UC-NRLF 
 
 
 B M 1DM SbS 
 
-T- 
 
FRANK 
 
 GRAHAM (from an old daguerreotype). 
 
THE LAND OF GOLD. 
 
 A TALE OF 49- 
 
 ILLUSTRATIVE OF EARLY PIONEER LIFE IN 
 
 CALIFORNIA, AND FOUNDED 
 
 UPON FACT. 
 
 DEDICATED TO CALIFORNIA PIONEERS. 
 
 BY 
 GEORGE G. SPURR. 
 
 WITH SEVEN ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 A. WILLIAMS & COMPANY, 
 
 OLD CORNER BOOKSTORE, 
 1881. 
 
Copyright, 1881, 
 BY GEORGE G. SPURR. 
 
 The Riverside Press, Cambridge : 
 Stereotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. 
 
To 
 THE CALIFORNIA PIONEERS, 
 
 WHO SUFFERED WITH MANLY ENDURANCE 
 HARDSHIPS RARELY KNOWN TO THE PRESENT CENTURY, 
 
 AND BRAVELY LEU THE VAN OF CIVILIZATION 
 
 OVER OBSTACLES WHICH MADE THEIR DEEDS IMPERISHABLE ON THE SCROLL OF FAME \ 
 AND WHO IN OPENING THIS WILD AND MAGNIFICENT COUNTRY 
 
 TO ITS PRESENT GRAND POSSIBILITIES 
 
 HAVE CARVED UPON THE ANNALS OF POETIC FANCY 
 AN INDIVIDUALITY AS MARKED AS IT IS CHARACTERISTIC AND DRAMATIC, . 
 
 STfjese fEcmofrs 
 
 ARE SINCERELY AND AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
 BY 
 
 .THE AUTHOR. 
 
 
 M138257 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 THIS narrative, presented with many misgivings 
 as to its acceptance by the general reader, and writ 
 ten during an illness of some months duration, is 
 contributed to the file of literature for the purpose 
 of keeping green the memory of the achievements 
 of the early pioneers in California, and to show 
 future generations what it cost to add what was 
 once a wild and unbroken solitude to civilization 
 and fame. 
 
 In reviving scenes long since forgotten and re 
 producing characters buried in eternal sleep, I am 
 actuated by a desire to commemorate their deeds 
 and to leave to their posterity a memorial, humble 
 as it is, in respectful remembrance, to the bravery 
 and persistent endurance which marked their tracks 
 through the wildest regions of the Sierra Nevadas. 
 
 Possibly some errors have crept in, and no doubt 
 many imperfections may be found ; these must nec 
 essarily follow a memory unaided by notes, maps, or 
 
vi PREFACE. 
 
 references, in its efforts to recall events which tran 
 spired full thirty years ago. 
 
 These blemishes are the natural outgrowth of an 
 imperfect knowledge of that vast country to which 
 I have been a stranger during the intervening years, 
 and the critic is asked to be charitable and accept 
 these defects as the condition accompanying the 
 legacy bequeathed to him by the author. 
 
 G. G. S. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 FAGS 
 
 THE LOVE OF MONEY I 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 THE COTTAGE HOME IN THE MOHAWK VALLEY ... 7 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 THE RUGBYS OF RUGBY FARM n 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 THE ARBOR, THE GEM OF THE BOWERY .... 30 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 ROUNDING CAPE HORN ... .... 48 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 THE START FROM SUTTER S FORT 62 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 THE INDIAN RAID AT THE CORRAL . . . 76 
 
Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 SEEKING WEALTH UNDER DIFFICULTIES .... 92 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 THE RIPPLE SPRING HOUSE 109 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 THE DOWNIE HOUSE, ROUGH AND READY ... 137 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 THE STATE HOSPITAL 159 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 THE STORM AT HARTWELL S CROSSING .... 173 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 MAMMON, GOD OF MONEY 186 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 DEADMAN S BAR 204 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE DESTRUCTION OF SACRAMENTO CITY . . . .214 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 POOR MAN S CREEK 220 
 
CONTENTS. X 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 FAGS 
 
 HOME AGAIN 235 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 THANKSGIVING WEEK 244 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THANKSGIVING DINNER IN THE CITY OF WITCHES . . 258 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PACK 
 
 FRANK GRAHAM (from an old daguerreotype) . . . Frontispiece 
 GRAHAM AND ANTOINE CROSSING THE SACRAMENTO VALLEY . 72 
 
 THE MIDNIGHT ATTACK IN THE CORRAL . . 84 
 
 LEFT TO HIS FATE. "GOOD-BYE, DAVE" 102 
 
 CAPTURING THE GRIZZLY BEAR 148 
 
 THE TRIAL OF ANDY MCQUAID 208 
 
 GRAHAM AND THE OLD MILLER 238 
 
A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE LOVE OF MONEY. 
 
 AWAKE, my lyre; awake once more; 
 Transport me back to days of yore ; 
 Beguile the heart, enchant the mind, 
 And sing, ah sing, of auld lang syne. 
 Conceal these locks as white as snow, 
 My failing sight and wrinkled brow 
 Let me forget ; the hand of time 
 Has long since bent this form of mine. 
 Benumb these pains, exhaust these tears, 
 And dim the list of ripened years : 
 Arouse companions, long since dead, 
 In valley deep and river bed, 
 On dreary waste, upon the plain 
 Where vultures gorged the mangled slain ; 
 Restore the camp with tale and song, 
 The wolf that howled the whole night long, 
 The pack mule and the winding trails 
 Up mountain steeps, through grassy vales ; 
 Revive these scenes, for I would fain 
 Live o er these blessed scenes again, 
 Give, oh give me one chance more 
 To live and love in days of yore. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 OF all the passions to which man is heir, there 
 is none, perhaps, more seductive than the love of 
 wealth. The desire to become rich is a moral weak 
 ness, which did not originate in our day, nor can we 
 
2 A Wl tfTERS EVENING S TALE. 
 
 be held respdtijihfeiGT. t,feis irresistible feeling. To 
 desire money, or to accumulate it by the use of 
 proper means, is not wrong. It is only when we 
 allow our baser appetites to become the supreme 
 dictator over the better instincts of our nature, and 
 grant our avaricious cravings unrestrained liberty, 
 that it becomes a sin. The history of human greed 
 presents to us but few marked examples of self- 
 denial. It seems as though this inherent weakness 
 has become so embedded in the character of man, 
 that it will always exist, in some degree, to aid a 
 miserly heart in oppressing the needy and crushing 
 the honest poor. 
 
 To obtain money, and thereby position and influ 
 ence, is one of the strongest incentives of our moral 
 being. I not only sustain but applaud the man 
 who is honestly struggling against an adverse wind 
 and tide to gain an honorable landing from the surg 
 ing of a wild and tempestuous sea. Who does not 
 love the man of energy and boldness, whether he 
 be found in our legislative halls, or wielding the 
 mighty pen in the silent gloom of his obscure sanc 
 tum. What reader, following the Arctic wanderers 
 through fearful scenes, has not felt his heart beat 
 with emotion while reading of the fate of their little 
 bark as it weathered the frozen blasts that hurled it 
 through the regions of eternal snow. Where is the 
 patriot who loves not Italy s greatest hero, who from 
 
THE LOVE OF MONEY. 3 
 
 his Alpine home sounded his bugle horn, and swing 
 ing his battle-axe over the dynasty of a tyrant king, 
 raised his struggling country to a position among 
 the nations of the earth. Is there an American 
 citizen who loves not the Father of his Country, 
 who, crossing the Delaware, amid the howling blasts 
 of winter s midnight gloom, struck a blow that felled 
 to earth the banner which mocked the prayers of a 
 pure and injured people. What freeman does not 
 regard with affection the Liberator of his country, 
 who amid the chaos of public opinion, surrounded 
 by the darkest clouds of military disaster, hurled in 
 the teeth of his country s foes his Proclamation of 
 Emancipation, and raised four millions of slaves to 
 breathe the pure air of republican liberty. 
 
 What modern pioneer has followed the intrepid 
 Pathfinder over the barren plains of the far West 
 and read of his perilous journeys over the lofty sum 
 mits of the Sierra Nevada, and through the silent 
 gloom of the Sacramento Valley, without a feeling 
 of awe and deep admiration. He little dreamed, 
 while wandering over that vast region of solemn 
 grandeur, that in a few years the woodman s axe 
 would ring amid those wild and solitary hills. He 
 never imagined that in the bosoms of those gurgling 
 brooks and mighty rivers, in hill and dale and forest 
 wild, lay hid the gathered wealth of countless years, 
 or that cities would rise where all was gloom, that 
 
4 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 steamboats would glide and the iron horse rush 
 through those silent valleys. 
 
 Not only this, but far greater results have been 
 obtained. Those timbered hills and luxuriant val 
 leys, over which the white man s foot had never trod, 
 while the deer, the antelope, and the elk, roamed 
 about in their native majesty, are filled with people 
 from every clime. Those vast and parch ing prairies, 
 where cattle and horses roamed countless and un 
 claimed, furnish to-day fruits, grain, and vegetables 
 for exportation. On those mighty rivers whose 
 banks are covered with bright homes and richly 
 cultivated fields, vessels of every nation spread their 
 canvas to the breeze. Along the beautiful and fer 
 tile valley of the Sacramento, three hundred miles 
 long and eighty miles wide, where wild flowers blos 
 somed, and luxurious clover and golden grain with 
 ered and died, can be seen to-day the thrifty farm, 
 the home of plenty, and the hearty welcome in the 
 tawny faces of those hardy sons of New England. 
 The petty settlements of canvas huts and willow 
 cabins have given way to mighty cities ; the iron 
 horse shrieks through her valleys ; the lightning 
 whispers from city to city ; her young heart beats 
 in unison w,ith ours, and California stands to-day the 
 queen of the Pacific, the paradise of America, and 
 the wonder of the world. 
 
 As one of the earliest of her adopted children, I 
 
THE LOVE OF MONEY. 5 
 
 bless her to-day for the stand she took in the dark 
 est hour of our country s history. Though her 
 faults are many, and her crimes great, she has fully 
 redeemed herself ; for when her country s emblem 
 that proud bird of America pierced by arrows 
 of usurpers, frightened from its stately eyrie, screech 
 ing and fluttering above the tottering capitol, de 
 scended amid the awful gloom and took refuge in 
 the hearts of her people, the voice of the old pio 
 neers rose above the lofty summits of her snow-clad 
 mountains, and rang forth throughout the land 
 Union now Union forever and forever ! 
 
 California s greatness and those bright and happy 
 results were not accomplished without great sacri 
 fices and personal dangers. Many a poor emigrant 
 lost his life en route to this land of promise, many 
 sweet homes were made desolate, and hundreds of 
 stout hearts sank under the weight of grief and dis 
 appointment. Collect the dust of those who per 
 ished from hunger and thirst on the blighted prai 
 ries of the far West ; gather those mangled forms 
 that breathed their last under the vengeance of the 
 Indian s tomahawk ; pick up those frightful corpses, 
 which glistened in the moon-beams on the snow-clad 
 summits of the Sierra Nevada ; glean the remnants 
 that lay bleaching in the noonday sun, gather 
 them together lay them gently along from the 
 banks of the turbid Missouri to the drowsy Sacra- 
 
6 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 mento, and the emigrant of to-day can pass over an 
 endless grave for twenty-two hundred miles, a 
 tomb to which no State in the Union but has con 
 tributed some loving heart of blessed memory, 
 a burial ground over which the tears of the widow 
 and fatherless mingle with the requiem of the sum 
 mer winds and the churly blasts of December s 
 gale. 
 
 It will be my humble endeavor to narrate to you, 
 reader, a few of the leading incidents in the ex 
 perience of one of the early pioneers in the land 
 of sunshine and flowers. I shall try to picture a 
 once happy home, and to contrast with it one now 
 desolate and unknown. I hope to impress upon you 
 that a home, however humble, is the dearest spot on 
 earth ; and to persuade you that a rolling stone 
 gathers no moss, and that a contented mind is a 
 continual feast. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE COTTAGE HOME IN THE MOHAWK VALLEY. 
 
 " I remember, I remember 
 
 The house where I was born, 
 The little window where the sun 
 
 Came peeping in at morn : 
 He never came a wink too soon, 
 
 Nor made too long a day ; 
 But now, I often wish the night 
 Had borne my breath away." 
 
 HOOD. 
 
 ON the bank of the Mohawk, whose turbid waters 
 sweep slowly and silently through the county of 
 Oneida, once stood a neat little cottage of a roman 
 tic appearance. The trellised portico and latticed 
 windows were draped with ivy and jasmine in such 
 a manner as to puzzle the observer and excite his 
 curiosity. He would look, smile, and with uncon 
 scious sincerity seldom retire till he had made a 
 thorough inspection of its unique and singular odd 
 ity. Adjoining this cottage was a highly cultivated 
 garden, laid out with graveled walks and woodbine 
 bowers. A sprightly brook which ran down the side 
 of a steep and rocky hill forming the background of 
 our picture, wound through the centre of the garden, 
 and its playful tune could be heard as it rippled 
 over its pebbly bed. The green hills, the tangled 
 
8 A WINTER EVENING S TA 7 E. 
 
 wildwood, the village and the village church, the 
 silent Mohawk, and the surrounding scenery, pre 
 sented to the visitor a most charming sight, and 
 left upon his mind an impression never to be for 
 gotten. 
 
 The external appearance so prepossessing and 
 cozy, persuaded the beholder that similar beauties 
 and corresponding attractions were to be enjoyed 
 within the cottage home. Enter with me through 
 the eastern door and you encounter Major, the faith 
 ful dog, who politely demands your business. As 
 your pass is genuine you are truly welcome, the dog 
 manifesting his gladness in various ways ; but woe 
 unto him who attempts to enter unaided and alone. 
 Pass through the different rooms and you observe 
 nothing but the articles usually owned by persons in 
 moderate circumstances, unless you except a well 
 filled library case and a few choice paintings. But 
 that which is the most noticeable is the peculiar 
 neatness and the air of comfort that pervades every 
 department, especially the kitchen, which evidently 
 is arranged after the English fashion, for here is the 
 open hearth with its blazing fire ; the polished grate 
 and fender with poker and tongs ; the old arm-chair, 
 where pussy so often sleeps ; the richly colored rug 
 on which the black dog yawns ; " the white-washed 
 walls, the neatly sanded floor, and the oaken clock 
 which ticked behind the door." 
 
THE COTTAGE HOME. g 
 
 This unique little home with its pleasant surround 
 ings was owned by Mr. James Graham, and occupied 
 by himself, his wife, and five children, two sons and 
 three daughters. Mr. Graham was an intelligent 
 man of dignified appearance, proud and self-willed, 
 and extremely sensitive. He had built this home 
 many years ago, and embellished it to suit his tastes 
 and fancy. He had christened it Fernwood Cot 
 tage. Mrs. Graham was a pure Christian woman of 
 unassuming manners, a firm friend, and a devoted 
 mother. She was deeply attached to her family 
 and her beautiful little home that nestled so pret 
 tily in the deep calmness of the Mohawk Valley. 
 
 When in the fall of 1848 the news from Califor 
 nia reached us, it threw the whole country into a 
 state of wild excitement. Mr. Graham fell an easy 
 prey to the gold fever, became a firm believer in 
 the marvelous discoveries of hidden treasures, and 
 determined to take an early start for the new Eldo 
 rado. His home, his social relations, the tears of his 
 children, the pleadings of his wife, failed to shake 
 his purpose, or change the time of his departure. 
 That little home, so precious to every member of 
 the family, was easily mortgaged. The necessary 
 arrangements were soon completed, and Mr. Gra 
 ham, with a heart buoyant with hope, bade farewell 
 to his family, and quietly left the village for New 
 York. 
 
10 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 On arriving at the great metropolis he found 
 thousands there before him pressing for conveyance 
 to the land that was said to flow with milk and 
 honey. The hotels were filled, the streets thronged, 
 and the stores crowded with these adventurous spir 
 its arranging the details for a speedy departure for 
 California. The doubts which Mr. Graham had en 
 tertained with reference to the propriety of taking 
 with him his eldest son, Frank, were now dispelled. 
 Their fortunes were inseparable ; their houses must 
 rise or fall together. Sharing each other s joys or 
 sorrows, they must go hand in hand, and survive or 
 perish in this the grandest hazard of their lives. 
 Mr. Graham wrote a long letter to his family, giving 
 a glowing account of ships sailing daily, loaded 
 with enthusiastic passengers for the gold mines. 
 He urged Frank to come immediately, and with 
 him to take his chances by embarking on the next 
 ship that sailed. He posted this letter and returned 
 to his hotel to await a reply. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE RUGBYS OF RUGBY FARM. 
 
 " New hopes may bloom, and days may come 
 
 Of milder, calmer beam, 
 But there s nothing half so sweet in life 
 As love s young dream." 
 
 LEADING from the hollow in which Mr. Graham s 
 homestead nestles is a bridle path, which, if fol 
 lowed, brings you abruptly into a broad county road 
 stretching back among the farms which dot the val 
 ley on either side of the river. 
 
 The scene from Rugby Hill, the most prominent 
 of the long range that lies to the east of the road, is, 
 indeed, beautiful and picturesque. Standing upon 
 the " tip " on a clear summer s day, far off to the 
 right can be seen the outlines of that busy little 
 municipality the city of Rome. Reversing your 
 position, your eyes rest upon and penetrate the 
 thin vapor that hangs like a bridal veil over the 
 queen city of the Mohawk Valley the city of 
 Utica. Nothing can be more charming to the vis 
 itor as he sits in the shade of the beech-trees that 
 skirt the winding slopes, and watches the drowsy 
 Mohawk as it wends its way with sleepy stillness 
 through cultivated fields and thrifty villages. 
 
12 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 Following the old turnpike for a short distance, 
 you reach an old-fashioned brick house, standing 
 parallel with the road and deeply shaded by sugar 
 maples. You notice several large barns and other 
 buildings, and on either side of the road long rows 
 of wood piled up ready for market. Flocks of sheep 
 are grazing and fat cattle are browsing in the 
 meadows and upon the adjoining hills. Crossing 
 the bridge which spans the brook, you see long 
 rows of polished milk-pans shining as bright as the 
 sun that strikes them at noonday. If you take the 
 trouble to walk up to the dairy door, and ask for a 
 drink of water, it will be something unusual if you 
 are not soon seated at the table and rewarded with 
 some delicious milk and a plate of home-made bread 
 and cheese. Such is Rugby Farm. 
 
 It was Thanksgiving week, and Philip Rugby was 
 returning home from the village, where he had left 
 the usual amount of poultry for sale for the holi 
 days. On arriving at the barn, in the rear of his 
 father s house, he tossed the reins to the chore-boy 
 and hastily entered his mother s kitchen. A bright, 
 cheerful fire, half the width of the room, threw its 
 ruddy glow far over the tea-table laden with but 
 tered toast and smoking hot biscuit, white as the 
 snow-flakes on Philip s coat. Handing his mother 
 a bundle of knickknacks, purchased at the village 
 store, and tossing some letters and papers upon his 
 
THE RUGBYS OF RUGBY FARM. 13 
 
 father s desk, he hung his cap and overcoat upon a 
 peg behind the door, and quietly took his seat at 
 the table. 
 
 There was something about Philip s manner and 
 expression that attracted his mother s attention a 
 sort of hidden joy which seemed too good to keep, 
 and simply awaited a favorable opportunity to take 
 the family by surprise. 
 
 " Let me thank you, Philip, for the bundle you 
 brought me from Mrs. Hathaway s," began his 
 mother, " but where are the shoes you were to bring 
 me from Dobson s ? " 
 
 "Why, really, mother, I forgot to call for them. 
 It got to be quite late, and the snow was falling so 
 fast, that I came off and left them ; but I shall have 
 to go down again Saturday, and I won t disappoint 
 you a second time." 
 
 " Well, where are my earrings and music ? " in 
 quired his sister Jane. " I hope you have not for 
 gotten them also." 
 
 " I certainly have," replied her brother, running 
 his fingers through his long black hair. "The fact 
 of the matter is just this : I stayed so long at the 
 post-office, listening to the news from the gold 
 regions, that I only wonder I did not start for that 
 land of promise instead of coming home." 
 
 " Oh dear, Philip, don t say another word about 
 that fairy-land, of which no one seems to know its 
 
14 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 position or to whom it belongs," interposed his 
 mother warmly. "I had rather follow you to the 
 grave, than see you go to that land of delusion, in 
 stead of promise, as you are pleased to call it." 
 
 " Yes," broke in the Squire, " let us hope you are 
 too well balanced to allow the fever to seize you, as 
 it has the Humphreys. This California excitement, 
 in my judgment, is a decoy, used by the merchants, 
 who have more ships than freights, and the birds 
 caught by such chaff will find the new Eldorado, if 
 they ever reach it, to be a country of fraud, a 
 wicked snare to deceive the people, and to make 
 money." 
 
 " Perhaps so, father, and yet many of our best 
 families are preparing to go." 
 
 " Very true, Phil. Many will go, but, in my opin 
 ion, few will return. I confess to you here, that 
 nothing would destroy my peace of mind quicker 
 than to see you yielding to the influence of this 
 Arabian Nights dream about this land of enchant 
 ment. For I assure you it will prove, in the end, a 
 land of humbug a land of death." 
 
 " Well, father, I have a bit of strange news to tell 
 you." 
 
 " Indeed ! pray, what is it ? " 
 
 " Why, sir, old Graham has gone to New York, 
 en route to this land of death, as you call it, and 
 the whole village is in a state of wild excitement 
 over the event." 
 
THE RUGBYS OF RUGBY FARM. 15 
 
 " Dear me, what nonsense ! " ejaculated the Squire. 
 " Nothing could have surprised me more/ added 
 his father, as he looked up to his wife in painful 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Poor Mrs. Graham ! what will become of her 
 and the children ? " suggested Mrs. Rugby, as her 
 eyes rested upon her daughter Jane, who sat a mute 
 listener to this strange and unexpected conversa 
 tion. 
 
 " He has," continued Philip, " quietly matured his 
 plans, mortgaged his place heavily, and stepped out 
 of town without bidding good-by, even to his nearest 
 neighbors and friends. When his son Frank fol 
 lows him, let us fervently hope he will manifest a 
 similar spirit of forbearance." 
 
 " Are we to understand by that, Philip," inquired 
 his father, visibly affected, " that Frank is to ac 
 company him in this strange adventure ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir. I heard him read a letter, which he 
 had received from his father, before all the folks in 
 the post-office, and he there expressed his determi 
 nation to leave at once ; and I ask your permission 
 to express the hope that nothing will occur to 
 change or modify his resolution." 
 
 Jane Rugby looked up into her brother s face, at 
 the conclusion of his last remark, with an expres 
 sion of astonishment and alarm. Astonished at 
 the suddenness of this painful intelligence, and 
 
1 6 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 alarmed at the earnestness of her brother s studied 
 insult. The timid blush that had suffused her 
 cheeks at the mention of young Graham s name 
 was superseded by an ashy whiteness which be 
 trayed the emotions of her troubled heart. The 
 tears gathered thick and fast over her beautiful 
 hazel eyes, and as they rolled down her face, so 
 perfectly formed and yet so pitiful, aroused her 
 mother s love. With a voice sharp and full of 
 meaning she cried, " Philip, this is indeed cruel 
 and unmanly." The spiteful suggestions offered in 
 the presence of the family had wounded deeply and 
 forever that pure, innocent girl. The struggle to 
 remain firm was a failure the tears increased, the 
 lips quivered, the hands went up, and with one 
 deep distressing sob she arose from the table and 
 abruptly left the room. 
 
 It was customary in those days for the farmers 
 daughters in that vicinity to give social parties dur 
 ing the winter, and to invite such young people to 
 their paring-bees as pleased their fancy. The year 
 before the characters of this story were introduced 
 to our readers, there had been one of these peculiar 
 but happy gatherings at Rugby Farm, and among 
 the number of young gentlemen that had accepted 
 Miss Rugby s invitation was Frank Graham, a med 
 ical student, home on a brief vacation to spend the 
 holidays with his parents. He was a young man of 
 
THE RUGBYS OF RUGBY FARM. I/ 
 
 good address and pleasing manners, full of frolic, 
 and loved clearly a good time. During the evening 
 he introduced some new plays ; he showed such 
 judgment in the choice of characters, and infused 
 such a spirit of enthusiasm into the arrangements 
 of the pieces, that Jane Rugby s party was acknowl 
 edged the most successful of the season. The 
 whole assembly was delighted with the novelties 
 introduced, and charmed with the happy manner in 
 which they were carried out.. As the company was 
 about to break up, Miss Rugby took occasion to 
 thank young Graham for the assistance so unex 
 pectedly rendered in aiding her to entertain her 
 friends. As she spoke, she playfully pinned a rose 
 bud to the lapel of his coat, and followed him to the 
 door that led out under the sugar maples stripped of 
 their foliage. He threw the folds of his cloak about 
 her unprotected shoulders as she assured him his 
 visits would ever be welcomed at Rugby Farm. 
 The moon was fast sinking behind the headland that 
 formed the " Big-bend " in the Mohawk River. The 
 horses and driver were impatient at the delay, while 
 the girls wondered what kept the young " doctor " 
 so long at the gate. And yet he lingered, because 
 it seemed to be the desire of each. He was pleased 
 she more than pleased, she was happy. As she 
 put her little hand in his, and drew closer to him, 
 
1 8 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 her heart unconsciously went out from her never to 
 return. 
 
 It was many hours after Jane had retired ere she 
 closed her eyes in sleep. The vision she saw in 
 the gray of that November morn was the brightest 
 of her whole life. It was a vision such as never ap 
 peared to her before ; it was such a vision as never 
 appeared to her again ; it was God s holiest gift to 
 the human heart, the first touch of love s young 
 dream. 
 
 Squire Rugby was a well-to-do farmer, a director 
 in the Mohawk Valley Bank, and a highly respected 
 man. Mr. Graham was superintendent of Little 
 ton Mills, with a stipulated income, and equally re 
 spected. The Squire, in his official capacity, had 
 rejected Graham s paper at the bank from a mis 
 taken sense of duty. Mr. Graham, smarting under 
 the fancied wrong, retaliated by refusing to pur 
 chase wood and wool from the Rugby s. Philip felt 
 the most sorely grieved, because it drove him to dis 
 tant markets to dispose of their goods, thus causing 
 inconvenience and expense. There existed, there 
 fore, at the commencement of our tale, a coolness 
 between the heads of these two families, and it 
 needed but some slight cause to separate them en 
 tirely. 
 
 Thus matters stood when Frank Graham called 
 at Rugby Farm to ask permission to visit their 
 
THE RUG SYS OF RUGBY FARM. 19 
 
 daughter. He was received with freezing polite 
 ness by the Squire, who, without the slightest in 
 terruption, listened feelingly to his petition. The 
 Squire then assured him that his family must feel 
 highly honored for this mark of his esteem, yet he 
 was sorry he could not consent to his gentlemanly 
 proposition. The Squire tried to impress upon him 
 the belief that there were no special objections to 
 him as a man; but in the character of an avowed 
 suitor for his daughter, it would be inconsistent with 
 the feelings of the family, and that the subject must 
 be forever dismissed. Oh, no ; he must not see 
 Jane. It was unnecessary, and the Squire must use 
 his parental authority even to deny Graham that 
 " small favor." " You, sir," suggested the Squire 
 warmly, "are a young man of undoubted abilities, 
 and if they are zealously directed in the profession 
 you have chosen, I bespeak for you a brilliant ca 
 reer. Life is before you, and the future will fully 
 compensate you for such a trifling loss. Good 
 night, sir, I hope you will reach home safely before 
 the storm bursts. It seems near and threatening." 
 And thus the interview ended. 
 
 This led to secret correspondence and intercepted 
 letters, which were burnt unopened in the presence 
 of the family. Then came clandestine meetings 
 upon Rugby Hill not many it is true, but just 
 sufficient to fan this smoldering fire into an im 
 mense conflagration. 
 
2O A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 Philip Rugby thought that if he prevented an in 
 terview between his sister Jane and Frank, now 
 about to start for California, this silly school-girl 
 love would be crushed in the bud, and in a few 
 months the young " doctor " would be remembered 
 only as a thing of the past 
 
 A few days after this episode occurred in Mrs. 
 Rugby s kitchen, Frank Graham left his home for 
 Rugby Farm. He took the bridle path through the 
 woods, and after a smart walk reached the turnpike 
 that ran parallel with the Mohawk River. It was 
 a cold winter night, the keen air bit sharply, and 
 the light early snow falling from the trees and 
 blowing into his face caused him to experience all 
 the bitterness of a blinding snow-storm. As he 
 walked briskly up the road, there seemed an om 
 inous silence around and about him. The darkness 
 and the moaning of the wind caused his mind to 
 fill with painful forebodings. The question upper 
 most in his mind was relative to his reception at 
 Squire Rugby s. Would the visit, the most trying 
 one of his life, be met with cold indifference, or 
 would it terminate in friendly reconciliation. Would 
 his constancy and love be rewarded with hearty 
 greetings, or would he be driven from the door. 
 These and similar feelings preyed upon his mind as 
 his eyes rested upon the lights shining through the 
 windows of the Rugby mansion. 
 
THE RUGBYS OF RUGBY FARM. 21 
 
 Frank Graham was a student struggling for a 
 profession, dependent upon his father s will and 
 means, and deeply attached to Jane Rugby. He 
 was to leave the next day for New York, there to 
 meet his father and to accompany him in his peril 
 ous enterprise. The dangers they must face, the 
 hardships they must endure, were nothing compared 
 to the loss of this beautiful girl, who had become 
 the queen of his heart and the idol of his soul. 
 
 Far back in the previous spring he had been re 
 spectfully forbidden to visit Rugby Farm, where his 
 most sacred feelings had been treated with ridicule 
 and scorn. Now what could he expect but a cold 
 and icy welcome. With courage equal to the occa 
 sion he passed under the sugar maples on to the 
 portico where he had stood one year before. Yes, 
 right there he had tenderly covered that slender 
 form and drawn that sweet little face to his, looked 
 down into those beautiful hazel eyes, and drank in 
 the holy influence which came up through them 
 from her pure and guileless heart. The family were 
 all at home, seated, and engaged in varied occupa 
 tions around their broad kitchen fire. The sharp 
 ring of the door-bell resounded throughout the 
 house. Philip Rugby arose and answered it at once. 
 Grasping the half closed door with one hand, and 
 holding a lamp over his head, he desired to know 
 Frank s business. "I wish to see your father, sir," 
 
22 A WINTER EVENINGS TALE. 
 
 replied Frank, stepping inside the hall without being 
 asked, and without hesitation walked proudly into 
 the adjoining room. 
 
 There was mischief in that reply which Philip 
 Rugby dared not encounter alone, so leaving the 
 lamp upon the table he strode into the kitchen 
 and announced the visitor s name to his father. 
 
 Squire Rugby, with a dark frown upon his face, 
 looked quickly up from his paper, and turned his 
 eyes hurriedly round the room, until they rested 
 upon his daughter Jane. Whispering a few words 
 to Philip and giving a peremptory order for Jane to 
 go immediately to her room, he tossed his paper 
 upon the table with an angry gesture, and told his 
 son to follow him with the horse-whip. 
 
 " So, sir," began the Squire, straightening him 
 self almost to the ceiling, and looking down upon 
 young Graham with commanding superiority, "So, 
 sir, you are the young gentleman who came here 
 last spring to seek the hand of my daughter, and 
 because you were refused, resorted to deception, and 
 decoyed my child into the woods and taught her to 
 disobey her parents." 
 
 " I deny nothing," meekly replied Frank, " not 
 even my unquenchable love for Jane, which has gone 
 beyond my power to control." 
 
 " So it would seem," retorted the Squire, sneer- 
 ingly, and then added : " You have come a long way 
 
THE RUGBYS OF RUGBY FARM. 23 
 
 to get a good flogging. Well, you could not have 
 selected a healthier night or a more befitting occa 
 sion." 
 
 " Indeed, sir, I have come for nothing of the 
 kind," answered Frank, as Philip entered the room 
 with the long-handled whip in his hand. " It is the 
 last place on earth," added Graham, " where I should 
 expect to receive either insult or barbarous treat 
 ment." 
 
 "You deserve both, sir," chimed in Philip, "and 
 it shall not be my fault if you don t get enough to 
 last you as long as you live." 
 
 " I appeal to you, Squire Rugby, as a man of 
 honor, to listen to my request, and to omit these in 
 dignities. I leave for California to-morrow, sir," 
 continued Frank, solemnly, " and I came here to 
 beseech you to permit me a brief interview with 
 your daughter. Surely, sir, on the eve of my de 
 parture you cannot refuse me such a privilege ; it 
 may be a final meeting." 
 
 " I shall refuse you everything but the right to 
 leave this house immediately," answered the Squire, 
 "and your instant exit will confirm the judgment I 
 have hitherto entertained of your ability to foresee 
 coming danger." 
 
 " Then, sir," demanded Graham, " you positively 
 refuse me this favor ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, I do," replied the Squire, stepping back 
 
24 A WINTER EVENING S TALE, 
 
 and grasping the whipstock, " and I am strongly 
 tempted to hasten your departure with something 
 which will prevent your ever coming here again." 
 
 " Spare yourself the trouble and your house the 
 shame such treatment would bring upon it. I will 
 leave at once." 
 
 Jane Rugby having been dismissed from the 
 kitchen, and ordered to her room, obeyed. But the 
 moment she had recovered from the shock, she be 
 gan to devise means by which she might give Gra 
 ham a casket she had prepared for him should she 
 fail, like him, to bring about an interview. The 
 great crisis of her life had come, and it was impos 
 sible for her to resist the promptings of her own 
 heart. Hastily covering herself with a heavy quilt, 
 she stepped out through the window over the front 
 door, and steadying herself by clinging to the old 
 grape-vine, she reached the shelving of the por 
 tico in safety. Here, shivering and benumbed with 
 cold, she sat awaiting his coming. 
 
 The door had scarcely closed upon young Graham 
 when he was attracted by a peculiar sound appar 
 ently coming from the top of the trees which over 
 hung the roof of the house. The jar of the door 
 bolt had died away, and the lights had disappeared 
 from the sitting-room. Again this low, stifled cry 
 came down through the freezing night air. Surely 
 that name was his. He could not be mistaken 
 
THE RUGBYS OF RUGBY FARM. 2$ 
 
 He stood riveted to the spot, listening in breathless 
 silence. His eyes had now become accustomed to 
 the darkness, and straining them to their utmost, he 
 fancied he saw the outlines of a human form stand 
 ing upon the shelving of the portico. Bounding 
 back with the spring of an antelope, his heart throb 
 bing with suppressed joy, he peered through the in 
 creased darkness, and beheld with startled wonder 
 his devoted queen, Jane Rugby. " God bless you, 
 darling, for this proof of your love for me. Tell 
 me quickly how I can reach you, for I must kiss 
 you good-by, though I perish for it the next mo 
 ment." 
 
 " Speak low, Frank dear, or we shall be discov 
 ered. Climb the second tree to your left, follow the 
 third limb, and it will bring you within a few feet of 
 where I am. Be careful of yourself, dear, and don t 
 make any noise." This Graham accomplished, and 
 on reaching the end of the limb sprang upon the 
 shelving, and catching Jane in his arms kissed her 
 with fervency and love. 
 
 Time was too precious, however, to waste in use 
 less repining, the fear of detection too imminent to 
 prolong the interview beyond the interchange of 
 mutual vows and farewells, and the night air too 
 cold to peril the joy of his life. This stolen inter 
 view, which, perhaps, was to be their last in this life ; 
 this blessed meeting, upon which the very essence 
 
26 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 of the future depended ; this grateful opportunity, 
 which had been so auspiciously granted to them, 
 must be consecrated to the great aim of their lives 
 to meet again. 
 
 This, then, was a purely business meeting, and, 
 like all such meetings, was brief and to the point. 
 Tears had to be suppressed, the anguish of the soul 
 smothered, and the tenderest emotions of the heart 
 allowed to die upon the lips. " Take this box, 
 Frank dear. It contains a few articles which will 
 be useful to you in the country which I trust you 
 will reach in safety. Let me hope it will remind 
 you of the giver. In it you will also find a letter 
 more expressive than wise, perhaps. I feared I 
 should not get the opportunity to tell you how dear 
 you are to me. Besides, you will find a ring, the 
 emblem of my plighted love to you. Keep it as a 
 talisman, and return it to me when your love for me 
 is dead. Last, but not least, is the picture of your 
 affianced wife. Frank, darling, I have suffered for 
 you so much ; I must continue to suffer for your 
 sake. This suffering is the price I pay for my un 
 dying love for you. Promise me, darling, before 
 God, in whose presence we stand to-night, you will 
 be faithful and come again to me." 
 
 "I do promise you, Jane, most solemnly. Aye, I 
 swear by my sainted mother, who, in my eyes, em 
 bodies all the perfections of nature, to do all you 
 
THE RUGBYS OF RUGBY FARM. 2/ 
 
 could wish of me. I could not do otherwise be- 
 cause I seem to have absorbed you spiritually. You 
 have become absolutely essential to my existence. 
 We are utterly inseparable, and I love you with all 
 the strength of my heart." 
 
 " Hush, Frank see those lights they are mov 
 ing about the house I am missed. Oh, merciful 
 Father, can I let you go." 
 
 " One word more, Jane, and then farewell. Go to 
 my mother in your distress ; you can expect no sym 
 pathy from your own. She will, for my sake, com 
 fort you, and prove your friend in need. There is 
 a package for you, left in her care, and it contains 
 similar gifts to those you have just given to me. 
 Promise me here, darling, before God that you 
 will never marry until you receive back your talis 
 man, or are assured that I am dead." 
 
 " Let us make that pledge mutual, my poor dear 
 boy, and seal it." 
 
 Thus standing upon the shelving of the portico, 
 shivering in a biting northwest wind on a cold win 
 ter night, they mutually sealed their vows of eter 
 nal constancy and separated. It was, however, a for 
 cible separation, and the consequences came very 
 near being disastrous. For Jane had barely reached 
 her room, when Frank, becoming alarmed for his 
 own safety, sprang out from the shelving and caught 
 the first limb in his fall. The sudden and increased 
 
28 A WINTER EVENINGS TALE. 
 
 weight tore the branch from the tree, and both 
 Graham and the limb went down to the ground 
 with a crash. Before he could recover from the 
 shock, or even disentangle himself from the en- 
 snarled twigs, the Squire had reached the front 
 door with a hand-lamp, and Philip was seen with a 
 lantern hurrying from the driveway to the road. 
 Graham crawled out as best he could, and took ref 
 uge behind a row of cord-wood. Finding there was 
 no escape, he seized a catstick, and struck the lan 
 tern with such force as to send it whirling across 
 the field. Squire Rugby hurried into his library for 
 his shot-gun, and Philip ran to the barn to loosen 
 the dog. But before either returned Graham had 
 reached the bridle path and was soon under the pro 
 tection of his own roof. 
 
 The day had now arrived when Frank Graham 
 was to leave home, and launch out into the great 
 sea of life. It was a cold December morning, the 
 fitful wind drifted the snow into vast heaps, which 
 loomed up, like monuments, to the obscured sun. 
 The deep forest moaned and sighed ; the tree-tops 
 bowed in obedience to the storm ; the young cow 
 lowed for lack of care ; while the black dog whined 
 with up-turned eyes, and laid his troubled head upon 
 the knees of his mistress. 
 
