We culdn't tell you how it felt Fur it jist felt so good, It culdn't be described to you Jist like I wish'd it culd. Alas! them good ole days air gone- An' played upon his violin Th' chunes which made us glow. For both ole "Uncle Jimmie" Jones A huntin' fur thair kith Which have been losted frum th' herd, Upon th' range so wide; I look back on th' yesterday, JAMES B. GILLETT Recently there appeared a book, Six Years With the Texas Rangers, recounting the experiences of James B. Gillett, Ex-Sergeant of Company A, Frontier Battalion, which should be in every Texas home. James B. Gillett was born at Austin, Texas, November 4, 1856. He worked with cattle for several years, and in 1875 he joined Captain Dan W. Roberts' company of rangers at Menardville, and engaged in the work of running down outlaws, fighting Indians and ridding the border of undesirable characters for a long time. Mr. Gillett writes interestingly of those early days, and tells of many events that are found on the pages of history. In his book he graphically describes cowboy and ranger life, gives the names of his comrades and associates, relates thrilling anecdotes of battles with Indians and desperadoes, and keeps the reader interested from start to finish. He served as city marshal of El Paso for several years when that town was considered the "toughest" frontier town in the United JAMES B. GILLETT States. The lawless element held full sway there for a time, killings were of almost daily occurrence, and it required an iron hand and a steady nerve to cope with the situation, but Jim Gillett was equal to the emergency and helped to make the Pass City a decent, respectable place in which to live. Mr. Gillett, after so many years of strenuous duty, during which time he had many narrow escapes from death, retired from official duty to accept a position as manager of the Estado Land and Cattle Company, which owned large ranch interests in Brewster county. He had previously purchased a small ranch of his own and had acquired a number of cattle. He was manager for the Estado Company six years, during which time the herd had increased from six to thirty thousand head. His own bunch of cattle had also increased to such numbers that demanded his attention, and he resigned to devote his time to his own ranch near Marfa, where he lives today. Mr. Gillett donated fifty copies of his book, Six Years With the Texas Rangers, to the Old Time Trail Drivers' Association to be sold and the proceeds to go to the fund that is being raised for the erection of a monument to the old trail drivers. A FEW BARS IN THE KEY OF G. Reading Before the Old Time Trail Drivers' Convention by Miss Marian Elizabeth Jennings of Devine, Texas Miss Marian Elizabeth Jennings is a popular favorite at the reunions of the old time cowboys, and she is generally called upon to give readings at the annual conventions. Her renditions are always good and meet with hearty applause because she brings the sentiment right MISS JENNINGS home to her hearers. The following, by Clifton Carlisle Osborne, was recited by Miss Jennings at the 1921 Convention of the Old Time Trail Drivers' Association in San Antonio, and when she had finished many of the Association's members came forward to express their appreciation and tender their congratulations: "Two o'clock and time for the third watch on the night herd. Disentangling himself from his damp blankets, John Waring groped for his boots, and unrolling his 'slicker' which had served temporarily as a pillow, he enveloped himself in it and went out in the drizzling rain. For the hundredth time within a week, Waring had condemned himself for relinquishing the comforts of civil ization to become a cow-puncher among the rock slopes of Colorado. He wondered if she felt the separationif she cared. How happy they had been, and how much he still loved her. But the memory of that last day was still too clear in his mind. The words she had spoken in heat of anger had burned themselves into his soul. In hot rage he had come out here to plunge into the perilous life in a vain effort to forget. His thoughts strayed to the strange postal he had received the day previous, and he began to puzzle his mind to decide who sent it, and what it could mean. For the communication was composed not of words, but of music-four measures to the Key of G. He hummed the notes over and over, and they had a strangely familiar sound; he could not place the fragment. Abandoning the riddle as he rode around and around the cattle, he began to sing to pass the time. Suddenly in the midst he stopped short. He was singing the notes on the card. It came to him like a flash. He tore open his coat and drew out the postal. There was no mistake. He had solved the mystery. With a wild shout, he wheeled his horse and rode furiously to the camp, and reached Coberly, the boss, in two bounds. "I must be in Denver tonight,' he said. 'I want your best horse quick. I know it is a hundred and twenty miles to go, but it is only sixty to Empire, and I can get the train there. It leaves at one o'clock, and I can make it if you will lend me Star. I know he is your pet horse and you never let anyone ride him, but I tell you, Mr. Coberly, this means everything to me. I simply must get there tonight.' "Mr. Coberly scowled. 'You ought to know, Jack, that I won't lend Star, so what's the use of askin'? What in thunder is the matter with you that you are in such a confounded rush?' "Waring thought for a moment and then, drawing the boss beyond earshot, spoke to him earnestly, finally |