icans,
despite what is said of their rapid eating, take time to laugh and crack
jokes, and finish their repast with a product only known to the highest
civilization--ice-cream.

When the "Wild West" visited Boston, one hot June day the parade passed
a children's hospital on the way to the show-grounds. Many of the little
invalids were unable to leave their couches. All who could do so ran to
the open windows and gazed eagerly at the passing procession, and
the greatest excitement prevailed. These more fortunate little ones
described, as best they could, to the little sufferers who could not
leave their beds the wonderful things they saw. The Indians were the
special admiration of the children. After the procession passed, one wee
lad, bedridden by spinal trouble, cried bitterly because he had not
seen it. A kind-hearted nurse endeavored to soothe the child, but words
proved unavailing. Then a bright idea struck the patient woman; she told
him he might write a letter to the great "Buffalo Bill" himself and ask
him for an Indian's picture.

The idea was taken up with delight, and the child spent an eager hour
in penning the letter. It was pathetic in its simplicity. The little
sufferer told the great exhibitor that he was sick in bed, was unable to
see the Indians when they passed the hospital, and that he longed to see
a photograph of one.

The important missive was mailed, and even the impatient little invalid
knew it was useless to expect an answer that day. The morning had hardly
dawned before a child's bright eyes were open. Every noise was listened
to, and he wondered when the postman would bring him a letter. The nurse
hardly dared to hope that a busy man like Buffalo Bill would take time
to respond to the wish of a sick child.

"Colonel Cody is a very busy man," she said. "We must be patient."

At perhaps the twentieth repetition of this remark the door opened
noiselessly. In came a six-foot Indian, clad in leather trousers and
wrapped in a scarlet blanket. He wore a head-dress of tall, waving
feathers, and carried his bow in his hand.

The little invalids gasped in wonder; then they shrieked with delight.
One by one, silent and noiseless, but smiling, six splendid warriors
followed the first. The visitors had evidently been well trained, and
had received explicit directions as to their actions.

So unusual a sight in the orderly hospital so startled the nurse that
she could not even speak. The warriors dr