 The echo of the bugle s tone denoted the arrival 
 of the stage, and startled the family from an un- 
 
THE RUGBYS OF RUGBY FARM. 29 
 
 happy reverie, while the approaching bells awakened 
 the pangs of separation. The warm embrace, the 
 tender kiss, the heart s deepest emotions, the bless 
 ings and good-byes were uttered, and the "All 
 aboard " closed the scene. 
 
 Frank turned about in his seat to take a last, fond 
 look of the village and his dear old cottage home. 
 The church, with its long tapering finger pointing 
 high up into the sky, was growing momentarily 
 more indistinct as it receded from his view. The 
 sloping hills and broad rolling meadows were cov 
 ered with winter s deep snow. The Mohawk, con 
 gealed from shore to shore, rolled along under its 
 icy coverlet in dreamy silence. But there, back 
 against the hill, with the curling smoke rising grace 
 fully into the midst of the falling snow, stood his 
 quaint little home. He looked upon the fast fading 
 scene, and followed the irregular snow-drifts from 
 the spot where the faithful dog was howling after 
 his master, to the foot of the lawn, where, with 
 uncovered head and handkerchief waving in the 
 snowy air, he saw his poor old mother leaning over 
 the garden gate, the very image of desolation and 
 despair. He waved his hat while the tears froze to 
 his cheeks, and when the turn in the road peremp 
 torily closed the scene, he wrapped his cloak about 
 him and yielded his heart to the wildest grief. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE ARBOR, THE GEM OF THE BOWERY. 
 
 " Saxy take the butt." 
 
 " Now say ole man what d ye take me for a foofoo." 
 
 " I se a butcher boy, I is. If yer don t believe what I say, smell of my boots." 
 
 MOSE. 
 
 COURTLAND STREET, in New York city, improved 
 but little from 1848 up to 1870, when we last saw it. 
 It was then what it was twenty-two years before, 
 and probably is to-day, a narrow, dirty thorough 
 fare, leading from Broadway down to the ferry. 
 The Howard House, situated near the river, with 
 rather a pleasing exterior for the locality, offered 
 all the inducements of other hotels to catch the 
 adventurous Californian. These were the harvest 
 times for hackmen and hotel proprietors, as many 
 unwary countrymen found to their cost. 
 
 The Howard House was where Frank Graham 
 found his father on arriving in that city early one 
 morning in December, 1848. How Mr. Graham 
 happened to get into such questionable quarters, 
 can best be explained by him in his defense to his 
 son. 
 
 On his arrival at the station, on the night train 
 
THE ARBOR, THE GEM OF THE BOWERY. 31 
 
 from Albany,* he became, he said, absolutely over 
 whelmed with the noise of the bullying hackmen, 
 who seemed to outnumber the passengers that had 
 accompanied him on the train. His voice was 
 drowned by their loud and persistent cries, and his 
 efforts to make known his wishes were smothered 
 in the confusion and uproar. He was rudely caught 
 by his coat-collar by one man, and instantly seized 
 and hustled away by another. In this inextricable 
 jam his life was in imminent danger, and he seemed 
 to have fallen into a den of wild beasts rather than 
 among civilized men who are supposed to be the 
 travelers protectors and guides. He had no recol 
 lection how he reached the hack, or how the driver 
 got his checks, but he was both astonished and 
 pleased to discover in the room assigned him, that 
 not only himself but his baggage was safe. 
 
 Mr. Graham s general appearance, it seems, caused 
 no little commotion among the " regular boarders " 
 and frequenters of this busy little oyster-house. 
 Such a prize did not drop in their way very often, 
 and such a prize must not be allowed to slip through 
 their fingers without an effort to secure it. So 
 Frank Graham was not surprised, when shown into 
 his father s room on the morning of his arrival, to 
 find him greatly distressed and his baggage strewed 
 all over the floor. He had been robbed. 
 
 A mistaken sense of economy on the part of Mr. 
 
32 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 Graham had periled their adventure, and but for 
 the timely arrival of his son would have left them 
 penniless, and brought their bright anticipations to 
 a disastrous end. Mr. Graham, however, had no 
 sooner received his son s letter assuring him that 
 he would meet him the following Thursday, than he 
 purchased two tickets on the ship Orpheus, which 
 was advertised to sail in a few days, and took the 
 precaution to go aboard and select a double berth 
 near the fore-hatch. He had also purchased a reg 
 ular line of provisions which had been duly accepted 
 by the officers of the ship. Fortunately for both 
 Mr. Graham and his son, the tickets for the voyage 
 were not ready, but a written order in their favor 
 on Messrs. Tracy & Co. to cover the purchase- 
 money was given to him instead. 
 
 The robbery was both successful and complete. 
 Everything which the thieves could make available 
 was taken. Mr. Graham s clothes had been so thor 
 oughly examined that the bulk of his funds was 
 gone, also the order for the tickets, which he had 
 taken so much pains to conceal. This was, indeed, 
 a most distressing state of things, for this order in 
 sured the holders their passage to San Francisco, 
 and was therefore of far more importance to them 
 than its value in money. Unless they could recover 
 this order, or prevent its exchange for the tickets, 
 they would be left a financial wreck, and must re 
 turn to their home broken and penniless. 
 
THE ARBOR, THE GEM OF THE BOWERY. 33 
 
 Nothing was said or done to create the least sus 
 picion in the minds of the proprietors of the How 
 ard House, but as soon as they had completed their 
 arrangements, they quietly left their lodgings. Mr. 
 Graham went immediately to the shipping office, 
 and Frank inquired his way to the City Hall, and 
 placed the matter in the hands of the police depart 
 ment. The anxiety with which Frank awaited the 
 return of his father can never be fully described. 
 But he returned, thank Heaven, and the moment 
 their eyes met he knew they were safe, and the 
 meeting between them was the happiest they had 
 ever experienced. Yes, the scoundrel had been to 
 Messrs. Tracy & Co. s office. He had used every 
 means to realize the money on the ticket order, but 
 failing in that, he had demanded the tickets, which 
 were produced. But a pen and the order being 
 handed to him, with the request that the latter be 
 indorsed on its back, caused him to hesitate, and 
 without even raising his eyes from the paper, or 
 showing the slightest uneasiness, he laid down the 
 pen, and leaving the order upon the counter, turned 
 upon his heels, and quickly left the office. 
 
 Mr. Graham and his son left the Howard House, 
 and took up their quarters at Lovejoy s, Park Row. 
 The broken blade of the oyster-knife found inside 
 of the rifled trunk, and the description of the man 
 who presented the ticket order at the shipping of- 
 
34 A WINTER EVENINGS TALE. 
 
 fice, brought the two thieves to the Tombs, and sent 
 them finally to Blackwell s Island. 
 
 Let us continue this story a little farther to show 
 our reader the reward which Frank Graham re 
 ceived before his vessel sailed from New York, for 
 his persistent efforts to assist the law to punish 
 criminals and suppress crime. A few days before 
 the trial of these two men came off, and shortly 
 after supper, Mr. Graham, with a couple of friends, 
 started for the Broadway Theatre to see Lester 
 personate the Count of Monte Cristo. Frank Gra 
 ham remained at the hotel, where the following in 
 teresting colloquy took place, which shall be given 
 to the reader in the exact words he used to relate 
 the circumstances to his father on his return to their 
 lodgings : 
 
 " Well, father, now that we are alone, I have an 
 interesting story, which, when you have taken off 
 your boots and got settled in your chair, I will relate 
 to you in detail, as near as I can remember." 
 
 " I am all ready, Frank ; please proceed." 
 
 " Well, sir," resumed Frank, " after you and your 
 friends had gone, I took a seat by the fire in the 
 reading room, and was engaged in conversation 
 with some friends upon the rascally schemes the 
 city sharpers have concocted to capture and fleece 
 the unsophisticated countrymen en route to the land 
 of gold. At that moment a gentlemanly looking 
 
THE ARBOR, THE GEM OF THE BOWERY. 35 
 
 man with a black, sickly looking moustache, and 
 strong marks of dissipation about his eyes, stepped 
 up and said inquiringly, Your name is Graham, 
 I believe. Yes, sir, I replied, rising .politely, it 
 is/ My name, began the stranger, smiling, is 
 Blackmore. Allow me please to introduce to you 
 my friend, Dixon. Mr. Dixon came up, and bowing 
 rather awkwardly, said, Happy, sir, to make your 
 acquaintance. Mr. Blackmore was a tall man, slimly 
 built, and fairly dressed, and to my mind represented 
 a Cooper Street graduate. Mr. Dixon, on the other 
 hand, was a short, thick-set man with a round full 
 face, wearing a red neck-tie and a rather attractive 
 shirt. It was made of a dark green cassimere, with 
 a small Masonic figure at the base, partially con 
 cealed by a red vine resembling an English ivy, 
 which ran up the body. Mr. Dixon was typical of 
 the Bowery boy so famed in the social calendar of 
 this city. 
 
 " Gentlemen, said I persuasively, please be 
 seated. Mr. Blackmore answered blandly, Thank 
 you, but we have come here to invite you out to 
 night. You know Game s restaurant on Ann Street, 
 continued that gentleman, with great suavity, at 
 that place are two ladies waiting to see you. 
 
 " Indeed, sir, I laughingly replied, there must 
 be some mistake, we have no lady acquaintances in 
 this city. 
 
36 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 " We suspected as much, enticingly laughed Mr. 
 Dixon, and so for that reason, we propose intro 
 ducing you to two handsome ones to begin with/ 
 he added, with a clumsy chuckle. 
 
 " Ah, sirs, I don t deserve this great considera 
 tion. It is really too much/ I said, deprecatingly ; 
 and I deeply regret that I must decline the honor/ 
 I added, with a decisive shake of the head. 
 
 "Mr. Blackmore now began his work in earnest, 
 and at every opportune moment his friend Dixon 
 threw in his morsel of help. The ladies/ he said, 
 were the broken-hearted wives of the two men who 
 have been arrested on suspicion of having robbed 
 Mr. Graham s trunk. The suspicion, however, is 
 groundless, and their friends the victims of circum 
 stantial evidence. They have known these men from 
 boyhood, and they have borne an irreproachable 
 character. They should not be appeared against, 
 but their case allowed to go by default. Why, sir, 
 these men made a deep impression upon my mind, 
 and my doubts increased accordingly. Why, father, 
 I cheerfully confess to you that at one period of the 
 interview I possessed a weakness which came near 
 cheating justice of her dues, and allowing these in 
 nocent ones to escape their just rewards. Indeed, 
 sir, I was at one time deeply concerned about my 
 own conduct in the matter, and was at the point of 
 offering a formal apology and saying to these men, 
 
THE ARBOR, THE GEM OF THE BOWERY. 37 
 
 that the case should be dropped, and their perse 
 cuted friends allowed to depart in peace. I might 
 possibly have consented to some such terms, but the 
 more I examined that shirt, the more I became troub 
 led, and I concluded to sum the case up in one 
 brief question. So I said, addressing myself to 
 both gentlemen, who, for the first time, now looked 
 into my face with symptoms of suspicion, 
 
 " Let me be just to my own feelings as well as 
 to your imprisoned friends, whose fate will depend, 
 as far as I am concerned, upon the answer you give 
 to the following question, Mr. Dixon. If you an 
 swer it as you should, your friends will have no oc 
 casion to regret your intercession. If you do not 
 reply to it in a manner entitled to my respect, our 
 interview and acquaintance must come to an end. 
 Do you assent, gentlemen ? Oh, yes, they replied, 
 cautiously. Then looking him right in the eyes, 
 I said, pointedly : Mr. Dixon, where did you get 
 that shirt ? pointing to the one he wore, which 
 supported a pin of doubtful character. Really, sir, 
 you are rather too personal for your strength, 
 gruffly retorted Mr. Dixon, rising stiffly in his chair, 
 and drawing his coat-tail closely about his loins. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir, I said, appealing to Mr. 
 Blackmore, who sat uneasily in his seat, and seemed 
 fearful lest he should compromise his friend. I 
 believe, sir, that was the understanding, and I shall 
 insist upon a prompt reply. 
 
38 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 " Mr. Blackmore, looking cautiously into the face 
 of his friend, and anxiously awaiting some sign by 
 which he could judicially act, was about to speak, 
 when Dixon, without changing his position, naively 
 retorted : Why, sir, I bought it, and therefore came 
 honestly by it. 
 
 " The goods from which your shirt was made, 
 I resumed, were manufactured at the Middleton 
 Mills of this State. My father designed that pat 
 tern and the goods were made under his supervision. 
 From a piece of those goods his wife made him six 
 shirts, which constituted a part of his effects on his 
 leaving home for this city. If the shirt which Mr. 
 Dixon wears is one of those stolen from the trunk 
 at the Howard House last Wednesday, I will show 
 both of you gentlemen my father s name worked in 
 full in the lap which forms the stay in the bosom. 
 If the name is there, Mr. Dixon, the shirt is not 
 yours and you did not come honestly by it. If the 
 name is not there, you will, I am sure, as readily 
 forgive me as I shall forgive your accused friends. 
 I am ready, gentlemen, to risk the reputation and 
 the innocence of your friends upon the finding of 
 that name. If you, gentlemen, are ready to stake 
 your interest upon the result of an investigation, let 
 us walk into the clerk s office at once. A death 
 like silence ensued, a painful silence, which, al 
 though it lasted but a minute, seemed to me much 
 
THE ARBOR, THE GEM OF THE BOWERY. 39 
 
 longer, during which I watched both of these men. 
 Blackmore, dumbfounded and astonished, looked 
 into the face of his friend, covered as it was with 
 guilt and anger. Rising to his feet with a sudden 
 bound, Mr. Dixon said, as he buttoned his coat over 
 his broad, muscular chest, Blackmore, I have sub 
 mitted to this youngster s insults as long as I care 
 to. If his base insinuations are pleasing to you, 
 they are not so to me ; and with a look upon his 
 face I shall never forget he whirled round upon his 
 heel, and walked rapidly out of the hotel. Mr. 
 Blackmore immediately followed, and simply bowing 
 with deep courtesy said good-night. 
 
 " Soon after came another actor in this little farce, 
 a closely shaven man with false whiskers, in the 
 role of a detective. He claimed a private interview 
 with me, and ever and anon exposed his assumed 
 badge with private detective pinned upon his vest. 
 He assured me, confidentially, that his visit was 
 more of inquiry than of arrest. I had, he said, in 
 cautiously admitted to the friends of these two crim 
 inals in the Tombs my willingness to drop the suit, 
 should the stolen goods be returned at once. This, 
 in the eye of the law, he said, was collusion, and 
 might endanger my own safety at the moment when 
 our ship was ready to sail. Statements to this effect 
 had been made and recorded at headquarters. The 
 law was most severe, and justice blind to misapplied 
 
4<D A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 sympathy. He would, he said, in conclusion, advise 
 me as a friend to look out for myself or I might 
 never see California." 
 
 Well, all these nice little schemes did not discour 
 age Frank Graham, or prevent his appearing at 
 court and giving in his testimony. Neither did they 
 prevent these injured friends from being sent for 
 six months to Blackwell s Island. But the conclu 
 sion of this story will show how dearly he paid for 
 his obstinacy, and explain the ugly scar upon the 
 top of his head which increases in size with his de 
 clining years. It will picture in a small degree the 
 evils which exist in that stratum of human life, and 
 show how near he came giving up his life to sustain 
 the law and enforce its penalties. 
 
 He was first attracted to the Arbor, an oyster 
 saloon on the Bowery, by the rich and tempting 
 viands displayed in the window as he passed it one 
 evening on his way to the famous old theatre of 
 that name. And afterwards, as long as he stayed 
 in the city, he shared his patronage with Charlie 
 Locksley, as he was familiarly called by his friends. 
 
 Charles Locksley was an Englishman by birth," 
 with a bright, intelligent face, and possessing a most 
 amiable disposition perhaps it was the love of 
 home, and his still lingering devotion for his brave 
 old flag, regardless of her faults, that allured him to 
 the Arbor. 
 
THE ARBOR, THE GEM OF THE BOWERY. 41 
 
 Charlie s saloon was always cozy and neat. The 
 mahogany bar shone like glass. The decanters were 
 tastefully arranged. The stove, standing in the cen 
 tre of the room and resembling, as nearly as any 
 stove can be made to resemble, an open fire-place, 
 was brightly polished, and threw a warm, cheerful 
 heat far out into the room. But one seat was to be 
 seen, a common kitchen chair, heavy and strongly 
 put together. The pictures which were hanging on 
 different parts of the walls were genteel, respectable, 
 and appropriate. For the accommodation of guests, 
 there were at the rear of the room four double stalls 
 with marble-topped tables, soft cushioned seats, and 
 silken curtains to protect the visitor from the public 
 gaze. There was a peculiar freshness about the 
 saloon ; such an air of comfort, so much peaceful 
 calm in everything one saw that it helped him much 
 to enjoy the fancy roasts for which Charlie Locks- 
 ley had become favorably known. On one end of 
 the counter, in a handsome walnut case, stood a 
 stuffed English setter as natural as life. At the 
 other end, piled up half-way to the ceiling, were 
 skillfully arranged pyramids of the celebrated Provi 
 dence River oyster. Standing over a spirit lamp 
 was a large copper urn, so nicely polished that one 
 could see his face in it. It was curiously shaped, and 
 the steam which issued from the top kept an egg 
 suspended in air. A beautifully figured waiter cov- 
 
42 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 ered with a clean white napkin, on which rested 
 twelve heavy cut tumblers, shining in the gas-light 
 like so many diamonds, was another feature of Char 
 lie Locksley s saloon. A highly-colored card pinned 
 to the frame of the mirror, and printed in handsome 
 style, reminded the patrons on each cold winter 
 night of their mutual friends and bosom compan 
 ions, Tom and Jerry. Last but not least was the 
 proprietor, medium height, squarely built, short 
 side whiskers, a light blue eye, frank open counte 
 nance, a man in the prime of life. Such was 
 Charlie Locksley. 
 
 We have taken some little pains to describe the 
 Arbor and its proprietor, because the comedy which 
 began at the Howard House terminated here, and 
 a first-class tragedy was set up in its place. Here 
 Charlie Locksley took part in the last scene, and 
 here the curtain fell upon Graham s last night in 
 the metropolis of the New World. 
 
 The ship which had been fitting so long was at 
 last got ready, and was announced positively to sail 
 the next day. Mr. Graham and his son went on 
 board in the forenoon, took formal possession of 
 their berth, and stowed away their bedding, books, 
 and papers. They had taken with them everything 
 which they thought would ameliorate their condition 
 and lighten the tediousness of a protracted sea 
 voyage. Their trunks were securely lashed, hampers 
 
THE ARBOR, THE GEM OF THE BOWERY. 43 
 
 of fruits, pickles, and other delicacies were carefully 
 concealed, and a large demijohn of fresh water, which 
 proved invaluable to them in the confusion of the 
 first few days at sea, was safely stowed away. 
 
 Mr. Graham remained on board to protect their 
 property, and Frank returned to the hotel to pay 
 their bills and take leave of their friends, intending 
 to go aboard in the morning. Yes, it was his last 
 night ashore, the eve of his departure to that land 
 which flowed with milk and honey. He would go 
 to the Bowery Theatre with West and Allison, take 
 supper with them at Charlie Locksley s, and then 
 separate, perhaps forever. Their tickets furnished 
 them seats in the " dress circle." As they entered 
 the theatre the curtain rose upon the first scene in 
 " Hamlet." Soon after, young Graham, filled with 
 surprise, rose with his companions to admit a gen 
 tleman and lady to the vacant seats next their own. 
 It was Mr. Dixon. Yes, it was he, and no one else. 
 Mr. Dixon saw Graham, but he neither spoke nor 
 nodded. At the end of the first act Dixon retired, 
 and his seat was occupied subsequently by a gentle 
 man friend. Graham felt uneasy but said nothing. 
 He felt sure that Dixon s absence meant trouble. 
 When they reached the lobby, at the conclusion 
 of the play, he quietly mentioned his fears to his 
 friends. Mr. West suggested placing Graham be 
 tween himself and Allison, to prevent any assault 
 
44 A WINTER EVENINGS TALE. 
 
 being made while descending the sombre staircase. 
 There was no trouble, however, and they reached 
 the sidewalk unmolested. But on the edge of the 
 curbstone, facing the entrance to the theatre, with 
 the lights full in his face, stood Dixon surrounded 
 by several companions. He did not move from his 
 position until Graham and his associates had passed 
 some distance into the darkness. Then Dixon and 
 his companions followed. 
 
 Frank Graham was warmly received at the Arbor, 
 and after introducing his friends and informing 
 Locksley that this was his last night ashore, and 
 that he should sail in the morning, he ordered sup 
 per for the party, and they took seats in the first 
 vacant stall. Charlie Locksley, unusually affable 
 with Graham and his friends, sat talking with them 
 until some gentlemen came in, when he stepped 
 quickly behind the bar. It was Dixon and his fol 
 lowers. Mr. West, pulling down the curtain with a 
 jerk, and buttoning up his coat nervously, said in a 
 whisper, 
 
 "Boys, we are going to have trouble here, and 
 you had better prepare for it. It is you they are 
 after, Graham," he added, " and their visit here 
 means mischief and revenge." 
 
 " Be persuaded, Frank, and keep out of their way," 
 feelingly remarked Allison. 
 
 "Yes, and let me go out and reconnoitre," hur 
 riedly suggested West." 
 
THE ARBOR, THE GEM OF THE BOWERY. 45 
 
 At this moment there came through the curtain 
 one of Locksley s tumblers. It cut its way through 
 and struck the gas jet, thus putting out the light. 
 This was the first shot, and it was accepted, as it 
 was intended by the assailants, as a declaration of 
 war. The three friends sprang to their feet ; West, 
 putting up the curtain, stepped out. Receiving a 
 kick in the stomach, he went down upon his knees. 
 In the frenzy of the moment, Allison, seizing a 
 heavy salt-cellar, and Graham, a mustard cruet, sal 
 lied out together. The former parried a blow aimed 
 at his face, and instantly closed with his man. The 
 latter received from Dixon a hard blow in the neck, 
 which sent him whirling up to the end of the bar. 
 This was quickly followed by another, when Locks- 
 ley, finding he could no longer remain neutral, dealt 
 Dixon a heavy blow upon the head with a lemon- 
 squeezer, which brought the blood and caused him 
 to loose his hold on Graham. But he instantly 
 turned upon Locksley, who grappled with the insti 
 gator of this broil, and the contest between the 
 two men continued fierce and bloody to the end. 
 Graham recovered in season to find his friend West 
 in a perilous situation. He had been pushed back 
 wards over the chair and lay upon his back, covered 
 by a rough, who had seized him by the throat, and 
 was absolutely trying to throttle him to death. Gra 
 ham sprang forward, and seizing the chair, brought 
 
46 A WINTER EVENINGS TALE. 
 
 it down upon the head and shoulders of the would- 
 be murderer with such force as to send him bleed 
 ing upon the floor. 
 
 The contest had now become mixed and des 
 perate. Innocent parties were drawn in, either from 
 sympathy or interest, and a scene of the wildest 
 confusion ensued. The police were called, and the 
 rattles of those guardians of the public peace broke 
 sharply upon the midnight air. But the crash of 
 broken windows and the oaths of struggling men 
 were now drowned by cries of Fire ! The stove had 
 been overturned in the melee, the light drapery at 
 tached to the stalls had been set on fire by the live 
 coals, and the Arbor, the Gem of the Bowery, was 
 in flames. Charlie Locksley s presence of mind not 
 only saved his saloon from destruction, but also pre 
 vented Graham s arrest, and the unpleasant conse 
 quences which must have followed. The moment 
 the flames burst out the combatants, becoming 
 alarmed for their safety, fled. Graham, with a face 
 ghastly as death, and a voice hoarse from emotion, 
 cried out to Locksley, " O God, Charlie ! how can 
 we be saved ! " With the quickness of a shuttle 
 from the hand of the weaver, he raised the trap 
 door from where he had stood, and whispering into 
 Frank s ear, "Follow me," jumped down into the 
 darkness, accompanied by his friend. There was a 
 small, glimmering light burning at the gas jet in the 
 
THE ARBOR, THE GEM OF THE BOWERY. 47 
 
 rear of the cellar. Locksley turned on the gas, and 
 sprang for a coil of hose resting upon a peg in 
 the wall. Taking the nozzle in one hand and let 
 ting out the coil with the other, he told Graham 
 to let on the water and stay where he was. The 
 thoughts which passed through his mind, as he 
 stood alone in the basement of Locksley s saloon, 
 furnished food for a score of stories to his friends in 
 after years. A severe cut on the top of his head, 
 his body bruised and sore, his clothes torn in shreds 
 and spattered with blood ; fire above him, and pos 
 sibly death, should he escape these he would most 
 likely be arrested, committed for examination, and 
 held, possibly, as a witness against these men. His 
 ship would in the mean time sail without him, he 
 would be left helpless and aimless, and his gray- 
 haired father deeply troubled. But these calam 
 ities were avoided, and Graham s hopes revived 
 when Locksley, coming down, assured him that all 
 was quiet, the saloon was closed, and they would 
 spend the balance of the night together. The light 
 was turned down, and Frank followed Locksley up 
 into the saloon. The scene which met his eyes was 
 beyond his worst fears, the desolation shocking to 
 behold, and seating himself in the only remaining 
 stall, he raised his eyes to the face of his bruised 
 and battered friend, and burst into tears. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 ROUNDING CAPE HORN. 
 
 " Adieu, adieu, my native shore 
 Fades o er the waters blue, 
 The night winds sigh, the breakers roar, 
 And shrieks the wild sea mew. 
 Yon sun that sets upon the sea, 
 We follow in his flight, 
 Farewell awhile to him and thee, 
 My native land Good-night." 
 
 BYRON. 
 
 ON the twenty-fifth of December, 1848, the ship 
 Orpheus left her moorings, and sailed for San Fran 
 cisco, California. A large proportion of her passen 
 gers were residents of New York city and its sur 
 roundings. Small steamers and pleasure boats filled 
 with anxious friends followed the vessel as she 
 moved slowly out into the bay. The wharves, too, 
 were covered with people who were there to bid the 
 adventurous voyagers good-by. The excitement was 
 intense, and the air was filled with wild huzzas ; hats 
 went up into the air, handkerchiefs waved, and as 
 cheer upon cheer reverberated from ship to shore, 
 that beautiful vessel, as well as many of the daring 
 spirits on her decks, left the harbor never to return. 
 
 She stood out under a dull leaden sky, and a light 
 snow-storm, leaving Sandy Hook and the low New 
 
ROUNDING CAPE HORN. 49 
 
 Jersey shores upon her lee. The decks were cleared, 
 the watches set, the messes formed, the sails un 
 furled, and under a heavy press of canvas she sailed 
 swiftly out into the broad Atlantic. Confusion sub 
 sided, order was restored, and, the people fraterniz 
 ing, the ship s discipline was submitted to with 
 peaceful resignation. The excitement attending 
 the separation was over, their homes and friends 
 could be seen no more, and the ship, a mere speck 
 upon the horizon, freighted with human hopes and 
 fears, glided upon her course, bearing with her many 
 aching hearts, and minds filled with fantastic dreams. 
 Two hundred and fifty young, ardent, and advent 
 urous men, buoyant with reckless imagination, con 
 fined in such narrow limits for upwards of six 
 months must, indeed, be saints to live together, re 
 stricted to navy rations of inferior quality, doled out 
 with sparing hand, and bordering upon starvation, 
 without dissensions and sometimes open conflict. 
 It would, indeed, be wonderful, surrounded by varied 
 difficulties, and sometimes by the insufferable priva 
 tions which always accompany those who go down 
 into the sea in ships if the heterogenous mass of 
 humanity on board the Orpheus should not yield to 
 the pressure of personal grievances occasionally, and 
 resort to a mutual trial of muscular strength, pre 
 ceded by a little pugilistic science. Such encoun 
 ters are not without their justifying merits, and when 
 
 4 
 
5O A WINTER EVENINGS TALE. 
 
 used with moderation do good, and are commendable. 
 They are not only exhilarating but purifying. 
 
 A voyage around Cape Horn, under the most fa 
 vorable circumstances, tries a man s patience and 
 endurance. But when made with a large body of 
 men, removed from all social influences, and sur 
 rounded by corrupting scenes, the adventure is 
 much harder to be borne. One after another the 
 masks began to fall. Slumbering jealousies awoke, 
 angry discussions turned to blows, and violence and 
 bloodshed were frequent occurrences till they had 
 "rounded the Horn." Head winds, heavy seas, six 
 hours daylight, food badly cooked, and more mis 
 erably served, officers cross and indifferent, cook 
 drunken and ugly, sailors insolent and brutal, squeal 
 ing pigs, filthy hen-coops, decks swashed with wa 
 ter, berths damp and musty, these were among 
 the trials of the voyage ; but if anything was needed 
 to complete the list of unbearables, the "captain 
 lost his reckoning, the ship was without bearings 
 under close-reefed topsails, laboring against both a 
 head wind and sea, and drifting surely upon the lee 
 shore, the cook was under arrest, and all hands had 
 to turn in without supper." 
 
 Songs and boisterous laughing following are heard 
 between decks, and the fumes of liquor and tobacco 
 commingle. Suddenly angry words take the place 
 of songs, and oaths and violence fall like a wet 
 
ROUNDING CAPE HORN. 51 
 
 blanket upon the gathering mirth. Jim Ferris, the 
 Williamsburg "pet," a large, powerfully built man, 
 a little too groggy for his own safety, stripped to 
 the waist, and spoiling for a fight, determined to 
 clean out mess number seven for a fancied insult. 
 Having worked himself into a furious passion, he 
 jumped out of his berth, and started down to mid 
 ships under the glimmering lights of the steerage 
 lanterns, resolved to annihilate that body of men or 
 die in the attempt. He was met by Judson, a young 
 minister of the gospel, who considered this a splen 
 did opportunity to test his persuasive eloquence as 
 a messenger of peace. Being received upon the 
 point of Jim s massive fist, he went down to leeward 
 with the speed of an arrow, and was seen no more. 
 With the leap of a tiger, Judson s chum and mess 
 mate sprang upon Ferris, and with the heel of a 
 heavy sea-boqt dealt him a blow upon the head that 
 knocked the bully upon his knees. But Judson s 
 chum followed his friend under difficulties of no or 
 dinary character, for a huge tin-kettle half full of 
 water flew after him, and striking him squarely in 
 the back of the head, he whirled round with fright 
 ful gasps and dropped heavily upon the deck. Forty 
 angry men now rushed to the assistance of their 
 friends on either side, a rough and disgraceful fight 
 ensued, which furnished a scene for the voyagers 
 unequaled for brilliancy and endurance while they 
 
52 A W NTEK EVENINGS TALE. 
 
 remained together. It was terminated, fortunately 
 for all concerned, by a heavy sea, which dashed 
 squarely over the weather bow, and then plunging 
 down the fore-hatch, rushed swiftly to midships, put 
 ting out the forward lights, and leaving the com 
 batants in darkness, and up to their knees in water. 
 
 These little side-scenes were occasionally brought 
 out, only modified in picturesqueness, and tempered 
 with less serious results. They seemed, however, to 
 have a beneficial effect, just as a rain-storm has upon 
 the hot and dusty earth in midsummer, cooling the 
 ground, purifying the air, and leaving the foliage 
 and flowers fresh and sparkling. Then came the 
 punishment. The cook, refusing to do duty, was 
 put in irons and taken aft to the captain for trial. 
 The " discipline of the ship must be enforced, and 
 the authority of its officers made supreme." The 
 opportunity to apologize was given him, the ac 
 ceptance of which would have permitted him to 
 return to duty, but he declined, and his friends be 
 coming provoked at his obstinacy, he was sentenced 
 to be flogged. The sickening details of this scene 
 were faithfully carried out. The stubborn cook was 
 stripped to the waist, his hands were lashed to the 
 rigging, and he received fifty lashes upon his bare 
 back. This was one of the most painful scenes 
 witnessed during the voyage. 
 
 The next difficulty of any importance was the in- 
 
ROUNDING CAPE HORN. 53 
 
 dignation meeting and its unpleasant consequences. 
 Its cause was the unwholesome supplies issued to 
 the messes, which were at times so bad that they 
 could not be used. Secret mutterings rose to open 
 threats and denunciations. Small groups of disaf 
 fected men swelled into a large body, thus opening 
 the door for turbulent spirits to make themselves 
 conspicuous and inflame still more the minds of 
 those excited. A grand meeting was called, officers 
 chosen, and strong resolutions covering the sense of 
 the meeting adopted. Inflammatory speeches were 
 made, denouncing the owners and holding the offi 
 cers responsible for the impurity of the water and 
 the condition of their supplies. It was voted to 
 visit the captain in a body the next day, and demand 
 better water, better pork, and better bread, or the 
 ship to be headed for the nearest port. Accordingly 
 at the appointed time about one hundred malcon 
 tents gathered, and with their president at their 
 head marched in solemn order to the quarter-deck. 
 Mr. Bottomly, from Yonkers, a defunct politician 
 with some knowledge of law and less of good sense, 
 assumed the responsibilities of the hour, and being 
 handed up to a temporary stand in the quarter boat, 
 faced the captain and his first officer and addressed 
 him as follows : 
 
 " Captain Freeman : There are times in the life 
 of men which, when taken at the flood, lead to for- 
 
54 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 tune. The time of your life has come when you 
 must either furnish us better grub, or go down into 
 the sea and stay there. (Applause.) Desperate dis 
 eases require desperate remedies. The disease 
 which has stricken this ship s company is slimy 
 water, rotten bread, and offensive meat. The rem 
 edy for you to apply is better food and more of it. 
 (Great applause.) No man on this ship has a pro- 
 founder regard for the venerable navigator Noah, or 
 concede to him higher praise for the abilities he 
 displayed during the forty days of the flood, than I. 
 I only regret his voyage was not sufficiently pro 
 longed to prevent our being obliged to eat his leav 
 ings. (Prolonged applause.) I hold in my hand a 
 petition and set of resolutions, condemning both 
 owners and officers of this ship for the deception 
 and fraud practiced upon their passengers. Allow 
 me in behalf of these injured people to present you 
 with them. (Refuses.) Very good, sir. The senti 
 ments which they contain are embodied in the fol 
 lowing brief sentences. We are here on business, 
 and, sir, we mean business. If you have better food 
 on board of this ship, we must have it. If not we 
 demand you to put this ship into the nearest port. 
 Should you refuse that, we shall take this ship from 
 you and put her in there ourselves. You can have 
 till to-morrow morning to decide." 
 
 Captain Freeman paid respectful attention to the 
 
ROUNDING CAPE HORN. 55 
 
 orator, his deep gray eyes resting fully upon him. 
 Upon being addressed by the leader of the crowd, 
 he scarcely moved from where he stood or showed 
 the least fear or anger. Nevertheless, there was an 
 occasional twitching of the muscles of the face, and 
 perhaps a little nervousness in the arms as he thrust 
 his hands deeper into the pockets of his pea-jacket. 
 He was a small man, not over five feet four, and 
 slim and active as a school-boy. The face, being 
 the index of the man, although deeply bronzed and 
 disfigured by storms and exposure, possessed a 
 marked degree of intelligence. No sooner was Mr. 
 Bottomly handed down, than the captain sprang into 
 his place. Stooping over to leeward he spat upon 
 the deck, and then tossing into the sea a quid of 
 tobacco of astonishing proportions, spoke to his 
 audience in these words : 
 
 " Passengers : When this ship was provisioned and 
 fitted for this voyage, I was on Cape Cod, Massa 
 chusetts, with my family. Therefore I am no more 
 responsible for the condition of your food and water 
 than you are. The owners employed me to take 
 this ship to San Francisco, and I mean to do it. 
 This ship is insured with certain conditions, and 
 these conditions permit us to enter but two ports, 
 Valparaiso and our port of destination. With ordi 
 nary luck we shall reach the former in twenty days, 
 and that is the only port this ship will enter while I 
 
56 A WINTER EVENING S TALT.. 
 
 am her master. This is all the time I require and 
 this is my answer." 
 
 And springing back upon the deck he went down 
 into his cabin. 
 
 This brief and laconic reply of Captain Freeman 
 narrowed the issue and brought the belligerents to 
 a halt. Indeed, he had taken a perilous stand, for 
 although a majority of the ship s company were op 
 posed to open violence and mutiny, it must be ad 
 mitted they were in favor of the spirit and honest 
 purposes of the meeting ; but while sustaining the 
 efforts of the petitioners they regretted the ill-chosen 
 words of their president. A formal demand had 
 been made upon the owners representative for bet 
 ter food, which he had virtually admitted was be 
 yond his power to produce. He had been told in 
 that case to put his ship into the nearest port and 
 he had peremptorily refused. They had threatened 
 to take his ship from him should he fail to comply, 
 and he had assured them that this they could only 
 do by first depriving him of his life. Thus matters 
 stood. There seemed no middle ground. The Rubi 
 con in this case was indeed narrow. Would Caesar 
 cross. Let us see. A captain on board his ship 
 upon the high seas, is invested by law with a degree 
 of power which makes him literally the monarch of 
 all he surveys. His authority cannot be disputed, 
 and he holds the destinies of both ship and crew, as 
 
ROUNDING CAPE HORN. 57 
 
 it were, in the hollow of his hand. His owners in 
 trust him with the ship and cargo, and the nation 
 under whose flag he sails confides to his care the 
 lives of those who accompany him. He sails out 
 upon the great deep with his line of duties clearly 
 defined, and the responsibilities of his situation en 
 graven upon his heart. The laws giving him this 
 great power were created for his use and guidance, 
 and he is sustained in their lawful enforcement. In 
 moments of supreme danger when great perils arise 
 he neither falters nor shirks his duty, but either 
 survives with an unblemished name or goes down 
 with his ship, loyal to his duty and trust. 
 
 Supported, then, by the laws of his country, con 
 scious of his rights and the dignity of his station, 
 Captain Freeman was determined to give up his life, 
 rather than yield to a fractious mob which would 
 compromise the one and humiliate the other. The 
 moment, therefore, that he returned to his cabin, 
 the men gathered in groups and discussed in anger 
 the unsuccessful results of their interview. Some 
 were cool, but perplexed, others excited and furious 
 at what they considered a flat refusal to mitigate 
 their wrongs. At this juncture the colored steward, 
 carrying in his hands a tray covered with meats, 
 was edging his way through the crowds of hungry 
 men to the captain s table, when his tray was seized 
 and the contents instantly vanished. Quick as a 
 
58 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 flash of lightning, the steward felled one of the men 
 to the deck, hurled another into the lee scuppers, 
 and rushed into the cabin followed by a wild and 
 infuriated mob, crying for vengeance and better 
 food. 
 
 The scene which presented itself that day was 
 worthy of an artist s pencil, and can better be imag 
 ined than described. The captain stood at the head 
 of his table, with his officers and a dozen cabin pas 
 sengers standing about him defenseless, speechless 
 with fear, and astonishment depicted upon their 
 faces. The cabin had by this time become filled 
 with these disorderly men, shouting at the top of 
 their voices for better food and more of it. As soon 
 as the noise had subsided, the captain said, 
 
 " Gentlemen, you are trespassing here, and I pro 
 test against your remaining any longer ! " 
 
 "Well, suppose we object," said one of the lead 
 ers, as he edged himself to the front, " what then ? " 
 
 " Why, sir, I shall order you out ; and every man 
 that refuses to go shall be arrested on our arrival 
 at Valparaiso and sent home in irons. I command 
 you to leave this cabin immediately. I shall listen 
 to no petition accompanied by threats. One hour 
 hence meet me upon the quarter-deck, with one or 
 the other, and I will answer you according to its 
 merits." 
 
