out in single file, moving ribbons of men and horses spangled with gleaming metal, until two long lines gallop away evenly and steadily and disappear whence they came.

* * * * * * * * * * *


You enjoy the dash, the fire and the glitter of it all. You are immensely pleased with yourself because your patriotism has thrilled you so and your blood has leaped in your veins. The splendor of the show, the skill of the riders, the swiftness and power of the horses, the streaming colors and flashing steel—sword-blade, helmet and breast-plate, the clanking scabbard and jingling, ringing spur—these all intoxicate your brain and inflame in you the martial fire; but there is a great deal more than this. If you go out and see all these people "off the stage," watch them in their tents, at their mess, in the stables, look at them when they mount their horses, see them leap from the saddles and stroke a gleaming, dripping neck—for cavalry charges, whether made in play or in deadly earnest, are an exciting, wearing business—if you see all this, too, and know how it is done, how much effort is expended and how much material needed for the work, you will find a new interest in this little army and will feel a new exhilaration when you see it displaying its power to charm your senses.

If you have the good fortune to know Nate Salsbury, manager of the show; and if that busy man has time to stop talking Sioux to a painted chief Cheyenne to the ancient enemy of the warlike Sioux, German to a cuirassier, French to a bearer of the tricolor, Mexican to a vaquero, and to leave the thousand and one details that belong to a show in which 700 men are employed; and if you are, despite all this, presuming enough to withdraw his attention from so many and so varied affairs, you can spend a whole day at Ambrose Park and then wonder where the time has gone. But you will learn in that time a great deal that you will be glad to know.

While you are at luncheon in the tent back of Col. Cody's you will get your first lesson—and a particularly delightful one. * * * Col. Cody's manner is grave and dignified, but he relates many incidents of great interest with an easy manner. Mr. Salsbury chats in a low, musical voice and knows everything about the big show from the immense grand-stand to a tent top. You can pick up a lot of information by asking a few questions and then you begin to get an idea of the immensity of the show. There are over 1000 people in camp, as has been said; 600 horses are used by them. Over in the tepees—you can see them from the tent, tight-closed and "exclusive" looking—are 100 Indians: Siouxs, Cheyennes, Blackfeet, Pawnees, everything that will fight and scalp when "running wild." The grounds are big enough for a Western metropolis, and if you annex a few pastures, corrals and fields, in the Chicago way, you will have something like the Windy City. For the arena alone, with its grand-stands, there are eight and one-half acres. To cover the stands 135,000 feet of corrugated iron were used. In the grand-stand there are 1,265,000 feet of Georgia pine. That low fence that runs along the roads in the ground contains over 55,000 square feet of 24-gauge steel. It is considerably over a mile long.


It takes a good deal of electric light to illuminate the grounds and the plain at night. The plant which furnishes this light is one of the largest in the world devoted to a single enterprise.

To form anything like an adequate idea of this vast enterprise, and the prodigious extent of every department, would require something more than casual inspection. A full description would fill many columns. Only a well-trained eye can comprehend the immensity of the arena, and only a well-equipped business mind can realize the tremendous amount of detail, discipline and forethought required to victual and care for the vast army mustered under the banner of the great Wild West Exhibition, and what it is costing the management to present these living pictures of Western and International history, which vividly exemplify the vast enterprises that gave added fame to the Victorian Era as the grand finale of the long line of Anglo-Saxon conquests, and form the apotheosis of the triumph of civilization on the American Continent.

* * * * * * * * *

But this was but half the picture—civilization on horse has been added. * * * The multitude broke out with honest enthusiasm. Last of all came Buffalo Bill himself—the same statuesque Bill, the centaur of the party—the rest rode their horses; he was part of his. Nobody could tell where Buffalo ended and horse began. He had to gallop through half a mile of plaudits; he did it looking not unlike that historic fellow in the middle of Union Square—Washington. Somebody said he reminded him of Harry of Navarre on a horse. I think it very likely; but why not Tancred, who rode a bucking filly in the valley of Jehosaphat? But when you get all through with the rough riders of the world, Buffalo Bill will give you a lesson or two that goes back to GREEK STATUARY, AND COMES FORWARD TO YANKEE BLOOD.

