Friday, December 16, 2011
Published in the Waukegan Gazette, Waukegan, Illinois on Saturday, January 19, 1878
    Carrier pigeons have actually been caught smuggling tobacco in France. By the untimely exhaustion of one of these birds and its consequent fall into the Seine whence it was rescued, a very pretty scheme was unfolded. It seems that a single smuggler employed eighty of the little messengers to transport the fragrant weed across the border without paying the Government revenues. Each bird carried from a third to a half ounce of tobacco, and in this way the flock was rapidly enriching the owner and swindling the State treasury out of thousands of dollars.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Published in the Waukegan Gazette, Waukegan, Illinois on Saturday, January 5, 1878
    “Old Frank” is a hunting dog that used to hang around the newspaper offices of St. Joseph, Mo. Mr. Joseph Crane took “Old Frank” to his house. Mr. Crane had an old hen, with seven or eight chickens that had been hatched out a couple weeks. For some cause the unnatural mother deserted her off-spring, and for nearly a day they wandered around unprotected. The dog noticed the helpless condition of the young brood, and he immediately took them under his wing; and he has since continued to care for them in the most affectionate manner, leading them around in the daytime and curling himself around them at night. The chickens are doing well, and seem perfectly contented with their new protector.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Published in the Waukegan Gazette, Waukegan, Illinois on Saturday, December 29, 1877
    The Meriden [Ct.] Republican tells this story: “One cold morning last week Dr. Wilson drove up to a house on Crown street, and left his horse without hitching it. The horse waited a few moments, and, his master not returning, he began to dance a double shuffle, presumably to get his feet warm. Finding this rather monotonous, he started up toward Olive street, keeping up a kind of Kentucky break-down. When he had gone several rods, he cramped the buggy back, and turned round as neatly as though guided by a skillful driver, and pranced back to the hitching post. Here he waited about five minutes, and then started toward Main street, going through several kinds of paces. Near the corner he stopped and turned round as skillfully as before, and frightened a boy who had tried to stop him, almost out of his wits, by pursuing said boy with open mouth and bent-back ears, as though his habit was to eat every small boy that he came across. He then continued his antics until he had reached the house where he had left, and, when Dr. Wilson came out, he was standing at the hitching post, as demurely as though he had never thought of leaving it.”
Friday, December 16, 2011
Published in the Waukegan Gazette, Waukegan, Illinois on Saturday, December 22, 1877
    The Jefferson City [Mo.] Tribune: A gentleman of the name of Ewing, who lives in Vernon County, tells a remarkable story of the sagacity of a dog which accompanied him on his travels. While in the Short Creek timber, on his way to Joplin, the dog jumped and caught the horse by the bridle rein. Mr. Ewing drove the animal off, but it persisted in catching the reins, until the gentleman concluded it must be mad. Under the impulse of the moment he pulled his revolver and shot the animal, which ran back along the road over which he had come. In a few minutes Mr. Ewing missed his overcoat, which had been tied to the saddle. He turned back to find it, and, after riding about a mile, not only found his coat, but his faithful dog, which was lying on the garment dead.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Published in the Waukegan Gazette, Waukegan, Illinois on Saturday, December 22, 1877
    The following mode of tying hyenas in their den, as practiced in Afghanistan, is given by Arthur Connolly, in his Overland Journal, in the words of an Afghan chief, the Shirkaroe Synd Daond: “When you have tracked the beast to his den you take a rope with two slip-knots upon it in your right hand, and with your left holding a felt cloak before you, you go boldly but quietly. The animal does not know the nature of the danger, and therefore retires to the back of the den, but you may always tell where his head is by the glare of his eyes. You keep moving gradually toward him on your knees, and when you are within distance throw the cloak over his head, close with him, and take care he does not free himself. The beast is so frightened that he cowers back, and, though he may bite the felt, he cannot turn his neck round so as to hurt you, so you quietly feel for his forelegs, slip the knot over them, and, then, with one strong pull, draw them tight up to the back of his neck and tie them there. The beast is now your own, and you can do what you like with him. We generally take those we catch home to the krall, and hunt them on the plain with bridles in their mouth, that our dogs may be taught to fear the brutes when they meet them in the wild.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Published in the Waukegan Gazette, Waukegan, Illinois on Saturday, December 15, 1877
    The fiercest beasts in the London Circus menagerie at the Hippodrome are the hyenas- the “grave-robbing hyenas” they have been called. They make more trouble than the lions and the tigers, fighting among themselves constantly; and when they engage in these combats they must be promtly separated or the stronger and younger beasts, frenzied by the taste of blood, will tear their companions to pieces and devour them. The vicious faces of all of them are scarred with old wounds, and bare spots on their bodies here and there show where the fur and hide have been ripped away by the sharp teeth of former adversaries.