 Did they go ? Yes, they did ! They knew that 
 
ROUNDING CAPE HORN. 59 
 
 the captain was right, and they felt that they were 
 in the wrong ; and the reconciliation which took 
 place between them the next day was indeed grate 
 ful and most sincere. It was better that they should 
 submit to the evils they knew, than fly unto others 
 they knew not of. 
 
 But happier days and pleasanter nights were to 
 dawn upon them shortly, and the painful annoyances 
 and disgusting scenes were to be forgotten and seen 
 no more. Twenty-one days and nights were passed 
 in the "valley of the shadow of death," and they 
 came out stamped with the imprint of some of the 
 evils which ever follow seclusion, laziness, and filth. 
 Having rounded the cape, clearer skies and warmer 
 winds were observed and felt. The island of Juan 
 Fernandez, the home of Robinson Crusoe, came 
 into view, and Mt. Chimborazo, the great landmark 
 of the southern continent, assured them of their 
 near approach to the coast of Chili. Fair winds, 
 charming weather, and anticipations quickened by 
 the sight of land, soon put matters to rights, and 
 everybody, from the forecastle to the quarter-deck, 
 was happy. 
 
 One possesses an indescribable feeling in going 
 ashore in a foreign country, or mingling among peo 
 ple of similar color and language. But the interest 
 which accompanies him, as he moves among people 
 dissimilar every way, not only differing in habits 
 
60 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 and style of living, but in their country and prod- 
 ucts, cannot very well be described. 
 
 About the middle of April the Orpheus anchored 
 at Valparaiso, the chief commercial port of the Re 
 public of Chili. The going on shore, and the op 
 portunities which now offered themselves for mut 
 ual interchange of views, besides the privileges so 
 long forbidden and now so plenteous, were shared 
 and enjoyed alike by all, and long after they had 
 resumed their journey the soothing influences of 
 ten days and nights in that romantic old city were 
 clearly felt and appreciated. The messes were re 
 formed, hidden delicacies brought out, and absent 
 members again seen enjoying their "duff" and New 
 Orleans " syrup " at their accustomed places forward 
 of the mainmast. 
 
 At the entrance to San Francisco Bay there is a 
 headland stretching far out into the sea, which, 
 when seen at a distance, looks like a finger upon a 
 man s hand. It can be seen for many miles from a 
 vessel s deck as she approaches the Golden Gate 
 from the southward and westward. This headland 
 is a guide-post, saying to the weary mariner, " To 
 San Francisco." As they neared the land of prom 
 ise, every eye was strained to catch a glimpse of it. 
 A strong northwest wind blew, driving the sea high 
 upon the beach. The sea birds swooped down and 
 skimmed the crests of the waves as the guide-post, 
 
ROUNDING CAPE HORN. 6 1 
 
 now seen, became more and more distinct. The 
 captain, with his chart nailed to a board, stood by 
 the capstan, nervous and anxious, as sail after sail 
 burst or tore from its earing and rilled the air with 
 its fragments. It was an hour of deep interest, and 
 no one on that ship watched the scene with more 
 earnestness than Frank Graham, as he clung to the 
 ratlines, the spray dashing into his face, and the 
 wind tossing his long hair behind him. Yes, the 
 supreme moment of their danger had arrived and 
 passed. They had entered the Golden Gate ; the 
 Eldorado of the world was in view ; their doubts 
 and fears were over ; and amid the shouts of joy 
 and welcome, the good ship Orpheus dropped anchor 
 between her rivals, the Greyhound and Architect, 
 July 8, 1849. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE START FROM SUTTER ? S FORT. 
 
 Like an isle in the sea the fortress stood, 
 Surrounded by waves of fertile lands, 
 A refuge and guide to adventurous sons, 
 That come to inherit its golden strands- 
 
 But between its walls 
 
 So grim and wan, 
 
 Death and eternity 
 
 Stalked hand in hand. 
 
 The ravens croaked in the belfry tower, 
 As counted the bellstroke one, two, three, 
 And the prowling wolf his vigil kept, 
 As night birds flew from tree to tree. 
 
 But they dug his grave 
 
 Both narrow and deep, 
 
 And laid him down 
 
 To eternal sleep. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 LOOKED at from the deck of a ship anchored in 
 the bay, July, 1849, San Francisco presented a most 
 singular appearance, and to the famishing pioneers 
 offered but a cold and inhospitable welcome. The 
 settlement looked like a great heap of driftwood 
 blown in with the surf and left in one heterogeneous 
 mass by the receding tide. The long, rolling sand 
 hills, dotted here and there with scrub oaks and 
 blighted pines, the broad, circling beach, sloping 
 from the precipitous headlands, the sea birds swoop- 
 
THE START FROM S UTTER S FORT. 63 
 
 ing down from their dizzy heights and screaming 
 over the sombre bay, exhibited a picture too deso 
 late for description. 
 
 On going ashore, however, the party found the 
 town less displeasing in appearance. The few but 
 quaint old buildings were illy prepared to provide 
 for the motley crowd daily increasing in numbers, 
 so tents were pitched and huts erected according 
 to the whim of the occupants, regardless of beauty 
 or usefulness. The curling smoke went up from 
 these tiny homes, cooking utensils were brought 
 for the first time into use, and " slap-jacks " and 
 pork sandwiches were eaten from pewter plates 
 without a murmur. But these were only temporary 
 homes, hastily constructed shelters soon to disap 
 pear, as their adventurous inmates settled in the 
 distant mines. 
 
 It will be necessary to treat briefly the events of 
 five years. Incidents must supersede details, and 
 current events covering these weary years brought 
 within the scope of an evening s reading, or the pur 
 pose of the author will be defeated. 
 
 The party to which the Grahams belonged con 
 sisted of seven strong, able-bodied men. The reader 
 will please follow these pathfinders through their 
 unsuspected hardships and see what befalls them. 
 You are asked to bid good-by to San Francisco, to 
 shipmates and friends, to cast your eyes far out over 
 
64 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 the water, and wave your hat high in the air as the 
 little schooner bearing these hardy spirits stands 
 out over the bay and lays her course for the Sacra 
 mento River. You are expected to remember the 
 mortgaged home and the anxious hearts it shelters, 
 but you are earnestly asked never for a moment to 
 forget that troubled soul at Rugby Farm. 
 
 Sutter s Fort, the residence of Captain Sutter, the 
 prince of pioneers and discoverer of gold in Califor 
 nia, stood out in the open plains, about midway be 
 tween the Coast Range and the Sierra Nevadas. 
 It was flanked by the American River which emp 
 ties into the Sacramento a short league to the west 
 ward. The triangle which these two rivers .form is 
 the head of navigation and the site of Sacramento 
 City. 
 
 Sutter s Fort was the outpost of civilization and 
 the grand rendezvous of the early pioneers en roiite 
 to the mines. No company of gold-seekers on their 
 way to the " diggings " passed this famous old settler 
 without calling on him, either for supplies or for 
 information. It is here we overtake the Graham 
 party, who, having completed their arrangements, 
 are to take their departure for the North Fork of 
 the American River. It is here, also, that Mr. 
 Graham decided to separate from the company and 
 return to Sacramento. It was a precautionary 
 measure on the part of Mr. Graham, and was 
 
THE START FROM SUTTEFS FORT. 65 
 
 planned against any misfortune which might over 
 take his son. The subject was carefully considered, 
 and it was mutually understood that whichever suc 
 ceeded best the other should follow. 
 
 The view from the walls of Slitter s Fort pre 
 sented a landscape both beautiful and refreshing. 
 The eye rested upon one vast level plain enlivened 
 by belts of timber designating the courses of the 
 rivers as they rolled along from the Sierras to the 
 sea. Herds of wild cattle were grazing along the 
 river bottoms, and horses as wild as the wind lay 
 in the shade of the mighty oaks that dotted the lux 
 uriant valley. The Coast Range formed a high 
 black wall upon the western horizon, and following 
 along, hid themselves in the distance. The Sierra. 
 Nevadas, covered with everlasting snow, so far 
 away, and yet so near that the beholder felt their 
 cool, invigorating breath, gleamed in the sunlight 
 like immense pillows of gold, as they stretched their 
 lofty summits far up into the northern sky. The 
 American River, cool and sparkling, fresh from its 
 mountain source, rolled along silently and added its 
 volume and strength to the drowsy Sacramento. 
 The sky was clear ; not a cloud to be seen. Not a 
 habitation was visible, not a human being in sight, 
 except an occasional vaquero with jingling spurs 
 and wide sombrero as he went plunging over the 
 prairie in search of his herd. 
 5 
 
66 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 As the party were about to descend from the 
 walls of the fort, Captain Sutter turned and point 
 ing his finger in the direction of the Sierras said, 
 " Follow that trail, and ford the river below the 
 bend ; it is broadest there and the water is shallow. 
 Then bear to the left for an hour and start for the 
 bald headed mountain yonder. Keep it constantly 
 before you, and if you are not devoured by the 
 wolves, you should reach the end of your journey 
 on the eve of the second day." The party then 
 took leave of Captain Sutter and Mr. Graham, the 
 latter remaining behind to establish a business 
 house in the prospective city of Sacramento. The 
 leave-taking between Mr. Graham and his son was 
 both manly and affectionate. They grasped each 
 other by the hand, and for a moment looked each 
 other in the eye, then, with one short embrace, the 
 lips met, and they separated forever. 
 
 The party experienced considerable difficulty in 
 fording the river, and at one time it was believed 
 the attempt must be abandoned and the company 
 return to the fort. 
 
 The mule is the prince of animals in stupidity 
 and self-conceit. You may invest your last dollar 
 in him. You may put him in training under the 
 most ingenious artist, and when you have done he 
 is only a mule. You may talk to him upon the im 
 portance of joining some secret society. You may 
 
THE START FROM SUTTEES FORT. 6/ 
 
 display to him the social magnificence of a minis 
 terial calling. You may fill him full of metaphysics 
 and the infallibility of man, and yet you have ac 
 complished nothing. He knows all. He is a pe 
 culiar animal, and entertains an exalted opinion of 
 his own superiority. He holds in contempt any 
 suggestions, and frequently takes exception to the 
 most forcible if not elegant expressions known to 
 the English language. At times he will stand and 
 listen with the most dignified calmness. At others 
 his ears will indicate his line of thought, and his 
 heels proclaim a* declaration of war. As to his vir 
 tues, if he has any, make whatever allowance you 
 choose, cover the rough edges of his character as 
 becomes a Christian s duty, but don t deny that 
 he is a stupendous fraud and a fool. 
 
 It was the rebellious spirit of these long-eared 
 gentlemen, and the time occupied in effecting a com 
 promise, that delayed the party in fording the river. 
 The stream once crossed, however, and the mules 
 repacked, the party moved rapidly forward, and went 
 into camp upon reaching the first spring of water. 
 The animals were carefully picketed out to browse, 
 the evening meal disposed of, the blankets spread, 
 the pipes lighted, and the company were summa 
 rizing the events of the day. The sun had just dis 
 appeared behind the Coast. Range and the calm of 
 the evening had scarcely set in, when there was 
 
68 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 heard from over the prairie a quick, sharp bark, fol 
 lowed by a prolonged and indescribable howl. This 
 was answered in a similar manner from another 
 direction, as if it were a signal for a forward move 
 ment, for instantly there came through the gathering 
 darkness a simultaneous howling along the whole 
 line, which increased in volume as the invaders 
 neared the camp. Each man grasped his rifle and 
 sprang to his feet. The scene which presented it 
 self was both novel and interesting. They were 
 literally surrounded by prairie wolves. The first 
 thing of importance was to secure the animals and 
 protect themselves. The camp was moved back 
 upon the edge of the spring, and breastworks were 
 hastily constructed of pack-saddles, sacks of flour, 
 sides of bacon, and camp utensils. The line of de 
 fense was a sort of half circle resting upon the edge 
 of the spring. In the centre of this little retreat the 
 boys stood and poured volley after volley into these 
 "pesky varmints." This treatment had the desired 
 effect, for those of their assailants that were able to 
 do so gradually fell back, and aside from their hid 
 eous noise troubled them no more. 
 
 The picture which presented itself to the eyes of 
 the drowsy gold-seekers on the following morning 
 has never been forgotten. The cries of the prairie 
 wolf had died away upon the distant hills. The pur 
 pling east and its shafts of gold announced the new- 
 
THE START FROM SUITER S FORT. 69 
 
 born day. Yonder, moving steadily in the direction 
 of the spring, could be seen a scattered herd of an 
 telopes. They did not realize their peril until within 
 a short distance of the camp, when they became 
 startled by Carter and Bryant rising to their feet. 
 They seemed for a moment paralyzed, and stood 
 gazing at the intruders with astonishment. " Take 
 the doe to the left," whispered Carter, as he drew 
 his rifle at a rest, and fired. Two leaden slugs 
 plowed through her body, and leaping up ten feet 
 into the air, she fell dead in her tracks ; the others, 
 filled with fright, bounded off like the wind and 
 sought safety in the forests. Several of the wolves 
 lay dead about the camp, while others, too badly 
 disabled to get away, watched the movements of the 
 party while writhing in pain. As the day advanced 
 the vultures were seen gathering over their prey, 
 while the ravens and buzzards croaked as they 
 swooped along over the plains. 
 
 The mules had got terribly snarled up during the 
 night, and were found in the morning more or less 
 bruised and cut. One of the largest, which the 
 party had named Moses, because of his being con 
 stantly at the head, was found buried in a mud-hole 
 close to the spring. He had got entangled in his 
 fastenings during the night, and had plunged head 
 long down the embankment. Upon being hauled 
 out he presented a spectacle not easily described. 
 
70 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 This powerful old pathfinder was an object of pity. 
 What a contrast to his appearance the day before. 
 His body was covered with mud ; his head was 
 bowed in humble resignation ; his ears lopped down 
 the sides of his head like wilted cabbage leaves ; his 
 tail well it was there, but alas its prestige was 
 gone. There he stood, poor fellow, his courage 
 fizzled, his enthusiasm dead, his dignity compro 
 mised a perfect picture of " Patience upon a mon 
 ument smiling at Grief." 
 
 It was late before the company got away from 
 their camping-place. The sun was streaming through 
 the notches of the Sierra Nevada. A silent gloom 
 pervaded the great waste. Not a living thing could 
 be seen except the carrion birds settling down upon 
 their late camp and feasting upon the living and the 
 dead. The party now followed the landmark until 
 concealed by the heavy belts of timber that skirted 
 the plains as far as the eye could reach. Several 
 Indian trails, bearing imprints of human feet in the 
 soft sandy loam, were crossed as they penetrated 
 the great watersheds of the approaching river. The 
 woods were full of wild game. Reptiles of different 
 species glided stealthily out of sight and danger. 
 Grouse drummed upon the trees. Flocks of quail 
 shot out of the thicket. The timid hare darted with 
 lighting speed into the heavy ferns, while the nim 
 ble squirrel scampered from tree to tree. The star- 
 
THE START FROM SUTTER S FORT. Jl 
 
 tied deer, surprised in his retreat, fled before them. 
 The sneaking wolf trotted to a place of safety, and 
 watched his enemies as they moved slowly over the 
 rolling uplands. The grave old grizzly bear with 
 his mate snuffed the impious air and climbing up 
 the steep, craggy hills, gazed upon the intruders 
 with seeming wonder and alarm. 
 
 The night was fast closing in around them as 
 they reached the ridge that formed the rim of the 
 great basin. From here they took a long, lingering 
 look at the broad, deep valley covered with heavy 
 timber, and listened to the steady roar of the river 
 plunging through the precipitous canons many hun 
 dreds of feet below where they stood. One more 
 effort brought them down upon the banks of this 
 stream. Here they pitched their tent, formally took 
 possession of Horseshoe Bar, and declared them 
 selves the advanced guards to the North Fork of 
 the- American River. 
 
 Three months after their settlement upon this 
 bar, there came into the group of camps a Mexican 
 on horseback inquiring for the Graham company. 
 They were cooking their supper at the time that 
 the stranger rode up and saluted them. It was An- 
 toine, the servant of Captain Sutter. The recogni 
 tion was mutual and the native Californian received 
 a hearty welcome. Before dismounting he told in 
 broken English the object of his visit Mr. Graham 
 
72 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 was dangerously ill. He had been brought to the 
 fort for care and treatment. If Frank wished to 
 see his father again alive he must leave at once. 
 He had been already absent three days, and had 
 sought him from the junction of the rivers up to 
 where they stood. Preparations were at once made 
 to leave at break of day. Sympathizing deeply with 
 Graham s anxiety, his associates sat up with him all 
 night. The horses were brought up and groomed, 
 a hasty breakfast prepared, the rifles reloaded, the 
 canteens filled, then Graham and Antoine sprang 
 into their saddles. Bidding adieu to camp mates 
 and friends, they dashed out over the bottoms and 
 were quickly lost in the woods. They soon struck 
 the main trail leading into the wagon road connect 
 ing Auburn with Sacramento. With a well-beaten 
 road before them, they pressed their horses to the 
 utmost speed. An hour s rest at the Springs and 
 again to the saddle. Heavy emigrant trains were 
 met on their way to the mines, and long lines of 
 pack mules passed them on their way to the river 
 for supplies. The solemn grandeur of the prairies 
 was rapidly passing away, and civilization, like an 
 armed man, was marching into the centre of the 
 wildest retreats. 
 
 They arrived at Sutter s Fort long before the sun 
 had reached the meridian. Dismounting within the 
 in closure, Frank Graham gave his horse in charge 
 
THE START FROM SUTTERS FORT 73 
 
 of Antoine, and followed the servant to the "quar 
 ters." A perceptible change had taken place within 
 the past four months. The fort had been trans 
 formed into a hospital, and many sickly-looking men 
 were seen lounging #bout in the warm October air. 
 In the corner of the reception room stood a desk 
 upon which lay a register where each patient s name 
 and late place of residence were recorded. On the 
 shelves about the room were noticed bundles of 
 clothing neatly secured and tagged with the own 
 er s name. Mr. Graham s name was on that book, 
 and his bundle of clothes lay on the shelf nearest 
 the door. The date of his enteriiig the hospital, 
 and the nature of his disease were there, but the 
 blank adjoining his name was not filled out as were 
 those above when discharged or dead. Frank gazed 
 upon the register and the singular looking bundles 
 in painful silence. He began to suffer intensely 
 with suspense while his heart throbbed with sus 
 picion and alarm. At this moment the attending 
 physician entered, and with a polite bow looked 
 keenly into the eyes of his visitor and said, " Your 
 name is Graham, I believe." 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied Frank, " and I have come to 
 see my father." 
 
 " Yes, I see," musingly interrupted the doctor, 
 then hesitated, and for some moments stood twisting 
 the ends of his long, gray beard with his fingers, 
 
74 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 into a sort of half knot. Suddenly he broke the 
 silence by saying, " Graham, I fear you are too late. 
 Please be seated. I have an engagement for a short 
 time. I will send in your father s nurse." And 
 turning quickly upon his heel, started for the door. 
 But Graham grasped him firmly by the arm, before 
 he had time to get away, and with a voice choked 
 with emotion, begged him to end this painful sus 
 pense and tell him the worst at once. 
 
 To this appeal the doctor immediately took his 
 seat at the desk, and with pen and ink filled out the 
 blank in his father s record. Then pointing with 
 his finger to the book he left the room. 
 
 The completed record read as follows : " James 
 Graham, arrived October 17, 1849. Disease, haem 
 orrhage of the bowels. Died, October 27th. Bur 
 ied, 28th. Late residence, Littleton, N. Y. No 
 effects." 
 
 A few minutes later the nurse found Graham with 
 his face -buried in his hands, in great distress. He 
 assured him everything had been done to comfort 
 his father in his last moments. He had been brought 
 close to a window overlooking the prairie, and when 
 found, his eyes were fixed upon the trail leading up 
 from the ferry. It was here that he had lain for 
 long, weary hours, and felt his life fast ebbing away. 
 It was here between anguish and hope with his 
 eyes sweeping the broad open plains, and his heart 
 
THE START FROM SUTTERS FORT. 75 
 
 yearning tenderly for the return of his boy that 
 his sun set in gloom and obscurity, to rise again on 
 a far more glorious morn. His remains were se 
 curely wrapped in his blanket and buried, and they 
 now rest in the shadow of the wall in the centre of 
 the Sacramento Valley. 
 
 The following note, found pinned to the bosom of 
 his father s shirt, was presented to Graham with the 
 bundle of clothing : 
 
 " MY DEAR BOY, I am rapidly sinking I shall 
 be gone before you arrive. My effects are with 
 Stanley at the ferry. Settle with Antoine for his 
 services, and liquidate this department with the res 
 idue. Release your mortgaged home and keep it. 
 Be kind to your mother. Be a comfort to her de 
 clining years, and a staff to her old age. Submit to 
 the vicissitudes of life with fortitude, and be of good 
 cheer. We shall meet again. 
 
 " Your affectionate father, 
 
 " GRAHAM." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE INDIAN RAID AT THE CORRAL. 
 
 " Oh ! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, 
 Where cold and unhonored his relics are laid ; 
 Sad, silent, and dark be the tears that we shed, 
 As the night dew that falls on the grave o er his head. 
 
 " But the night dew that falls, though in silence it weeps, 
 Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps, 
 And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, 
 Shall long keep his memory green in our souls." 
 
 MOORE. 
 
 IF you stand upon Piza s Hill and let your eyes 
 follow the range of hills which encircle the Spanish 
 Corral, you will be reminded of the similarity it 
 bears to a huge wash-basin. The bottom of the 
 cavity rises gradually at the centre, then sloping 
 gracefully down along, forms a beautiful, broad, and 
 level valley. The timbered walls run up sharply 
 with ugly cliffs and massive bowlders, and the ra 
 vines which traverse the hill-sides and empty into 
 the bottoms are the beds through which the winter 
 rains find access to the main ravine. 
 
 There are two ways to reach the basin ; one from 
 the north, beginning in the neighborhood of Bear 
 River, and the other, by following the trail along 
 the bank of the Auburn ravine. This beautiful 
 
THE INDIAN RAID AT THE CORRAL. 77 
 
 camping ground was occupied by the Chief Piza and 
 his tribe of Indians. They had long lived in this 
 secluded spot, because of its proximity to the rivers, 
 which abounded with fish. The woods were also 
 filled with game, and the prairies alive with herds 
 of cattle. Then, again, the timber was largely of 
 oak, the acorn furnishing another important article 
 of food. There was still another inducement to 
 their remaining here which was of no less impor 
 tance, the singular formation of the inclosure, which 
 afforded them protection against surprise by hostile 
 bands. Chief Piza had possibly seen the pale-faced 
 man, in his visits to the river for supplies for his 
 tribe, but few of his people, however, had seen or 
 heard anything of him. Hence the sudden appear 
 ance of three white men leading their horses into 
 his domains was a surprise. These men were Car 
 ter, Graham, and Bryant, on a prospecting tour. 
 They were hunting for winter diggings for the 
 miners on Horseshoe Bar, and had unexpectedly got 
 into the Corral, so were as much astonished at their 
 strange position as were Piza and his people. Of 
 course they were immediately surrounded by the 
 startled tribe, and continued for some time to be 
 the object of eager curiosity. Strange as it may 
 seem, they were not molested, but followed from 
 place to place and closely watched. They filled their 
 sacks with specimens of dirt from the gulches and 
 
78 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 ravines, and were allowed to depart with no further 
 annoyance than might have been expected from a 
 tribe of bewildered savages whose inquisitiveness 
 could not be appeased. Shortly after this event the 
 Graham party moved into the Corral and settled 
 there. Subsequently other and larger parties went 
 in and took up claims, and the charm and beauties 
 of Piza s ranche faded away forever. Poor Piza be 
 came greatly disturbed, and visited each new arri 
 val with grunts of displeasure. Indeed, his con 
 dition had become very trying. Hitherto pleasantly 
 situated, surrounded by every comfort his rude sim 
 plicity required, to what had he and his people been 
 reduced ? The rivers had already been niched from 
 them, and the deer either slain or driven beyond 
 their domains. Their timber was fast yielding to 
 the woodman s axe, while the prairies were being 
 swept as with a broom. Piza was a man of peace 
 and counseled forbearance ; but there was no peace. 
 The sanctity of his wigwam was not wholly secure 
 from intrusion. The purity of his people was often 
 times exposed to temptation and sin, and trouble 
 and discontent filled the air. This was the way 
 matters stood at the opening of spring, when, to the 
 astonishment of all, the Indians surrendered their 
 camp grounds and quietly moved away. 
 
 Piza located his tribe upon Bear River, and while . 
 smarting under the wrongs inflicted by the white 
 
THE INDIAN RAID AT THE CORRAL. 79 
 
 man, listened to evil counsels and permitted his 
 young men to make a raid upon the Corral. Enter 
 ing the basin at one end, they passed out through 
 the other and escaped. They did not attack the 
 camps in detail, but deployed in. a fan-like form and 
 swept over the encampment like a tornado. It was 
 a bold and hazardous undertaking, but successfully 
 carried out. The trail was broad and bloody, and 
 vengeance and hate quailed at its own work. 
 
 The raid was speedily followed by retaliation 
 sharp and severe. Other and similar assaults were 
 made in that vicinity, into which other tribes and 
 other parties were drawn, and soon there com 
 menced a desultory war which lasted for some time, 
 the results being, as might have been expected, 
 most disastrous for the Indians. Piza s organization 
 was broken up, his people scattered, and he became 
 a wanderer till his death. 
 
 Let us see how the settlers of the Corral with 
 stood the shock, and then sum up the fruits of Piza s 
 victory. 
 
 It was spring. The end of the wet season had 
 come. The waters of the gulches and small streams 
 were gradually subsiding. The birds sang upon the 
 budding trees, the bee sought his favorite flower, 
 the rabbit and hare nibbled the fresh young grass, 
 and the quail whistled in fern and thicket. The 
 Corral, so peaceful and so beautiful, seemed to smile 
 
80 A WINTER EVENINGS TALE. 
 
 on each successive morning, as the sun sipped the 
 dewy mantle that covered it like a web of silver. 
 The miners, too, were astir. Rumors of rich de 
 posits, and of vast quantities of gold which the find 
 ers were unable to move, filled the air. New mines 
 of fabulous wealth had been discovered. Secret 
 diggings had been struck by a few, and mammoth 
 fortunes dawned before their eyes, as in delusive 
 dreams. The Corral was fully aroused, and the 
 hearts of the pioneers thrilled with joy as they 
 listened to the recital of these wonderful stories. 
 Mules and horses were brought in, large quantities 
 of provisions purchased, pack-saddles examined, 
 ammunition procured, clothes and tools provided, 
 everything was being put in readiness by the sev 
 eral companies for an early start for the new fields 
 of gold. 
 
 There were three respectable looking log-cabins 
 belonging to the group of camps which constituted 
 the settlement in the Corral. They were well roofed, 
 substantially built, and afforded good shelter and pro 
 tection. The remainder of the dwellings were either 
 of canvas, or walled with logs and canvas covered, 
 and were scattered over the bottoms to within a 
 short distance of the Notch, the main entrance to 
 the Corral. One of these log-cabins was cut off 
 from the rest of the encampment by the Auburn 
 ravine, a rapid stream of water which flowed through 
 
THE INDIAN RAID AT THE CORRAL. 8 1 
 
 the lower base of the valley. It stood by itself on 
 the opposite bank, and could be safely reached only 
 by the foot-bridge, made from a fallen tree, which 
 spanned the creek directly in a line with the cabin 
 door. This was the Graham party s camp, and was 
 the first log-cabin built in the Corral. They had 
 chosen this peculiar spot with a view to their safety 
 in case of trouble with the Indians, rather than be 
 cause of the charms which the location was said to 
 possess. 
 
 Major Winchester and family were the first to 
 break camp, and were busy all day preparing for an 
 early start the next morning. They were to leave 
 for Deer Creek, some fifty miles north of the Cor 
 ral, where it was said rich placer diggings had been 
 recently found. To facilitate matters, their covered 
 wagon had been brought up to their cabin door and 
 filled with their household effects. The wagon 
 wheels were also securely locked, and their oxen 
 yoked and chained to the body. As night set in the 
 youngest children were stowed away in the loose 
 bedding in the tail end of the covered wagon. 
 Neighbors from the Flats and friends from the Hol 
 low were down at the Major s to join in an old-fash 
 ioned handshake. It seemed to be the wish of the 
 company that the Major and his family should have 
 j. good send-off. The Graham party were there, 
 having as usual covered their fire well with wood 
 
 6 
 
82 A WTNTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 before leaving their cabin, that the increasing light 
 might facilitate their return across the foot-bridge 
 in the extreme darkness of the night. 
 
 The evening wore pleasantly away. Mrs. Win 
 chester furnished her guests with refreshments, and 
 at intervals busied herself with packing away the 
 remainder of the unneeded cooking utensils before 
 retiring for the night. The Major sat upon a stool 
 in the centre of a group of friends, scratching with 
 a sharp-pointed stick upon the hard, beaten floor 
 the route they should take to reach their new home. 
 The Major s sons, coiled up on the hearth on either 
 side of the fire-place, were busily engaged molding 
 bullets. It seemed they had been authorized to ex 
 amine the weapons, for standing up and leaning 
 against the chimney were seen half a dozen long- 
 barreled rifles shining as clean and bright as new. 
 Replenished powder-horns hung upon the rafters, 
 bullet-pouches were filled with bright new bullets, 
 newly cut buckskin patches and water-proof caps 
 were neatly packed in the spring boxes in the stock 
 of each rifle. The boys had completed their work, 
 and were packing away their lead and bullet molds, 
 when Andrews, thrusting his head inside the cabin 
 door, said, " Boys, there is trouble of some sort up 
 in the Hollow." " Listen," he added, as the men 
 stepped outside the cabin. " Now, don t that queer- 
 ish noise sound like some one in distress ? " 
 
THE INDIAN RAID A T THE CORRAL. 83 
 
 The party moved rapidly forward in the direction 
 of the increasing cries, sensibly affected by the sin 
 gular state of affairs in the neighborhood of the 
 Hollow. The night was dark, but starlight and 
 clear. The party, half bewildered at these frightful 
 alarms, had gone perhaps fifty paces in the direction 
 of the trail that lead into the Hollow, when instantly, 
 and as if actuated by one common impulse, they 
 came to a halt. A dark spot was seen to unfold 
 itself and approach them. As it came nearer it 
 took the shape of a long black wall. Silent as death 
 each man stood, and watched this strange appari 
 tion as it came nearer and yet nearer. 
 
 "By heavens! but those are men!" whispered 
 Anthony. 
 
 "Aye, and Indians, too ! " gasped Bryant. 
 
 " Every man to his cabin ! " shouted the major ; 
 " and defend them with your lives ! " and the whole 
 party broke and fled. 
 
 Carter and Graham reached the foot-bridge to 
 gether, crossed on their hands and knees, gained 
 the cabin, and swung the door wide open. The light 
 from the blazing fire shot out over the bridge, like 
 that from the head-light of a locomotive. They 
 grasped their arms and stood in the shadow of the 
 cabin and covered the bridge with their rifles. In 
 a moment Burns and Wallace sprang upon the 
 bridge and crossed. Realizing the situation, they, 
 
84 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 too, seized their rifles and fell into line. Next came 
 Littlefield, who bounded over the bridge like a deer. 
 Now for Bryant ! What could detain him ? Ah, 
 there he comes, God be praised ! But he staggers ! 
 Ah, he falls ! In an instant he is caught up by 
 Littlefield and Wallace and placed safely within the 
 cabin. The door was then closed and the camp put 
 into a state of defense. 
 
 The fire upon the broad hearth continued to burn 
 briskly, the volume of flame roaring and crackling 
 as it went up the chimney and dissolved in the mid 
 night air. The bright, cheerful blaze, threw its mel 
 lowing light into the remotest corners of the room, 
 making the actors in this night of trouble easily dis 
 tinguishable. Carter and Wallace stood on either 
 side of the window, leaning against the wall of the 
 cabin. Their faces were pale but resolute, and 
 while their eyes rested upon the central figure of 
 the group, they were listening attentively for the 
 footsteps which should signal the moment of attack. 
 They were armed with iron crowbars, most formida 
 ble weapons in the hands of powerful men. Burns 
 and Littlefield guarded the next weakest point in the 
 cabin, the door, which had been barred and braced 
 with logs of wood. They were armed with heavy 
 pick handles, and stood, like their associates, await 
 ing the deadly encounter. From their post they 
 ever and anon glanced wistfully in the direction of 
 
THE INDIAN RAID AT THE CORRAL. 85 
 
 Graham, who was soothing the last moments of 
 their dying friend. In the centre of the cabin, 
 and stretched upon the floor, lay poor Bryant. He 
 was shot through the body, and the arrow was still 
 buried in him. Graham cut the point off close to 
 his breast and pulled the shaft out from between 
 his shoulders. Poor fellow ! he did not speak. For 
 a few seconds his eyes wandered about the cabin, 
 resting finally upon the dimly burning lantern sus 
 pended to the ridge-pole directly over his head. He 
 made two attempts to raise himself upon his elbows, 
 as though he would speak, but they were unsuc 
 cessful, and the words which he fain would have 
 spoken died upon his lips as his young life went out 
 forever. Those words were, " Mother ! oh, mother ! " 
 How beautiful, and yet how infinitely sad, was the 
 death scene of Jesse Bryant. In the supremest mo 
 ments of his life, in a strange land, thousands of 
 miles from his New England home, his poor, stricken 
 heart cried for the holy influence of the only friend 
 of his life and not in vain. The vision that re 
 sponded to that cry was none other than she whose 
 hallowed name went out with his last breath into 
 the darkness and gloom of the night. Mother, 
 blessed be thy name forever ! 
 
 For upwards of three long, weary hours, these 
 brave fellows stood guard over the weakest points 
 of their cabin. Not a footstep had been heard, and 
 
86 A WINTER EVENING S TALE, 
 
 as yet they had not been disturbed. Graham got 
 up among the rafters and made a hole in the roof 
 and looked out. The day was dawning. The tinted 
 sky to them was the emblem of peace. It was in 
 deed refreshing, and most gratefully acknowledged. 
 Darkness, however, as yet hung over the Corral. 
 The whip-poor-will was still busy and the owl occa 
 sionally exposed his retreat. The rapid little stream 
 went singing along over the rocks and down through 
 the rocky bottoms. The wind moaned and sighed 
 through the forest trees, and the air was filled with 
 fancied noises. The settlement could not be distin 
 guished, and our friends had a strong desire to know 
 the condition of things in that vicinity. Carter, 
 therefore, fired his rifle through the window and 
 listened. An immediate response came whirling 
 through the air from the direction of Major Win 
 chester s. Shortly afterwards two more shots were 
 heard in the direction of the foothills near the Flats. 
 Then, again, a fire was seen burning on the knoll 
 close by the Major s cabin. Men were seen gather 
 ing about it from various directions, and they felt 
 assured it was safe to venture out. Their cabin, 
 therefore, was made secure, and, crossing the foot 
 bridge, in a short time they joined the group around 
 the fire upon the knoll. 
 
 The substance of the interview at the Major s can 
 be summed up in a few words : Piza s warriors had 
 
THE INDIAN RAID AT THE CORRAL. 8? 
 
 made a raid through the Corral and stripped the 
 settlers of everything they could lay their hands on. 
 Blankets, clothing, and provisions were culled from 
 the deserted camps. Horses, mules, and cattle were 
 driven away, including the Major s oxen tied to the 
 wagon in front of his cabin. The raid had been 
 successful, and the raiders, well laden with booty, 
 had made good their escape. 
 
 The loss was a serious one for the settlers. Their 
 stock and supplies were indispensable for an early 
 start for the secret diggings at the head-waters of 
 the Yuba River. If the raiders could not be over 
 taken and their plunder recovered, the settlers would 
 have to submit to losses which would be most dis 
 astrous in their effect on the prospects of many of 
 the company. It was decided to start in pursuit at 
 once. 
 
 Whatever were the intentions of the raiders in 
 their descent upon the Corral, it was quite evident 
 that their plans were in a measure frustrated. It 
 was conceded by all, that a general massacre had 
 been averted by the unusual gathering at the Major s 
 and the lateness of the hour to which the social 
 pleasures had been prolonged. The sun was about 
 an hour high when the miners from the Corral 
 started in pursuit of Piza s braves. The trail was 
 easily found, for thirty head of cattle and horses 
 driven at their utmost speed leave no indistinct trail 
 
88 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 behind. The raiders intentions were to reach their 
 camp before dark. The pursuers purpose was to 
 prevent this. The former had three hours the start, 
 but were hampered with plunder and the care of the 
 stock. The latter were in light marching order, and 
 besides, were stimulated by motives which could not 
 be overestimated. 
 
 At noon the raiders were overtaken and sur 
 rounded. They were discovered by a light smoke 
 seen to arise from a deep canon where they had 
 halted for rest. It was evident to the pursuers that 
 in assaulting the Indians position they must lose 
 either the Indians or their spoils. The noise and 
 confusion of a sudden attack, the cracking of rifles 
 and the savage yells of a surprised enemy, must 
 surely stampede the stock and allow the prize to es 
 cape which had so providentially been placed within 
 their grasp. The raiders had failed to estimate 
 the white men s pluck and endurance, hence while 
 lounging about their temporary camp in fancied se 
 curity, they started to their feet to find their lives in 
 danger, and their ill-gotten gains wrenched from 
 their hands in sight of the valley in which was the 
 stronghold of the tribe. The return to the Corral 
 that evening was an event long to be remembered 
 The poor jaded animals were only too glad to reach 
 their old quarters again, and the triumphant .party 
 were equally glad to accept the much needed re 
 pose. 
 
THE INDIAN RAID AT THE CORRAL. 89 
 
 The following day the Graham company and two 
 others belonging to the Corral were called upon to 
 perform a painful duty, namely, to bury their dead. 
 Poor Bryant, it would seem, stayed behind on the 
 night of the raid, to assist the Major rescue his 
 children from the bed in the wagon. He could not 
 ignore their cries, and seizing the youngest, who 
 stood upon the tail-board in her night-dress, was in 
 the act of passing her through the cabin window 
 into her mother s arms when the fatal arrow struck 
 him. Jesse Bryant was a brave man, and a bright 
 and cheerful associate. He was a gentleman of the 
 best description, and a most inflexible friend. He 
 was missed, terribly missed, by his surviving asso 
 ciates. He received a royal burial, as he deserved, 
 and the monument under which his rude casket 
 was laid will stand for ages after his body has re 
 turned to dust and ashes. 
 