* * * * * *




THE prairie! The endless stretch of rolling verdure-clad plains, bounded only by the horizon, its tall herbage rippling like seawaves in soft gushes of light, exhilarating air. The one place on earth where a man can put his shoulders back, fill himself up with oxygen, and feel like a lord of creation indeed. The mere mention of the word is enough to bring fire into the eyes of a man from the West, and set his blood leaping through his veins with the old-fashioned "buck fever." Yet the tide of inevitable change is sweeping steadily over the wilderness. The buffaloes and the Indians have gone, and the cattle and the cowboys have taken their places; while from every inhabited center the wire fences are stretching their gaunt arms over the face of Mother Earth until, as I heard old John Nelson say not long ago, "A man can hardly get a twenty-five mile ride after dark now without running into somebody's invisible goldarned contraptions." There's many a great cattle owner spends as much upon posts and spiked wires nowadays as would build a moderate size town of houses. Buffalo Bill has from sixty to seventy miles of them encircling his ranche at North Platte, Nebraska; and I reckon Bill isn't any sort of a leviathan landowner, anyhow, compared to the cattle kings out yonder. But the State law says that no man shall allow his beasts to injure his neighbor's property, and the wire fence is just the simplest way to keep them from straying.

The incidents of my little Nebraska idyll occurred some four years ago, before the first post had been driven outside of the flourishing town of North Platte, or the first length of barbed wire had been stretched between ranche and ranche. The scene of it was within a few miles of Colonel Cody's frame house, which a glance at the Wild West book will show you is one of the prettiest and most tempting little residences in the States, with horse-ranche, barns, stables, and corrals around it. It began with the lighting of a lovematch, and the crisis of it came to us amidst flames and terror, and the shadow of widespread ruin, but it ended in smoke, and a marriage and happiness ever afterwards, quite in the orthodox fashion of the story-books. I say it came to "us," because Buffalo Bill and yours truly, Jule Keen, and John Nelson—in fact, the whole nucleus of the Wild West were gathered at Bill's mansion just before starting on a trip to the Eastern cities.

All through summer that year I had been keeping account of a nice little game of cross-purposes that was proceeding in the next ranche to Bill's.


was the owner—a hard shell, tight-fisted character, who had been horse-breeding and cattle raising on the same ground years before lots on the North Platte were worth ten dollars an acre. A wiry, hard-headed heathen he was, who once tried to kill a fellow for saying that a Nebraska man's breakfast consisted of two cocktails and a chew of tobacco. Jack allowed that no Nebraska man would be satisfied with less than six cocktails, and he was ready to give his life for that sacred principle. He had no end of horned cattle and considerable horseflesh at the time I speak of, and on the list of his chattels, as he told them off on his fingers' ends, he would always wind up with "my gal Annie."

"My gal Annie"—Old Jack's wife was long since dead—was his only daughter, his housekeeper, lady-help, dairy-maid-in-chief, sole heiress to all his possessions, and most willing, loving slave and drudge. She had a great deal to put up with from the old man, but like the rest of woman-kind, the more he ill-used her, and the stingier he showed himself, the more she doted on him.

Annie was pretty, with the fresh buxom beauty that comes of a hard-working life in the fresh air. Her hands and feet were perhaps, rather large from the city-bred glover and hosier's point of view, but the first kind of tradesman she troubled seldom, and the second not at all; for she knitted all her own stockings, and, indeed, had been brought up to make her own clothing generally. Old Jack despising feminine fal-the-rals and store clothes with a lofty scorn derived from a long intercourse with the works of Nature, in the shape of cows and such-like creatures, who grew their own coats as a general rule. Yet "my gal Annie" was beautiful, strong-limbed, tall, and shapely, as became the typical prairie wild-flower; and Annie knew it.


Another person who was thoroughly, terribly aware of the fact was young Si Peters, also a wild young sprig of the wilderness, who had been "raised" on Old Jack's ranche, and had spent all of his life that was bounded by the ages of eleven and twenty-two in the service of the old man, a bold rider, a clever cattle-hand, an adept with the lasso—in fact, possessing all the virtues of the born cow-boy, with, perhaps, a few of his faults. A handsome young fellow, six feet in his boots, promoted of late to the overseership of the ranche, and possessed of the clothes he stood upright in, two horses, and the reversion of his month's pay, when it should become due. Not much of a suitor for a girl who would inherit as much land as you could look over with a pair of field-glasses, and I don't know how many thousand head of stock; yet "my gal Annie" beneath a thick upper crust of coquetry, was generally believed to keep a warm corner of her heart for him.

