The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1897-12-19

had been abandoned by a minstrel
company, and is now in search of his
! fathers grave, we know what is COM
ing. He sings a song, and is rewarded
by instant promotion to the rank of
major, though I thought at first he
was likely to be sentenced to the Ell
mira reformatory, there to remain until
his voice changed.
Other specialties follow that of the
boy minstrel, and then the Princess
Moonlight rides in, mounted on one of
the q horses that are advertised as
taking part in the drama. [ don't know
where all these horses are-possibly
they are ridden by the Indians who
are lowering about the Stockade just
out of rife shot. Four of these beasts
may be seen tethered to a rope, watch
ing with disconsolate faces the special
ties with which the soldiers cheer their
hearts. I don't think they have long to
live, and it may be that they are the
last survivors of the brave band of q.
The Princess Moonlight is an interest
ing young thing in leggings, who has
led a romantic, untrammeled life in
the shooting galleries of the far west.
The clay pigeons of the plains know
her well as an unerring shot The
glass balls skurry away into the grass
when she takes up her rifle The end
less chain of strange birds and beasts
that keep up their everlasting jour
ney around the targets move at a
sWifter pace When she appears at the
! mouth of the gallery. The sharp clang
of the bulls eye attests her skill when
ever her weapon is discharged. Her
belt is hung with the unavoidable CT
CARS that she has won by her prowess.
Often, in the stiffness of the summer
night sharp reports of her repHlting
rifle startles the sleeping Apaches to
their feet, and then they smile proudly
as they sink once more into slumber,
for they know that it is the Princess
Moonlight who has fired three shots for
cents.
The commanding officer is about to
imprison her in a dungeon, when Jack
Curley, who has ridden into his pres
ence on a brown plush horse brushed
Z the wrong way, urges him to let the
princess try her skill with a rifle, and
straightway a target appears in the
heavens and the SharpShooting spec
tally goes merrily on.
The second act shows US the home
of John Hartman, who is stretched on
a, couch at the right of the stage in an
attitude that betokens speedy dissolu-
ton. I can always tell when a sick
man in a play is going to die, and I
will back my Judgment against that
of any stage doctor who ever felt a
pulse or looked at an oDen-faced gold
watch in the interest of medical sci
ence.
When I first saw Mr.. Hartman I
shook my head sadly, for [ did not
think he would survive the fall of an
other curtain, but his naturally hard
constitution and the store of robust
health that has come to him through
a life spent mostly in the open air
served to prolong his existence until
the fourth act, when he goes mad and
dies, just in time to go off and change
his clothes for those of Lieutenant
Dare, into whom his mortal spirit
passes for the duties of the fifth act
for they still double-up in some of our
travelling organizations
Mr.. Hartman lives in an humble
home in company with his daughter
Madeline and a pet lion of sorrowfuI
aspect, who inhabits a cage in the back
of the room, While the daughter goes
about her simDue domestic duties in a