 It was about the first of April, 1850, that the 
 Graham company took leave of the Spanish Corral. 
 They were splendidly equipped and bountifully sup 
 plied for their contemplated trip to the Yuba River. 
 They crossed the Flats and then took the bridle-path . 
 which led up over the western ridge. It was their 
 purpose to follow the two belts of timber land skirt 
 ing the prairie, and avoid the Indians on the upper 
 Bear River. As the pack-train reached the ridge 
 overlooking the Corral they came to a halt, that they 
 
QO A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 might take a last look at the old Spanish Corral. 
 It would have been impossible for these men to sep 
 arate themselves from their old camp-ground with 
 out some feelings of sadness. If the experiences of 
 the past winter had been bitter, in some respects, 
 in others they had been pleasant ; for many ac 
 quaintances had been formed, among which were 
 some whom it was an honor to have known, and 
 whom they were proud to acknowledge. Their eyes 
 followed along down the bottoms of the basin. 
 There were the deserted camps with their chimneys 
 still standing. The broad, level valley was torn and 
 rent, and the gulches and ravines mangled and dis 
 figured. The once rapid stream was now dry ; its 
 singing waters had gone over its bed never again to 
 return. Yonder stood their own log-cabin and the 
 foot-bridge that led to it. There were the mammoth 
 oaks with their ponderous arms stretching far out 
 over the bluffs, and the tall pines through which the 
 wind sighed and moaned in the long winter nights. 
 On the rise in the centre of a cluster of fir-trees 
 stood the granite bowlder under whose shadow their 
 friend and associate slept his last sleep. He had 
 shared with them the discomforts of a long voyage 
 at sea, submitted cheerfully to every privation en 
 countered in their pilgrimage to the mines, met 
 all difficulties as they arose with manly courage, and 
 now he must be left behind, his grave unknown, 
 
THE INDIAN RAID AT THE CORRAL. 91 
 
 his record unchiseled ; he must remain the only hu 
 man tenant in this camp of desolation and ruin. 
 With uncovered heads and hearts touched with pain 
 they bade their slumbering comrade and deserted 
 camp farewell. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SEEKING WEALTH UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 "The coffin bore his name, that those 
 
 Of other years might know, 
 When earth its secret should disclose 
 Whose bones were laid below. 
 
 "We only heard the winter s wind, 
 
 In many a sullen gust, 
 As o er the open grave inclined, 
 We murmured, Dust to dust. * 
 
 BOWLES. 
 
 TWELVE men and twelve heavily laden pack-mules, 
 exhausted from a long day s march, halted, as the 
 night closed in, on one of the numerous bars formed 
 by the waters of the South Yuba. These composed 
 the Graham company, which had been enlarged to 
 its present dimensions for prudential reasons. Be 
 yond the rocks and sands and driftwood which 
 covered the bar, and partially screened by a light 
 growth of beech and maples, was a piece of table 
 land of peculiar shape and of marvelous beauty. It 
 was covered by a thick body of clover and grass, 
 intermixed with flowers of various hues and fra 
 grance. A stream of water, sparkling and cold as 
 ice, danced over the rocks and plunged down steep 
 declivities into boiling pools, and then, rushing 
 
SEEKING WEALTH UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 93 
 
 madly down the tangled slopes, lost itself in the 
 Yuba. Trees of mammoth proportions stood like 
 frowning guardsmen. Drooping willows of singular 
 grace and beauty kissed the earth with their foliage. 
 Massive rocks and hills and mountains formed a 
 background, and these were covered with shrubs, 
 heavy timber, and perpetual snow. Precipitous 
 peaks and lofty summits glistened in the noonday 
 sun like pillars of solid gold. Indeed, it were im 
 possible to exaggerate the loveliness of this wild 
 and uncultivated lawn, or the magnificence and 
 grandeur of the surrounding scenery. 
 
 The company took possession of this romantic 
 spot, and christened it Eagle Roost. The name was 
 suggested by the numbers of those birds which 
 nightly hovered over their camp, and took refuge 
 among the dizzy crags on the mountain steeps. 
 Here they built a most substantial log-cabin. It 
 was to be their grand base to which, in case of sick 
 ness on the route, or disaster befalling the expedi 
 tion, they could fall back and find both shelter and 
 supplies. 
 
 It was about the first of June that the party left 
 the camp and proceeded on their hazardous journey 
 to the great gold deposits at the sources of the 
 Yuba River. In the early mining days it was a 
 common belief that the gold taken from the beds of 
 the streams was deposited there by the impetuosity 
 
94 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 of the waters during the flood seasons caused by 
 rains and dissolving snows. The supposition seemed 
 to be verified by the fact that the gold increased in 
 coarseness as the heads of the rivers were neared. 
 Hence it was believed by the earliest pioneers that 
 to reach the source from whence flowed these un 
 told riches was to reach and possess a fortune, a 
 delusion for which thousands paid bitterly, a vision 
 which decoyed many a brave heart to an untimely 
 grave. 
 
 As the Graham party passed through one of these 
 great trials and suffered proportionately with others 
 engaged in similar exploits, the events of the next 
 thirty days will be followed with deep interest. It 
 was a novel sight to witness this long train of men 
 and animals breaking a path along the steep sides 
 and up the ragged mountain slopes. It was a grand 
 and exhilarating struggle, which the party seemed 
 to enjoy, for the woods and gulches resounded 
 with their songs and jests. The hills and valleys, 
 like other portions of the country passed through, 
 abounded with game. Several bears, disturbed by 
 the heavy rocks which, rolling from their beds, went 
 crashing through their lairs to the bottoms, were 
 forced out into plain view, when, after taking in the 
 situation, they plunged into the river, and swimming 
 with the current, landed safely on the opposite side, 
 apparently uninjured by the volley of bullets dis 
 charged from the prospectors rifles. 
 
SEEKING WEALTH UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 95 
 
 They continued to follow the "ribs" until they 
 reached the "backbone" of the Sierra Nevada. The 
 backbone, commonly so called, was the ridges which 
 separated the two rivers, and was the pathway to 
 the heads of the different streams. The party now 
 struck out, keeping in view the great seam which 
 indicated the bed of the river at whose source lay 
 waiting the consummation of their earthly desires. 
 
 The country for many miles around them opened 
 up a varied picture of extreme beauty and loveliness. 
 The trees were of immense size, wonderfully sym 
 metrical, and grew to great heights. The notches 
 and passes in the mountains afforded continual food 
 for speculation. Bowlders of mammoth proportions 
 stood here and there, and like angry giants seemed 
 to dispute an advance. In some cases they were 
 so nicely adjusted, so equally poised, that it seemed 
 as if a sudden gust of wind would topple them over 
 and send them whirling and crashing down the 
 mountain steeps into the chasm below. The gulches 
 and canons through which they passed were pict 
 uresque and fanciful. The waters were clear and 
 sparkling, rushing madly down ragged stairways, 
 roaring and foaming with savage speed along their 
 rocky beds. The timber grew sparser as they 
 neared the snowy regions. The Sierra Nevadas be 
 came more conspicuous. The solemnity and grand 
 eur, hitherto but partially seen, now burst upon 
 
96 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 them in all their glory, a magnificent sight, beau 
 tiful and yet terribly grand. 
 
 Traveling on terra firnia in the Sierra Nevadas 
 with a train of heavily laden pack-mules is one 
 thing, but traveling in deep snow, with like accom 
 paniments, is quite another. As the company ad 
 vanced the snow grew deeper and deeper. The 
 animals sank, plunged, and wallowed in it. Har 
 nesses gave way, pack-saddles were Loosened, and 
 provisions were broken open and scattered about 
 them. The animals became stiff and jaded, and the 
 men annoyed and discouraged. The train halted 
 and the company went into council. 
 
 The prospectors had met the first obstacle of im 
 portance since leaving the Corral. They had yet 
 fifty miles to go. This was the only practicable 
 route, and they possessed all the means which were 
 to be procured to bridge the distance. They must 
 either surmount this difficulty or abandon the enter 
 prise. This question kept the company before the 
 camp-fire until the moon, which had risen out of the 
 vastness of snow on one side, disappeared in the 
 darkness on the other. It was decided that three 
 of the company should move in advance of the main 
 body, and lay out and designate the route, while the 
 remainder were to follow on as rapidly as possible, 
 taking advantage of the snow crusts nights and 
 mornings. With ordinary luck it was believed the 
 
SEEKING WEALTH UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 97 
 
 pathfinders would reach their destination within four 
 days, and the main body, with ample allowances, 
 would not fail to unite with them in at least twice 
 that time. Bradbury, Carter, and Graham volun 
 teered to perform this mission. Preparations were 
 at once made, and the trio took leave of their asso 
 ciates the next morning. They were accompanied 
 by Dobbin Grey, a sure-footed and faithful horse. 
 A sled was improvised from braided fir boughs, on 
 which \vere carefully packed their supplies and rifles. 
 This was attached to Dobbin s pack-saddle, and 
 proved of invaluable assistance to both man and 
 beast. Mattresses were made from hemlock and 
 spruce twigs, on which blankets were spread, and a 
 tolerable night s sleep enjoyed. Hearths of wood 
 were laid in the snow, upon which food and coffee 
 were prepared before a huge crackling fire. Nothing 
 could exceed their enjoyment as they wended their 
 way up and down the glassy steeps and through the 
 intricate chasms of eternal snows. 
 
 On the morning of the fourth day the great seam 
 which they had followed came abruptly to an end, 
 the mountains closing in all around in the form of a 
 horseshoe. The descent to the river was indeed 
 trying, and oftentimes accompanied with extreme 
 danger. The distance traversed to reach the bot 
 tom was several miles, and the slopes so nearly per 
 pendicular, that it was found necessary to fasten a 
 7 
 
98 A WINTER EVENINGS TALE. 
 
 small tree to Dobbin s pack-saddle to prevent his 
 falling headlong to destruction. If you had wit 
 nessed the sagacity old Dobbin displayed in his 
 efforts to avert the impending danger you would 
 have laughed and marveled, for the moment the 
 trail became impracticable by the natural way, he 
 would create a diversion by substituting the other 
 end. But, thank Heaven, their task was at length 
 accomplished. The supreme purpose of their fond 
 est hopes lay before their eyes and was fairly won. 
 It was only a question of time whether they would 
 be fully compensated for their faith and endurance. 
 Three days inspection of the vaults, which nature 
 had built with such consummate skill, changed their 
 views and chilled them to the bone. The source of 
 this river unfolded a picture sufficiently terrifying 
 to frighten away his Satanic Majesty, and to have 
 justified him in pronouncing it the quintessence of 
 six infernal regions boiled down into one. The 
 space it occupied among the world s exhibits of hor 
 rors was nothing compared to its significance as a 
 natural curiosity. The walls of black slate were 
 almost perpendicular, and so high that the sun was 
 visible only from eleven till two ; the rest of the 
 day was cold and shadowy, the nights long, weari 
 some, and of inky blackness. The supply streams 
 came down precipitous canons which were as death 
 like and inaccessible as the frozen summits two 
 
SEEKING WEALTH UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 99 
 
 thousand feet above. The beds of these streams 
 were paved with rocks and bowlders, among which 
 the waters plunged with furious rage. Viewed from 
 the most favorable circumstances, it seemed but an 
 exiled tomb from nature s creation, out of which 
 came that steady, irksome sound, the deep, sullen 
 roar of the never-ceasing river. Not a shrub, not a 
 spear of grass, not even a weed was to be found ; 
 not sufficient stubble to build a bird s-nest ; not 
 earth enough to bed a rattlesnake. 
 
 The sides of the various streams were carefully 
 examined, but they failed to discover any gold ; and 
 as they eat their last meal of pancakes, and sipped 
 their last drop of coffee, they were forced to admit 
 the probable failure of the expedition. If nature 
 had chosen such places as this to hoard her treas 
 ures, she had very likely placed them beyond the 
 reach of man. With these dark forebodings resting 
 heavily upon them they rolled themselves in their 
 blankets and lay down to sleep and dream. 
 
 On the morning of the sixth day their provisions 
 gave out, and for the first time a shadow of fear and 
 alarm crept over them, while a perceptible anxiety 
 for the arrival of the company grew stronger and 
 stronger. As the day advanced they exerted them 
 selves to appear calm, and watched and listened for 
 some signal of the company s arrival. But as night 
 closed in, their suspicions took the form of positive 
 
IOO A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 fear, and there was no mistaking each other s views 
 or feelings. That something had befallen the com 
 pany, and they were abandoned to their fate, was 
 beyond a doubt. They were destitute of food, and 
 had no means of procuring any, and, beside, a long, 
 dangerous march lay before them. Something must 
 be done to relieve their present extremity and pro 
 vide them with subsistence for their return journey. 
 What could be done, was the all important question 
 for them to decide. Frenzied with disappointment, 
 horrified with fear of starvation, and death staring 
 them in the face, what should they do ? To leave 
 this God-forsaken place and live, was a desire which 
 required but little hesitation to become a law of ne 
 cessity Dobbin Grey must die ! He must die that 
 they might live. The thought, so revolting when 
 first suggested, became tempered with continued 
 fasting, and aversion gave way to the cravings of hun 
 ger. Poor old Dobbin, their faithful friend and asso 
 ciate, was sacrificed, his flesh hung over their camp- 
 fire to smoke and dry. Upon this they must subsist 
 or perish. Preparations for their return trip were at 
 once completed, and with reduced baggage they 
 abandoned these realms of darkness with feelings 
 of gladness and relief. 
 
 The sun had disappeared behind the long row of 
 frozen peaks, and the evening was fast closing in 
 upon the deep caverns which lay between the mount- 
 
SEEKING WEALTH UNDER DIFFICULTIES. IOI 
 
 ains of snow and ice. The three weary pathfinders 
 halted and prepared their camp for the night. Car 
 ter was ill. The long, tedious journey was fast 
 breaking up these men of iron constitutions. The 
 violent exercise, the great bodily strain, was gradu 
 ally undermining their courage, and they retired for 
 the night overwhelmed with the difficulties of their 
 situation. It was the evening of the third day. 
 They had lost the trail early in the journey, and as 
 yet had failed to find it. They had labored all day 
 long under the conviction that they were hopelessly 
 lost in the snow-beds of the Sierras. The next day 
 they followed the sun in its course, hoping by night 
 to retrieve in a measure the error so unfortunately 
 made. Carter s illness continued, and they felt 
 alarmed and uneasy. It became necessary to sup 
 port and brace him up to his work, and yet in the 
 face of this new discouragment they moved steadily 
 along, sad but hopeful. The scenes which had but 
 a few days before filled them with enthusiasm, were 
 now as a blighted grave-yard, and in every summit 
 they saw a Banquo s ghost to haunt them through 
 their dreary march. The moaning of the wind 
 through the forest, the echo of their voices in the 
 mountain glens, which were to them such sweet and 
 fairy-like music, now became the mourner s dirge 
 and the harbingers of some dreadful visitation. 
 The fifth day brought them glad tidings and great 
 
102 A WINTER EVENING S .TALE. 
 
 joy. They had struck the trail, but were so ex 
 hausted that they could scarcely move one foot be 
 fore the other. Carter s condition had become pain 
 ful and dangerous. Toward night he declared he 
 could go no farther. He was hopelessly used up, 
 and neither Graham nor Bradbury could do any 
 thing to induce him to make another effort. He 
 begged his comrades to leave him and push on the 
 settlement for help. " Boys," said he, as they clasped 
 each other s hands in this painful separation, " If 
 you have strength, push on till you find the com 
 pany, and God speed you. I shall look for you, 
 Frank, as long as I have life. If I am gone when 
 you return, and you love me, carry me back to the 
 Yuba and let me sleep beneath the willow behind 
 the cabin. Take this watch and chain, Frank ; yes, 
 and this ring, too, and when you return home, go to 
 the village of Kinderhook and find my poor old 
 mother. Give her these, Frank, and tell her tell 
 her " He could not finish the sentence, but plac 
 ing his hands over his eyes burst into tears. He 
 was rolled up carefully in his blankets and laid upon 
 a bed of spruce and cedars. Each man stooped 
 and kissed him, and said with difficulty : " Good-by, 
 Dave." Bradbury and Graham then pushed on with 
 increased speed. They felt sure the company could 
 not be far from where they were. The suspicion 
 that would from time to time arise in their feverish 
 
SEEKING WEALTH UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 1 03 
 
 minds, that perhaps they were abandoned and left 
 to perish, could not be entertained for a moment. 
 It was an injustice to men like Wallace, Littlefield, 
 and Burns. Darkness was closing around them. 
 They were wet through and benumbed with cold. 
 Faint and exhausted as they were, they were still 
 terribly in earnest to save their comrade s life. An 
 exclamation of surprise from Bradbury, who had 
 reached the summit of the hill in advance of Gra 
 ham, was followed by another still louder, announc 
 ing a bright light upon an elevation in the direction 
 where the camp of their associates was most likely 
 to be. Yes, this was surely the beacon-light which 
 the company had built to tell them where they could 
 be found. " O propitious light ! O friend in need ! " 
 burst from the lips of these men, nearly dead with 
 hunger and fatigue. How quickly it infused new 
 life into their bodies ! How easily were the difficul 
 ties hitherto considered insurmountable disposed of, 
 and victory achieved ! Nothing could exceed the 
 genuineness of the reception which, for a few min 
 utes, overwhelmed Bradbury and Graham as they 
 were discovered by the company hobbling into camp. 
 But when informed of Carter s condition and prob 
 able fate, a change as correspondingly swift and sin 
 cere came over them, and the camp immediately be 
 came the scene of wild excitement. 
 
 Carter s immediate associates were deeply affected, 
 
104 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 especially Wallace, who refused to be comforted, 
 and spent the balance of the night in gloom and 
 silence. Not so with Littlefield and Burns : they 
 kept the camp-fire ablaze and filled their canteens 
 with hot, nourishing drinks ; they heated blankets 
 and rolled them up tightly ; they selected warm 
 clothing to cover his body, dry hose and easy boots 
 to protect his feet ; and when the party left to res 
 cue their perishing friend, they were provided with 
 substantial remedies to restore him to life. 
 
 The pathfinders trail was easily found and the 
 party followed it with great vigilance. The dark 
 ened hollows and sombre passes were examined foot 
 by foot. Rifles were discharged announcing their 
 near approach. Loud, encouraging shouts rang out 
 from hill-tops and caverns. The warm rays of the 
 sun were beginning to penetrate the dark recesses 
 of the mountain passes when the party came ab 
 ruptly upon the spot where Carter lay. They saw 
 his couch from the hill-side as they went swinging 
 down into the bottom, and were so startled for an 
 instant that each man stood in his tracks as it were 
 to catch his breath. Then there went up such a 
 hearty cheer that the sound went echoing along 
 through the neighboring canons. But ere the sound 
 had left their lips, they bounded down the hill and 
 with one impetuous cry of joy gathered about their 
 silent comrade. But alas, they were too late ; their 
 
SEEKING WEALTH UNDER DIFFICULTIES, 1 05 
 
 remedies useless ; their caresses wasted. Their 
 friend and associate was dead. There he lay, the 
 blankets still covering his body and his heavy winter 
 blouse wound tightly about him. His head was 
 half buried in the snow, and his hair frozen to his 
 face and ears. A thin coating of ice covered his 
 long, full beard, and his fingers were woven together 
 under his chin. His body was packed in snow and 
 laid upon an improvised sled, and when everything 
 had been properly arranged the cortege returned to 
 camp. 
 
 Carter was a marked man, a man of splendid 
 physique, pure in soul, and strong in Christian faith, 
 a man of few words, dignified, and brave. He 
 was the accepted head of the company, and his loss 
 to the organization was irreparable. The influence 
 he exerted and the peculiar charm he possessed 
 arose partly from his love of music. His full rich 
 voice was heard at the opening of each Sunday 
 morn, and in the peaceful calm of the Sabbath eve. 
 
 " God moves in a mysterious way 
 
 His wonders to perform; 
 He plants his footsteps in the sea, 
 And rides upon the storm." 
 
 How this beautiful old hymn would ring out, and 
 every heart that heard it seemed touched as with a 
 coal of fire. Lips unwont to sing yielded to its 
 magic power, and the whole camp joined in the song 
 of praise to God. 
 
106 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 A formal meeting of the Graham company was 
 called to take such action as might seem best with 
 reference to their deceased associate and friend. It 
 was a little singular that this meeting should have 
 taken place on the first anniversary of their organi 
 zation. But such was the fact, and the four surviv 
 ing members gathered round the body of their late 
 comrade and reviewed the painful calendar of the 
 year that was passed. The fatal consequences at 
 tending them as an organization was feelingly re 
 ferred to, and the terrible sufferings which had 
 closed the life of their esteemed friend were keenly 
 felt and bitterly deplored. Their relations to the 
 present expedition were carefully and freely dis 
 cussed, and then came a question of great impor 
 tance to them. Under existing circumstances, what 
 were to be their relations towards each other, weak 
 ened as they were in numbers, and poor in purse ? 
 Up to this time, they had accomplished but little. 
 All they possessed in the world had been invested 
 in the success or failure of this enterprise. If suc 
 cessful, the achievement was too grand to estimate, 
 while a failure would be but a check, perhaps a de 
 feat, but not a disaster. Bradbury and Graham s 
 report of what they saw, and what they did not see 
 at the source of the river would not, it was said, be 
 accepted, and the company as a body were bound 
 " to see it out." Should their organization continue 
 
SEEKING WEALTH UNDER DIFFICULTIES. IOJ 
 
 distinct in the future, or should they dissolve and 
 consolidate with the other company ? Wallace ex 
 pressed a desire to withdraw from the company. It 
 was his purpose to abandon the mines, and seek his 
 fortune in the marts of trade. Graham wished to 
 return with the body of their deceased friend to the 
 Roost, and stay there till the company returned. 
 The Graham company was accordingly declared dis 
 banded. Littlefield and Burns joined the main com 
 pany, and Wallace and Graham returned to the 
 Yuba. 
 
 David Carter was buried at the Roost on the 
 banks of the South Yuba, July 12, 1850. His re 
 mains were not deposited under the willow behind 
 the cabin, as he had requested, because, as subse 
 quent events proved, they would not have been safe. 
 A butt of a hollow pine, with the ends securely 
 closed, made a safe and enduring burial case. His 
 remains were placed in a seam in the bed-rock 
 which formed the base of Eagle Mountain. An 
 oaken slab, rough hewn, with the inscription burnt 
 deeply into the wood, made a head-board, which was 
 nailed to a tree over his grave. This completed 
 their last duty, and to this tomb of solid rock they 
 surrendered the body of their dead friend. 
 
 Thirty years have passed since Carter died on the 
 snow-clad summits of the Sierra Nevadas and his 
 dying request to be buried at the Roost was faith- 
 
108 A WINTER EVENING S TALE., 
 
 fully fulfilled ; and now the survivor of that brave 
 company consecrates these imperfect memoirs to 
 the memory of the hallowed dead. His hair has 
 since then whitened with passing years, and bodily 
 infirmities have crept in with the lapse of time. 
 Now, with his declining strengthand the ripening of 
 threescore years upon him, fond memory takes him 
 back to the land of sunshine and flowers. The 
 scenes of other days rise up full and real, and from 
 the fullness of his heart he weeps over and sancti 
 fies the graves of the sacred dead. 
 
 The expedition returned to the Roost in Septem 
 ber, broken and demoralized. The hidden treasures 
 if there were any were buried too deep to be 
 reached. They were obliged to abandon everything 
 but their personal effects, and the mining season for 
 that year closed, forcing them into winter quarters 
 poor and discouraged. Ah, gold, thou art a wily 
 tempter, bewitching as the light to the moth, but 
 dazzling only to lead astray ! 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE RIPPLE SPRING HOUSE. 
 
 Ripple and dance, thou sweet little stream, 
 Laughing so sprightly in midsummer s beam, 
 With fairy-like music and sweet pretty song 
 Entrancing the senses the whole day long, 
 Dance by the moonlight, dance in thy dream, 
 Murmur and sparkle, thou beautiful stream. 
 
 Of all those companions that drank from thy rill 
 As they sat in the shade on the moss-covered hill, 
 Not one now remains to rejoin me again 
 To enroll thee in song or rejoice in thy fame : 
 Enshrined in my heart is thy murmuring song, 
 Ah, sing little songster, forever sing on. 
 
 How oft the poor emigrant, overburdened with heat, 
 Fell down from exhaustion and slept at thy feet, 
 Quenched his deep thirst, and rising again, 
 Pursued his long journey, o er mountain and plain ; 
 Bubble and laugh, thou pure little spring, 
 And nourish the violets that bloom on thy brim. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 IN the rough-and-tumble days of 49 and 50, and 
 perhaps we may include 51, the hotels, so called, 
 which dotted the different roads connecting the 
 marts of trade with the mines were many and dis 
 tinct. They were rudely constructed, most simply 
 furnished, and grotesque even to ugliness. They 
 were patterned after every age and style, and ranged 
 from a low bush shanty to a high wall tent with an 
 
IIO A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 awning. All sorts of devices were used, and every 
 effort made to extol each house and decoy the 
 " weary wayfarer " to stop and dine. Furniture was 
 unknown at the wayside inns in those days, and 
 China dishes as scarce as rain-drops between May 
 and November. Every man carried his own bed 
 clothes and made up his bed where night overtook 
 him. If his means were exhausted he stretched 
 himself upon the ground and forgot that such a 
 luxury as a rawhide bunk was purchasable so near 
 at hand. The teamster, freighting goods between 
 the city of Sacramento and Nevada, or points above, 
 selected his stopping-places from necessity rather 
 than choice, that is, he would give his preference 
 to that house which would best equalize the day s 
 labor for himself and animals. On his return trip, 
 however, he often remained where he "loved not 
 wisely but too well." 
 
 The Ripple Spring House was a popular place of 
 resort to the great carrying trade on that route, and 
 likewise a favorite wayside inn for the casual mule 
 teer as well as the wayfarer in general. Built upon 
 a slight elevation a little back from the road, and 
 flanked by a heavy growth of timber, it held a com 
 manding view of the great thoroughfare between 
 the city of Sacramento and the central northern 
 mines. In style the building was a little in advance 
 of the times, the location, perhaps, giving it a more 
 
THE RIPPLE SPRING HOUSE. Ill 
 
 imposing appearance. But, beyond this, it was 
 about the same as other houses claiming to be first- 
 class wayside inns. Wooden benches, clumsy tables, 
 rudely arranged sleeping apartments, were the main 
 features improved and beautified according to the 
 mechanical skill and taste of the owner. The frame, 
 with a pitch roof, was light and delicate but sub 
 stantially braced. Its dimensions were about forty 
 by sixty feet, and the roof was covered with heavy 
 white canvas. The spring from which the house 
 derived its name was perpetual, coming out from 
 under a ledge of rocks about fifty feet above the 
 house, and flowing down a deep gully till it was lost 
 in the woods. 
 
 This spring of water the proprietors had turned 
 to a variety of uses, each of which was in itself a 
 positive benefit to the house. By a very simple con 
 trivance a portion of the stream was forced along 
 the hill-side into a shallow well, under a shady tree 
 by the roadside, the overflow passing into and 
 through another underground pipe for some dis 
 tance, and then leaping down into a large water 
 ing trough in front of the hotel door. The balance 
 of the spring was conducted into the house by sim 
 ilar means and utilized for special purposes, when 
 the whole, uniting again at the foot of the hill, 
 flowed into a large basin arranged for the use of 
 cattle. There was, therefore, water upon the hill- 
 
112 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 side for the weary emigrant, there was water for 
 the jaded horse and mule, and water in abundance 
 for the thirsty ox covered with dust and exhausted 
 with fatigue. Thus the wayfarer, resting in the 
 sleepy calmness of a summer s night, listened to the 
 rippling songs of these ever busy streams. Every 
 teamster, therefore, having the welfare of his team 
 at heart, harnessed out at the Ripple Spring House, 
 for, in addition to the superior accommodations 
 which the house afforded, he felt sure of assistance 
 in raising the "hump" so much dreaded by every 
 whip upon the road. 
 
 The " hump " so called was the sharp, rugged hill 
 where the house stood. The ascent was but trivial, 
 scarcely three hundred feet, a mere ant-hill com 
 pared with many to be encountered. But its steep 
 ness and wretched condition was what made its 
 ascent so difficult and caused such a corresponding 
 dread. 
 
 A jaded team, then, on arriving at the "hump" 
 and showing signs of weakness, would scarcely at 
 tempt the ascent alone, but would wait until another 
 came up, when they would " double up," and the 
 two " snake the load along as if t were but a bale o 
 hay. w So night after night a score of teams might 
 have been seen here harnessed out and at rest. 
 There one might have seen a magnificent six mule 
 team with bear-skin collars and jingling bells ; there, 
 
THE RIPPLE SPRING HOUSE. 113 
 
 also, the heavy ox team with their broad, handsome 
 shoulders, and brass tipped and polished horns. 
 Here was the Buckeye "gig" with its quaint top 
 and sweeping sides, and yonder the Arkansas "jig 
 ger" with its long narrow body resting high in the 
 air, resembling a bridge on wheels. Take it all to 
 gether, it was a singularly mixed crowd that nightly 
 gathered about the Ripple Spring House in the fall 
 and winter of 50 and 51. 
 
 About the middle of an afternoon in October a 
 light team with a span of horses drew up to the 
 watering-trough before the hotel door. As it did 
 so, one of the occupants sprang out and loosened 
 the check reins, and at the same moment sang out, 
 in a somewhat familiar manner, " Halloo, Graham, 
 how are ye ! " 
 
 A young man responded to that query by stepping 
 quickly from under the awning, and with a smile of 
 recognition playing upon his face, replied, " Why, 
 Major Winchester ! bless me, how do you do?" at 
 the same time extending his hand to his old friend 
 and wife, and then to the boys. 
 
 A moment later Burns and Littlefield came for 
 ward and gave the callers a cordial welcome. 
 
 " No, thank ye," expostulated the Major, " we 
 can t get out. It is too late, and we must get home 
 to-night. We are ever so much obliged to you, but 
 W2 can t stop to tea." 
 
 8 
 
114 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 "Well, Littlefield," continued the Major, in a 
 joking sort of away, "we didn t get down to the 
 dedication." 
 
 " So it seems," merrily laughed Tully. "You can 
 never know how much you were missed, Major, or 
 the opportunity lost to air your classical talents." 
 
 " Invite me to the next reopening," laughed the 
 Major, "and I will not fail to respond." 
 
 "You have a nice place here, Mr. Burns," said 
 Mrs. Winchester, interrupting them. 
 
 " I am glad you like it," answered the Doctor, 
 raising his hat with a polite bow. " Thank you for 
 the compliment" 
 
 "Why, yes, indeed; quite a fashionable affair, I 
 assure you," suggested the Major s son with a broad 
 grin upon his face, which put the party in excellent 
 spirits. 
 
 " Can t say I like that flag much," mused the 
 Major, casting his eyes up to a wretchedly poor imi 
 tation of the Stars and Stripes nailed to a staff on 
 the end of the building. 
 
 " Cherish the principles which it symbolizes," put 
 in Tully ; "we ll have a better one by the time you 
 call again." 
 
 "I don t see that bay-window, Graham, your letter 
 pictured so wonderfully," said Mrs. Winchester, re 
 proachfully. 
 
 "Very true," replied Frank. "I am sorry, but 
 
THE RIPPLE SPRING HOUSE. 115 
 
 the omission has been compromised by enlarging 
 the doors." 
 
 At this retort the group settled into a prolonged 
 laugh. 
 
 " Yes, mother," broke in the Major, his face still 
 red with excitement ; " I have been looking about 
 also for that balcony." 
 
 "Well," replied Graham, assuming an air of in 
 jured dignity, "that article was left out purely by 
 mutual consent ; the edifice being considered so 
 imposing so far in advance of the civilized condi 
 tion of the country that to add such embellish 
 ments was, to say the least, imprudent if not dan 
 gerous. Such fears as mistaking it for a monastery 
 by the many wandering monks, and its legitimate 
 purposes assailed if not subverted, has been regarded 
 by us as neither inconsistent nor entirely to be 
 ignored." 
 
 "Well done, Graham," broke in the Major, clap 
 ping his hands, in which the whole party joined. 
 "Well, boys, I hope you will do well here," added 
 the Major sincerely; "you have started right, and 
 we often hear good reports of you up at the Creek." 
 
 " What have you done with the upper part of your 
 house, Mr. Graham ? " asked Mrs. Winchester, who 
 enjoyed this refreshing scene, and seemed reluctant 
 to lose the opportunity to put in a pun. 
 
 " I am only one third to blame for the concessions 
 
Il6 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 made to the architect and builder of this establish 
 ment," replied Frank, with a mischievous look in his 
 eye, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at his two 
 chums. " On matters of such importance we have 
 always been unanimous. We listened in this case 
 to superior minds, and frankly accepted the builder s 
 advice to allow the upper story of the structure to 
 remain unfinished. As yet there have been no calls 
 for suites of rooms, and the times are not sufficiently 
 ripe, they thought, for summer boarders, they would 
 wait." 
 
 "The furniture, I suppose, corresponds in every 
 respect with the general make-up," sarcastically sug 
 gested the Major as he gathered up the reins and 
 reached forward after his whip. 
 
 " Oh, yes," answered Tully ; "every article is en 
 tirely new." 
 
 " Made to order, of course," said Mrs. Winchester, 
 unable to restrain her mirth. 
 
 " Certainly," answered Burns with a laugh ; 
 " every piece is original and the patterns destroyed." 
 
 " Profusely ornamental," chimed in the Major s 
 son, giggling as he lit his cigar." 
 
 " Yes, Dan," retorted Graham, " quite so, and 
 although free from the gaudy tinsels too often seen 
 among flashy hotels and cheap restaurants, they 
 have already attracted so much attention as to give 
 them a wor d-wide reputation." 
 
THE RIPPLE SPRING HOUSE. I 1 7 
 
 " Drive on, father;" said Mrs. Winchester, laugh 
 ing immoderately. " Ah, Graham, you are as subtle 
 as a parish priest. Let us hope you will plead be 
 fore, and not from behind a bar, at no distant day." 
 
 " I ll take that scarf, Frank," said Dan, the Ma 
 jor s son, pleadingly ; "give it to me as a souvenir 
 which shall signify that with all my faults you love 
 me still." 
 
 " I would do that in a moment, Dan, but for one 
 thing," answered Graham, "it is a keepsake from my 
 sister Mary." 
 
 " So much the better," suggested Dan, trying to 
 reach the article, twisted loosely about Graham s 
 neck. 
 
 " Give me the scarf, Frank, and I 11 marry Mary, 
 and so keep the heirloom still in the family." 
 
 " All right, brother-in-law," replied Graham ; 
 " take it." And the team drove off amid cheers and 
 good-byes. 
 
 Two hours later the loaded teams began to gather 
 in and about the Ripple Spring House, and the 
 usual stir and bustle accompanied the preparations 
 for supper. Hungry animals were watered and fed, 
 camp-fires lighted, and blankets spread for the night. 
 The usual busy scenes were witnessed that night 
 as they had been on many previous evenings. It 
 had got to be about ten o clock when the last guest 
 retired to his bunk. The curtained door was dropped, 
 
Il8 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 the side lights put out, and the house declared closed 
 for the night. The large lantern was still burning 
 in the reception room, and a small bracket lamp 
 burnt dimly over the dining-room door. The pro 
 prietors were seated in the cook-room. All at once 
 footsteps were heard approaching the house from 
 the direction of the hill, and shortly after a voice 
 was heard to cry : " Ho there, landlord ! " 
 
 Littlefield answered the call. " You are late, gen 
 tlemen," remarked Tully, as the two wayfarers 
 walked in and seated themselves upon some bags of 
 grain. 
 
 " You are right, landlord," replied the first speaker. 
 " It is rather late, but not too late, I hope, for a 
 night s lodgings and a bite of something to eat." 
 
 " Oh, no ; I believe there is one more section left. 
 The supper, however, I must ask you to take with a 
 grain of salt." 
 
 " Call it a glass of brandy and water, landlord," 
 put in the other speaker, " and we 11 accept your 
 terms." 
 
 " All right, sir," replied Littlefield, as he placed 
 the tumblers and decanter containing the article 
 called for before them. " Now, gentlemen," con 
 tinued Tully, as his eyes followed the tumblers of 
 raw liquor to the lips of his guests, " register your 
 names, please, and I will attend to preparing your 
 supper." 
 
THE RIPPLE SPRING HOUSE. ng 
 
 " Let us have the supper, landlord, and dispense 
 with the registering," sharply broke in the first 
 speaker. " There seems no occasion for it here, at 
 least." 
 
 " The country where you are from," retorted Lit- 
 tlefield, "would regard such refusals with just sus 
 picion." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, landlord," hastily broke in 
 the second speaker, determined to support his friend ; 
 " you are a little off your base. It is not even a 
 compulsory measure there. It has been adopted 
 simply as a mark of courtesy to the guest, and in 
 troduced as a system by the proprietors." 
 
 " We make it compulsory here, sir," answered 
 Littlefield, " and enforce it. You can do just as you 
 choose," continued Tully ; "register your names or 
 seek some other accommodations." 
 
 The two men looked sharply into each other s 
 eyes for a moment, and then going forward signed 
 their names. The first man that signed his name 
 uncovered an injured hand, which was wrapped up 
 in a peculiar figured scarf saturated with blood. 
 As he laid the pen down, he cast a quick, scornful 
 look into the face of Littlefield, and expressed his 
 regrets for his inability to make the signature more 
 distinct and natural. The second signer dashed off 
 his name and took a seat, remarking, sneeringly, 
 that nothing equaled a one-horse hotel-keeper for 
 bombast and conceited arrogance. 
 
120 A WINTER EVENINGS TALE. 
 
 Burns and Graham remained within the cook- 
 room, attentive listeners. There was nothing in 
 particular about these men to have attracted much 
 attention had they applied for accommodations in 
 seasonable hours. It is true their manners were 
 rude and insulting ; perhaps that fed a natural dis 
 trust which the lateness of the hour created. But 
 otherwise they were genteel in appearance, quite af 
 fable, and dressed in the usual miner s garb. They 
 had, they said, been drinking heavily, which seemed 
 to account for the scratches on their faces, and the 
 filthy condition of their hair and clothes. But, on 
 the whole, Tully Littlefield had become alarmed, 
 and his large blue eyes never for a moment left 
 them. The sight of the scarf, so innocently ex 
 posed, wrapped about the wounded hand still drip 
 ping with blood, added to the distrust which their 
 appearance had from the beginning produced, and 
 now his fears were awakened, and dark suspicions 
 filled his mind. 
 
 Littlefield, suppressing his feelings, accompanied 
 his guests into the dining-room, and carelessly lean 
 ing against the cook-room door, keenly watched the 
 faces of his associates for such evidence as would 
 either dispel his doubts or confirm his fears. Burns 
 passed in with a dish of sliced ham and a platter of 
 biscuits. The hand with the crimson bandage was 
 raised. The Doctor glanced from the hand into the 
 
THE RIPPLE SPRING HOUSE. 121 
 
 face and eyes of its owner, then at the hand again, 
 and drawing a long breath withdrew to the side 
 board. He had observed the bleeding hand, but had 
 failed to recognize the scarf. Not so with Graham. 
 The moment the injured hand was raised his coun 
 tenance underwent a change. It no longer wore an 
 expression of cold indifference, but became pale and 
 excited. For a while his gaze fastened upon the 
 scarf wound tightly about the bleeding hand, and 
 then removed them only to fix it upon the wearer s 
 face ; then, for a few seconds, he turned his head 
 aside in a sort of painful reverie, and finally looked 
 full into the anxious face of Tully Littlefield. The 
 look, the instant interchange of thought between 
 these two, was mutual. The expression of one 
 seemed to say to the other, Do you recognize your 
 scarf ? while the other seemed to reply, Yes, and 
 it must be regained. 
 