The old man took no notice of the little drama that was being enacted under his eyes; indeed had never seemed to be aware that his daughter was of marriageable age. Courtship of any kind to him was mere foolishness; he might have been guilty of some such thing in his younger days, but he had long outgrown it, and the rest of the world ought to have done the same. Such, at least, was the general opinion of his views in North Platte; and great, therefore, was the surprise of the whole neighborhood when he gave "my gal Annie," and incidentally the whole of his friends and acquaintances to understand that


for her. "The young feller" hailed from Chicago; his parents, wealthy pork-packers, were about to set him up as a cattle grower in our district, and, amongst other live stock, he intended to acquire a useful wife. Annie received with the information a roll of twenty-dollar bills, and orders to drive into town and smarten up a bit, as "the young feller" was coming over at once to spend a month on the ranche, pick up the business, and select his wife and certain other cattle from old Jack's possessions.

Annie "smartened up" accordingly, and in the fulness of time "the young feller" came, saw, and—didn't conquer. Not much. He was passible-looking, but of a dark and sinister aspect, and his city ways were not such as to make an impression on the prairie maiden. Not that he was a "softy"—he could ride, box, and shoot passably, and wasn't at all the sort of character for the cow fraternity to make a butt of. Annie, however, took no sort of stock in him. His free-and-easy attentions and man-in-possession sort of bearing seemed to rile her beyond endurance. She treated him with considerable cold shoulder, and surprised the heretofore unhappy Si Peters by a sudden change from the teasing mood to which he had been accustomed to demonstrations of hearty, honest affection. They were betrothed sweethearts now, and the spooning that went on upon every possible occasion, while the cock-sure Davis sat glowering at them, would have warned everybody but a cold-blooded, heartless galloot off the premises in double-quick time. Not so the young pork-packer, however. He was solid with Old Jack, and presently invoked the aid of that crusty potentate to further his unpromising wooing.

Old Jack's method was rough and ready. A month's notice to his overseer, a promise of a cow-hiding to the "gal" if she didn't immediately come to her senses, and a threat that he would fill the ineligible Si Peters chockful of buckshot if he were found monkeying around his daughter during the remainder of his term, seemed to his wisdom an infallible specific for their love-sickness. Young Peters pottered about his work in mental sackcloth and ashes, and "my gal Annie," her eyes red with crying, went slip-shod and down-at-heel, and did her level best to make Chicago's life a burden to him. So matters stood one lovely evening in the fall, when I had ridden over to purchase a few ponies wherewith to complete our outfit. I got into town into the twilight, irrigated at Tucker's saloon, and sat talking over "my gal Annie's" troubles with a dozen or two of the boys. It was the topic of the day, and the heart of North Platte went out to the two young lovers, you bet.

There must have been over a hundred horses and teams within a square of Tucker's, some tied, some browsing around according to local custom. Suddenly Buck Taylor uncoiled his six foot three of muscle off a table whence he had been gazing out of a window, and shouted:—

"Look at that fellow coming! Wonder what's behind him?

Slithering over the prairie like a streak of lightning was Buffalo Bill's best racer, "Kite," who had a record of 1.43. On he dashed, the crowd growing more puzzled, till we made out little John Nelson on his back, without saddle or bridle, only just the halter rope, and presently he flew past unable to stop him, and shouted to Buffalo Bill, who stood at the doorway:

"Fire! Pop says prairie! whoa, boy, whoa, boy!"

While the little half-breed was curbing his steed, the crowd turned out and hastily scanned the horizon with blanched cheeks. Sure enough there, beyond Cody's ranch, was


so fearfully well known to the old hands, and horror of horrors, the wind was dead on the town! "Kite" circled round with the foam on neck and sides, and his young rider yelled out his appalling message again.

