Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1886-08-07
GEN. AvERILL'S FIGHT WITH An
INDIAN



How the Brother OF Senator Jackson
Saved Averills Life.
From the New York Sun.
Gen. VIM. II. Jackson, of Tennessee, passed
through New York with his family the other
day, on his way to Narragansett Pier. He and
his brother, ex-senator now Judge jackson,
have Tor their home Belle Meade, near Nash
Vile. where the attention Of the general is de-
voted to breeding horses for the turf Some Of
the most noted flyers in the prominent stables
OF the country first saw the light on that beau
tiful farm.
The appearance of the generals name on the
books OF the Fifth Avenue hotel recalled q
meeting at Washington. at the time of Cleve-
time comrade and friend Gen. w. w. Averill Of
| cavalry lame. and the two were recounting
T Thihiniseences OF adventures on the frontier
ihIrty years ago they were young Heutenants
| IN regiment OF mounted rif1emen, then serv-
Ing in New Mexico. Among the hairbreadth
Ayerill's regiment was resisting predatory
band OF kiowas. Lieut. Jackson was In the
shot, but was using a small Cots revolver, and
| Nova chief with whom he became engaged
t pad not pay much attention to it. although
in the thigh. In cooking the pistol for the third
time the spring of the lock broke. and, as they
I'D Indian and tried TO brain him with the weapon.
The chief seized the lieutenant, and a wrestling
Thsc Without any
with his LEFT arm around Averill, held the
heutenants right wrist with q vise-like grip of
ms lett hand, preventing the use OF the pistol.
while In turn the right hand of the saw
aye, with knife In its grasp, was held OF by
round they plunged and twisted and strained in
lhe life and death struggle, the knife rapidly
approaching nearer and nearer TO Averilfs
| for his friend, found him in this deadly en-
brace. AS he rode up Averill was wondering il
| tnat Indian would ever tire out or pause Tor
breath; but he was strong and active as
| young buffalo," which was his name. Then he
l heard Jackson,s voice sing out. STEADY, Ave-
| r1ll, I'm going to shootr
But the Indian heard the voice also, and took
good care to keep Averill's body between him
and the proposed shooter. Finally jackson
rode close up to the pair. aud, placing the muz-
| gle of his pistol directly against the Indians
right arm, fired, breaking the bent arm both
above and below the elbow. The Indian
cOolly dropped to a sitting position and ex-
claimed In Mexican-spanish: SHOOT curse
| your
cOwardly Mexican, who had been hiding
near by, brought heavy revolver to Averill
and begged him to kill the Indian; but Averill
| replied: NO, he is a brave man, and would
sooner kill YOU"
The other Indians of the band were all
Saved" The wounded chief was taken to
Fort Craig, not far off, and after he had recov-
cred from his wounds, was sent back to the
country of his tribe, some 300 miles distant.
his affair was mentioned at the time in an
order OF Gen. Scott, then cOmmander-in-chief
wherein Lieut. Ayerill was cOmplimented for
In 1864, it will be remembered by some. a
delegation OF Indian chiefs visited their Great
rather In Washington, and on their visit to
New York were exhibited by Barnum at his
museum Among them were two Kiowa chiefs.
One of these subsequently died OF typhoid
fever and was buried in the Congressional GEM
etery at Washington. The physician who at
tended him, DIR. Sherman, afterwards served
on Gen. AVerill staff as medical director, and
one day In describing the Indian-and his scars,
identified the chief with whom Averill had had
the light on the Rio GTande.
->O>----
Father and Daughter.
From Harper's Bazaar.
There are few things pleasanter to look upon
than a father and daughter together when
wrapped in mutual love and tenderness. In
what the special charm of the sight consists it
would not be easy at once to say. Possibly in
the pathos Of the thought of the greater
strength of the father bent to shield this slight
creature, III the thought of his absorption in a
thing SO fragile, and in the counterpart to this
of the support that the slight creature yields to
him. and in the utterly disinterested character
of the whole. AS years advance, and the father
grows gray and bent, the pathOs is more de-
cided, for it shows the slight creature called
upon IOr all reserves OF strength and devotion,
and recognizes in the sight a revelation Of the
moral balances of the universe.
The love between a father and a daughter is
| OF peculiar sort, so much mutual tenderness
enters into it, that tenderness which is an ac-
Acknowledgement of weakness, desire to shield,
a yearning after the happiness each OF the
other far more than each for self. Certainly to
both father and daughter their love is a source
OF peIpetual comfort, they admire each other so
Infinitely; to her he is almost a uemigod first
and greatest and best among men; to him she
Is the perfection of womankind, in her are all
the Cruces OF the mother who bore her. and his
own Identity besides: the Joy of alteration is
given to both of them alike.
But all this is rather the pOetical and senti-
mental side of nature. which exists mucl AS
the practicable side, but which only exists
where love does. Too often the practical side
Is in danger OF obscuring all the rest. 1t be-
comes sadly practical when father has been
selfish and tyrannical, when a daughter has
never been taught or led to love. The daughter
whose mother has been imprudent in the
premises, and has not been careful to foster the
young respect and affection. does not offer to
the world this lovely picture of gentle seif-for-
getiuluess. She does not think at all of the moral
support that youth can afford to age; she looks
up with no tender adoration she is engaged
In the struggle for existence and the survival o
the httest, she regards herself the test she
thinks her father has had his day, and it is
time she had hers; she never considers the
brief time there Is left on earth to him. makes
no sacrifice TO render that brief time happier
than it might be but for her endeavor treats
him like an inferior, looks upon him mainly as
provider, and a curmudgeOn if not IA lavish
provider; perhaps she calls him the old man.
otherwise, and she would feel no especial sor-
| row in her heart should he get out OF it, Aud
he knows it..
Perhaps this is all measurably the fault of the
mother, who had it in her power early to incu-
cate totally different habit ofthought and life
| in her child but who has yielded to the temp
| tation of complaining and OF making ner
daughter her cOnfdante in the troubles and
VexationS, little or great, that she has had to
meet; has been unable to foregO sympathy
although loyalty to her husband commanded
silence; and has taught, albeit ever SO uncon-
sciously, his daughter, if not TO take sides
against him, yet 10 disapprove of him. In such
households the father Is always at a diSadyan-
| tage, tor the mother is always there just
as possibly, however, 1T is the fault OF the father
| himself when he is not regarded with all the
iervor that he would like. The girl who sees
/ her father fail at every point OF duty must be
very stupid not to generalize upon that and
reach her own conclusions; and the father
/ whose daughter is intelligent as the average
| daughter must deserve worship if he would
have it. But yet, in spite OF this truism few OF
Us cease to love an object because that object is
| undeservIng, on the contrary, we usually
I cling To IL with greater warLnl h; and thus the
daughter who feels no warmth tenderness
toward her father, faults or no faults and some
| times even because of faults, has a heart hard
as a neither milestone, so hard that 1t strike
only ntiul sparks OF the fire of love Tor any one
/ still, IN how many families do see the
| father treated as q mere accessory, as some
! body above the degree of o servant, but by
! no means on equal terms with the superior
! members OF the family. No effort is made TO
/ CAUSE home 10 De pleasant to him; he Is not at
which the domestic happiness turns after the
| girls are grown up They are each for her.
! SELF and although he sends I'D the dinner
! and sits at the table, it is rather as an
! upper sort OF hired man than as the
chief of the clan. And in the Countless
| anything of the sort, but where there is a
daughter or where there are several daughters
how often Is 1t that see one of these
daughters get up and make the fire, bring i'm
| the kindlings, fetch the water, and till the
teakettIe? No. they reason that is q MANS
ia hnr