 Frank Graham had made a discovery, a dis 
 covery beyond the recognition of his scarf, a dis 
 covery, which, if his suspicions were correct, might 
 involve him in difficulties which would test bis 
 friendship to the core. This discovery, so singu 
 lar, so inauspicious as to cause a chill to run through 
 him, was that the wounded man was the brother of 
 his affianced wife, Philip Rugby, of Rugby Farm. 
 He must keep his discovery to himself, and for the 
 moment deal only with the wounded hand which 
 
122 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 had brought within their house such dark forebod 
 ings of evil. 
 
 " Can I assist you, sir," inquired Graham, with a 
 voice somewhat agitated. 
 
 "Well, no, my friend I believe not unless 
 you can stop this hand from bleeding." 
 
 " I will dress it for you after supper, sir, and wash 
 out the bandage, too, if you would like to have 
 me." 
 
 " Thank you, I shall be only too glad to accept 
 your services." 
 
 There was a deep cut across the palm of the hand, 
 which would leave a scar and three disabled fingers. 
 Not a question was asked by either party but each 
 sat silent while the operation was being performed, 
 and were only too glad when it was finished. Gra 
 ham seized the scarf and rolling it carelessly up laid 
 it in the basin of water and started for the cook- 
 room. The pleasure he experienced at having se 
 cured the scarf, which was the key to the solution 
 of the whole mystery, was apparent at least to Lit- 
 tlefield, if not to Doctor Burns. 
 
 " If that slug, young man, will convince you of 
 our ]asting obligations," remarked the wounded 
 man s friend, "take it;" and he tossed a fifty dollar 
 gold piece upon the table. 
 
 " Nothing could induce me, sir, to take your 
 money," answered Graham, firmly. "I have done no 
 
THE RIPPLE SPRING HOUSE. 123 
 
 more for your friend than what either of you would 
 gladly do for me." 
 
 A pause of some seconds ensued, when the guests 
 arose, and turning upon their heels, bowed politely, 
 and said, " Good-night." 
 
 When Burns returned, after seeing these men to 
 their beds, he found Littlefielcl and Graham engaged 
 in earnest conversation. They had examined the 
 scarf, and found, as Graham had predicted, the ini 
 tials of his name embroidered on one end, and those 
 of his sister on the other. When last seen, this 
 scarf was tied about the neck of Daniel Winches 
 ter. Within a few hours it had come back to the 
 giver under suspicious circumstances and saturated 
 with blood. The signatures of these men, then, 
 were unquestionably assumed, their manners a 
 sham, their assertions false. The circumstances 
 told strongly against them, and the proprietors were 
 quite alarmed for the safety of the Winchester fam 
 ily. That the Major had been violently handled, 
 possibly robbed and murdered, by the very men who 
 had taken refuge within their door, was possible if 
 not probable. The situation was, indeed, embar 
 rassing. What should they do in the premises.? 
 To detain these men until the Major s safety could 
 be assured was their duty, their purpose, and their 
 determination. It was considered advisable to take 
 into their counsel two responsible teamsters who 
 
124 A WINTER EVENINGS TALE. 
 
 had patronized their house since its completion. It 
 would seem better for all concerned, they thought, 
 to add to their own two unprejudiced minds and 
 two impartial judgments. 
 
 The mysterious wayfarers, who had retired the 
 night before apparently unconscious of approaching 
 danger, were startled, on opening their eyes in the 
 early dawn, to find themselves surrounded by a 
 posse of armed men. Neither spoke, but spring 
 ing up in their bunks fastened their eyes upon their 
 jailers with an expression of sudden fear and alarm. 
 
 " Gentlemen," began Littlefield, in a singularly 
 steady voice, "we mean you no harm, but we have 
 business with you." 
 
 "Well, sir, what is it?" calmly inquired the man 
 with the wounded hand. 
 
 "You are suspected of murder and robbery," con 
 tinued Littlefield; "and you must now consider 
 yourselves under arrest." 
 
 " Murder and robbery ! " echoed the man. " What 
 an absurdity ! " 
 
 " Why did n t you perform this duty before we re 
 tired ? " suggested his friend, warmly, with a con 
 temptuous smile playing about his mouth. 
 
 " Because we had not sufficient evidence of your 
 guilt then, sir," quietly responded Littlefield. 
 
 "Then we are to understand you possess that 
 proof this morning. Is it so ? " 
 
THE RIPPLE SPRING HOUSE. 12$ 
 
 "Yes, we have what we consider sufficient rea 
 sons to detain you." 
 
 " Let us see this damning proof," he demanded, 
 in an insolent manner. Littlefield held out the 
 bloody scarf. " Why, sir, that belongs to me. It is 
 the bandage left in your care to be washed." 
 
 "A most wonderful discovery ! " ironically laughed 
 his friend. " Do they hang men here for being the 
 owners of twenty-five-cent neckties ? " 
 
 Both men laughed heartily, and turning upon the 
 group, said in the most approved style : " Gentlemen, 
 we are very sorry this dirty rag should cause such a 
 sea of trouble. The tragedy so auspiciously opened 
 has, it would seem, fizzled into a comedy of errors. 
 If the performance has not multiplied your assets, 
 the fault rests with the managers, not with the act 
 ors." 
 
 " All s well that ends well," remarked Tully, with 
 a significant nod of the head. " Will you please tell 
 us," he resumed, " how you came by this dirty rag/ 
 as you are pleased to call it ? " 
 
 " Certainly. It is a part of my wardrobe. I don t 
 recollect just where or when I bought it that is 
 of little consequence to you ; but I have owned it 
 for years." 
 
 " Then you ought to be able to tell what initials 
 are worked on it and what they stand for." 
 
 " Well, I am not quite sure about that," he said, 
 for the first time disconcerted and embarrassed. 
 
126 A WINTER EVENINGS TALE. 
 
 " Are you prepared to admit or deny that there 
 are any such characters on it ? " 
 
 " No, I am not, for the whole subject, to my mind, 
 is too preposterous for a second consideration." 
 
 " Well, now, gentlemen," resumed Littlefield, " one 
 word more, and then I have done. This scarf be 
 longed to one of the proprietors of this house. It 
 was given to and worn away by a friend of ours yes 
 terday afternoon. It came back to us last night 
 wrapped about your bleeding hand, and we are 
 bound to know just how it came into your posses 
 sion. We shall detain you here until the safety of 
 our friends is assured. If they reached their home 
 unmolested all will have an opportunity to rejoice. 
 But if they have been foully dealt with, this dirty 
 rag, in my judgment, will be the strongest evidence 
 of your guilt." 
 
 All through the investigation the faces of these 
 men wore an expresssion of deep hatred and defi 
 ance. They treated every question with derision, 
 and allowed no opportunity to escape to ridicule the 
 opinions of their accusers. In this spirit of assumed 
 indifference, they laid back in their bunks, and turn 
 ing over on their sides, muttered something about 
 being woke up when " Birnam woods shall come to 
 Dunsinane." 
 
 One hour after this interview occurred, Tully Lit 
 tlefield mounted his horse and galloped away to Deer 
 
THE RIPPLE SPRING HOUSE. I2/ 
 
 Creek. He found the Major s dwelling surrounded 
 by a body of men who were engaged in earnest con 
 versation, and in a few minutes was in full posses 
 sion of the main facts. The Major had been waylaid, 
 dragged from his team, " beaten almost to death," 
 and robbed ; and his son, in his efforts to save his 
 father, had been pounded and thrown down an em 
 bankment, and little hopes were entertained of their 
 recovery. 
 
 A meeting was at once called, at which Littlefield 
 told them of the arrest of the guilty parties and the 
 circumstances which led to their detection. It was 
 decided that the prisoners should be brought back 
 to Deer Creek for trial, and twelve men were ap 
 pointed a committee to conduct the prisoners hither. 
 
 A change came over the prisoners when they were 
 told to prepare themselves for removal to Deer 
 Creek. But a still greater change was witnessed 
 when they were brought out in front of the hotel 
 and formally given into the charge of the committee. 
 Poor fellows ! what a contrast ! How sad, how piti 
 ful they looked as they climbed into the wagon and 
 took their seats in the centre of the guard. What 
 can move our sympathies quicker than a man over 
 whelmed with trouble, no matter what his crime. 
 If his life be demanded for the public good, and the 
 demand be sanctioned and enforced by the courts of 
 justice, there comes up, nevertheless, out of the 
 
128 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 human heart a compassion which, in spite of us, 
 pleads for mercy. If our sympathies are moved for 
 a criminal who has had a fair and impartial trial in 
 a civilized country, and allowed, after sentence, 
 proper time to meet his death, how much more are 
 our sensibilities quickened when a man falls into 
 the hands of a frenzied mob, and in defiance of law 
 or order is dragged to a place of execution and 
 hurled into eternity without an opportunity to ask 
 God to forgive him. The thirst for blood, the cry 
 for vengeance, the heated passions of men deaf to 
 pity and blind to justice, rushing like a mad torrent 
 sweeping before its furious breath the agonizing 
 cries for mercy, if once seen will never be forgotten. 
 
 While the unfortunate men were passing through 
 the mining camps en route to Deer Creek, they were 
 met by angry miners who hooted and yelled at them, 
 and at times it seemed as though they would be 
 taken from the wagon and hung upon the nearest 
 tree. As they neared their destination the crowd 
 gathered about the team, and the noise and confu 
 sion increased as they approached the Major s cabin. 
 When they had reached their destination the pris 
 oners were taken from the wagon and seated upon 
 the stump of a fallen tree, the twelve guardsmen 
 standing in a half circle about them, and the specta 
 tors forming a ring around the little company. 
 
 The trial of these two men took place on the Sab- 
 
THE RIPPLE SPRING HOUSE. I2Q 
 
 bath day a day sacred to the memory of Him 
 who died that all might live. No tone of the church 
 bell was heard, neither was the soothing influence 
 of the house of prayer felt. Their pastor s tender 
 ness and the holy piety at that moment so much 
 needed was forgotten in the excitement of the 
 hour. The sun was sinking behind the belts of 
 heavy timber as a man from the crowd stepped for 
 ward and said : " Gentlemen, please to nominate 
 your judge." " You 11 do, Baxter ; you re just the 
 man ; " cried out a number of voices, which nomi 
 nation the meeting indorsed and Thomas Baxter was 
 declared the judge and the noisy gathering the jury. 
 The disposition to shorten the trial and hang their 
 men before dark was common to every one. " Put 
 em through, judge," came up over the boisterous 
 crowd from a backwoodsman leaning upon his rifle. 
 " Got the tree already picked out," sang out a sav 
 age-looking fellow with a brace of pistols tucked in 
 side his belt. "Jest sling em into Murphy s pit," 
 suggested a tall, round-shouldered man, rolling up 
 his sleeves. " Darn yer trials." 
 
 At this moment the judge arose and asked the 
 prisoners to stand up ; then facing his listeners he 
 said : " Gentlemen, I am the judge in this case, and 
 you are the jury. I propose giving these men a 
 Christian trial." " Hear, hear ! " was shouted from 
 various parts of the ring. "When that trial is 
 9 
 
130 A WINTER EVENING S -TALE. 
 
 ended, and you pronounce them guilty, they will be 
 sentenced to death not before." This last sen 
 tence was greeted with loud shouts of angry dis 
 pleasure, mingled with threats of violence to the 
 presiding justice. 
 
 " Prisoners," said the judge, "have you any friends 
 here?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 " Have you any acquaintances that you would like 
 to speak with ? " 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 " Do you see any one here that you would like to 
 have act as your counsel and friend ? " 
 
 " Well no, sir. We are deeply grateful to you, 
 but we have no friends." 
 
 "Is there any one here who will volunteer his 
 services," again asked the justice. 
 
 A painful silence ensued, which lasted for several 
 seconds. At length a man stepped into the ring, 
 and removing his hat, bowed politely to the judge. 
 Every eye was upon him ; the prisoners looked at 
 him intently and fixedly. A murmur of dissatisfac 
 tion was partially checked by admiring cheers. 
 
 " Step this way, sir," said his honor. " What is 
 your name ? " 
 
 "Frank Graham, sir." 
 
 As this name passed from his lips, one of the 
 prisoners sprang to his feet, and ran his fingers 
 
THE RIPPLE SPRING HOUSE. 131 
 
 strangely through his hair. He seemed to be greatly 
 agitated, and soon big tears began to follow each 
 other down his cheeks. 
 
 " Mr. Graham," said the judge, "you can converse 
 with the prisoners and render them whatever aid 
 you wish." 
 
 Graham beckoned the weeping prisoner towards 
 him, and speaking in a tone intended for him only, 
 said : " If you value your life, Philip, let no man 
 suspect that we ever met before." The prisoners 
 and their friend now walked towards the centre of 
 the ring and consulted together for some time. He 
 assured them it was madness to dispute the evidence 
 of their guilt. He believed there were some sym 
 pathizers in the crowd who would be satisfied with 
 a less punishment than death. He urged them to 
 make a manly confession, restore to the injured 
 family their money, put themselves into the hands 
 of the people, and ask for mercy. For himself, he 
 promised to do all in his power to save them ; but, 
 failing in this, he pledged them eternal secrecy. 
 No one should ever know of their ignominious 
 death. This the prisoners assented to cheerfully, 
 and a message to that effect was sent to the Win 
 chester family. The prisoners now resumed their 
 seats, and Graham addressed the judge and the peo 
 ple. He made a long and earnest plea, covering 
 the whole case. He said : " The prisoners have 
 
132 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 confessed their guilt " [uproarious applause from the 
 crowd with cries of " Pass em out, judge," " No more 
 chin music!" and so on], "and the trial, which prom 
 ised to be long and tedious, had terminated to the 
 satisfaction of all. The lives of these two men rest 
 entirely in your hands. Before sentence is pro- . 
 nounced, I desire of your honor but one favor for 
 these unfortunate men. It is that the question of 
 life or death shall be decided by the vote of the 
 people present. If the majority demand that these 
 men shall be hung, let them be given up cheerfully. 
 If, on the contrary, the majority prefer a milder 
 punishment, let them be so punished ; but whatever 
 punishment these Christian gentlemen may decide 
 to inflict, I ask your honor that it be postponed until 
 to-morrow morning. On this peaceful Sabbath eve 
 let no man say Nay. Give these poor, friendless 
 men the few remaining hours to prepare themselves 
 for their impending doom. These prisoners have 
 confessed their guilt, and have begged me to soften 
 your hearts and make one earnest appeal for mercy. 
 For himself," he said, "he had come to convict and 
 demand death ; but the condition of things were 
 changed for the better, and he was glad for the priv 
 ilege to hold up both hands for mercy. The par 
 ties," he said, " who had the greatest reason to com 
 plain had been pronounced out of danger and would 
 recover. The family who had been so afflicted by 
 
THE RUMPLE SPRING HOUSE. 133 
 
 these erring men sought not their lives. He was 
 glad to inform them that the prisoners had returned 
 the money, made all the atonement possible, and 
 had received their forgivenness. His heart had been 
 so touched, his sympathies so moved by the utter 
 hopelessness of the prisoners condition, that he 
 could not regret the step he had taken. He be 
 lieved he was but carrying out the true spirit of 
 divine law, when he asked all present to be charita 
 ble to those who were led into temptation, and show 
 mercy to all that trespass against us. He hoped 
 the people would do nothing which would tarnish 
 the good name of their settlement, but close this 
 holy Sabbath day by extending to these men the 
 mercy accorded by all high-minded courts and con 
 scientious juries." 
 
 A great commotion followed the concluding re 
 marks, in which the vilest epithets were used against 
 the prisoners and their friend. At length the meet 
 ing was called to order, and, to the disgust of the 
 rabble, the justice ordered that all those in favor of 
 the prisoners being hung should move to the left, and 
 those in favor of flogging should pass to the right. 
 The excitement which prevailed during the division 
 of the crowd, the taunts and jeers of the left 
 against the right, the exulting applause which came 
 from the left over their excess of numbers, was one 
 of the most distressing scenes ever witnessed. "The 
 
134 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 right," said the judge, when order had been restored, 
 and amid a breathless silence, " has seventy-two and 
 the left eighty-eight, a majority of sixteen in favor 
 of death. The prisoners shall be taken to the Hoff 
 man cabin and confined there under double guard 
 until nine o clock to-morrow morning ; from thence 
 they shall be taken and be hung by the neck until 
 dead. The guard are empowered to carry this sen 
 tence into effect." The guard now closed around 
 the prisoners, whom they conducted with great diffi 
 culty to the cabin prison, around which both friends 
 and foes remained until a late hour of the night. 
 
 The sunbeams had been pressing their long, warm 
 fingers through the belts of heavy timber for some 
 three hours or more, and yet everything was quiet 
 at Rumford s Corner. The smoke from many cab 
 ins was seen curling gracefully up into the clear 
 blue sky. A miner with his bucket was seen oc 
 casionally wending his way to the creek for water ; 
 but beyond this nothing disturbed the sleepy calm 
 ness of this beautiful autumn morning, if we may 
 except the drowsy guardsmen stationed at the Hoff 
 man cabin. 
 
 I said everything was quiet at the Corner. Yes, so 
 it was ; and yet over at the " Forks " men were seen 
 adjusting ropes to the limb of a large pine which 
 stood like a warrior in advance of his corps. The 
 ends of the ropes were let down to within a short 
 
THE RIPPLE SPRING HOUSE. 135 
 
 distance of the ground, and swayed to and fro in the 
 light, refreshing breeze. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Stimpson." 
 
 " Ah, good morning, neighbor." 
 
 " Fine day for the execution." 
 
 "Yes, so it is good enough for anything." 
 
 " Are ye going over to see em swing ? " 
 
 " Well, no, neighbor ; I don t relish such specta 
 cles ; and between you and me I m dreadful sorry 
 the boot had n t been on tother leg." 
 
 " Them chaps did n t look such hardened crim 
 inals to me, neither." 
 
 " Well, you are about right, Mr. Stimpson, I voted, 
 of course, with the left, but after a night s reflection 
 I should vote the other way." 
 
 " That Graham fellow," continued Mr. Stimpson, 
 " did the smart thing. I do believe if he " 
 
 " Halloo, what s going on down at the prison," 
 broke in his neighbor, drawing his friend gently 
 about by the elbow. 
 
 A large crowd was seen gathering about the Hoff 
 man cabin, and shortly after the startling cry was 
 heard that the prisoners had escaped. This piece 
 of news, so wholly unexpected, went through the 
 settlement like wildfire. Knots of men gathered 
 here and there, and the singular and almost miracu 
 lous escape became the topic of the day. 
 
 A close examination of the cabin followed, when 
 
136 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 a hole sufficiently large to admit a man s body was 
 discovered cut through the angle of the chimney 
 near the ground. It had been made from the out 
 side, and among the ctibris was found a common 
 sheathe knife with the initials F. G. cut deep into 
 the handle. 
 
 -The absence of the Major s canteen and haver 
 sack, and the sudden disappearance of everything 
 eatable from Mrs. Winchester s cupboard, was cor 
 rectly interpreted by the Major and his family, but 
 all knowledge of their whereabouts was faithfully 
 concealed. The knife ultimately got into the hands 
 of the Winchester family, where for years afterwards 
 it could be seen sheathed in a morocco case, and 
 suspended by a silken cord over the mantel-piece. 
 It was not treasured because of its intrinsic value, 
 nor made conspicuous on account of superior work 
 manship. But it was retained for the great respect 
 which the family bore for its former owner, who 
 had, they asserted, revived true heroism, and de 
 monstrated, at least to the residents of Rumford s 
 Corner, the meaning of the phrase, "A friend in 
 need is a friend indeed." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE DOWNIE HOUSE, ROUGH AND READY. 
 
 " Oh, let me unlade my heart, pour out the fullness of my soul before thee, show 
 every tender, every grateful thought this wondrous goodness moves ; but t is irrr 
 possible, and utterances, all are vile since this poor heart can show thee naught, 
 I 11 let the future prove my candid obligations." 
 
 IT was early in November, a chilly, westerly wind 
 blew the crisp leaves high into the air, and after 
 rustling them about in the most spiteful manner, 
 drove them hard and fast into the deep recesses by 
 the wayside. The broken clouds, too, sailed swiftly 
 over the hills and valleys, and the tree-tops bent and 
 shivered in the gale. The heavily laden teams 
 jogged slowly along the ragged roads, the teamster 
 and his animals being half blinded by the clouds of 
 dust which accompanied them. This sharp, bluster 
 ing wind was but the prelude to a winter of four 
 months duration a prelude which admonished the 
 proprietors of the Ripple Spring House to prepare 
 for the change of weather which was nigh at hand. 
 
 It was during the afternoon of this disagreeable 
 day that Graham stood under the awning by the 
 watering trough, watching the long lines of wild 
 brants on their way to their warm southern homes. 
 
138 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 The gusts of wind ever and anon would strike the 
 exposed face of the hill and lift the dust and leaves 
 so high as to obscure the road at times for some dis 
 tance, then whirling along the road would disappear 
 only to be succeeded by others. It w r as just after 
 one of these heavy clouds of dust had passed over 
 the brow of the hill that a boy some fourteen years 
 of age came within sight, and stopping long enough 
 to catch his breath limped down the hill towards the 
 hotel door. He was barefooted, had neither coat 
 nor vest, his pants were suspended by a buckskin 
 thong, and about his neck was loosely tied a red 
 bandanna handkerchief. As he hobbled up to the 
 hotel door his countenance betrayed a hidden sad 
 ness, while his general appearance bespoke exposure 
 and hardships. 
 
 Nodding humbly to Graham, and thanking him for 
 the glass of water which had been offered him, he 
 leaned against the awning post and fanned his 
 flushed cheeks with an old tattered palm-leaf. 
 
 " What is the distance to Sacramento City, sir," 
 began the boy, bashfully. 
 
 " About forty miles. Won t you stop and rest 
 a while ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; thank you. I must push on. What is 
 the next station ? " 
 
 " McQuaid s, Barney McQuaid s on Bear River, 
 about eight miles from here. But sit down, boy ; 
 
THE DOWNIE HOUSE, ROUGH AND READY. 139 
 
 sit down, and while you rest I 11 bring you out a 
 little something to eat." 
 
 " What is your name ? " resumed Graham, as he 
 put a plate of food into the boy s lap. 
 
 " Charlie Downie," replied the boy, with a grate 
 ful smile. 
 
 " Well, Charlie, what is the trouble ? You seem 
 poorly dressed for the season. Are these the only 
 clothes you own ? You need n t be afraid to un 
 bosom your troubles to me, if you have any." 
 
 The boy sat mute and sad, his eyes fixed on va 
 cancy, while his thoughts seemed to be wandering 
 back over the hills. 
 
 "Well, how is it, Charlie ? Have you but just got 
 in from the plains ? " inquired Graham, sympatheti 
 cally, still pressing the boy for an answer. " Come, 
 out with it. You will feel better," he continued, as 
 he noticed the boy struggling against his feelings. 
 " You have had a hard time of it, I know. Is n t it 
 about so, Charlie ? " 
 
 " Yes," he replied, his voice trembling, his lips 
 quivering with emotion ; then, pointing down to his 
 swollen feet and bleeding toes, buried his face in his 
 tattered hat and burst into tears. 
 
 His story was brief, painful, and tragical. It was 
 told while the tear-drops fell upon his shabby shirt. 
 It came up from a heart glad to be relieved of its 
 painful weight, and was uttered without the slight 
 est hope of relief. 
 
I4O A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 "There was," said he, " one hundred and thirty- 
 two in our train, and we left the Missouri River last 
 June. It is now, I believe, November, and only 
 ninety-four lived to get through. Father was a far 
 mer in Indiana. He sold his place and joined the 
 train at St. Louis. We had a good outfit, and six 
 yoke of oxen. The feed gave out and so did the 
 cattle. We wanted to get along faster, so traded 
 them off for horses. The Indians attacked us on 
 the Sweetwater and wiped out thirty-eight of our 
 party, among whom were father, sister, and a brother 
 next to me. They ran off most of our stock, leaving 
 us but three horses. We could n t get along with 
 our load, so threw away bacon, flour, rice, and grain. 
 We have footed it for the last six hundred miles. 
 Our horses have just given out, and the folks have 
 gone into camp off from the main road about four 
 miles back along. They had but little to eat when 
 I left, and I am on the way to the city for help, as 
 we have some friends there." 
 
 No one could doubt the truth of the boy s story. 
 His tender years, his childish purity, so distinctly 
 seen in his brown, sunburnt face, only went to con 
 firm his assertions. The family, it would seem, were 
 among the survivors of the immigrant train which 
 left " St. Joe " on the Missouri River in June, under 
 the leadership of Tom Sedgwick, and was known 
 among the immigrants as the " Corn Crackers." 
 
THE DOWNIE HOUSE, ROUGH AND READY. 141 
 
 This train was made up largely of farmers and their 
 families. They met a worse fate, possibly, than the 
 majority of the pioneers who crossed the plains in 
 the early days. They had passed the desert with 
 scanty supplies, haunted by famine and harassed by 
 Indians. They had submitted to every privation, 
 and endured hardships unknown to civilization. 
 They had reached the " land of promise " footsore, 
 discouraged, destitute, and absolutely suffering for 
 food. This was the picture which confronted Gra 
 ham and his companions at the conclusion of the 
 boy s story. It was a picture which sharpened their 
 wits-, and brought to the surface the spiritual in 
 wardness of man. 
 
 It was not long before Graham with his mule 
 laden with supplies, and accompanied by the boy, 
 started to relieve the wretched condition of the 
 Downie family. 
 
 The boy s statement was substantially correct. 
 Nothing could exceed their poverty or equal their 
 fortitude and long-suffering. The family consisted 
 of Mrs. Downie, her two sons, and two daughters. 
 Fritz, the oldest, had shot a deer and was absent on 
 his trail. Charlie, the youngest, has been already 
 mentioned. Mary and Susan, the daughters, were 
 young women, modest and unassuming. The timely 
 assistance was gratefully acknowledged by all. It 
 was an agreeable surprise. It came so opportune, 
 
142 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 and the relief and torture to both mind and body was 
 so much assuaged, that tears, the safety valve to the 
 heart, brought them the much needed alleviation. 
 
 The huntsman returned to camp bringing with 
 him his game dressed and ready for use. A general 
 congratulation occurred between the family and 
 their guest, during which the cold formalities usu 
 ally so embarrassing were forgotten, and a sumptu 
 ous supper served, such as the Downie family had 
 not sat down to for many weary months. A con- , 
 ference was now held before an enlarged camp-fire, 
 which lasted for some hours. To develop some plan 
 by which the family could be extricated from their 
 present dilemma, and a bed-rock laid upon which 
 they could build their own fortune, was the para 
 mount question, which was carefully considered. 
 Graham urged them to go back to a small mining 
 settlement known as " Rough and Ready," and set 
 tled by a mining company of that name. They had 
 struck good diggings there, and the place would in 
 crease in population, and ultimately become a large 
 town. He advised them to open a boarding-house, 
 and the two boys to go to work in the mines. He 
 offered to go with them and to do all he could to ac 
 complish this purpose. This was finally agreed to, 
 and the next day the party halted in the centre of 
 the rude encampment, and called a meeting of the 
 miners about them. These hardy pioneers gave the 
 
THE DOWN IE HOUSE, ROUGH AND READY, 143 
 
 family every encouragement to settle and live among 
 them, promising to render such assistance as they 
 should need. 
 
 Graham left the family here in the care of men 
 who subsequently not only made good their prom 
 ises, but continued warm friends of theirs for many 
 years. Before leaving, however, he placed in the 
 hands of Mrs. Downie a small sum of money to 
 cover their immediate wants. He gave them, also, 
 letters of credit upon business houses in the city of 
 Sacramento. Urging them to stick to their adopted 
 home and keep united among themselves, which 
 would assure them success and prosperity, he bade 
 them good-by, wishing them all sorts of good luck, 
 and promising to call and see them at some future 
 day. 
 
 Two years after this event a man with long hair 
 and flowing beard, wearing a slouched hat and top- 
 boots, while over his shoulders hung a heavy " pon 
 cho," which covered the upper parts of his body, 
 emerged from a deep forest which fringed the ridge 
 of the South Yuba River, and took a seat by the 
 wayside to rest. A short time afterwards a team 
 came rattling along over the dusty road with some 
 half a dozen passengers huddled together in the bot 
 tom of the wagon. As the team reached the spot 
 where the traveler sat, the driver stopped his horses 
 and inquired if he would like to ride. The man 
 
144 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 instantly arose to his feet and as he walked towards 
 the team stopped suddenly and hesitated ; but on 
 being urged to get in, sprang up over the side and 
 took a seat on the bottom with the rest. 
 
 " Are you going to the city, sir ? " inquired the 
 driver, as he cracked his whip over his leaders. 
 
 " Yes, I am. What are you going to charge to 
 carry me there ? " 
 
 " Oh, bout five dollars, I guess the stage, you 
 know, charges twelve." 
 
 " Well, the terms, driver, are all right, but are you 
 willing to trust me till I reach the city ? " 
 
 " Oh yes I guess so why, are you flat 
 broke ? " 
 
 " No, not exactly that, but I am too poor just now 
 to spare that amount. Now if you don t feel will 
 ing to take me through on my word of honor, you 
 may leave me at Nevada, and I will try my luck in 
 the morning." 
 
 " Oh, no ; shan t do that. It ain t my style ; you 
 can ride ; I reckon it s all right. But, by the by, 
 sir, did n t you use to keep the Ripple Spring House." 
 
 "Yes, I did." 
 
 "Well, I thought I d seen you somewhere afore. 
 But how you ve changed mighty Judas I should 
 hardly have known you but for yer voice." 
 
 At the conclusion of this little episode the con 
 versation became general. While the party amuse 
 
THE DOWNIE HOUSE, ROUGH AND READY. 145 
 
 themselves with their wild, rollicking stories, we 
 will gather into as small a compass as possible 
 the events of these two years, and present them to 
 our readers. 
 
 In the summer of 1851 the proprietors of the 
 Ripple Spring House sold their hotel and the com 
 pany dissolved. The disease which Tully Little- 
 field had contracted at the head waters of the Yuba 
 River, and which it was believed had been brought 
 under control, broke out afresh and assume^, a ma 
 lignant form. His physicians, therefore, ordered 
 him to spend a season at the Sandwich Islands. 
 Doctor Burns accepted a stewardship on board the 
 steamer Governor Dana, and Graham joined a com 
 pany of miners en route to the southern mines. Two 
 months were wasted . by this company in fruitless 
 attempts to satisfy six disaffected minds. Finally 
 the company broke up, and Qraham joined a small 
 party on Slitter s Creek in lone Valley. They were 
 professedly miners, but devoted certain portions of 
 each year to hunting, game being abundant in 
 this rich and uncultivated region. They spent the 
 fall and winter in various mining operations, a_nd in 
 the spring hung up the pick and shovel and took 
 down the knife and rifle. 
 
 Early in the month of March one of the company 
 returned from his customary rounds in search of 
 game, and announced to the party that he had dis- 
 
 10 
 
146 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 covered a grizzly bear feeding upon the carcass of a 
 horse about a mile above their camp, and persuaded 
 the boys to attempt his capture. There was a mar 
 ket in those days for live bears, because bull-baiting 
 was among the most attractive amusements of the 
 times. Therefore a steel trap was procured from a 
 party of hunters a few miles above them on the 
 river. It was a large, old-fashioned gin-trap, having 
 attached to it a twenty-foot chain with a hook at 
 the end, the whole weighing perhaps a hundred 
 pounds. This was carried to the spot where the 
 dead horse lay, and carefully concealed close to the 
 animal s back and directly under the tracks made 
 by the bear as he came up from the ravine to feed. 
 The trap was fastened down by long, forked sticks 
 driven deep into the earth, and the chain was passed 
 under the root* of a tree and linked, both trap and 
 chain being carefully*covered with leaves and with 
 ered grass. Next day the trap, to the surprise of 
 all, was gone. The struggles of the bear to free 
 himself from his fastenings were plainly indicated 
 in the condition of the ground and the surrounding 
 brushwood. But he had apparently drawn the long, 
 forked sticks out of the ground as though they were 
 but skewers, and released the linked chain by gnaw 
 ing a root fully six inches in thickness. His tracks 
 were large, deep, and distinct, and were followed with 
 interest and caution. His route lay along the side 
 
THE DOWNIE HOUSE, ROUGH AND READY. 147 
 
 and up the hill, which was not high, but steep. The 
 slope was sparsely wooded but thickly covered with 
 chaparral. It was not long before he was discov 
 ered, and his pursuers were gratified to find that he 
 had been caught by one of his fore paws, and that 
 the hook had become buried deeply in the crotch of 
 a scrub-oak. This tree branched off close to the 
 ground, and the bear in his flight had passed through 
 the space between the branches, and thus had helped 
 to bring about his own capture. Half of the chain 
 was wound tightly around the butt of the tree ; and 
 the bear, when first seen, lay exhausted from his 
 efforts to release himself. 
 
 The scene about the tree was remarkable for the 
 effects of the animal s fury. He had wound himself 
 up by the chain and again reversed his action, form 
 ing a ring to its utmost limits. Young saplings were 
 uprooted and stripped of their foliage, the brush and 
 bramble thicket was flattened to the ground, and 
 the earth was torn up, all this to such an extent 
 that it seemed impossible for any animal to do so 
 much mischief in so short a time. 
 
 The boys sallied out from under the thicket into 
 the open space, and were standing in full view of 
 the bear. All at once he raised himself upon his 
 hind legs, lifting the huge trap with but little effort, 
 and bellowing with maddened fury, sprang toward 
 them. But the chain interfered with his progress, 
 
148 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 and he came tumbling head over heels and flounder 
 ing about in a most comical manner. This diver 
 sion caused a panic among the party, who had up 
 to this time shown much bravery, but who now 
 bounded off like deer. The style of retreat, and 
 the peculiar feats performed by them while seeking 
 places of safety, made the event a laughable and 
 memorable one. But, on the whole, the danger was 
 more apparent than real. 
 
 The prize so anxiously sought, so successfully 
 captured, was but partly won. He must be secured 
 and moved to a place of safe-keeping before the en 
 terprise could be considered complete. It was not 
 the thousand dollars reward offered by Colonel 
 Hinks that stimulated them, so much as the reputa 
 tion and prestige they would acquire. It was a big 
 job for five men to undertake, but fewer the number 
 greater would be their renown. So plans were ma 
 tured and the perilous attempt was made to secure 
 a grizzly bear alive. A Mexican vaquero connected 
 with the ranch was sent for, and a yoke of oxen 
 with a light open wagon borrowed for the occasion. 
 The rear wheels were removed and the wagon bed 
 wedged against the side of the hill and secured. 
 The contest that followed was an exciting one. It 
 began with Jose s attempts to lasso the bear. At 
 first his horse troubled him : she seemed unwilling 
 to enter the contest, and then, again, the bear would 
 
THE DOWNIE HOUSE, ROUGH AND READY. 149 
 
 hug the ground and lessen the vaquero s chances, 
 but at length the favorable opportunity arrived and 
 in a twinkling the fatal noose was lodged about his 
 neck. The struggle which ensued for the next ten 
 minutes was terribly severe. It was his supreme 
 effort, and his last but one to escape his tortures and 
 impending doom. Nothing could be more commend 
 able than the courage displayed by the boys, when, 
 taking advantage of the bear s exhausted condition, 
 they stepped quickly forward and fastened his hind 
 legs to his fore paw. By this -achievement they be 
 lieved the dangers were practically at an end, and 
 the termination of the issue was celebrated by loud 
 huzzas. But such was not the case, as subsequent 
 events proved, for another difficulty arose of still 
 greater importance and which ought to have been 
 more carefully considered. 
 
 Conquered, but not subdued, this king of the Si 
 erras lay across the steep slope panting for breath. 
 How should he be got down the hill and into the 
 wagon, was the question. No plan could be sug 
 gested but what was fraught with certain danger. 
 It was evident that one of two things must be done, 
 either the trap must be sprung and the foot released, 
 or the tree dug up and the chain uncoiled. The 
 first plan was considered safe and practicable ; the 
 latter, although much the safest, would imperil the 
 life of the bear, and could not be thought of. The 
 
150 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 moment bruin realized his freedom from the trap 
 he seized the cord between his teeth and snapped it 
 asunder. No one had anticipated such an occur 
 rence. It was so unexpected and so quickly done 
 that for a few moments the whole party were over 
 whelmed with confusion and terror. Here another 
 laughable scene was enacted in which it seemed as 
 if some of the boys must have flown through the air, 
 for they found themselves shortly afterwards sus 
 pended to limbs of trees, ten to fifteen feet above 
 the ground, and could never tell just how they got 
 there. 
 
 The party came very near losing their prize, and 
 perhaps would have done so but for the courage of 
 the vaquero and the strength of the lasso. Ex 
 hausted as he evidently was, bruised and maimed 
 also, and with his hind legs still inthralled, he was, 
 nevertheless, a formidable antagonist. Something 
 must be instantly done to check the advantages he 
 had gained or he would certainly get away in spite 
 of all they could do. He must be gagged. If a 
 piece of wood were inserted in his mouth and fast 
 ened, he then could be handled with safety. Prep 
 arations were at once made to carry this suggestion 
 into effect. 
 
 When he made his final effort for life and liberty, 
 the bear lay on his side on the slope of the hill. 
 The day was far advanced, and the shadows were 
 
THE DO WNIE HO USE, ROUGH AND READ Y. 151 
 
 creeping down the barren hill- tops. The men were 
 wearied, the horse was jaded, and the bear prostrate 
 and half dead. Jose, mounted upon his faithful 
 horse, was ready to intercept any attempt at escape. 
 Stimpson and Graham volunteered to gag the bear 
 while the rest held him down. The former took the 
 upper, and the latter kneeled down on the lower 
 side of the bear, and each took an end of the gag 
 and said they were ready. 
 
 Well, the plans were good, but they did not work. 
 Nothing had seemed more certain of success, yet it 
 turned out a sad disaster. The bear made his last 
 grand struggle here and died ; but not before he had 
 inflicted wounds upon one of his assailants which 
 disfigured him for life. He made but a single effort 
 and that was a heroic one. Springing from the 
 ground with lightning speed, he plunged down the 
 hill, crushing Graham beneath him in his fall. 
 Everything yielded to his sudden fury and great 
 strength. The lasso had snapped like whip-cord, 
 bringing the horse upon her knees and her rider 
 over her head to the ground. The boys, too, were 
 pitched head over heels, nearly knocking the breath 
 out of their bodies, and for a while the air seemed 
 filled with men and animals. Not one of the party 
 could ever tell just how the last act in the scene 
 began, or how it came to an end. But at its close 
 there lay upon the ground two victims of the con- 
 
152 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 test, and the spectators which gathered around them 
 were pale and trembling and silent. The bear was 
 dead ; the gash in his head, and the axe covered 
 with blood, too plainly told the story that was 
 Stimpson s work. Graham was taken up faint and 
 bleeding, and borne to the neighboring stream. 
 The terrified oxen had broken away and were going 
 pell mell for the ranch. 
 
 Graham s injuries were found to be of a serious 
 nature, for in addition to the painful bruises he re 
 ceived, the bear had bitten his arm above the elbow, 
 his tusks passing through it, injuring the bone badly. 
 The country was scoured for miles for the best med 
 ical skill that could be employed, but nothing could 
 stop the intermissive bleeding, and he was removed 
 to the State hospital at Sacramento for treatment. 
 