"Pop, says the prairie fire—to come—be pretty d—n quick, or there'll be hell!"

Next instant the crowd were scrambling into buggies, catching horses, seizing blankets, overcoats, and rugs from the stores, together with matches, ropes, kegs of kerosene,—anything to assist in the struggle with the flames. If Buffalo Bill's ranches were burned the town must go, for they were all that separated the open prairie from the wood-built city. The Colonel naturally took command, and his first inquiry was—

"Where are the ploughs?"

"Out on the ranche," says the youngster.

"Right," says Bill—never a man of many words, and in a twinkle he was mounted on Old Charlie, and off like a flash, followed helter-skelter by the whole crowd in the direction of the thick, black smoke that was rolling up in the East and increasing in volume every instant. "My God!" says somebody; "Old Jack Moulton's is doomed!" But there was no time to discuss that question. It was no slouch of a scare, [drawing] that. You know what a fire is in a brick-built city; but judge what a hurricane of destruction comes when the thick, tall, dry grass of the prairies gets aflame, and there are no barriers to stop the march of the roaring devil that sweeps on with tongue of fire ten miles wide, and seems to revel in the havoc it is making. The Great Scott, it makes my hair stand on end now to think of it!

About two miles out on the ranche we were met by scores and hundreds of frightened cattle, horses and mules—Moulton's and Cody's mixed—rushing on in maddened terror to escape. Cody hastily ordered some of his men to head them off so that they would cross the railroad track, behind which we kept a strip of land ready burned off in anticipation of some such event, and then off we plunged again.

About half a mile beyond the homestead, Major North, Broncho Bill and the ranchmen had already started six big ploughs—four and six horses to a plough, a man on the leaders, another to handle the whip alongside, and two men taking turns at the handles making a "fire break," or ploughed strip of land to the river bank. Other teams with water barrels were streaming along; and presently, dashing here and there, giving orders and dispatching couriers, rode Buffalo Bill, whose arrival was the signal for wild shouts of applause. The little army knew that his experience would tell him what best to do. Dipping long ropes in kerosene and lighting them, dozens of us rode alongside the furrow nearest the approaching danger, firing the grass close to the ploughed ground. A burning line to the river was soon slowly crackling against the wind, while, with wet blankets, ran here and there, men whipping out any stray sparks that crossed the border or fell from the air, which had now become almost stifling hot, the fine ashes which were falling making it look grey, as if it snowed. Faster approached the great


It did not sweep along as the "back fire" did, but jumped a hundred yards at a time, hissing, rumbling, crackling, as if it was snapping up a forest of young timber. A grand sight and a fearful one; though we'd not much time to look at it. We just put in five years' work in one hour, I reckon, and some of us—old John Nelson especially—fought it so close that we had beard and eyebrows singed.

And now, not half a mile in front of the great flame-burst came tearing in a large party of half-distracted men and women on horseback, plying whip and spur for dear life. They plunged in amongst our working party like a charge of cavalry, scattering us right and left. An then as they recognized that they were safe, the scene was almost indescribable. To see those rough cowboys slip from their saddles, some from bare-backed horses, and to hear them almost scream their thanksgiving to Heaven and Bill Cody, was a thing not to be forgotten in a hurry. It was Moulton and his people. In a second Old Jack was shaking hands with Cody and every mother's son within reach, and so was young Davis from Chicago, who had headed the procession on a powerful black mare. Suddenly the old man clapped his hand to his forehead, and turned round with a face white as death to where the flames were billowing up to the east of us, and cried out, "Whar's my gal Annie? Who's got her?"

There was a dead silence. "My gal Annie" was missing, and we gazed at each other with horrified faces. Then Old Jack turned to Chicago, with lightning in his eyes:

"She stood beside you as you mounted, you cur! Why did you leave her?"

The youngster muttered something about having no time, but, almost before he had opened his mouth, the old man had cut him down senseless with the butt of the heavy whip he carried. Next moment he sprang to his saddle, and would have forced the trembling horse back towards the approaching flames, but the iron hand of Buffalo Bill had gripped the bridle.

"Moulton," said he, "it's awful; but I can't let you commit suicide!"