    Yesterday, just at the close of the matinee performance, four of the hyenas began a savage fight. They ripped, and clawed, and bit, rolling over one another in the cage, and filling the whole circus with discordant cries. Measures were at once taken to separate them, but Alfred Still, their master, not happening to be present at the moment, this was a matter of seemingly insurmountable difficulty. Weights of iron were hurled in through the bars of the cage, directly into the bunch of snarling, wrangling, beasts, but had no more effect on them than so many pellets of putty. Rods of iron, too, were run in, and the hyenas were wickedly prodded, but that did no good. The brutes had got the smell of blood, and it was only a question of the survival of the fittest, unless they could be speedily separted. The unearthly noise roused the other beasts in the menagerie, and the whole place was in uproar.
    Fortunately at this point the regular keeper arrived, the same young man who goes into the cage with the hyenas to perform with them. He got wind of the trouble and came prepared, holding in his two hands a heavy iron bar, the end of which had been heated to a white heat. He at once caused the door to be opened, and not hesitating an instant sprang into the cage and struck right and left with the white-hot iron-bar. For a moment there was a tremendous hissing and sineging as Still plied his weapon relentessly, and then the hyenas seperated. The conflict lasted ten minutes.-N. Y. World, Nov. 3rd.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Published in the Waukegan Gazette, Waukegan, Illinois on Saturday, December 1, 1877
     One of the great industries of Burma is the timber trade. The teakwood, which is the chief timber cut and shipped, is very heavy and requires prodigious force too handle it; and, as the Burmese are not far enough advanced to use machinery for the purpose, they use elephants, and bravely do the noble beasts perform their task. In the timber yards, both at Rangoon and Maulmain, all the heavy work of drawing and piling the logs is done by them. I have never seen animals showing such intelligence and trained to such docility and obedience.
    In the yard that we visited there were seven elephants, five of which were at that moment at work. Their wonderful strength came into play in moving huge pieces of timber. I did not measure the logs, but should think that many were at least twenty feet long and a foot square. Yet a male elephant would swoop down, put his tusks under a log and throw his trunk over it, and walk off with it as lightly as a gentlemen would balance bamboo cane on the tip of hi finger. Placing it on the pile, he would measure it with his eye, and if it projected too far at either end, would walk up to it and, with a gentle push or pull, make the pile even.