 Thus terminated the attempted capture of a griz 
 zly bear alive, an enterprise so frightful and so 
 rash that in the calmer moments of after years it 
 seemed presumptuous and wicked. It was a specta 
 cle, however, grand and tragical, in which persistent 
 bravery fought against brute force and instinctive 
 self-preservation. It was a scene such as few men 
 were permitted to witness, even in that land so fa 
 mous for adventures and personal encounters. 
 
 The best medical skill could not save Graham s 
 arm ; it was therefore amputated. He lay in the 
 gloomy ward of a hospital month after month, sip- 
 
THE DO WNIE HOUSE, ROUGH AND READ Y. 153 
 
 ping the cup of woe drop by drop. The spring 
 came with its birds and flowers and golden sun 
 shine ; the summer passed with its harvest and its 
 attendant joys ; the fall came with its seared and 
 yellow leaf, and now we find him in the bed of an 
 open wagon, traveling upon his honor and good name 
 to the city of Sacramento. 
 
 He had latterly been employed by a company of 
 miners as a water agent on one of the tributaries of 
 the South Yuba, and the object for which the com 
 pany was organized having turned out a total failure, 
 he is now returning to the city, feeble and destitute, 
 with a heart crushed by poverty and disappointment. 
 It was a clear, cool night, and the pale moon shone 
 through the leafy branches as the team rattled along 
 over the rugged and dusty road. The company 
 were merry and talkative, and observing the melan 
 choly silence which hung over the new-comer, often 
 spoke in sincerity rough-hewn words of encourage 
 ment which were long remembered by him. On 
 gaining the top of Watch Hill Ridge, the glimmer 
 ing lights of the mountain city were plainly discern 
 ible a short distance ahead. The tone and character 
 of each public house was now freely discussed, and 
 the choice being left to the teamster, that worthy 
 replied, " Mother Downie s, of course." The men 
 tion of that name brought Graham back to his senses, 
 for his mind had been wandering during the conver- 
 
[54 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 sation, and the sound of that lady s name fell upon 
 his ears like a clap of thunder. This had never for 
 a moment occurred to him, and surely, of all houses, 
 this was the last one for him to stop at, in his pres 
 ent wretched condition. No, never ! He could not 
 stop there. He would never subject his proud heart 
 to such humiliation for the conversation which 
 followed the expressman s decision only confirmed 
 his suspicions that the once poor and dependent 
 family of Ripple Spring House memory had become 
 one of the first families in the place. No, he could 
 not go there in his present state of mind. They 
 would discover his poverty, mistake his visit, and 
 give his susceptible heart an icy welcome. He could 
 not bring himself to believe that the trifling assist 
 ance he gave them when similarly situated had 
 proven the foundation rock upon which they had 
 risen so suddenly to wealth and distinction. And 
 even if it were so, a long time had elapsed since 
 then. They had most likely forgotten the circum 
 stances, which would be nothing strange or un 
 usual. 
 
 While he was in this state of mind, they entered 
 the town and drove rapidly up to the hotel door. 
 There seemed to be no way for him to avoid either 
 his companions or entering the house. He con 
 cluded, however, it were better for him to engage a 
 room and retire, believing his altered looks and 
 
THE DOWNIE HOUSE, ROUGH AND READY. 155 
 
 shabby appearance would permit him to pass unob 
 served. 
 
 A large number of miners and travelers were 
 lounging about the bar-room, which was large and 
 evinced some signs of refinement. There were a 
 few pictures hanging upon the walls and a disposi 
 tion shown to ornament the ceiling, but the main 
 attraction centred in the bar, which was evidently 
 the pride and glory of the Downie family. 
 
 The first face that Graham recognized was that 
 of Fritz, who stood behind the bar nicely dressed, 
 wearing a fashionably cut mustache, a diamond pin, 
 and a heavy gold chain, which reached from pocket 
 to pocket. Graham, stepping up to the desk, said, 
 " Mr. Clerk, if you will give me a room I will re 
 tire." 
 
 " You came with Marsden, sir, I believe," blandly 
 replied Fritz, scanning the face of the stranger be 
 fore him. 
 
 " Well, yes ; I think that is the expressman s 
 name ; but what has that to do with me," answered 
 Graham, inquiringly. 
 
 " Oh, nothing, sir, especially," replied Fritz ; "only 
 Marsden has ordered both your supper and lodg- 
 ings." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Frank, surprised and annoyed. 
 " What am I to understand by that ? " 
 
 "Only that your bill is settled in advance," re- 
 
156 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 torted Fritz, in a sharp, knotty tone, which went 
 through Graham s heart like a stiletto. 
 
 But here the supper bell rang, drowning the busy 
 hum, and to avoid further controversy he joined the 
 crowd and took a seat at the table. 
 
 " Will you take tea or coffee, sir ? " inquired a 
 warm, womanly voice, which came nearly choking a 
 reply ; for in that voice he instantly recognized the 
 oldest daughter, Mary, between whom and himself 
 a brief feeling of friendship had sprung up, and to 
 whom he had prophesied their present position. 
 
 " Shall I assist you ? " kindly suggested a stranger 
 on the opposite side of the table, who had noticed 
 that Frank labored under some difficulty in attempt 
 ing to cut his meat with one hand. 
 
 " Are you lame ? " asked another at the same mo 
 ment. 
 
 These questions naturally attracted the attention 
 of every one at the table, and were exceedingly pain 
 ful to Graham, who sat exerting himself to appear 
 calm, although he was unable to swallow a mouth 
 ful. 
 
 Mary s curiosity had by this time become aroused, 
 and she changed her position so as to get a better 
 view of the stranger s features. At this moment 
 Graham raised his head, and by the merest accident 
 their eyes met. It was not a timid gaze, neither 
 was it a vulgar stare ; but rather one of those pe- 
 
THE DO WNIE HO USE, RO UGH AND READ Y. 157 
 
 culiar, searching looks which seemed to say, Have 
 we ever met before ? But in this case there seemed 
 to be no mistake, for in that" single glance the keen 
 eye of woman penetrated both time and nature s 
 disguise, and she beheld, with startled wonder, their 
 friend Frank Graham. She left the sideboard, and 
 hastily quit the room, and as she swung the cur 
 tained door aside and stepped down upon the kitchen 
 floor, she was heard to exclaim, " O mother, I be 
 lieve there is Frank Graham ! " A moment later, 
 and in came the old lady, earnestly gazing into every 
 face, her anxiety depicted in every movement, as 
 she cried out " Frank, Frank ! " and when her eyes 
 fell upon the prostrate form and heard the stifled 
 sobs of the stranger, she threw her arms about his 
 neck and caressed him with a mother s love. 
 
 There was a happy reunion at Mrs. Downie s that 
 night ; and the reception Frank received was one 
 of the happiest events of his life. The family offered 
 him many inducements to stay and make Rough and 
 Ready his future home, but he could not accept 
 them. 
 
 The next morning, as the time of departure ar 
 rived, the family assembled at the street door to bid 
 their friend good-by. The promises were uttered, 
 the farewells exchanged, and the team was upon the 
 point of leaving, when Fritz stepped up, and placing 
 a package in the wagon said, 
 
158 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 " Frank, you will find in this basket some refresh 
 ments a few cigars and a small present from our 
 family. I am mighty sorry you can t stay with us, 
 and make this your future home. However, if it is 
 good-by why good-by it is. Here is my hand, 
 and with it goes my heart. Should you ever need 
 assistance at any time, let us know it, and remem 
 ber that as long as my mother s name swings upon 
 that sign you can consider this house your home. 
 Come to it as often as you can, stay in it as long 
 as you please, we shall be always glad to see 
 you." 
 
 This present consisted of five fifty dollar gold 
 pieces, each being wrapped separately and super 
 scribed with the giver s name. Inclosed in the 
 wrappers were the sentiments of its donor and the 
 expressed wish that they should meet again. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE STATE HOSPITAL. 
 
 " Many a weary day went by 
 
 While wretched and worn he begged for bread, 
 Tired of life and longing to lie 
 Peacefully down with the silent dead. 
 
 " Hunger and cold and scorn and pain 
 
 Had wasted his form and seared his brain, 
 Till at last on a bed of frozen ground, 
 
 With a pillow of stone, was the outcast found." 
 
 LEIGHTON. 
 
 THE matter following rightfully precedes the clos 
 ing scenes of the previous chapter, but as the two 
 incidents narrated there were directly related to 
 each other, it seemed impossible to insert it in its 
 proper place without marring their effect. It has 
 been the author s purpose to connect these narra 
 tives and so far as practical arrange them as they 
 occurred, thus allowing the reader to follow the 
 chain of events without interruption. 
 
 Those who have followed Graham s career to this 
 point, have become to some extent interested in 
 him. As a disabled man, then, in the seething cal 
 dron of human selfishness and greed, his future 
 efforts will be watched with more than ordinary in 
 terest. 
 
I6O A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 The State hospital, where Graham parted with his 
 arm, was situated in the city of Sacramento. It 
 was a cheap structure, and was built with a view of 
 accommodating patients afflicted with every variety 
 of disease. It was pleasantly located, and a fine 
 view was had from its southern piazza. At the rear 
 of the building was a spacious yard, which was in 
 closed by a high board fence. Stretching along 
 under the shadow of this partition were several 
 small, one-story buildings with narrow doors and 
 windows covered with iron bars. This was the in 
 sane asylum, and these little buildings were called 
 "lodges." A strong, clumsy picket fence separated 
 this department from the main building, and the 
 slats were rough and unpainted. The space within 
 the inclosure was equally apportioned to each tene 
 ment, and within these spaces, from early dawn 
 until the shadows of each declining day reached the 
 centre of the close, these wrecked and stranded in 
 tellects aimlessly wandered to and fro. There was 
 nothing connected with this hospital, in which cen 
 tred so much pain, anguish, and suffering, that 
 could equal the miseries endured by these friendless 
 and abandoned imbeciles. It seemed as if the heart 
 would burst with compassion, and the eyes drown 
 with tears, at the sight of these poor creatures in 
 their filth and rags, going down to untimely graves. 
 The hospital wards, however were kept scrupulously 
 
THE STATE HOSPITAL. l6l 
 
 clean, well ventilated, comfortably furnished, and in 
 charge of men of fair ability and experience. The 
 physicians, who were able and skillful men, enforced 
 the rules, maintained a rigid discipline, and kept the 
 institution up to a fair standard of excellence. 
 
 Graham was a patient here for many long, weary 
 months. During the first period ot his stay he be 
 came annoyed if not frightened at a strange and 
 peculiar noise which appeared to come from the vi 
 cinity of the asylum. It was not a continual sound, 
 but was heard at intervals, just at nightfall, lasting 
 sometimes for many minutes. The ward in which 
 Graham lay was on the ground floor, and opened on 
 to a broad portico which gave a full view of the in- 
 closure. The wide, folding doors being thrown open, 
 this singular sound would seem to penetrate every 
 chamber in the building, and fall dismally upon the 
 weak and sensitive ears. It seemed like a human 
 voice, and yet it was so unnatural, so distressing, as 
 to disturb the slumbering patient, and cause him to 
 wish the weird phantom at the bottom of the sea. 
 
 "What is that frightful noise," asked Graham, 
 addressing his nurse, the first time it fell upon his 
 ear. 
 
 " Oh, that is Goliath stirring up his animals. You 
 
 did n t know, I suppose," his nurse continued with 
 
 an air of feigned gravity, " that we had a menagerie 
 
 out back. But, sir, we have, and when you get con- 
 
 n 
 
1 62 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 valescent, you must go out and look them over ; for 
 there is as fine a collection of wild men as you 
 ever saw. That one," resumed his nurse, raising 
 his hands and eyes in pretentious alarm, as the pain 
 ful sound again rolled over the yard into the room, 
 " That is the gladiator spoiling for a fight." 
 
 " Go on, nurse, please go on ; you interest me," 
 persistently urged Graham, looking up wishfully into 
 his face. 
 
 " Well, Goliath is the keeper of the mad-house," 
 began the nurse, " and now and then some of his 
 animals get stubborn and mischievous, you see, and 
 must be flogged. You ought to just see his whip. 
 It s a beauty, and the only thing his keeper can find 
 that will put the gladiator into his bed. He s a 
 tough customer, that gladiator, and is from all ac 
 counts as ugly as sin. He s on his muscle to-night 
 again, and Goliath, you see, is whaling the fight out 
 of him. It has always seemed to me rather harsh 
 treatment, but Goliath says the remedy is no worse 
 than the disease. But there," he added, turning his 
 face in the direction of the door and listening for a 
 few moments, " he s clown now, and you won t hear 
 anything further from him for some time. We have 
 got used to it here, sir, and don t mind it." 
 
 The weeks flew by and the months wore away, 
 and still at irregular intervals the savage encounter 
 took place between Goliath and his infuriated charge. 
 
THE STATE HOSPITAL. 163 
 
 The wretched madman still gloried in his fancied 
 strength ; he still persisted in his visionary exploits, 
 he still sprang upon his keeper like a tiger upon its 
 prey, and then camje the long, furious cry, the deep 
 agonizing wail of pain, the crash and fall which fol 
 lowed his defeat. But these frantic struggles grew 
 less frequent, and the plaintive cries more and more 
 indistinct. The social interest now centred in the 
 medical ward, so engrossing as to dismiss for the 
 time being both Goliath and his unruly patient en 
 tirely from Graham s mind. 
 
 The medical ward occupied the principal room on 
 the ground floor. It was light, airy, and clean. It 
 contained thirty beds, which were never empty only 
 to " shift for a new patient." Graham had during his 
 stay in this ward witnessed the strange phenomena 
 of three distinct changes of invalids who in turn 
 occupied these beds, and who in the same order 
 passed away. They had been regularly assigned to 
 these beds, and they had lived in them until either 
 cured and discharged or their bodies were removed 
 to the dead-house to be seen no more. Strange char 
 acters were admitted to this ward, and inside its cold 
 and cheerless walls were enacted scenes which went 
 far to establish a record for some of the strongest 
 evidences of human suffering, of human fortitude, 
 and human indifference. 
 
 It was an interesting spectacle to watch the coun- 
 
164 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 tenances of the "incurables" as they scanned the 
 features of each new patient, while he stripped him 
 self and took to his bed. First, he must submit to 
 a random fire of questions which- covered the period 
 of his whole existence. Next came inquiries as to 
 the distinguishing symptoms of his disease, the 
 character of which was speedily arrived at, greatly 
 to the prejudice of the physician s diagnosis in all 
 cases. Then, with such satisfaction as he was 
 pleased to admit, he must listen not only to the 
 prognostications as to the length of time he would 
 be permitted to live, but also to a characteristic obit 
 uary notice to be published on his decease ; likewise 
 to a brilliant eulogistic essay upon his social stand 
 ing in the world to come, with perhaps an epitaph 
 thrown in, suitable for anybody short of a New York 
 politician. 
 
 The medical ward was considered quite generous, 
 for each week it contributed two subjects to the 
 general death roll. No sooner had the night watch 
 man announced the name of the last victim, than 
 the whole ward became interested as to who should 
 be the next "lucky man." The croakers cautiously 
 began to canvass the condition of each patient, and 
 with ominous nods and dubious shakes of the head 
 predict with prophetic zeal the " anointed one." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Pickles," began Gimlet, as he threw a 
 bullet of chewed paper at the head of Whalebone on 
 
THE STATE HOSPITAL. 165 
 
 the opposite side of the ward, striking the headboard 
 of that gentleman s bed with tremendous force, 
 "well, Mr. Pickles, it is your turn next ! " 
 
 " What makes you think so ? " surlily remarked 
 Mr. Pickles, a defunct alcalde from Hangtown. " I 
 guess I shan t go any quicker for your wishing 
 on t," he added, bracing himself up on his elbows. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Mr. Pickles, I had n t the re 
 motest intention of wounding your feelings ; but if 
 your face represents your inside as it does your 
 outside, I should again repeat, you are the coming 
 man." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Gimlet. Hope you will live to 
 see me pass in my chips ; but if a man s face is an 
 index, you should have paid your respects to his Sa 
 tanic Majesty weeks ago. 
 
 " Hit him again," yelled out Skeleton from the 
 west end, clapping his hands with great glee, and 
 setting the whole ward in an uproar. 
 
 " I 11 bet you ten dollars to five, Pickles, I 11 
 outlive you," again put in Gimlet, preparing another 
 bullet. 
 
 " Better send that ten dollars to Mrs. Cady on 
 Sixth Street," suggested Pickles, warmly. 
 
 " Take his bet," chimed in Ashly, advisedly. " He 
 bled a quart last night, and can t possibly stand 
 another attack." 
 
 " I don t want his money half so bad as his wash 
 erwoman," continued Pickles, visibly affected. 
 
1 66 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 " Let the man die in peace ! " shouted Catarrh 
 from the south end, speaking through his nose. 
 
 . " Take good care of that nose, neighbor Catarrh," 
 suggested Mr. Bee, emphasizing "nose" solemnly. 
 "It is highly appreciated," he added, "in this section 
 of the ward." 
 
 " Especially the perfume," added Lancet, chuck 
 ling under the bed-clothes. 
 
 " Does the courtesies of this ward consist in twit 
 ting a man of his infirmities ? " meekly inquired Mr. 
 Catarrh, snuffling horribly. 
 
 " Blow that nose! " bawled out some one from the 
 north end. 
 
 "Well, now, gentlemen," began the Rev. Mr. De- 
 vine, with his hands joined in an attitude of prayer, 
 " now, gentlemen, let me, if you please, offer a 
 few extemporaneous remarks, and, if possible, throw 
 a few drops of oil " 
 
 " Amen ! " groaned out some one in the most su 
 perb style, the characteristic drawl of a Down-East 
 camp-meeting causing considerable merriment, dur 
 ing which the reverend gentleman resumed his read 
 ing, and was heard no more. 
 
 " Who did that ? " angrily shouted Pickles, digging 
 a ball of wet paper from his ear, " who did that ? " 
 he continued, growing pale with rage, and looking 
 savagely around the ward. 
 
 " Keep cool, Pickles, keep cool," feelingly put in 
 
THE STATE HOSPITAL. 1 67 
 
 Mr. Poultice, surveying the ghastly face before him. 
 " Don t let these wicked spirits break you down as 
 they did poor Makepeace week before last." 
 
 " When it comes down to a question of spirits/ 
 hopped in Mr. Peppermint, in a brusque manner, 
 " it behooves you to make your assertions a little 
 less sweeping, for if reports from Bilgewater are 
 reliable, you have handled a sufficient quantity of 
 that fiery monster to account for your being an ex 
 pense to the State." 
 
 During the last part of this sentence Mr. Poultice, 
 a portly old gentleman, was observed nervously 
 twitching in his cot, and wishfully looking about him 
 for something in the form of a brickbat or even an 
 old boot. A moment later he was seen tumbling 
 out of bed, having lost his balance in his efforts to 
 reach his spitcup. He struck squarely upon his 
 head and shoulders, and then fell over on his back, 
 presenting an extremely ludicrous sight. Here 
 the whole ward burst in one simultaneous roar of 
 laughter. Even Pickles lost his gravity for a mo 
 ment, and joined the wave of hilarity. But Gimlet 
 and his neighbor Peppermint were entirely over 
 come, and for a time seemed overwhelmed with the 
 peculiar nature of the show. They laughed and 
 laughed till their sides fairly ached, and congestive 
 symptoms showed themselves in their faces, which 
 had become red and swollen with excitement. Poor 
 
1 68 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 Mr. Poultice was to be pitied. He found it was im 
 possible to get back into bed without assistance, 
 and so kept floundering about on the floor, his face 
 black with rage, and bellowing like a foghorn in a 
 sea of trouble. 
 
 The next morning, but too early to distinguish 
 the living from the dead, the usual roll call began 
 among the patients of the medical ward. Pepper 
 mint failed to respond, and as the streaks of light 
 grew broader and broader, it was found that his cot 
 was gone. The unusual excitement of the preced 
 ing day had brought on a violent fit of coughing 
 which hastened the poor fellow s death. 
 
 Thus day after day scenes similar to the one al 
 ready described came up to relieve or depress the 
 convalescent or the gradually sinking patient. Men 
 living in the midst of suffering and death soon be 
 come accustomed to such scenes, and nothing is 
 more common than to hear them jesting during the 
 most solemn moments of their lives. Graham had 
 been no exception to the general rule. His death 
 had often been predicted by the connoisseurs of 
 physical science. But he had survived many of 
 these prophets and their followers. He had seen 
 the beds on either side of him emptied during a 
 single week. He had looked into the face of Death 
 as he came stealthily into the ward in the gloom 
 and darkness of the night ; he had watched him 
 
THE STATE HOSPITAL. 169 
 
 sink his bony fingers into the vitals of his neighbor 
 and his friend ; he had witnessed the fierce struggle 
 for supremacy and the flight of the victor with his 
 prize. But so far, thank God, he had been spared, 
 and a speedy relief vouchsafed to him. The conva 
 lescence permit so anxiously looked for had at length 
 been issued to him, and the irksome sameness of a 
 hospital life at once removed. It was his privilege 
 now to breathe a purer air and view milder scenes. 
 In a short time he should get his discharge, and 
 again resume his role among the shifting scenes 
 upon the great stage of life. 
 
 " Good morning, Goliath." 
 
 "Ah, good morning, Master Graham. Lovely 
 morning, this, for a trip down the river." 
 
 "Yes, the air is pure and balmy just the day 
 to exercise your animals, as the nurse calls them. 
 Are you going to turn them out to-day ? " 
 
 "Oh yes, by and by. Hadn t you better walk 
 over and get a good look at them ? " 
 
 " Well, I don t know about that, Goliath. I fear 
 the impression such a sight might leave upon my 
 mind." 
 
 " Why, are you a philanthropist ? If you are, do 
 come over and get weaned." 
 
 "Well, no ; I am not a philanthropist in the full 
 est acceptation of the term. Still, I have an abiding 
 compassion for every one that suffers, and especially 
 
170 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 for those who are struck intellectually dead; while 
 the body is compelled to perish by slow torture." 
 
 " Yes, but these chaps are insensible to pain, 
 and when they become obstinate you can whale 
 them with as much impunity as you would an ugly 
 horse." 
 
 " So it would seem. But that privilege does not 
 make it right or less cruel ; and no man on earth 
 could persuade me that such theories are correct, 
 much less make me a willing supporter of such 
 barbarous treatment." 
 
 "Ah, Graham, you are too sentimental for your 
 own interest. You will outgrow such notions as 
 you ripen in years." 
 
 " I hope not." 
 
 "Then don t covet such jobs as mine." 
 
 " How is your patient, the gladiator, nowadays ? 
 He has been pretty quiet of late. Has he recov 
 ered ? " 
 
 " Oh no ; such cases seldom get well. It is only 
 a question as to how long they can hold out. The 
 chap you refer to is dead. Died about an hour ago, 
 and I am waiting for his box. Come in and take a 
 look at him." 
 
 The " gladiator s " quarters were dingy and small, 
 the walls and ceiling were bruised and slivered, and 
 here and there were painful evidences of desperate 
 struggles between the keeper and his charge. The 
 
THE STATE HOSPITAL. I /I 
 
 room was filthy, and the stench suffocating. The 
 dead man was lying upon his side, with his face 
 to the wall. The body, which was naked and un 
 covered, was wasted and bruised, and scars and 
 sores multiplied as it became more and more ex 
 posed. The mattress on which it lay was in an 
 extremely filthy condition. When Goliath touched 
 the corpse it fell over on its back, and Graham 
 stepped aside and uttered, " O God ! how shock- 
 ing!" 
 
 " If I d known you were going to take on like 
 that, Graham, you should n t have come. What ! 
 crying? Well, well, well. That just beats me all 
 hollow. Come, you had better get out of this. I 
 want no babies here." 
 
 " Wait, Goliath ; wait one moment, please ! " gasped 
 Graham, as he kneeled down beside the body and 
 took the cold, rigid hand in his. 
 
 " Well, now, that s funny," began Goliath to him 
 self, taking up the disabled hand and examining the 
 scar across its palm, as Graham withdrew in tears. 
 " I think it dreadful funny I never noticed this hand 
 before." 
 
 Graham wended his way to the office of the resi 
 dent physician. Yes, there was a record made, and 
 it was entered on the day that the poor lunatic was 
 assigned to his present quarters. But there was no 
 name and no effects. He had been brought there 
 
1/2 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. ~ 
 
 by the local authorities, who could give neither 
 name nor anything which could lead to his identity. 
 He had been found, it was said, a wandering cast 
 away, without shelter or protection, and on account 
 of his demented condition was arrested and con 
 signed to the State hospital. Thus the secret of 
 Philip Rugby s fall and death had been most singu 
 larly, and, still more, most providentially, intrusted 
 to his care. There it should remain concealed and 
 forever buried from every human being. His fa 
 ther s gray hairs should never become whiter than 
 they were by the knowledge of the fall of his prod 
 igal son. His mother s heart should never break 
 in hopeless sorrow for her idolized boy. Even Jane, 
 the hope of his life and the companion of his future 
 years, must never know the fate which befell her 
 wild and dissipated brother. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE STORM AT HARTWELL s CROSSING. 
 
 Blow ye tempest, blow ! Unloose your strength and smite the earth with thun 
 derbolts. Lash the sea into fury ; lay waste the harvests ; bend the sturdy oak, 
 and tear it limb from limb! Uproot the slender pine, and make the forests respect 
 thy power and will! Pour down your rain in torrents, cover the land with^floods; 
 drown the beasts of the field ; drive the wolf to his lair, and the fox into his hole ! 
 Howl, crack, and roll o er sea and land ; sweep, blast, and scourge the home of man. 
 THE AUTHOR 
 
 ALL was quiet at Hartwell s Crossing. The min 
 ers living on the river were waiting with nervous 
 impatience for the storm to cease. It had been se 
 vere, and had continued, with but little interruption, 
 for many weeks. In that region of the Sierra Ne- 
 vadas, at least, the sun had not been seen during all 
 that time, but had been concealed behind the low 
 ering clouds, through which it had vainly endeavored 
 to penetrate. Once or twice the moon peeped 
 through the hazy breach, but it was only for a few 
 moments, just long enough to reveal the fleeting 
 scuds hurrying as it were from danger, and, if pos 
 sible, beyond the influence of the chilling, blacken 
 ing storm. The trees and the foliage were dripping 
 with the drizzling rain ; the earth was saturated 
 with water ; the brooklets, filled with dissolving 
 snows, were rushing furiously down the ravines, the 
 
1/4 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 ravines into the creeks, and the creeks into the an 
 gry rivers, and these, swollen to twice their usual 
 size, rolled grandly along, sweeping everything be 
 fore them. 
 
 This protracted storm had covered the Sierra 
 with rains, and loosened its beds of snow. It had 
 filled its water-courses to overflowing, and uniting 
 them into vast floods had covered the valleys with 
 disaster and ruin. 
 
 The Mokelumne and its tributaries, like its sister 
 rivers, were entertaining their maternal grandam, 
 the spring freshet, who had come again, as was her 
 custom once a year, to receive their homage, and 
 help them out with their spring clearings. Now 
 the old dame s visits were not always fruitful of 
 good results, nor were they at all times appreciated 
 by her progeny, notwithstanding their loud profes 
 sions of loyalty and deep devotion. It is true, the 
 younger streams found time to laugh and giggle 
 over what they were pleased to term the old lady s 
 high notions and overflowing propensities ; but, nev 
 ertheless, it is said the noise and needless bluster 
 she indulged in had in a measure alienated their 
 affections and her whims had become so hateful to 
 the matrons that they not only dreaded her com 
 ing, but even celebrated her departure by a grand 
 jubilee. 
 
 Upon this particular occasion, however, the old 
 
THE STORM AT HARTWELUS CROSSING. 175 
 
 vixen s outpourings were exceedingly gushing and 
 abundant, and as if to make this visit the most mem 
 orable of any which had been known to the gold 
 diggers, she had arranged and carried out a pro 
 gramme somewhat as follows : First, to make a sud 
 den visit and a grand surprise ; then a rapid rise 
 and the scoring of twenty feet above any previous 
 mark known to the " oldest inhabitant ; " take com 
 plete possession of all water-courses, cover every 
 bar, inundate all the flats, sweep away all bridges, 
 turn out of house and home every miner within her 
 reach, suspend all branches of industry, and carry 
 terror and consternation into every heart that loi 
 tered in her way ; and, lastly, cut off all retreat and 
 supplies, prolong her visit, wear out her welcome, 
 and hold between two rivers a number of miners 
 destitute of food and shelter^ 
 
 Among the few cabins which had escaped the 
 general destruction was that of the Hudson Mining 
 Company. The members of the company, like their 
 neighbors whose camps had survived the ravages of 
 the flood, had thrown open their doors and given 
 protection to these stricken men until the floods 
 should subside and the rivers become fordable. To 
 the prolonged severity of this storm, therefore, and 
 the necessity which compelled a sojourn within the 
 camp of these generous strangers, are we indebted 
 for the incidents which are given in this and suc 
 ceeding chapters. 
 
J/6 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 Beautifully situated upon a sloping piece of ground, 
 shaded by a magnificent growth of heavy timber, and 
 commanding, as it did, a fine view of the river, with 
 its varying landscape spread out before it, this charm 
 ing mountain home at once became a mark of at 
 traction, and in fact it was the leading feature of 
 Hartwell s Crossing. It was a double, story-and-a- 
 half cabin, substantially built, with an air of comfort 
 pervading it, and stood alongside the trail that came 
 up from the Crossing and led to the small settle 
 ments back in the mountains. A handsome buck 
 deer, and several carcasses of wild game, including a 
 grizzly bear cub, were being dressed for the larder, 
 and stretched upon various trees, and on the sides 
 of the cabin, were a number of skins placed there to 
 dry. 
 
 There was a peculiar coziness about the " Nur 
 sery," as the boys were in the habit of calling the 
 general mess-room, which was apparent to every one 
 that stepped within its walls, and its arrangements 
 were so complete that they could scarcely fail to 
 captivate the senses. Indeed, there was such an 
 effusion of " Home, Sweet Home " about the prem 
 ises that the visitor could hardly weary of its home 
 like cheerfulness or the warmth and cordiality of 
 its proprietors. 
 
 Upon entering the " Crib," as the cook-room was 
 named in contradistinction to the Nursery, the vis- 
 
THE STORM AT HARTWELUS CROSSING. 1 77 
 
 itor would observe a variety of robes and skins hang 
 ing about the walls, together with a number of fancy 
 hunting-frocks, buckskin leggings, and ponchos. 
 On one side, and suspended to wooden pegs, were 
 the rifles and their accompanying powder-flasks, 
 bullet-pouches, and hunting knives, which were 
 bright and clean, denoting their continued readiness 
 for any emergency. Over the fire-place, which was 
 broad and deep, and arranged with singularly good 
 taste, was displayed a peculiar assortment of trophies 
 gathered by their owners at various times and places, 
 and bearing labels which gave the dates of their 
 capture and such information as to their origin as 
 could be obtained. There, for instance, were the In 
 dian s bow and quiver of arrows captured from such 
 a tribe ; pipes and tomahawks found upon the bodies 
 of the chiefs left dead upon the plains, on the retreat 
 from an unsuccessful raid. There were the Mexi 
 can saddles with their splendid trappings, bridles 
 and mammoth spurs, with jingling bells, the broad 
 sombrero, bright scarlet sashes, the lariats coiled 
 up like serpents ready to spring, and their deadly 
 nooses hanging passively upon the pegs in the walls. 
 Then, upon a shelf, by themselves, were a fine col 
 lection of gold, quartz, silver, and iron ores. Beyond 
 these trinkets and odd souvenirs, and piled up to the 
 rafters, was to be seen something of far more inter 
 est to the practical eye, and, in the present condition 
 12 
 
i;8 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 of things, of superior importance to every one water- 
 bound by this vast deluge, namely, an ample stock 
 of supplies. It would have made a man hungry to 
 see the great sacks of flour that were piled up in 
 one corner and quieted any apprehensions of fam 
 ine to behold the sides of bacon, hams, jerked 
 meats, bags of dried fruits, pockets of Java coffee, 
 jars of pickles, cans of preserves, and boxes of sar 
 dines, that were distributed upon the shelvings on 
 either side of the cabin. Then, again, the visitor 
 could not have failed to notice in the " cook s cor 
 ner" bags of sugar, rice, beans, firkins of salt pork, 
 butter, and lard, and lastly, but none the less de 
 serving of especial mention, were the three iron- 
 bound kegs which were carefully horsed upon a rack 
 between the chimney corner and the window. One 
 contained vinegar ; the other held sugar-house syrup 
 from New Orleans, heavy bodied, rich, and of excel 
 lent flavor ; the last one was filled with well, it s 
 of no particular consequence what it contained. 
 
 " You are not," began the loquacious Colonel, ad 
 dressing the visitors (the Colonel was at that time 
 an aspirant for political honors, and anxious to cre 
 ate a good impression upon every occasion), " you 
 are not," he again resumed with becoming dignity, 
 " more thankful, my friends, for a miner s welcome, 
 than we are for the cause which has compelled you 
 to become our guests. To the wandering habits of 
 
THE STORM AT HARTWELJJS CROSSING. 179 
 
 man, therefore, and his free interchange of views 
 brought about in many instances by accident rather 
 than by design, and perhaps not greatly dissimilar 
 to the one which has brought us together to-night 
 has the world long been indebted for its wonder 
 ful progress, and its inhabitants for the singular dis 
 coveries of hidden treasures so long hoarded for the 
 uses of man." 
 
 " Hi, yah," yelled Hughes, spitting over his shoul 
 der. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said the Colonel, choking 
 off that unruly member and waving his hand author 
 itatively, " I am addressing the company s guests, 
 and not you. Let us hope, my friends," he re 
 sumed, " there may spring from this fortuitous meet 
 ing a friendship which shall increase with years, 
 and perish only when freshets are unknown and 
 water ceases to run. Supper is now ready ; please 
 be seated." 
 
 There was a slight disposition on the part of 
 Hughes and Billings to congratulate the Colonel for 
 this sublime outburst of eloquence, but the recipi 
 ent of these intended favors kindly suppressed them 
 in the bud, and closed the effusions of praise by 
 exclaiming : " Pass up your plates, gentlemen, and 
 be served. We have for this evening s meal, venison 
 steak broiled over a bed of live coals ; cub bear 
 steak spit toasted before a quick, sharp fire ; grouse 
 
ISO A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 fricasseed and served in butter gravy ; rabbit pot 
 pie, with Yale crust, what can I serve you to ? 
 Gentlemen will please pass the side dishes and serve 
 our guests with such delicacies as their appetites 
 may crave." 
 
 There, reader, did you ever sit down to such a 
 meal as that ? Look at that pyramid of steaming 
 hot biscuit. Did you ever see snow-flakes, fresh 
 from the clouds, that could surpass them in white 
 ness ? Do look at those slapjacks ; what a sight. 
 Why they are as big as a dinner plate, and brown 
 as a Creole s foot This is where the sugar-house 
 syrup makes a point. 
 
 " Yes, coffee, if you please thank you." 
 
 Talk about Belshazzar s feast and the delicacies of 
 Delmonicos : why, they are no more to be compared 
 to this bill of fare than a pippin to Mount Shasta. 
 
 " Stewed peaches ? No, thanks not any. Pre 
 serves ? Oh, no never eat them. Pie, did you 
 say ? Well, yes small piece. Thank you, noth 
 ing more. Don t urge please don t." 
 
 " Now, gents." The Colonel got up, senatorial 
 fashion, and with a face beaming with smiles and 
 gestures equal to the occasion, said, blandiloquently : 
 " Now, gents, if you have finished your suppers, let 
 us, before leaving the table, decide upon some sort 
 of a programme for the evening s entertainment. 
 What shall it be, cards, checkers, or dominoes? 
 
THE STORM AT HARTWELL S CROSSING. l8l 
 
 In making up your games, don t forget your guests, 
 boys. Please to nominate." 
 
 " That s right, Colonel ; you just suits me, you do 
 that s business," said Perkins, from Willow Bar, 
 with an approving smile, and bowing with mock 
 gravity to the " chair." 
 
 " If it is in order, Mr. Speaker," began Hughes, 
 methodically, and addressing that acknowledged 
 functionary with parliamentary precision, and tak 
 ing his cue from Perkins s bombastic allusions to a 
 presiding officer. " If it be in order," he again 
 sang out, having been jerked down into his seat 
 with more force than elegance by his colleague, " I 
 should much prefer to hear a good old-fashioned 
 story or a song, for that matter." 
 
 " Hear, hear ! " 
 
 " I shall vote that ticket every time, Mr. Modera 
 tor," put in Billings from Dry Creek, as he rose 
 majestically, and stove the heel of his boot through 
 the top of a nail keg, and calmly proceeded to fill 
 his pipe. " I deeply regret, sir, having disfigured 
 this piece of furniture," he resumed, apologetically, 
 " but allow me to say, that if the gentleman s sug 
 gestion becomes the law, I shall call upon some one 
 present to furnish us with " A boat, a boat to cross 
 the ferry." 
 
 " Everything now indicates, Mr. President, that 
 we are on the eve of another great flood," suggest 
 
1 82 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 ively remarked McClellan of Fiddle Town, rever 
 entially acknowledging the chair. "In which case 
 the ferry would about encompass the earth. Let me 
 hope, sir, that the boat will be equal to the occasion, 
 and that the second Mount Ararat shall be founded 
 at Hartwell s Crossing." 
 
 "Well done, Mac. Good for you, boy ! " 
 
 " Mr. Chairman, we are digressing from the main 
 question," began Whittemore from Gregg s Canon, 
 with a stiff, congressional air. " The gentleman s 
 sorry attempts at witticism, dull and insipid as they 
 are, would no doubt upon some other occasion prove 
 highly acceptable to all, but in view of the question 
 before the house, you will agree with me, that we 
 are drifting away, gentlemen, drifting away from 
 our friend s motion ; therefore I move the previous 
 question." 
 
 " The gentleman I beg pardon one moment, 
 please. The gentleman has found time, while occu 
 pying the place of his betters, to cast reflections " 
 (" Order ! order ! ") " just a moment, please, 
 just a moment," persisted Hamilton from Stony 
 Bar, striking the table furiously with his plug of to 
 bacco, " he has pleased to insinuate " (" Order ! 
 order ! ") and the gentleman resumed his seat 
 violently agitated. 
 
 " Let us put the question in form, Mr. Speaker, 
 as they do at town meeting, and then vote upon it," 
 
THE STORM AT HARTWELUS CROSSING. 183 
 
 hopped in Mathews, bringing his palms together 
 with a whack that sounded like the bursting of a 
 bladder. 
 
 " Mr. Moderator," began Tibbetts. 
 
 " Question, question ! " 
 
 " If it be your minds, gentlemen," said the chair, 
 amid a babel of tongues, "to adopt the following 
 resolution, you will please manifest it in the usual 
 way : Resolved, that this meeting do now adjourn 
 to the crib and devote this entire night to story, 
 song, and mirth. Are you ready, gentlemen? " 
 
 " All ready ! " 
 
 " What say you ? " 
 
 " Aye ! " 
 
 "It is unanimous. But, good heavens, why do 
 you make such a racket ? Is there a roof left above 
 our heads ? " 
 
 Every man instinctively looked up, and withdrew 
 with eyes filled with frolic and faces beaming with 
 smiles. 
 