All this had passed in a few seconds, and our boys were still working away for dear life all along the [drawing] "fire break." In the meantime the snorting, frightened horses, who had been turned loose, their masters being at work on foot, had dashed off for the ranche, with old Charlie at their head and a couple of cowboys at their tails. The back-fire slowly worked to windward, and when it reached a distance of about a quarter of a mile it seemed, all at once, to be swallowed up by a billow of flame, which, as it struck the saving shore, leaped a hundred feet into the air and turned to clouds of blackest smoke.

Then arose a mighty shout from the river bank, as a roan horse, bearing a double burden, seemed to leap from out of the final pillar of fire and sparks and smoke, and stumbled panting into our midst. The gallant creature fell at Cody's feet, and with a gasping sob gave up his life. His heart had burst in that last wild effort. He carried a man and a woman—young Si, and "my gal Annie." Si's hat and shirt were on fire but the girl, though gasping in the extremity of terror, was unscathed. Ready hands quickly extinguished the lad's smoldering garments. It was a near thing for him, though, for his log flaxen hair had been burned to the scalp, and there were blisters on his back.

Then old man Moulton came out of his shell surprisingly. With tears of joy streaming down his withered cheeks he seized the young fellow's hands, and said, "I reckon you've about airned that gal Annie, and you can take her, my son, for your own as soon as you like."

We watched the fire slowly burn down to the river's edge and expire. The ranche and the town were safe, and so was the Wild West outfit. I had seen one of the most awful sights that it ever falls to the lot of man to witness, and next day we all convivialized over one of the pleasantest. A happy wedding, that was—Si Peters, with a sore back, and his father-in-law's blessing, and twenty thousand dollars in his pocket, married the prettiest girl around North Platte, and I reckon we had a high old time. Young Chicago was absent, but nobody seemed to miss him much. We do our hitching expeditiously in Nebraska; no publishing bans and all that; for we are a business people out there, and don't you forget it.

















TOUR OF 1895.




COL. W. F. CODY, - - - - - "BUFFALO BILL."


Having eclipsed in the interim the greatest records of all Historic Conquering Tours—either Royal, Martial or Civic,

By a Triumphant March, Across Two Continents, From the Missouri to the Danube, From the Adriatic to the Baltic,

From the Mediterranean to the North Atlantic, From the Rockies o'er the Alps, From the Western Lakes to the North Sea, From the Geysers to Vesuvius,

Educating the Chroniclers of History, Inspiring the Sculptor and Painter,

Captivating Two Worlds, Camping in Every Clime, Thrilling Every Capital, Capturing Every Metropolis,

Enthusing the World's Art Centres, Visiting Every Commercial Mart, Startling the Lovers of Realism, Pleasing the Students of Nature,

Edifying the Ethnologist and Anthropologist, Interesting the Savant and Etymologist.

Challenging the World for Picturesque Grandeur!

Proving an Unequalled Equestrian Marvel—Entertaining Through Instructive Merit—Excelling in Faithful Fidelity to Facts—Promoting the Amity of Nations—Cementing the Brotherhood of Man—Carrying Old Glory Across Oceans and Countries—Gaining Eulogisms and Plaudits from PRESIDENTS, EMPERORS, CZAR, SHAH, QUEENS, KINGS, POPE, PRINCES, PRESS, PULPIT and PEOPLE—carving a name and fame for Daring Enterprise, Colossal Magnitude and Intrinsic Worth that will achieve record in the Archives of National Histories, CHALLENGING FUTURE GENERATIONS TO EQUAL for Reason, Purpose, Mission and Execution. Returning to our home as AN HISTORIC ANNEX TO THE COLUMBIAN WORLD'S FAIR, where the White City and Wild West Tented Camp divided Interest, Opportunity and Honors. The organization's attraction was enhanced, its mission further developed, by the addition of every PRIMITIVE HORSEMAN OF REPUTE, AND CAVALRY OF EACH MILITARY NATION. A Complete Concourse of the Earth's Riders, forming the GREATEST ASSEMBLAGE OF ITS KIND SINCE THE ADVENT OF ADAM, standing to-day