    If a still heavier log needed to be moved on the ground to some other part of the yard, the mahout [or driver] would tell him what to do, and the great creature seemed to have a perfect understanding of his master’s will. He would put out his enormous foot and push it along, or he would bend his head and, crouching half way to the ground and doubling up his trunk, throw his whole weight against it, and thus, like a ram, would “butt” the log into place; or, if needed to be taken to a greater distance, he would put a chain around it and drag it off behind him.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Published in the Waukegan Gazette, Waukegan, Illinois on Saturday, November 24, 1877
    The Virginia [Nev] Enterprise tells this affecting story: “Charles Kaiser, who has the only hive of bees in town, says that when he first got his swarm his old cat’s curiosity was much excited in regard to the doings of the little insects the like of which she had never before seen. At first she watched their comings and goings at a distance. She then flattened herself upon the ground and crept along toward the hive, with tail horizontal and quivering. It was clearly evident that she thought the bees some new kind of game. Finally she took up a position at the entrance to the hive, and when a bee came in or started out, made a dab at it with her paws. This went on for a time without attracting the special attention of the inhabitants of the hive. Presently however, ‘old Tabby’ struck and crused a bee on the edge of the opening to the hive. The smell of the crushed bee alarmed and enraged the whole swarm. Bees by the score poured forth and darted into the fur of the astonished cat. Tabby rolled herself in the grass, spitting, sputtering, biting, clawing, and squalling as a cat never squalled before. She appeared a mere ball of fur and bees as she rolled and tumbled about. She was a length hauled away from the hive with a garden rake, at the cost of several severe stings to her rescuer. Even after she had been taken to a distant part of the grounds the bees stuck in Tabby’s fur, and about once in every two minutes she would utter an unearthly ‘yowl’ and bounce a full yard in the air. On coming down she would try and scratch an ear, when a sting on the back would cause her to turn a succession of back sumersaults and give vent to a running fire of squalls. Like the parrot that was left alone with the monkey, old Tabby had a dreadful time. Two or three days after this adventure, Tabby was caught by her owner, who took her by the neck and threw her down near the bee hive. No sooner did she strike the ground than she gave a fearful squall, and at a single bound reached the top of a fence full six feet in height. There she clung for a moment, with tail as big as a rollingpin, when with another bound and sqall, she was out of sight and did not again put in an appearance for over a week.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Published in the Waukegan Gazette, Waukegan, Illinois on Saturday, December 22, 1877
    One day last week a deer was chased from the mountain into Jackson’s river, closely followed by a pack of hounds. The deer crossed the river and jumped into a field near by, belonging to A. T. Stephenson, Esq. A small. mischievous mule was grazing in the field, and, as soon as he spied the deer, took up the chase, followed it closely until the fence on the opposite side was reached, which the deer attempted to clear, but failed, and fell to the ground, whereupon the mule struck it with its fore feet, and held it there until the dogs came up and captured it. The fact was witnessed by several gentlemen of Jackson’s river, who will testify to the fact.-Highland [O] Record.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Published in the Waukegan Gazette, Waukegan, Illinois on Saturday, November 3, 1877
    We were yesterday informed by Mr. Smith, living on Quapaw Bayou, that while he and his son William, aged about thirteen years were out in the woods on Monday afternoon last, driving up their cattle, their attention was attracted by the bleating of a calf. Thinking the animal was probably bogged, they discovered a yearling, in the coils of a huge snake, the body of which was suspended from a tree about twenty feet from the ground, and which projected from the bank immediately over the water. Mr. Smith and his son were almost terror-stricken at the sight; and stood speechless for several moments, unconsciously watching the movements of the huge reptile as he entwined himself around the already dead body of the yearling, and at every coil of the snake they could hear the bones of the calf break.
    After coiling itself aound the lifeless form of the yearling aand crushing every bone in its body, the serpent let loose its hold from the tree and dropped down alongside its victim, and began licking it all over, preparatory it is supposed, to swallowing. About this time Mr. Smith recovered his senses, and, after watching the monster snake open its capacious mouth several times, he fired on it with his rifle, stricking it near the head, and was quickly followed by his son, who discharged a double-barreled gun loaded with buckshot; both reloaded as quick as possible and again fired on his snakeship. In the meantime the reptile had coiled itself into a huge mass, and was making a hissing sound that could be heard fully 100 yards, and was protruding his forked tongue several feet. After discharging about a dozen volleys each, Mr. Smith and his son succeeded in dispatching one of the largest snakes ever seen in Louisiana, and, probably, North America. It measured 31 feet in length, and the body measured ten feet from the head, thirty inches in circumference, and about the centre of the body 42 inches. It has a regular succession of spots, black and yellow, alternating, extending from the head to his tail, while either side is a deep purple. Mr. Smith has no idea what kind of a snake it is, but thinks it must be of the boa-constrictor species. No doubt this snake has for many years inhabited that section of country and depredated upon the young calves and animals that came within its reach. The skin of this huge snake has been preserved, and will be sent to Shreveport and put on exhibition.-Shreveport [La.] Times.