 There is an indescribable charm in the brightness 
 of a cheerful fire, and it is never more enjoyable, per 
 haps, than when seen in an open grate. You are 
 apt to appreciate it upon a cold winter s night, and 
 more especially when listening to a pitiless storm 
 as the wind is howling above your house and the 
 snow comes drifting against the window pane. It 
 puts you in a happy frame of mind and fills you 
 
1 84 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 with social comforts. Besides, it seems to warm 
 you all over, as it were, with a sort of self-satisfying 
 quietude, which, while it aids you in modifying the 
 discomforts of your own life, lessens assuredly your 
 sense of the evil too often seen in the lives of 
 others. If the ordinary coal fire can produce such 
 grateful influences in a quiet New England home, 
 what must have been the effect of the mammoth 
 fires which were the joy and the pride of the cabin 
 life that accompanied the pathfinders in their march 
 to civilization ? What must have been the effect, 
 think you, upon the minds of the assembled guests 
 as they gathered around that great roaring wood fire 
 at Hartwell s Crossing ? Why, it was simply elec 
 trical, and every man there that night, as he sat 
 filling his pipe before its bright and cheerful glow, 
 felt as happy as though the mail had arrived, bring 
 ing him glad tidings of great joy from hearts yearn 
 ing for him in his dear old cottage home. 
 
 " Graham, it seems to be the general wish," began 
 the Colonel, as he took down his pipe from the 
 mantel-piece and settled back against the wall for 
 a comfortable smoke, "that you favor this company 
 with a story." 
 
 " I am sorry, boys, you should have chosen one 
 so illy prepared ; but if reminiscences can be made 
 available, I have no objection to telling you of a 
 narrow escape I met with at the Eagle Roost on 
 the Yuba River." 
 
THE STORM AT HARTWELUS CROSSING. 185 
 
 "All right," said the Colonel, "let us have the 
 incident, I feel quite sure it will be appreciated." 
 
 " Hold on a moment, Graham," said Tibbetts, 
 " while we fix the fire a little," and several armfuls 
 of wood were added, if that were necessary to in 
 crease the magnificent blaze which went roaring up 
 the chimney. 
 
 " Now, boys," began Graham. 
 
 "Just a moment longer, please," said Hamilton, 
 "while we arrange the seats. Nothing is more an 
 noying to a story-teller than to be disturbed in the 
 midst of his story." 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 MAMMON, GOD OF MONEY. 
 
 T was eight bells when our mate Malloy 
 Gruffly cried, " Starboard watch ahoy ! " 
 That from a sleep so sound I woke. 
 
 There never was a wish concealed 
 Beneath a joy that seemed so real, 
 There never was a hope more vain 
 Concealed beneath a lust for fame, 
 There never was a joy more brief, 
 There never was such poignant grief, 
 As came to me in that strange dream. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 " I WAS all alone at the Eagle Roost," began Gra 
 ham, as soon as the boys were ready, "waiting for 
 my friends to return from an expedition to the head 
 waters of the Yuba, and during this interval I was 
 working on a river claim, trying to earn enough to 
 replenish the supplies in case the boys should re 
 turn flat broke. As was my custom after supper, I 
 strolled down to the river and took a seat on a 
 smooth rock at the water s edge, that overlooked a 
 deep eddy which swung round under the bank some 
 twenty feet below where I sat. There I remained 
 for some time absorbed in my own thoughts. I had 
 become deeply anxious about the safety of the expe- 
 
MAMMON, GOD OF MONEY. l8/ 
 
 dition and the return of my friends. The season 
 was growing late ; I was suffering from the extreme 
 loneliness of my situation ; and my mind had be 
 come feverish from the uncertainty attending their 
 unaccountable delay in returning home. Thus I 
 sat watching the trail that led down from the ridge 
 and terminated at the flats beneath Eagle Mount 
 ain. I was watching this trail for the first glimpse 
 of the returning party, which would relieve my 
 anxiety and solve the mystery of their prolonged 
 absence. In fact, I had become lost in a deep and 
 painful reverie, in which my own reverses seemed 
 the most prominent. The privations and sufferings 
 which I had endured, the bitter disappointments, 
 and my present impoverished condition, had passed 
 in review. I was recalling certain of my acquaint 
 ances who had made their pile and gone to their 
 homes to receive the smiles and congratulations of 
 their friends. I was just thinking of my mortgaged 
 home and the aching hearts beneath its roof, so 
 helpless, so poor in purse, and yet so rich in affec 
 tion, and discussing in my mind what would be 
 come of them if I did not soon return and redeem 
 the one and comfort the other, when at that mo 
 ment a boat shot out from behind a ledge of rocks 
 and glided swiftly down towards me. 
 
 " It was an old-fashioned dug-out, and its occu 
 pant an old man dressed in the garb of a miner, and 
 
1 88 A WINTER EVENINGS TALE. 
 
 unarmed. His hair and beard were white as snow 
 and fell in heavy masses down to his waist. He 
 paddled his canoe dexterously up to the bank below 
 where I sat, and rising to his feet looked up into 
 my face and said, * Halloo ! I answered Hilloo ! 
 and scanned him closely from head to foot, for I 
 was surprised to see this man, supposing there was 
 not a human being foolish enough to settle above 
 the Eagle Roost on the South Yuba. I never saw 
 a nobler specimen of physical man before. I never 
 saw a more venerable countenance, or eyes that 
 expressed such tenderness or held such magnetic 
 power. In fact, he was grand and princely, and 
 beautiful to look upon. 
 
 " What, he said, are ye all alone down here ? 
 
 " Yes, I replied ; all alone. 
 
 " Well, what are ye doing ? 
 
 " Working a river claim. 
 
 " How does it pan out ? 
 
 " Not worth a cent. And I then added : How 
 are you doing up your way ? 
 
 " Well, I have done doing, young man. 
 
 " How so ? Have you made your pile ? 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I have got all the gold I want. 
 
 " Perhaps you would like to sell an interest in 
 your claim. 
 
 " Well, I don t know but that I would. 
 
 " What are your terms, sir ? 
 
MAMMON, GOD OF MONEY. 1 89 
 
 " Well, there are no terms, my boy ; only share 
 my camp, sign articles of copartnership, take all the 
 gold you can find use for, and go home and enjoy 
 all the happiness that gold can purchase. 
 
 " And you what is to become of you ? 
 
 " Well, that s of little consequence. But if you 
 wish it, I 11 go home with you. We 11 add our 
 wealth together, making one mammoth fortune, 
 monopolize the avenues of trade, get up a corner in 
 gold, and control the destinies of kingdoms and em 
 pires. 
 
 " Can I depend upon what you say, I said, daz 
 zled with the stupendous offer. 
 
 " Yes, you can. 
 
 " I will take you at your word. 
 
 " All right ; jump in. 
 
 " And I did ; and the boat darted out into the 
 stream. The sun had long since disappeared be 
 hind the western hills, and the moon, following in its 
 wake, had risen above the highest peaks in the Si 
 erra Nevadas. The solitude was grand and beauti 
 ful, the moon s silvery beams penetrated the vapory 
 veil which hung over the yawning canons and 
 lighted up their wild and ghostly scenes. On sped 
 the boat. Not a word had been spoken by either. 
 Never had my heart felt such rapture before ; never 
 before had such a transition from black despondency 
 to the highest pinnacle of bliss been mine to enjoy ; 
 
1 90 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 and as I looked into his warm, friendly face, I felt 
 the utmost faith in the purity of his visit and the 
 most tender affections ripening in his favor. 
 
 " I began to feel that perhaps I was entering upon 
 a more propitious season of life ; that maybe my 
 unfortunate days had culminated, and that the evil 
 spirit which had so long held me in bondage had 
 been superseded by one less vindictive if not wholly 
 impartial. How beautiful and pure were my long 
 ings, how sweet and hopeful my dreams. How 
 many were the air castles I built, and how grand 
 the schemes I conceived, as the boat skimmed over 
 the stream. What a dazzling future was before me ; 
 how fabulous the wealth that was mine ; how exalt 
 ing my aims ; how delightful the delusions of the 
 hour. What would I not do for those who had 
 loved me in poverty. Ah, what would I not do to 
 those who had crushed me in weakness and stifled 
 my appeals with scorn ! 
 
 " At last we rounded the ledge of rocks from 
 whence I had first seen the boat proceed, and, pass 
 ing through a vapory cloud, entered the mouth of a 
 cave of inky blackness, and I saw no more. 
 
 " Up to this moment I had not suspected the ob 
 ject of this man s visit, nor doubted the goodness of 
 his intentions. No, not a shadow of suspicion had 
 crossed my mind, but, on the contrary, I had re 
 garded myself as one of the most fortunate of men, 
 
MAMMON, GOD OF MONEY. 19 T 
 
 and my companion the grandest type of the good 
 Samaritan. Yet the blackness of this cave, the un 
 earthly noises which seemed to menace me upon 
 every side, together with the dead, chilly atmosphere 
 and the singular silence of my partner, had aroused 
 a dreadful fear, which so wrought upon my sensibil 
 ities that it awakened the most painful apprehen 
 sions for my safety. In fact, I had become so terri 
 fied at my situation that it seemed as though I 
 should die from fright and nervous prostration. 
 
 " My suspicions soon assumed a more definite 
 form, and I saw but too plainly the plot that had 
 been set on foot to decoy me away, and realized for 
 the first time the magnitude of the imposition prac 
 ticed upon me. Yes, the deception was perfect, the 
 capture complete, and I was doomed, aye, doomed to 
 some tragic death. 
 
 " You see, boys, I had been dissatisfied with my 
 humble estate, and continually murmuring at the 
 simplicity of my calling. I had fallen a prey to my 
 lust for gold. I had been blinded by avarice and 
 decoyed into the realms of some monster of evil. 
 
 " I have never been able to estimate the time we 
 were in this subterranean passage nor the distance 
 we made to reach the golden cavern in the bowels 
 of the Sierra Nevada ; but just before I was taken 
 in charge by the attendants, who, it appeared, had 
 already arrived at the lodge in anticipation of my 
 
192 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 arrival, a powerful light burst upon me, relieving at 
 once the terrible gloom, and I opened my eyes to 
 behold a most wonderful scene. As the boat 
 skimmed along over the sparkling waters and shot 
 through the complex caverns, I discovered a number 
 of great vaults which were full of immense treas 
 ures. Everything I saw was literally full of gold 
 and silver and precious stones. The arches, the 
 pillars, the walls, aye, even the waters, sparkled and 
 danced with gold and jewels. In fact, the brilliancy 
 of the scene was overwhelming, and I was only too 
 glad of a change. 
 
 " The moment the boat touched the steps, which 
 were of solid gold, my conductors smote the wall 
 before which we stood with their golden staffs, and 
 at the same instant exclaimed : All hail, monarch 
 of the Sierra Nevadas, all hail ! The partition 
 moved instantly to one side and we passed in, that 
 is, myself and guides, for to my surprise I found 
 that my partner had disappeared. The scene which, 
 now opened itself to my wondering gaze beggars 
 description, and I stood transfixed with joy and 
 amazement. Why, boys, it was a veritable grotto, 
 so rich, so gorgeous, that I almost lost my breath 
 as I beheld it. It seemed to me it must have been 
 cut out of a solid mountain of gold, for the walls 
 were of gold, the ceiling was of gold, intermixed 
 with gems which sparkled with great brilliancy and 
 
MAMMON, GOD OF MONEY. 193 
 
 beauty. The floor was of gold and silver interlaid 
 in mosaic form, and piled upon it in different places 
 were great heaps of gold dust. Some of these heaps 
 were of fine river gold, others of a coarser nature, 
 the grains varying from an ounce to a hundred 
 pounds in weight. The columns which supported 
 the dome were of solid gold, and the magnitude of 
 this vast vault of treasures was so enormous that 
 my mind failed to comprehend its stupendous vast- 
 ness. The chandeliers, of the most exquisite de 
 signs and of marvelous workmanship, were of gold, 
 as were the chains by which they were suspended. 
 The tables, the chairs, the sofas, divans, and other ar 
 ticles of furniture were also of gold. The walls were 
 variously adorned by ornaments and emblems of 
 diamonds, pearls, and other rare gems. The vases 
 were filled with flowers of rare beauty, which im 
 pregnated the air with their perfumes, and these, as 
 also the frames which held the works of the great 
 est artists known to civilization, were of gold and 
 decorated with diamonds and rubies. In the centre 
 of this temple of wealth and splendor >tood an al 
 tar. In form and appearance it resembled an im 
 mense bowlder. It was twenty feet high, and as 
 many in circumference : its weight and value could 
 only be estimated. It was of solid gold, weighing 
 several tons, and worth as many millions of dollars. 
 Upon the top of this golden altar, and arrayed in all 
 13 
 
IQ4 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 the magnificence that wealth could procure, stood 
 Mammon, the god of money. In one hand he held 
 a golden scroll, and in the other a pen richly orna 
 mented. His garments were of pure white silk dec 
 orated with the most beautiful and costly jewels. 
 A crimson sash, spangled with pearls, was wound 
 about his waist. He wore upon his head a crown of 
 great beauty, and from its apex sparkled a diamond 
 of immense size and of dazzling brilliancy. 
 
 " In this abode of elegance, in the centre of this 
 extravagant splendor, surrounded by treasures too 
 colossal for computation, stood who ? why, my 
 partner the King of the Sierras. There he stood, 
 a strange and seductive power, beautiful in per 
 son, dignified in figure, and dazzling to look upon. 
 Indeed, as I gazed into his deep-set eyes, and saw 
 the fatherly tenderness in the fullness of his face, 
 as I stood in the sunshine of his smiles, and felt 
 the warmth of his compassion fall upon me, I be 
 came disarmed ; my fears vanished, my suspicions 
 fled as a breath of air, and I again surrendered to 
 his beguiling snares. My attendants now led me to 
 the altar and placed me upon a large and richly or 
 namented rug, and bowing with deep reverence to 
 his majesty, and kissing in humble submission the 
 rock of gold, withdrew and we were alone. Sweet 
 and fairy-like music now filled the temple, which 
 lifted me up, as it were, and I became enchanted and 
 
MAMMON, GOD OF MONEY. 195 
 
 dazed by the brilliancy of my surroundings. When 
 the chant had subsided, there came from various 
 parts of the grotto, exclamations of this nature : 
 
 " All hail, Mammon, god of money; all hail! 
 We worship thee, O King and Prince of wealth, all 
 hail ! Great sovereign, monarch of the Sierra 
 Nevadas, all hail ! Before thee, Great Ruler, all 
 nations bow, to thee, all hail ! Unto thee, O Gold, 
 all powerful Prince, cometh the people, and casting 
 themselves down before thee, clap their hands with 
 joy, and cry, Lift thy servants up, enrich us, O Mam 
 mon, that we may glorify thy name forever ! 
 
 " Now my partner waved his hand and the temple 
 was wrapped in silence. 
 
 " You recognize me, do you ? he asked. 
 
 " Yes, you are my partner, I replied. 
 
 " That is to be, he said, smiling, and then added : 
 This is my claim. I have not deceived you. 
 
 " * It is wonderful, I said, gravely ; * most wonder 
 ful. 
 
 " When you asked me what were my terms, he 
 continued, to become an equal partner in this claim, 
 I told you they were to share my camp, sign arti 
 cles of copartnership, draw out all the moneys you 
 could use, and be happy. Are you ready for busi 
 ness ? 
 
 " I am, I replied, dazzled by the scene about 
 me. 
 
196 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 " This/ he resumed, is but the anteroom to my 
 palaces and domains ; and the wealth you see here 
 is but a drop in the bucket compared to that which 
 you are yet to see. This chamber will no more com 
 pare with what is yet to come, than the darkness 
 through which you passed on your way hither can 
 compare with the brightness of the noonday sun. 
 Sign this compact, bow down and kiss this golden 
 rock ; and prepare yourself to behold the grandeur 
 of my domains, and enjoy the splendors of my 
 throne. 
 
 " Read the compact ! I said, excitedly. 
 
 " Unfolding the beautifully figured scroll, my part 
 ner read as follows : 
 
 " God of heaven, and earth, and sea ; Thou who 
 giveth man and taketh him away ; Thou who sepa- 
 rateth the wheat from the chaff, immortalizing the 
 one and casting out the other, O hear me. For be it 
 known unto Thee, great Jehovah, that this day hath 
 appeared unto me, the signer of this compact, who 
 voluntarily and of his own free will alienates him 
 self from Thee and Thy throne forever : And further 
 be it known, that it is his purpose and desire to 
 transfer his allegiance unto me, his future sovereign, 
 king, and master. In my presence, therefore, and 
 in Thy sight, he doth solemnly affirm and take oath, 
 that from this day, henceforth, he denieth Thee and 
 Him who died upon Calvary ; that he renounces all 
 
MAMMON, GOD OF MONEY. 197 
 
 relationship, both worldly and spiritually, and now 
 seeks in my dominions that which hath been denied 
 unto him in Thine, namely, Gold. Henceforth and 
 for eternity he knows no other god before me. 
 And in token whereof he hath bowed down before 
 me and sealed this copartnership, by first kissing 
 this rock of gold, and signing the compact. 
 
 " I listened to the reading of this covenant with 
 death, with sickening fear, and shocked with horror. 
 The terms were but too plain ; their significance 
 could not be misunderstood. If they meant any 
 thing, they meant just this : a life of pleasure, lux 
 ury, and ease ; a few brief years of purchased tri 
 umphs, and then what ? An unconditional surren 
 der of both body and soul ; a life of pomp and 
 glory, and then death and eternal damnation. 
 The sacrifice, it seemed to me, was too great, too 
 appalling. I could never yield to such conditions. 
 But could I consent to return again to poverty and 
 the sickening details of an impoverished life ? Could 
 I, with these golden opportunities within my very 
 reach, stoop again to humiliation and want ? Go 
 back and humbly eke out a miserable existence? 
 No, never [ Then, again, with this boundless wealth 
 at my command I could go home, remove the mort 
 gage from our cottage home, adorn and beautify it 
 still more, if that were yet possible, and place my 
 mother in affluent circumstances, and make her de- 
 
198 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 clining years the brightest of her whole life. And, 
 again, I could satisfy the great yearnings of my 
 heart, and remove forever the canker which was eat 
 ing out my life and destroying my peace of mind. 
 I would marry Jane Excuse me, boys I forgot 
 myself. I get a little weak, you see, as I near the 
 threshold of my old home. Forget, please, that I 
 mentioned her name. But there, it is all right. 
 Perhaps you have been there, too. However, as I 
 was saying, I would marry Jane the purest little 
 gem of a girl, boys, you ever laid eyes on. Yes, I 
 would marry Jane." 
 
 "That s what you said," put in Baxter; "that s 
 just what you said," he repeated, a little annoyed at 
 the useless repetition. 
 
 " Do let the boy go on ! " rang out several voices. 
 
 " Go on, Graham, go on," said the Colonel, warmly. 
 
 " Well, boys, as I was saying, now don t inter 
 rupt me, please, I would marry Jane " 
 
 " Confound that girl, grunted Tibbetts, somewhat 
 irritated. 
 
 " Oh, do let the man alone. Please let him tell 
 the story," put in Billings, savagely. 
 
 " Go on, Graham ; do please go on," said the Col 
 onel, persuasively. 
 
 " I would," resumed the narrator, "build a mag 
 nificent castle upon Rugby Farm, and live and love 
 the balance of my days. Yes, with this vast fortune 
 
MAMMON, GOD OF MONEY. 199 
 
 I could do a deal of good, and perhaps, at the end 
 of a well-spent life, redeem my mortgaged soul by 
 bequeathing my colossal fortune to some charitable 
 institutions. Yes, gold I must have gold I would 
 have gold at any sacrifice I would have gold. 
 
 " Partner, I said, I am ready. If I am to sign 
 the bond, it were better it were done quickly, and I 
 fell upon my knees before the altar, there, with 
 the pen in one hand, and the golden compact in the 
 other, I leaned forward to press my lips upon the 
 block of gold. 
 
 " But I failed to do it, boys. I did n t kiss Mam 
 mon that night. Neither did I sign the compact. 
 For just as I was about to commit that nefarious 
 wrong, there shot up before my gaze a picture of my 
 mother s face, and I fell back overwhelmed with 
 fright and astonishment. The profile was perfect, 
 the expression of anguish deep and uncontrollable ; 
 the eyes, though partly closed, were full of tears. 
 She held an open Bible, in such a manner that I 
 could not fail to comprehend the purpose of her 
 visit or the significance of the passage to which her 
 finger pointed. The vision came and went, as a flash 
 of light, and I saw it no more ; but in that instant I 
 saw her head bowed in humility and prayer, her 
 beautiful face bathed in tears, her heart bursting 
 with grief, and her finger resting upon that awful 
 passage : For what shall it profit a man if he shall 
 
20O A WINTER EVENINGS TALE. 
 
 gain the whole world and lose his own soul ? * I 
 see that sweet image to-night, boys just as clear 
 and defined as I did two years ago, when it saved 
 me from bartering away both body and soul for 
 gold." 
 
 " Come, Graham, don t stop ; do, pray, go on." 
 " Well, there s but little more to tell," remarked 
 the story-teller, as he reached for a fire-brand to 
 light his pipe. "As soon as I had recovered from 
 the effects of the vision I saw, I sprang to my feet, 
 renounced my allegiance, and denounced the com 
 pact. I declared it my purpose to retire from this 
 accursed influence and return again to the Roost. I 
 openly refused a compromise with death and obliv 
 ion, preferring the most abject poverty with a hope 
 ful life and a calm and beautiful future guarantied. 
 This sudden and unexpected change of front so en 
 raged the god of money that he declared I should 
 suffer, as I deserved, an ignominious death. He rang 
 the bell which formed the canopy above his head, and 
 men, like Roman gladiators, in tunics of gold, and 
 armed with golden battle-axes, came from every di 
 rection, and instantly closed in around me. 
 
 " Take this snivelling penitent ! said the angered 
 king, and mount ye upon the highest cliff of our 
 domains, and without mercy, or a moment s time for 
 prayer, hurl him headlong into the yawning abyss 
 below ! Away with him ! Let me see his face no 
 more ! Begone ! 
 
MAMMON, GOD OF MONEY. 2OI 
 
 "Well, boys, I thought we should never reach 
 the place of execution. It was up, up, up, through 
 winding slopes, over broken and ragged ledges, over 
 furious streams, and by roaring cataracts. But at 
 length we arrived upon the verge of a deep and 
 blackened precipice, and preparations were at once 
 made for carrying the sentence into effect. They 
 gathered me up in their arms, and bore me along to 
 the farthest point that it was possible for them to 
 reach in safety, and told me to close my eyes and 
 pray. The waning moon was faintly seen, hiding 
 its face in the lofty peaks of the Sierra Nevadas, 
 its lingering beams resting upon their hoary heads 
 dimly seen against the blackening sky. The silence 
 was awful, and my approaching doom too horrible to 
 dwell upon. The supreme moment arrived, and in 
 the few seconds that were spared to me, the whole 
 of my life passed swiftly in review. It was one of 
 which I had no reason to be ashamed. It was one 
 that assured me of a peaceful future and calm re 
 pose, and I awaited the end with fortitude and hope 
 ful resignation. 
 
 " We had now reached the outer edge of this fright 
 ful hell, and my executioners, having braced them 
 selves firmly for the purpose, swung my body to and 
 fro. When the desired momentum was gained, they 
 counted in solemn measure, one, two, three, and 
 tossed me headlong over the precipice, and to my 
 
2O2 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 death. The descent was so rapid, the fall so pro 
 longed, that my reason and sense of terror seemed 
 to have left me, with the exception of sufficient life 
 and consciousness to realize that I was plunging 
 down, down, down, headlong to destruction. But, 
 singular as it may seem, the moment my body struck 
 the water, that instant my reason returned, and I 
 rose to the surface struggling for life. I floated 
 with the current for a few seconds, and fortunately 
 caught the overhanging branch of a willow-tree, and 
 swinging myself in shore, made one grand and su 
 preme effort for life. Boys, I was saved." And 
 again the narrator caught a fire-brand and applied 
 it to the bowl of his pipe. 
 
 A silence of some moments ensued, and during 
 the puff, puff, puff, which escaped from the smoker s 
 lips, the little clouds of smoke rolled away in the 
 chimney corner. 
 
 " Well, how is it ? " said Hughes, inquiringly. " I 
 kind o like the story ; but the conclusion is about 
 as clear as mud at least, it is so to me ! " 
 
 Another silence, during which every man looked 
 into the narrator s face for an explanation. 
 
 Puff, puff, puff, and then the narrator said, with a 
 benignant smile, " Why, boys, it was only a dream." 
 
 "Julius Caesar!" broke out Mathews ; "I sus 
 pected as much ! " 
 
 " Fell asleep, eh ! " said Byfield. 
 
MAMMON, GOD OF MONEY. 20$ 
 
 " Yes," said the Colonel, drawing a long breath ; 
 " rolled over the bank into the river, that s a good 
 un, boys ; that s a good un. Let s take some 
 thing " and they did. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 DEADMAN S BAR. 
 
 " The raven croaks 
 
 By day, the owl by night, such affinities are 
 The present tenants of Deadman s Bar." 
 
 " GRAHAM," said the Colonel, " the courtesies of 
 this camp permits the story-teller to choose his suc 
 cessor. Please to nominate." 
 
 " Robert Baxter," he answered. 
 
 " Gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you, Robert 
 Baxter of Mokelumne Hill, one of the earliest pio 
 neers to the northern mines, and among the first 
 settlers on the North Fork of the American River." 
 
 Baxter responded as follows : 
 
 Boys, 
 
 Did you ever hear of Andy McQuaid, 
 The Sidney cove that fled from the judge s 
 Stand, and jumped into the canon at 
 Deadman s Bar, and was drowned ? 
 No ? never heard of him ? Well now, that s funny ; 
 But there, I 11 tell ye the story. For he was 
 Quite a chap in his day, and then his name 
 Deserves a place upon the calendar of fame. 
 
DEADMAN S BAR. 
 
 We dammed the river, ye see, at Deadman s Bar, 
 And Andy was our president. His face was 
 Exquisitely fashioned for the part he assumed, 
 That of a minister of the Orthodox persuasion. 
 His keen gray eye sparkled in our evening 
 Councils, and his oily tongue frequently 
 Calmed the troubled waters. And then, again, 
 He was fearfully sweet when he said Amen. 
 
 Twelve hundred ounces were taken from our 
 Claim one day. And that night we sat in the 
 President s tent, feasting our eyes upon its glittering 
 Scales, filling as it did a twelve-quart pan, 
 For when the morrow dawned the dividend 
 So declared would amply repay each man 
 For his week s exposure and cold j 
 But there, what won t a man do for gold. 
 
 The night wore heavily by, as such nights often 
 Do when the mind s disturbed by delusive 
 Dreams. Just as the sentry, upon his lonely round 
 Steals a nap, and sees his home again, 
 So in my troubled sleep I saw the pan of 
 Gold increase in size, and rise to such 
 Proportions that my poor heated brain 
 Fairly reveled in luxury and fame. 
 
 Ah, what s that ? Surely it was not the wind, 
 And the wolf never trod thus heavily ! Why it 
 Was a human foot feeling its way through the camp. 
 
206 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 Yes, there was the figure bent down with weight, 
 Sneaking through the trees, even surpassing the wolf 
 In his flight, as he stole away in the night. 
 Boys, if ever a man in a vision was seen, 
 I saw McQuaid that night in my dream. 
 
 The morning came, but the gold was gone, 
 And vengeance stared each man in the face ; 
 Stolen, it was said, in the night. And Father 
 McQuaid, more dead than alive, paced the camp 
 And solemnly cried : " Boys, lay up your treasures 
 In heaven, where moth nor rust can corrupt, 
 Nor thieves break through and steal ! " And then 
 Went down upon his knees and prayed again. 
 
 Thus the day wore on, and in twos and threes the 
 Men sat, with blackened brows, along the river bank 
 In the cool evening breeze. And dark suspicion 
 Like a pall of death hung over all. 
 
 "Tom," said I to my trusted friend, as we stood beneath 
 The willows on the bar, " I saw in my dream last night 
 A thief bearing our gold away. Watch my hand 
 As it carves his name in this bed of sand." 
 
 "What!" said he, struck dumb with surprise; "is it 
 
 Father 
 
 McQuaid ? that venerable man, whose guilt I see 
 Traced here in the sand ? T is hard, Bob, to believe 
 Our boys could become so grossly deceived." 
 
 " Let s prove it to-night, Tom. We 11 both stand guard 
 
DEADMAN S BAR. 2O/ 
 
 And watch this hypocrite from now till dawn, 
 And possibly prove, though we get no reward, 
 That the ways of transgressors are fearfully hard." 
 
 The night was dark but clear, as Tom and myself 
 Followed the president through brambles and briers, 
 Over ledges and rocks, down gulches and streams, 
 Adroitly as detectives shadow their man. 
 There, with his mule cleverly concealed, we watched 
 Him arrange his pack for flight. But, quick as a 
 Flash, we sprang by his side. Then with a bound 
 We hurled him a prisoner down to the ground. 
 
 There were no jails, nor degrees of crime in those days ; 
 No splitting of hairs, nor juries to sway by forensic 
 Eloquence ; no " extenuating circumstances " for 
 Lawyers and justices were oftener the criminals ; 
 No nice points of law raised to hold the court 
 In doubt and muddle the jury. And besides, 
 The judge meant just what he said, 
 And criminals were hung by the neck till dead. 
 
 We meant business. He knew it, hence the resistance 
 Was severe and prolonged. He fought and struggled, 
 And swore as he fought, blaspheming the air and 
 Blistering the night winds with sulphurous oaths. 
 Never did man fight more bravely or surrender 
 A life more reluctantly than did Father McQuaid. 
 And when overpowered, like a panther encaged, 
 He glared at his keepers in fury and rage. 
 
2O8 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 In a grove back from the river, on a sloping bluff, 
 The court convened. Astride a mule, with 
 Hands lashed behind him, sat Father McQuaid, 
 Beneath the loftiest pine awaiting his death. 
 Among the withered leaves and under the scaffold tree 
 The miners sat, spectators of this strange, sad scene, 
 They were the judge and jury and had come 
 To see the bogus parson hung. 
 
 Upon his mule he sat erect, with defiance 
 
 Strongly marked upon his face. He calmly 
 
 Watched the hangman lower the rope, and 
 
 Felt the noose pass his head, and rest upon 
 
 His beating heart. No language can describe 
 
 The prisoner s hate, as taunts and jeers 
 
 Alike came up from friend and foe. No tongue can tell 
 
 What passed within that soul of hell. 
 
 " Andy McQuaid," said the judge, "you are a 
 Wolf in sheep s clothing a fraud and a bunch 
 Of deception. You have proven recreant to your 
 Friends and stolen the funds intrusted to your care. 
 In this unsullied land a crime is a crime. 
 You stand convicted a thief, and must die. 
 The court gives you five minutes and then 
 Prepare yourself to meet your end." 
 
 " T is little I Ve got to say, judge, and but one favor 
 To ask. As you have seen fit to respite me five 
 Minutes, let me enjoy them as I would. 
 
DEADMAWS BAR. 2CQ 
 
 Release these hands. I would confess, and while 
 Confessing brace my shattered nerves with one last 
 
 smoke. 
 
 I am a brave man, yer honor ; I do not fear death. 
 I am but one ; you are forty strong. Come, sir, be kind. 
 Mercy should precede a fate as hard as mine. 
 
 " Thanks, yer honor, the cords were tight and cut me 
 To the bone. T was a generous act, for which I m 
 
 deeply 
 
 Grateful. I confess, sir, to deeds of graver import 
 Than the one I m charged, each of which has a 
 Prior claim upon this wretched life of mine. 
 I am a banished cracksman bearing an assumed 
 Name. I am all that s bad a worthless, prodigal son 
 A wandering outcast and deserve to be hung. 
 
 " Baxter," he said, beckoning me with his hand, 
 " Lend me your pipe." And as I passed it up, he 
 
 Hissed into my ear a curse, and spake these words : 
 " Bob, you swore my life away. One chance is left 
 Me for escape if successful we shall meet again. 
 Good-by, judge; good-by, Baxter, good-by, all. When 
 I toss this pipe away and nod my head, why 
 Twitch me up, judge, and let me hang till dead. 
 
 " Ah ! " he cried in feigned alarm, staring wildly up at 
 The ridge, and slipping the noose from his head, 
 " Look, judge ! look to your safety, men ! For thick as 
 hail 
 
 14 
 
210 A WINTER EVENINGS TALE. 
 
 The Indians are rushing down on the trail ! " 
 Thex moment each eye looked back on the hill 
 He drove his heels in the flanks of his mule, and 
 Away he dashed over plaza and fell, like 
 A demon escaped from the pits of hell. 
 
 I tell ye, boys, t was a wonderful sight, to see McQuaid 
 Leap in his flight the rocks and brambles and fallen 
 Trees and then again dismount his mule, and 
 Scale the precipitous cliff on hands and knees, 
 But there he stood on the edge watching the boys 
 Closing the lines about him. Then doffing his boots 
 And tightening his belt, he cast his eyes first to his foe 
 And then into the seething gulf below. 
 
 Five hundred feet was a fearful leap for a 
 Man to take with a hope of escape. But he took it. 
 And every miner hurried away to the river s edge 
 To see his body go down with the stream. 
 They searched each crevice and hole for miles 
 Away, and dragged the bed, but found him not. 
 And weeks and months flew by. Then it was said 
 He must have perished ; he must be dead. 
 
 Perhaps a year had passed away, and Tom 
 And myself were returning from the Corners, and 
 T was while crossing the divide between Dixon s and 
 BardwelPs ranch, that the sequel to this story came. 
 You remember the trail that winds like a serpent 
 Around the elbow at Langley s Gulch, and the curve 
 
DE ADMAN S BAR. 211 
 
 Over the deep abyss, where the rocks like tombstones 
 
 in a row 
 Loom up spectre-like in the cleft below ? 
 
 We had reached this point, and Tom was 
 Congratulating me for doubling the stakes on the 
 Flush I held the night before, when, startled by a 
 Rock thundering upon us, I had no time to 
 Speak, but dodged the blow which passed me 
 Like an arrow and struck my friend, 
 And both disappeared from sight 
 Like a shooting star in the gloom of night. 
 
 Before I had recovered from this dreadful scene 
 A man covered with dust sprang into the trail 
 And faced me. He knew my name, for he said, 
 " Baxter, I am your convict friend, Andy McQuaid ! " 
 Boys, I was amazed struck dumb with fright 
 And gazed into his evil eyes with dread forebodings. 
 Then he drew his knife, and approached me with a 
 
 smile 
 That made me tremble, boys, tremble like a child. 
 
 Had a grizzly bear risen in my path and faced 
 Me with a death as horrible as the human mind 
 Conceives^ I could have leaped where to have followed 
 Would have been instant death. 
 But from this monster there was no escape, and 
 Fully did I realize the dreadful death, should I 
 Fail to kill this man. I must clutch this foe 
 And dash him to pieces upon the rocks below. 
 
212 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 " No greater wonder has fallen to my eyes, than to 
 Behold you here alive, McQuaid," I began ; 
 
 " No greater joy has fallen to my lot since I was 
 Born, than cut your heart out ! " he replied, with scorn. 
 
 " I am unarmed, you see, and have not sought this 
 Conflict ; yet, if God loves justice and the devil has 
 Given you away, your time has come, as it should, 
 And your thirst for blood will end in blood." 
 
 I never could tell what passed through my mind 
 
 As his knife-blade gleamed in the sun as the lightning 
 
 Flashes along the sky. I cannot tell how the fight 
 
 Began : I can only tell how it came to an end. 
 
 The struggle, I know, was fierce and long, and 
 
 At times I thought my hour had come, as he 
 
 Held me down, with knife in hand, and 
 
 We rolled and tumbled on the rocks and sand. 
 
 The last I remember, we stood by the cliff overhang 
 ing 
 
 The deep, yawning gulf below that both were locked 
 In deadly embrace. Then suddenly over the brink 
 We fell, headlong, down together. 
 It seems we struck a sapling tree which broke 
 Our hold, and bending down laid me safely upon 
 The ground. There, bruised and bleeding, I sought 
 
 my foe, 
 And found him dead on the rocks below. 
 
 A withered pine, blackened and blazed, stands 
 
 At the head of Deadman s Bar. In the sombre hues 
 
DEADMAN S BAR. 213 
 
 Of the fading day it is a spectre both grim and 
 
 brave, 
 
 A fitting monument for Andy McQuaid. 
 The bar is deserted, now, and the hills and stream 
 Forever seem rapt in some terrible dream, 
 The spot is cursed ; it is known, wherever you are, 
 As the haunted canon or Deadman s Bar. 
 
 Each year some wandering prospector camps upon 
 This bar desecrates his grave and unearths his 
 
 bones ; 
 
 But while he loiters there the ghostly form of 
 Andy McQuaid is nightly seen upon the canon s 
 Dome. There it stands, doffing its boots, and 
 Girthing its belt about its waist. Then, tossing its 
 Hat away, leaps into the air, and, tis said, 
 The spirit sinks again to its watery bed. 
 
 The bar s unworked, the soil seems cursed with 
 Death, and nothing springs from its blighted womb 
 But weeds ; snakes crawl among its rocks ; lizards 
 Snap upon its heated sands ; scorpions bed in 
 The moldering trunks of felled trees, and toads 
 Spit in the poisonous air ; the raven croaks 
 By day, the owl by night, such affinities are 
 The present tenants of Deadman s Bar. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE DESTRUCTION OF SACRAMENTO CITY. 
 
 Fire, Fire, Fire! 
 Rang out from streets and lanes : 
 
 Fire, Fire, Fire! 
 
 The city s enveloped in flames. 
 Up in the midnight sky 
 The burning sparks shot high. 
 Mid cries of fear and moans of woe 
 The fireman battled the fiery foe. 
 
 Fire, Fire, Fire! 
 Burst out from slumber and rest; 
 
 Fire, Fire, Fire! 
 
 Went out from darkness and death. 
 Chimneys and walls fell in, 
 Increasing the horrible din, 
 And men fell back in blank despair, 
 As flames engulfed the city fair. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 WE next find Frank Graham keeping a small res 
 taurant at No. 3 K Street, Sacramento City, and the 
 sign which swung over the sidewalk was conspicu 
 ous for one thing. It told the new-comer where he 
 might get served with an oyster stew for one dollar, 
 a treat which few ventured to indulge in, even 
 in that land of promise. The business was over 
 for the day, and he was quietly making up his cash 
 accounts preparatory to closing his saloon for the 
 night. Just then two young men were seen at the 
 door surveying his premises, and a moment later 
 
THE DESTRUCTION OF SACRAMENTO CITY. 21$ 
 
 they walked forward and took seats at a table. It 
 was hard to tell just who or what these men were. 
 The largest of the two wore a " stove-pipe " hat, a 
 blue flannel shirt, and a linen duster. The other a 
 woman s night-cap, a striped calico-shirt, and a pair 
 of blue overalls girded tightly round the waist. 
 There was mischief there of some sort, and though 
 nothing was said which gave him a clew to their 
 occupation, yet from their strong, muscular frames, 
 bronzed features, and that peculiar forecastle odor, 
 he became convinced they were sailors just ashore 
 on a spree. They called for oysters, and were 
 served, and during the half hour they remained 
 amused themselves greatly at his expense. He 
 kept cool, however, and allowed the boys the fullest 
 latitude for rude remarks and quaint suggestions. 
 Upon their paying their bill, he passed out the ci 
 gars, and a moment later they disappeared in the 
 darkness of the night. 
 