SURVIVING THE WORLD'S FAIR DREAM PICTURE OF PROGRESS AT CHICAGO, 1893, PRESENTED NOW ON SAME COLOSSAL SCALE as at London, Paris, New York, Chicago, Rome, Vienna, Berlin, Brussels, etc. Positively the Largest, Numerically the



100 INDIANS (Sioux, Comanche, Pawnee and Blackfeet)—75 COWBOYS—50 MEXICAN VAQUEROS—25 SOUTH AMERICAN GAUCHOS—25 RIO GRANDE CABALIERO—25 BEDOUIN ARABS—25 MEXICAN RURALE, and others. MOUNTED BATTALIONS, REPRESENTING THE FIVE GREAT ARMIES OF THE WORLD: A TROOP OF CAVALRY, U.S.A.—A TROOP OF ROYAL IRISH LANCERS, ENGLAND (Prince of Wales Regiment)—A TROOP OF GARDE CUIRASSIERS (of His Majesty, King Wilhelm II.)—A TROOP OF FRENCH DRAGOONS (of Republic Francaise)—A TROOP OF RUSSIAN COSSACKS (from the Caucasus), in a Grand Military Tournament, Illustrating Company, Battalion and Regimental Drill, with Sabre, Lance and Carbine, concluding with a Monster Musical Ride at Full Gallop. An Object Lesson to Every Military Man in America.

Among the Many Features of the Mammoth Exhibition will be FEATS OF MARKSMANSHIP, introducing BUFFALO BILL, who will Appear at Each Performance, also give his Marvelous Exhibition of SHOOTING FROM HORSEBACK AT FULL SPEED—The Peerless Miss ANNIE OAKLEY, Premier Lady Shot of the World—JOHNNIE BAKER, "The Cowbow Kid," the Unequaled Expert in Plain and Fancy Shooting.

The Last of the Buffalo—The Only Herd in Existence.

This enormous outfit is transported in Special Railroad Trains, made up of its own Specially Constructed Rolling Stock. The Largest of Traveling Commissary, Dormitory and Equine Accommodations. Complete in every particular and equalling the requirements of the modern methods of moving a Fully Equipped Army in time of War, carrying all the paraphernalia necessary to a COVERED GRAND STAND SEATING 20,000 PERSONS, assuring perfect protection from Sun or Rain, the equipage of a Picturesque Inter-Racial Encampment—in fact MORE MEN, MORE HORSES, MORE CARS than any other two exhibitions, and arranged as to camp close to the City in an easily accessible location. On the first day of arrival there will be given a


By Detailed Detachments from each Division (Wild Horses, Buffalo, Cattle, etc., being necessarily guarded in camp) "So that He who Runs may Read." The March will be enlivened by Three Magnificent Bands of Music led by


At night a Brilliant Electric Display by the Largest Portable Double-electric Plant of 250,000 Candle Power yet constructed for any similar purpose. Two Circuits ensuring a Perfectly Reliable Illumination, Making Night as Light as Day.




General Admission, - - Fifty Cents.

Children Under Nine Years, Half Price.















Courier Co Buff NY


Commissions, Testimonials, etc.

To all whom these presents shall come, Greeting :

Know ye, that I, John M. Thayer, Governor of the State of Nebraska, reposing special trust and confidence in the integrity, patriotism and ability of the Hon. William F. Cody, on behalf and in the name of the State, do hereby appoint and commission him as Aide-de-Camp of my Staff, with the rank of Colonel, and do authorize and empower him to discharge the duties of said office according to law. In testimony whereof I have hereunto subscribed my name and caused to be affixed the [SEAL.] Great Seal of the State.


By the Governor, G. L. LAUR,
Secretary of State.

To all to whom these presents shall come, Greeting:

Know ye, that I, John M. Thayer, Governor of the State of Nebraska, reposing special trust and confidence in the integrity, patriotism and abilities of Colonel William F. Cody, on behalf and in the name of the State do hereby appoint and commission him Aide-de-Camp-in-Chief on the staff of the Commander-in-Chief, with the rank of Brigadier-General, and do authorize and empower him to discharge the duties of said office according to law.

In testimony whereof I have hereunto subscribed my name and caused to be affixed the [SEAL.] Great Seal of the State.

Done at Lincoln this 23d day of Nov., A.D. 1889.


By the Governor, BEN. R. SOWDENS,
Secretary of State.

* * * I have known W. F. Cody (Buffalo Bill) for many years. He is a Western man of the best type, combining those qualities of enterprise, daring, good sense and physical endurance which made him the superior of any scout I ever knew. He was cool and capable when surrounded by dangers, and his reports were always free from exaggeration. He is a gentleman in that better sense of the word which implies character, and he may be depended on under all circumstances. I wish him success.

W. MERRITT, Brevet Major-General, U.S.A.


Dear Sir—I take great pleasure in testifying to the very efficient service rendered by you "as a scout," in the campaign against the Sioux Indians, during the year 1876. Also, that I have witnessed your Wild West Exhibition. I consider it the most realistic performance of the kind I have ever seen.

Very sincerely, your obedient servant,

Brigadier-General, U.S.A.



HON. WM. F. CODY, London, England:

Dear Cody—In common with all your countrymen, I want to let you know that I am not only gratified, but proud of your management and general behavior; so far as a I can make out you have been modest, graceful, and dignified in all you have done to illustrate the history of civilization on this Continent during the past century.

I am especially pleased with the graceful and pretty compliment paid you by the Princess of Wales, who rode in the Deadwood Coach while it was attacked by the Indians and rescued by the Cowboys. Such things did occur in our days, and may never again.

As near as I can estimate there were in 1865 about nine and a half of millions of buffaloes on the plains between the Missouri River and the Rocky Mountains; all are now gone—killed for their meat, their skin and bones.

This seems like desecration, cruelty, and murder, yet they have been replaced by twice as many neat cattle. At that date there were about 165,000 Pawnees, Sioux, Cheyennes, Kiowas, and Arapahoes, who depended on these buffaloes for their yearly food. They, too, are gone, and have been replaced by twice or thrice as many white men and women, who have made the earth to blossom as the rose, and who can be counted, taxed, and governed by the laws of nature and civilization. This change has been salutary, and will go on to the end. You have caught one epoch of the world's history; have illustrated it in the very heart of the modern world—London, and I want you to feel that on this side the water we appreciate it. This drama must end; days, years, and centuries follow fast, even the drama of civilization must have an end.

All I aim to accomplish on this sheet of paper is to assure you that I fully recognize your work and that the presence of the Queen, the beautiful Princess of Wales, the Prince, and British public, are marks of favor which reflect back on America sparks of light which illuminate many a house and cabin in the land where once you guided me honestly and faithfully in 1865-'66, from Fort Riley to Kearney in Kansas and Nebraska.

Sincerely your friend,


GENERAL W. F. CODY, Rushville, Neb.:

My Dear General—As you are a member of my Staff, I have detailed you for special service, the particular nature of which was made known during our conversation.

You will proceed to the scene of the Indian troubles and communicate with General Miles.

You will, in addition to the special service referred to, please visit the different towns, if time permit, along the line of the Elkhorn Railroad, and use your influence to quiet excitement and remove apprehensions upon the part of the people.

Please call upon General Colby and give him your views as to the probability of the Indians breaking through the cordon of regular troops; your superior knowledge of Indian character and mode of warfare may enable you to make suggestions of importance.

All officers and members of the State Troops, and all others, will please extend to you every courtesy.

In testimony whereof,


Brigadier-General W. F. CODY, Nebraska National Guard, Present:

Sir—I am glad to inform you that the entire body of Indians are now encamped near here (within a mile and a half). They show every disposition to comply with the orders of the authorities. Nothing but an accident can prevent peace being reestablished, and it will be our ambition to make it of a permanent character. I feel that the State troops can now be withdrawn with safety, and desire, through you, to express to them my thanks for the confidence they have given your people in their isolated homes.

Like information has this day been given General Colby.

Very respectfully yours,

NELSON A. MILES, Major-General Commanding.













Courier Co Buff. N.Y.


Editorial New York Recorder, June 10, 1894.

The Lesson of "Buffalo Bill."

The Recorder feels it a duty to the generation to call special attention to the Wild West exhibitions under the direction of Col. Cody. Its genuine character makes it worthy of the highest commendation. The horses, their trappings, the aborigines and all the wonderful examples of skill and daring are beyond the suspicion of imposture. The riding, for example, in the Congress of the Rough Riders of the World is the most thrilling and, at the same time, most expert horsemanship, ever presented to the public. In the incidents and living pictures of Western life the Recorder finds chief merit. In these are presented studies of a distinctively American civilization that is fast disappearing. Twenty-five years hence it will be impossible to reproduce such thrilling phases of frontier life as it would be to-day to re-enact the Grecian games at Olympia. The Greeks, as a people, still exist and the site of the arena can be pointed out. But the Greeks of the days of the Heraclidae have vanished, the splendid assemblage of temples on the banks of the Alpheus' stream are in wreck and ruin; the discus-throwers, the wrestlers and the charioteers of ancient Helles have melted into dust. So in a generation's time will have disappeared forever from our Western plains and mountain fastnesses, the cowboy and the painted savage. Except on a few reservations the Indian teepee is already a thing of the past. At Ambrose Park to-day, however, are to be seen veritable examples of the frontier scout and guide, the stage driver, the herder, the buffalo, the bareback rider, and the bucking bronco. Horses that no mortal man of the East, who valued his life, would dare to mount, are lassoed, thrown, saddled and ridden in the face of appalling danger. The riding is just as real as the horses and their trappings, and the latter are genuine even down to the smallest trap. From an educational point of view, rather than as an amusement, should every American study the Wild West Show.

From Chicago News, May 24, 1894.

Another word about Buffalo Bill's Wild West object lesson. He is here in great form, completing the conquest of two worlds. I have witnessed his triumphs in both. Every one knows how he took the scalp of Europe and wears the glittering trophy at his belt. He has added largely to the attractiveness of his exhibits and deserves the success he has had and the crowning triumphs before him throughout the season that has opened so auspiciously for him. There is one new feature worth traveling a thousand miles to see, and that is the cavalry of the four nations—the United States, England, Germany and France. A troop of the cavalry of each of these nations appear in the regulation uniform, bearing their respective flags, and the bold riders, going through the most elaborate evolutions, display all the witcheries of consummate horsemanship. They are as well worth seeing as the cowboys or the savages, the Mexicans or the Cossacks. The one sight that ought to interest every American is the gallant company of the United States cavalry. As our mounted men have usually been in hard service on remote stations, the great masses of our people are almost wholly unacquainted with them; so that the exhibition of a troop of our regular horsemen is as novel as it is pleasing.










Title: The Frontier Express and Buffalo Bill's Pictorial Courier

Publisher: Courier Co.

Source: Buffalo Bill Center of the West; MS327, Wojtowicz collection, MS327.0S2.15.01

Date: 1895

Author: Buffalo Bill Wild West Company

Topics: Lakota Performers

Keywords: American bison American frontier American Indians Amusements Arabs Cavalry Cossacks Cowboys Drawings and graphics Electric lighting Exhibitions Frontier and pioneer life Germans Historical reenactments Horsemanship Horsemen and horsewomen Horses Indians of North America Kings, queens, rulers, etc Lakota Indians Mexicans Military campaigns Military men Nobility Papal visits Railroad travel Scouting (Reconnaissance) Scouts (Reconnaissance) Stables Traveling exhibitions Warbonnet Creek, Battle of, Neb., 1876 West (U.S.) History World's Columbian Exposition (1893 : Chicago, Ill.) Wounded Knee Massacre, S.D., 1890

People: Augur, Christopher Columbus, 1821-1898 Bailey, James Anthony, 1847-1906 Baker, Lewis H., 1869-1931 Bonheur, Rosa, 1822-1899 Burke, John M., 1842-1917 Duncan, Thomas Fry, James B. (James Barnet), 1827-1894 Kicking Bear, 1853-1904 Leo XIII, Pope, 1810-1903 Oakley, Annie, 1860-1926 Rocky Bear Salsbury, Nathan, 1846-1902 Short Bull, -1915 Sitting Bull, 1831-1890 Victoria, Queen of Great Britain, 1819-1901 Yellow Hand, 1850?-1876

Place: Vatican City

Sponsor: This project is supported in part by a grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities and the Geraldine W. & Robert J. Dellenback Foundation.

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