 Two hours later, while playing euchre with a party 
 of friends at his lodgings, the cry of fire came up 
 quick and shrill from the vicinity of J and Fourth 
 streets. The alarm becoming general, they dropped 
 their cards and started out. It was a chilly No 
 vember night, the wind blowing from the northwest. 
 The dust followed them in clouds as they hurried to 
 the scene of the conflagration. 
 
 A great fire is a painful and exciting spectacle 
 
2l6 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 wherever it happens ; but for them it was peculiarly 
 distressing, because they were so isolated that no 
 assistance could be brought in season to prevent the 
 total annihilation of their young and prosperous 
 city. Before midnight the fire had become master 
 of the situation ; the fire department was utterly 
 demoralized, and the doomed city abandoned to its 
 fate. The usual frantic efforts were made to save 
 property, and there was the utmost confusion and 
 inseparable jams of overloaded teams. The piercing 
 cries of women and children were heard as they be 
 came separated from each other in the lurid glare of 
 that night of horrors. The flames spread with great 
 rapidity, sweeping everything before them, right and 
 left, and very soon reached Second Street. The 
 heavens were lighted up for miles around, and 
 thousands of wild brants, attracted by the light, 
 flew into the vortex of death and were burnt to 
 ashes ere they reached the ground. 
 
 The safety of his place of business now became 
 of paramount interest to Graham, for every dollar 
 he possessed in the world was invested there ; and 
 to be left destitute in the morning without even a 
 shelter or means to take him to the mines, was not 
 to be thought of for a moment. But what could he 
 do ? What could a man with one arm do in such a 
 frightful situation ? He never could tell just how 
 he got to the corner of J and Front streets. He 
 
THE DESTRUCTION OF SACRAMENTO CITY. 2 1/ 
 
 had a faint recollection of being jammed through an 
 awning, and escaping through the second story of 
 some store, and leaping out of the rear window into 
 a back street. He remembered, also, his efforts to 
 scale a barricade composed of merchandise, house 
 hold effects, trunks, drays, horses and mules, dead 
 and alive, piled up in one immense inextricable mass. 
 But who can imagine his surprise to find upon his 
 arrival at the Arbor his new-made acquaintances 
 standing in front of his saloon door, one swinging 
 his " stove-pipe " hat in the most exciting manner, 
 while the other grasped him warmly by the hand, and 
 hoarsely assured him they had waited for full one 
 hour in deep anxiety to protect him from impending 
 danger and save his stock in trade. This was done 
 so far as practicable. Every movable article of any 
 value was removed and deposited under the button- 
 wood trees high up on the levee, the pictures and 
 mirror hanging upon the walls being the last things 
 saved, and these at the sacrifice of the " stove 
 pipe " hat and linen duster* 
 
 They had accomplished all that was possible, and 
 then, weary and sad, they settled down among the 
 saved goods, and watched the fire-fiend lap up the 
 few remaining blocks which marked the lines of 
 their unfortunate city. What a ghastly picture 
 twenty thousand people huddled together on the 
 outskirts of a city nearly destroyed by fire, wearily 
 
218 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 and painfully watching, from among the fragments 
 of their fortunes, their proud and beautiful city go 
 down into dust and ashes. 
 
 The cool but sharp November wind bit the thinly- 
 clad sufferers. The moon had disappeared behind 
 the Coast Range, and in the gloom and bitterness 
 of the early morning, Graham s sailor friends gave 
 him a brief history of themselves, and then proposed 
 to assist him to start a coffee stand just where they 
 were as soon as it was sufficiently light to make the 
 necessary arrangements. A couple of pork barrels 
 brought from the schooner, filled with stones, with 
 a charred door found among the d/bris, answered 
 the purpose of a table. An old jib-stay-sail found 
 in the vessel s locker made a capital table-cloth, while 
 a rope, from the same source, fastened to stakes 
 driven deep into the ground, formed a hollow square, 
 into which he moved and formally opened the first 
 dining-table among the famishing people, on the 
 morning after the destruction of the city of Sacra 
 mento, November, 1852. 
 
 His new friends, who appeared to him so repul 
 sive in the light of his chandelier the night before, 
 and left such a disagreeable impression behind them, 
 rebuked him for his suspicions, and convinced him 
 by their deeds that many a well-balanced head may 
 rest under a shabby hat, and many an honest heart 
 beat under a ragged shirt. They were a part of the 
 crew of the schooner Eliza Downes, of Belfast, 
 
THE DESTRUCTION OF SACRAMENTO CITY. 219 
 
 Maine, laden with light house-frames and builder s 
 materials, shipped for an adventure, and owned by 
 officers and crew. They had but just arrived from 
 the " States," and were awaiting an opportunity to 
 discharge their cargo. They had gone ashore in 
 search of the " elephant ; " and though strangers in 
 the place, and with scarcely any interest in the fate 
 of the stricken city, they made up their minds, when 
 they saw how matters were going, if it were possi 
 ble, to do a "good turn for the lame man" at No. 3 
 K Street. They were very fortunate in the dis 
 posal of their cargo, for, owing to a dearth of build 
 ing materials in the burnt city, they not only found 
 a ready sale, but received such prices as gave them 
 a most generous return for their venture. 
 
 The schooner s signal for all hands to report for 
 duty brought about a hasty but painful separation. 
 They were to discharge cargo, then leave their 
 moorings and sail immediately for San Francisco, 
 and thence homeward. Graham wrung their hard 
 but faithful hands as though his friendship dated 
 back to the same district school away down among 
 the pine-trees that shaded their humble homes on 
 the banks of the Penobscot River. As he bade 
 them i;ood-by the tears rolled down his cheeks. At 
 the last, when the gang-plank went in over the side 
 of the schoorer, and she dropped out into the stream, 
 he swung high in air his tattered Panama and re 
 turned to his duties. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 POOR MAN S CREEK. 
 
 u With joy I leave the sunny land 
 
 That tempted me to roam. 
 A last farewell, bright, golden strand, 
 
 For I am going home. 
 No longer can the gold god keep 
 
 My feet on stranger ground ; 
 
 Play on, play on, ye billows wild, 
 
 For I am homeward bound." 
 
 TURNER. 
 
 IF you stand upon Wild Cat Ridge, as it was then 
 called, and take in the wonderful landscape which 
 opens up to your view, you will hardly care to leave 
 it. You would rather that its wild and beautiful 
 scenery should become so deeply impressed upon 
 your memory that its charming beauties would abide 
 with you forever. The ridge on which you stand 
 and the one seen sloping down towards you, from 
 the opposite direction and which seems but a con 
 tinuation of this, are separated in the hollow yonder 
 by a swift-running stream of water. The passage 
 which the action of the water has made through its 
 centre is both deep and narrow, and is spanned by 
 a rudely constructed bridge which is known as the 
 " Bridge of Sighs." By this bridge you may cross 
 
POOR MAN S CREEK. 221 
 
 the creek and reach Redwood Point, so called, one 
 of the many "ribs " which belong to the long range 
 of " divides " between the Yuba and Feather rivers. 
 Redwood Point, viewed from where you stand, re 
 sembles in its outlines a mammoth boar s head, the 
 tip of whose nose has forced the water to make a 
 long, sharp bend around it, and its permanent bed 
 to hug the base of the precipitous hills. This stream 
 of water, the gift of the various hills which form 
 the deep and narrow valley, bears the name of Poor 
 Man s Creek. It comes skipping along through 
 miles of varied scenery, defying every obstacle in 
 its course, and plunging through the culvert of the 
 " Bridge of Sighs " loses itself in the Yuba. 
 
 You observe a dilapidated log cabin upon the 
 Point yonder, and certain evidences of its having 
 been occupied for a number of years. The grounds 
 about the cabin and far up the hill are badly dis 
 turbed. Large rocks and bowlders are unearthed ; 
 trees, uprooted, are lying dead and broken ; the flume 
 frames spanning the creek are bent or broken ; the 
 water ditch refilled and destroyed, and havoc and 
 desolation rules supreme. 
 
 These diggings are " worked out," the Point for 
 mally abandoned, and the late proprietors on their 
 way to San Francisco en route to their Eastern 
 homes. Both the creek and the bridge were named 
 by the late owners, who it is said abandoned the 
 
222 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 Point some time before as being worthless, but re 
 turned in after years poor in purse but rich in expe 
 rience. The maxim of a rolling stone gathering no 
 moss proved in their case a literal fact, for after an 
 absence of two years they returned to their old 
 quarters so poor and discouraged that the names 
 most expressive of their condition and sentiments 
 were given to them. It is said the company found 
 upon their return the original bed of the creek some 
 two hundred feet above its present channel. This 
 was considered at the time so inconsistent with long 
 established theories, that the facts were only con 
 firmed by unmistakable evidences of their success. 
 Their efforts, after years of trials and disappoint 
 ments, it would seem, had been finally crowned with 
 success, and now they had gone to their quiet New 
 England homes to enjoy their moderate fortunes. 
 
 Frank Graham is a member of this company, and 
 like them is on his way home. He had pecuniarily 
 exceeded the limits which enjoined him to continue 
 longer in this land of chance and delusion, and now 
 he was ready to go home. Five years of toil and 
 suffering had paralyzed his ambitious yearnings, 
 and prepared his mind to accept lesser results. 
 Facts as palpable as the light of day had long since 
 bridled his hopes and banished dreams as illusory 
 as they were enchanting. Dame Fortune had indeed 
 been exceptionally partial, if not cruelly unjust. 
 
POOR MAN S CREEK. 22$ 
 
 She had in many cases without stint poured her 
 treasures into the hands of wicked and undeserving 
 men, while the claims of the industrious and pure 
 in heart had been hopelessly ignored. He had toiled 
 hard to merit her esteem, he had been persistent 
 and courageous in his efforts to please, but she had 
 deceived on the one hand and chastised on the 
 other. From air castles conceived from the buoy 
 ancy of his nature and built upon hopes as durable 
 as ropes of sand, he had returned to earth emanci 
 pated and at rest. Yes, he was going home, to 
 leave this beautiful land forever. He must conse 
 crate his father s dust and a portion of his own 
 body to its future greatness, and as calmly as was 
 possible resign these sacred forfeitures to a morbid 
 love of gain. 
 
 Yes, he is going home, and perhaps, dear reader, 
 it is your wish to return and follow him to his little 
 home nestling so peacefully on the banks of the 
 Mohawk. Let us go, therefore, back to the disas 
 trous fire and the scene upon the levee, and after 
 connecting the intervening events, overtake him be 
 fore he sails from San Francisco. 
 
 After the city of Sacramento had been rebuilt, 
 Graham resumed his business at his old stand No. 
 3 K Street. With enlarged quarters and ampler 
 experience he branched out with every encourage 
 ment of success, but the same fatal blight which 
 
224 ^ WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 had stricken his previous efforts, and from which it 
 seemed he could scarcely ever rally, came again, 
 this time in the form of a protracted flood, which 
 completely inundated the city during the spring 
 months of 1853. Every building was under water, 
 business was suspended, and grave doubts as to the 
 future of the city began to be seriously entertained. 
 The whole volume of the American River ran 
 through the principal streets, and the city was cov 
 ered with rubbish, mud, and sluggish water. Noth 
 ing could be done, because there was nothing to do 
 but patiently await the subsidence of the winter 
 rains and the reconstruction of the city upon higher 
 and safer foundation. Thousands abandoned it or 
 sought refuge for the time being upon higher ground, 
 miles back from the river. 
 
 For Graham there was but one course, and that 
 was to accept the generous invitation to return to 
 Poor Man s Creek and join a party of old friends 
 located there, and take his chances once more as 
 a rough-and-tumble miner. His last visit to the 
 Arbor was made in a dory, the water then being 
 two feet above the floor of his saloon. Such arti 
 cles as were worth securing under difficulties so 
 aggravating were fished out and the rest abandoned. 
 The saloon was locked, the lease, together with the 
 key, was nailed upon the outside door. A notice 
 to the landlord that the occupant had chartered an 
 
POOR MAN S CREEK. 22$ 
 
 ark and gone in search of Mount Ararat, and should 
 not again return, was also posted conspicuously un 
 derneath. Then Graham withdrew from the afflicted 
 city, and with a heavy heart returned to Poor Man s 
 Creek. There he purchased an interest in the min 
 ing operations of his friends and became a formal 
 partner in the company. 
 
 In July, 1854, Graham left Poor Man s Creek for 
 San Francisco, and as the stage dashed along over 
 hills and through the valleys, he found himself occa 
 sionally lost in painful reveries. The Yuba and its 
 receding scenery recalled again to his mind the 
 memorable incidents of by-gone days, and the con 
 trast between the former and his present departure 
 was both striking and suggestive. Five years had 
 now elapsed since his arrival in the new Eldorado, 
 and the reminiscences of those eventful years were 
 reviewed with feelings of touching tenderness. Of 
 the seven associates who had struck out for the 
 mines in the hopeful days of 49, he, it would seem, 
 was the only survivor. Poor Littlefield, after a lin 
 gering illness, died at the Sandwich Islands. Doctor 
 Burns perished upon his ranch on Feather River 
 in the disastrous flood of 53. Wallace disappeared 
 about the same time, and his fate has never been 
 fully known. Graham s experience in the five pre 
 ceding years had been a succession of failures, 
 which, coupled with the loss of his arm, were indeed 
 15 
 
226 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 discouraging. But his return to Poor Man s Creek 
 seems to have been a change for the better, and he 
 began to cast his eyes wishfully towards the Mo 
 hawk Valley. He had become weary of waiting for 
 some reliable news from home. His fears had be 
 come excited over their unaccountable silence, while 
 his heart assured him that all was not well in the 
 valley of the Mohawk. 
 
 It is true the unsettled condition of the country 
 and the imperfect arrangements of the Post Office 
 Department were much to blame for the embarrass 
 ments caused to friends at either end of the route. 
 And then, again, the wandering habits of the early 
 pioneers had undoubtedly destroyed many precon 
 ceived lines of communication from which many 
 sufferings sprang and jealousies were fostered which 
 were never assuaged nor ever after explained. 
 
 Singular as it may seem, he had never met with 
 any one directly from his own village who had left it 
 subsequently to Philip Rugby, who could give him 
 the slightest intelligence of the people he was inter 
 ested in. His letters had unquestionably been an 
 swered, but had reached their destination too late 
 for his reception, and, like thousands of others, had 
 either perished at the sub-agencies at the mines or 
 found an everlasting tomb at the Dead Letter Office. 
 He had realized within the past year a sufficient 
 sum to lilt the mortgage from his mother s home 
 
POOR MAWS CREEK. 22? 
 
 and make her declining years the most enjoyable of 
 her life. He was glad he could return to his home 
 without embarrassment to himself or his friends. 
 He was pleased, aye, more than pleased, he was 
 happy and proud to feel that never for one moment 
 had he lost his own self-respect or fell a victim to 
 the alluring temptations which had ruined so many. 
 Although far from being successful pecuniarily, yet 
 in a measure he was fully compensated by a clearer 
 knowledge of the world, and the importance of self- 
 reliance, which had been drilled into his memory by 
 the force of circumstances. Then, again, the vicissi 
 tudes and the painful scenes in which he had been 
 largely a sharer had taught him of " man s inhu 
 manity to man," and the need of fortitude and 
 strength of character to meet the great adversities of 
 life. But, far above these essential elements which 
 go so far towards sustaining a man during the deep 
 est afflictions which follow him, he had discovered 
 God s holy influence and felt his consoling love 
 during the darkest hours of his misfortunes. He 
 felt that God had watched over him in the gloom 
 and suffering of a hospital ward, and that by his 
 recovery and permission to return again to his home 
 and kindred, He had shown unto him his tenderest 
 mercy and love. 
 
 Vast and important changes had occurred during 
 his residence in the new Eldorado. From a wild, un- 
 
228 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 cultivated Territory, it had become a rich and pros 
 perous State. Villages had sprung up where the 
 log-cabin had, in its extreme loneliness, been forgot 
 ten and unknown. Townships had been platted and 
 roads surveyed, and from her once silent hollows 
 came up the sound of the school-house bell and the 
 children s merry laugh, and above the forest trees 
 the church spire with long tapering finger pointed 
 far up into the deep blue sky. Cities had grown in 
 wealth and significance, civil law had superseded 
 "Judge Lynch," and social order the "vigilance com 
 mittee." Reckless depravity had taken refuge in 
 the slums, and the bowie-knife had to face the po 
 liceman s billy. Human life had become measurably 
 safe, and personal property held with great security. 
 The barbarous custom of hanging criminals from 
 the limbs of trees had been modified by the interpos 
 ition of the stately official, and the outlawed thief 
 found comfortable quarters in the local prisons. The 
 stage dashed along over the roads which were as 
 familiar to his eyes as those which led from Utica up 
 the Mohawk River to Rome. Major Winchester and 
 family continued to reside at the Corner, which had 
 grown to quite a village. The cabin prison was gone, 
 but the "judge s stand," as it was afterwards called, 
 was plainly seen ; even the tree with its long, pro 
 jecting arm, with bits of the rope still dangling in 
 the air, was standing upon the Flats. The Downie 
 
POOR MAN S CREEK. 2 29 
 
 House sign still swung over the hotel door and 
 creaked as hoarsely as ever as it swayed to and fro 
 in the shifting breeze. The Ripple Spring House 
 had deteriorated, but the same singular beauties re 
 mained. The pure, sparkling waters still continued 
 to murmur and sing as they rippled down over their 
 pebbly beds. Sutter s Fort had long been de 
 serted ; its prestige and usefulness were gone, while 
 its fame and power, like its genial host and his hos 
 pitality, were fast being forgotten. The rolling 
 prairie, with its green sward, shaded here and there 
 by massive oaks, was just as fresh and unchanged 
 as ever ; but there was neither stake nor head 
 board standing which marked the grave of the early 
 dead. 
 
 Sacramento City had risen from her bath cleansed 
 and purified, and thrift and prospective greatness 
 multiplied with each succeeding year. The Arbor 
 was no more. It had yielded to the advancing wave 
 of prosperity ; its light had been forever extin 
 guished, and its efforts, however heroic and deserv 
 ing, perished with fire and flood. 
 
 San Francisco had indeed changed since the early 
 days of 49. No man dared prophesy for her then 
 what she really is to-day. The wildest of the Ara 
 bian Nights stories scarcely presents anything more 
 wonderful than the story of her rise to her present 
 grandeur and magnificence ; and she has earned, as 
 
230 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 she is also entitled to, the proud position she occu 
 pies to-day, the great metropolis of the State and 
 the Queen City of the Pacific slope. 
 
 On a clear morning in September, 1854, the steam 
 ship Pacific, with three hundred passengers home 
 ward bound to mingle again in the dreamy joys of 
 by-gone days, took her departure from Long Wharf, 
 San Francisco, for San Juan, Nicaragua. It will be 
 impossible to give a perfect description of such a 
 joyous and impressive scene, especially in a land 
 fraught with so many endearing ties and lasting 
 recollection s as the one they were about to leave. 
 No one could faithfully picture the internal emo 
 tions of that vast crowd, gathered as they were 
 amid the wildest excitement, bidding adieu to those 
 who were, in a short time, to tread their native hills 
 again, and bear glad tidings to anxious and aching 
 hearts at home. Try to imagine yourselves on 
 board that proud and beautiful ship, and if possible 
 united in sympathy with that merry throng who were 
 now separating and exchanging the last good-byes 
 and farewells. 
 
 The grand old ship, covered with her human 
 freight, rises and falls in the swelling tide, and 
 seems impatient to be released from her moorings 
 and bid defiance to the mighty deep. The pilot 
 takes his position at the wheel, and the master of 
 the ship mounts the paddle-box. The cheers be- 
 
POOR MAN S CREEK. 2$ I 
 
 comes more deafening, and the lingering moments 
 more earnest, as the steamer chafes and her hawsers 
 crack in her efforts to break away. At length the 
 master shouts, "All aboard!" and instantly the 
 order to " cast off the bow-line," then the pilot s sig 
 nal to " start her," is heard. Now she swings away 
 from the pier, and her powerful wheels churn the 
 waters into a seething whirlpool. The stern-line is 
 " cast away," and like a thing of life she moves from 
 her berth gracefully out into the bay. 
 
 On goes that stanch good ship before a spank 
 ing breeze, leaping and plunging with sportive bra 
 vado, her decks and spars completely drenched with 
 spray. She playfully kisses the tempestuous sea, 
 and smiles through her tears as the gale increases. 
 Tossing her head with wanton coquetry she laughs 
 to scorn the wild and infuriated storm. Again she 
 skims the subdued sea with "gentle winds and calm 
 blue sky. The moonbeams play upon the tranquil 
 deep, while weary messmates soundly sleep. 
 
 We leave thee, land of wealth and beauty, and to 
 day bid thee a long farewell. When we, the pion 
 eers of thy early glory, shall have passed away, and 
 the memories of thy primitive magnificence forgot 
 ten, who shall repeat thy marvelous riches, who shall 
 tell the pilgrim s story. We found thee a wild, un 
 broken solitude, a land of sunshine and flowers, the 
 slumbering germ of a western empire. We leave 
 
232 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 thee full of buried treasures, covered with myriads 
 of wealth, and conscious of superior greatness, with 
 out a rival in the history of the world. 
 
 But let us return to Graham, who is pacing the 
 deck with a measured tread. His thoughts are wan 
 dering back upon the banks of the Mohawk River. 
 He fancies he is seated at his cottage door beneath 
 a cloudless moon ; that the autumn winds are sigh 
 ing through the tinted foliage ; that his mother in 
 her accustomed mood sits amid the group rehearsing 
 anew some old legend ; thinks that he hears the bub 
 bling brook, and his sister s merry laugh ; then the 
 tolling of the old church-bell the hour of prayer ; 
 the evening song, the bugle s serenade, Major s bark, 
 the Mohawk s murmur, are all present to his mind. 
 Again he follows the bridle path through fern and 
 thicket, and leaps the brook into the old county road 
 as he had done many times before. Again he stands 
 on the portico of the Rugby mansion as the moon 
 goes down behind the " big bend " in the Mohawk 
 River. And Jane stands with him. Aye, his blessed 
 Jane ! Ah, it was so far in years since last they 
 met, and yet so near to memory dear, that the space 
 doth seem but the flittering mist of some evening 
 dream. Yes, there she stands, so confidingly, and 
 nestles so fondly beneath his winter s cloak, her 
 hand clasped in his, her sweet, pretty face against 
 his own ; and he knows that she but expressed the 
 
POOR MAN S CREEK. 233 
 
 holiest purposes of her heart, when she uttered these 
 well remembered words, " Your visits will be ever 
 welcome to Rugby Farm." 
 
 What would be his reception now, disabled for 
 life, his profession gone, his future usefulness still 
 to be acquired ? Could he stand before Squire 
 .Rugby s frowning face ? Would Jane plead for him 
 now as she had done in the warmth of her early 
 love ? Oh, no ; it could not be expected. They 
 were both young then, and overwhelmed with pas 
 sionate attachment for each other. They were too 
 young to have formed a contract so hazardous and 
 compulsory. Things had changed. They were 
 both older, and perhaps wiser. It would be only 
 just and manly to annul the old and then sue for a 
 new engagement. Thus, alone, beneath the waning 
 moon he paced the deck, and while the " stars pro 
 claimed night s cheerless noon," he held sweet com 
 munion with his own conflicting thoughts. But 
 beneath the gathering fears which ever and anon 
 arose in his mind like a grim spectre in the gloom of 
 night, there still remained that strong and over 
 whelming faith in Jane Rugby s constancy and love. 
 How sweet were her parting words, how well remem 
 bered, how oft repeated and as the moon went 
 down beneath the troubled sea, and the vessel rocked 
 with wind and wave, he saw in his imagination the 
 following bow of promise seemingly blazoned upon 
 
234 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 the silvered sky : " Frank, darling, I have suffered 
 for you so much, I must continue to surfer for your 
 sake. This suffering is the price I pay for my un 
 dying love for you. Promise me, darling, before God, 
 in whose presence we stand to-night, you will be 
 faithful and come back again to me." 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 HOME AGAIN. 
 
 DREAM on, thou troubled heart, dream on! 
 
 Indulge in the joys which are thine ! 
 
 The bitterest potion which fills up the cup 
 
 Are found in the dregs of the wine. 
 
 To-morrow thy dreams are to end, 
 
 Thy fondest hopes shall decay, 
 
 Then sip from the cup the joys that are thine, 
 
 And dream on, dream on while you may. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 ON the arrival of the morning train at Fernwood 
 Station a gentlemanly-looking man stepped lightly 
 out upon the platform, and, taking a long sweep 
 ing glance at the surroundings, walked rapidly to 
 wards the Mohawk River. He was a young man some 
 twenty-six years of age, of dark complexion and 
 wearing a full, heavy beard. A warm traveling 
 shawl fastened about the neck partially concealed 
 an empty sleeve looped up from the elbow and tied 
 to a button upon his breast with a piece of black 
 ribbon. It was two miles from the station to the 
 village centre, and the stage with the mail and pas 
 sengers whirled past him as he left the road and 
 struck off through familiar paths known to him long 
 years ago. It was the desire to follow these well 
 
236 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 remembered walks and pass unobserved to his moth 
 er s home, that induced Frank Graham to reject the 
 privilege and allow the stage to depart without him. 
 As he hastened along under the leafless trees, a 
 cold, frosty wind blew the crispy leaves far in ad 
 vance of his feet, and seemed to admonish him that 
 an approaching storm was near. He walked briskly 
 down the sloping hills and followed the old " Pond 
 Lily " road to the left of the cemetery which led to 
 the bridge that spanned the Mohawk River. His 
 heart, hitherto agitated, became filled with strange 
 emotions as he neared his cottage home. The re 
 membrances of by-gone days gathered thick and 
 fast as his eyes rested upon the scenes of earlier 
 days. He felt a peculiar faintness settling down 
 upon his heart as he witnessed the varied changes 
 on every side, and a shadow of some painful calam 
 ity weighed heavily upon him. Several villagers 
 passed him on the way whose countenances seemed 
 familiar, but they knew him not. He reached the 
 curve in the road where he saw for the last time his 
 mother s face as she stood at the garden gate ex 
 posed to the piercing wind on a cold December 
 morn. He cast a quick but anxious look around 
 the hill, his eyes following the drowsy Mohawk and 
 resting upon the church and its long, tapering spire. 
 He saw the cliff, with its wrinkled face, the woods, 
 the water-course, its noisy stream still splashing 
 
HOME AGAIN. 237 
 
 down its side but his cottage home was gone. A 
 cry of anguish came up out of the depths of his 
 soul ; his tortured heart seemed to sink within him. 
 He stood as one riveted to the spot and gazed in 
 painful astonishment at the complete annihilation of 
 his once happy home. That pebbled brook which 
 sang so sweetly and filled his boyhood dreams with 
 strange delight had ceased forever. A grist-mill 
 stood upon that sacred spot, whose thirsty wheel 
 gulped down that never-ceasing stream. The picket 
 fence, the graveled walks, the jessamine bowers, and 
 deeply-ivied walls were all gone. Not a relic left 
 to mark the spot where it had once stood. He ap 
 proached the miller, who had watched him from the 
 door of the mill with seeming curiosity, and asked 
 with fear and trembling to be directed to the resi 
 dence of Mrs. James Graham. 
 
 " Oh, sir ; she be dead. Been dead, sir, these 
 three years, and you 11 find her residence in the 
 churchyard on yonder hill." 
 
 "The children ? Well they be gone away. They 
 left one after the other soon after their mother died, 
 and so far as I know they have not been heard of 
 since. Frank, the oldest boy, is dead. He was 
 killed some years ago out in the gold mines in Cali 
 fornia. I never knew just what happened to him ; 
 but you can find out, if you wish the particulars, at 
 the post-office up in the square." 
 
238 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 Frank Graham stood immovable as a pillar of 
 stone, and gazed into the face of the miller in breath 
 less silence. Shocked at this painful intelligence, 
 and stupefied from the suddenness of the blow, he 
 sat down upon the steps of the mill overwhelmed 
 with grief and astonishment. The wind had in 
 creased in violence, the lowering clouds grew darker 
 and darker, and the air, hitherto chilly and raw, was 
 now filled with sleet and rain, -^ but still he moved 
 not. Buried in the bitterness of his own thoughts, 
 with the folds of his shawl wound tightly about him, 
 he seemed completely overpowered with the magni 
 tude of his loss and the destruction of his home. 
 Should he continue his investigations farther ? 
 Would he dare ask this honest yeoman of the Rug- 
 bys of Rugby Farm ? Would he confirm his suspi 
 cions or dispel these dreadful fears ? could he dare 
 to hope, amid the desolation which had covered his 
 father s house like a pall of death, to find one faith 
 ful heart that would weep " tear for tear and give 
 back sigh for sigh ? " Was it joy or sorrow that 
 must follow these most anxious inquiries ? could he 
 trust his poor heart to yet greater strain, and harass 
 a mind already bewildered and in peril ? Yet it 
 were better he should know far better, if the cup 
 was his, to drink it at a single draught than sip its 
 poison drop by drop. If he had returned to a home 
 utterly destroyed, and its memories hopelessly for- 
 
HOME AGAIN. 239 
 
 saken, without a kindred spirit either to assuage his 
 grief or shed a tear amid its ruins, it were best he 
 should know, and know it quickly. 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied the miller ; " there has been 
 great changes, and vast improvements made in this 
 portion of the Mohawk valley." 
 
 Yes, many of their prominent citizens had gone 
 home to their fathers with ripened years and calen 
 dars filled with good deeds. He knew the Rugbys 
 well. The good old squire was dead. His son 
 Philip had fallen into bad company. He had em 
 bezzled funds belonging to the bank had forged 
 his father s name, and had become a wanderer and 
 an outlaw. The old lady still lived upon the farm, 
 which had been impoverished through the conduct 
 of her son. Her daughter Jane had married, and 
 gone with her husband to Calcutta. 
 
 This announcement, added to that of his mother s 
 death, so unexpected, and yet so pathetically told, 
 were the drops which filled his cup of misery to the 
 brim ; and thanking the miller for his courtesy he 
 withdrew to conceal his feelings and hide his scald 
 ing tears. 
 
 The death of Mr. Graham, and the subsequent 
 report that his son had gone to a premature grave, 
 had crushed the last hope of that wife and mother. 
 Her resources were suddenly cut off, and the grim- 
 fisted Shylock had rapped upon that cottage door. 
 
240 A WINTER EVENING S 7 ALE. 
 
 The mandates of the law had driven her with her 
 little ones from that home. The auctioneer s ham 
 mer had fed the cravings of that miser s heart. She 
 died full of hope and love, to sleep in the arms of 
 Him who doeth all things well. 
 
 He wandered over the hills and through the vales 
 and viewed the scenes of earlier days. The faithful 
 dog which had shared his joys and sorrows stood 
 guardian of the village store, and knew him not. 
 The old spotted cow, which he and Major had so 
 often chased through the " deep tangled wildwood," 
 stood lowing at the stranger s gate. His father s 
 library, his paintings, his collections of birds and 
 curiosities, graced the walls of those who knew not 
 their value. The old oaken clock which had marked 
 the hours of fourscore years, and the arm-chair in 
 which his mother sang her evening lullabies, had 
 passed to others keeping. His sister s playthings, 
 and his own little ship, with snow-white sails and 
 tiny masts, were the sport and amusement of a new 
 generation. Go where he would, some memento of 
 departed days appeared to awaken afresh his grief 
 and prolong his tears. 
 
 Many of his dear old friends who had prophesied 
 for him such a brilliant future had passed away, 
 never to return. Most of his schoolmates had mar 
 ried, and many had sought new homes, and he stood 
 in the midst of the holiest of his recollections, seem- 
 
HOME AGAIN, 24! 
 
 ingly forgotten and unknown. He had purposely 
 concealed his identity from every one but Aunt Ber 
 tha, his mother s faithful friend and nurse, who be 
 held him with startled wonder and surprise. She 
 welcomed him tenderly to her humble home, and 
 explained to him the cause of his mother s illness 
 and her subsequent death. She corroborated the 
 miller s statement with reference to the Rugbys at 
 Rugby Farm. She had heard of Miss Rugby s mar 
 riage ; that was all. She had no reasons for dis 
 crediting the rumor. She warmly defended Jane 
 Rugby s devotion and innocence, and while he con 
 tinued her guest spared no pains to sweeten the bit 
 terest draught of his life. Philip Rugby had indeed 
 proven a prodigal son, for not only had he betrayed 
 his father s confidence, and dishonored his name, 
 but had absconded, leaving a tottering home to fall 
 in ruins, and a "father s gray hairs to go down in 
 sorrow to the grave." Jane Rugby had married. She 
 had married with the fullest assurance that Frank 
 Graham was dead and buried, and up to the very 
 last moment solemnly believed that such was indeed 
 the fact. She had married a sea-captain, engaged 
 in the East India trade. He was part owner in his 
 ship, and as his wife preferred the sea to being 
 a-lone, they had sailed together upon their second 
 voyage but a few months previous to Graham s re 
 turn. Realizing that she was forever lost to him, he 
 16 
 
242 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 abandoned with Christian resignation all hope of 
 ever seeing her again. 
 
 He continued the guest of Aunt Bertha while 
 arranging with the sexton the future care of his 
 mother s grave. The time had now come when he 
 must leave these sacred scenes and never again re 
 turn. He must go, he cared not whither, make new 
 friends, and lay the foundation for a new home. He 
 paid a last visit to his mother s grave a neat little 
 stone had been erected to mark that hallowed spot ; 
 the flowers were still blooming, their perfume scent 
 ing the chilly air. The sun had settled behind the 
 forest trees, the crispy leaves crumbled beneath his 
 feet. The cold November wind bit sharp, and the 
 fading sunset warned him it was time to go, and 
 yet, mute and sad, he stood, oblivious to the closing 
 day. 
 
 This, dear reader, is but one case among the 
 thousands of a like nature which are the results of 
 a morbid love of wealth. Mr. Graham, as you have 
 seen, was surrounded by many of those blessings 
 which help to sweeten the cares of life, but gold, 
 that wily tempter, allured him to an untimely grave. 
 He left a pure and doting widow, whose pallid cheeks 
 became the channels for a thousand tears. They 
 left four orphan children of tender years, bereft of 
 home and kindred, and whose guileless hearts had 
 never known a moment s sorrow. 
 
HOME AGAIN. 243 
 
 Gather ye about your hearth-stones, and bless the 
 sanctity of your humble homes. Be kind to your 
 little ones, and weave a garland of roses about their 
 youthful brows. Gather them unto you, as the hen 
 gathereth her brood, and forsake them not, that they 
 may become a staff to your old age, and a blessing 
 to your declining years. Be mindful, that we are all 
 traveling to a land of sunshine and flowers, whose 
 sun never sets, and -whose flowers neither droop 
 nor die. Be ye watchful and wary, less the glitter 
 of wealth and the love of display should hide the 
 right path and lead you astray. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THANKSGIVING WEEK. 
 
 The various mercies from above, 
 
 Matured the swelling grain ; 
 A kindly harvest crowns thy love, 
 And plenty fills the plain." 
 
 ANOTHER year had rolled around, and Thanks 
 giving Day, the most sacred holiday in the year, 
 having been publicly announced from the pulpits 
 throughout the old Commonwealth, was being looked 
 forward to with grateful anticipations by every heart 
 that claimed a home within the limits of New Eng 
 land. Already the venerable turkey and his prog 
 eny had succumbed to the annual sacrifice, and in 
 every direction his headless body could be seen ig- 
 nominiously suspended to public gaze. Already his 
 friendly associate, the motherly hen, and brood, had 
 passed under the guillotine, and, disrobed even of 
 her night-dress, hung shamefully exposed upon the 
 street corners. Already the markets were groan 
 ing under the accumulated luxuries of the season, 
 and the thoroughfares were filled with excited ven 
 ders, anxious to dispose of their stock in trade while 
 
THANKSGIVING WEEK. 245 
 
 prices were stiff. Already the careful buyer watched 
 the wavering vane for a " break in the market," 
 while the country huckster, alive to the importance 
 of a "cold snap," watched with equal zeal the rise 
 and fall in the thermometer. Heavily laden trucks 
 and teams filled with merchandise en route to the 
 great outlets were seen cutting their way through the 
 surging masses that blocked the avenues of trade. 
 The practical housewife and devoted mother were 
 busy as bees completing their manifold duties, which 
 demanded fresh outlays, and articles too numerous 
 to mention must be purchased at whatever cost to 
 increase the attractions and enhance the interest 
 of the occasion. Rooms must be beautified, tables 
 adorned, and the present Thanksgiving dinner su 
 persede all other efforts of their married lives. 
 
 The tender associations which cluster around 
 Thanksgiving Day will always make it a day of 
 great social interest, and for generations to come it 
 will continue the most enjoyable day of the year. 
 For coming as it does, just after the completion 
 of th.e harvest, when the golden grains have been 
 garnered, and the fruits of the fields gathered and 
 stored, it seems to finish with singular fitness the 
 season s prosperity, and crown, as it were, with glory 
 the fullness of the departing year. 
 
 The Tuesday previous to Thanksgiving Day be 
 gan with a violent snow-storm, which subsequently 
 
246 A WINTER EVENINGS TALE. 
 
 turned into sleet. It was followed by a strong 
 easterly wind which drifted the snow into vast 
 ricks, and made travel both difficult and dangerous. 
 Without a moment s cessation it snowed and rained 
 from two o clock in the morning. Business was in 
 terrupted, and the schools held no sessions. It was 
 the day usually assigned by market-men for arrang 
 ing and exposing their goods for sale, but of course 
 such was the severity of the storm the custom had 
 to be abandoned. In Boston it was dismal enough, 
 and the surrounding country was but little less than 
 a bed of mire and slush. The fog hung low and 
 the city was enshrouded in it all day. Darkness in 
 all places not near the door or window compelled a 
 general use of gas in stores and counting-rooms. 
 Few pedestrians were in the streets, and these, with 
 their heads bundled up as big as bushel baskets, 
 were seen reeling and staggering against the in 
 creasing fury. There was but little shopping done ; 
 comparatively few teams were exposed, and scarcely 
 anything could be seen excepting the shamefully 
 over-loaded omnibus with jaded horses tugging and 
 smarting under the lashes of an "impious whip," 
 determined to " make time," and Boston hid itself 
 from the constant downfall of snow and rain. All 
 who were forced out into the storm seemed to be put 
 on the defensive. Every umbrella was canted to 
 the northeast. Everybody and everything dripped. 
 
THANKSGIVING WEEK. 247 
 
 Hat-brims were water-sheds ; collars were turned 
 up ; pantaloons were tucked into boots ; rubber over 
 garments extending from top to toe were every 
 where, and it rained and snowed, fast and furious, 
 all the early morning, all the afternoon, and into the 
 night. It was rain and snow everywhere, and gloom 
 and darkness covered the land. 
 
 Faneuil Hall and Quincy Markets could best, per 
 haps, show the effects of that storm, for there were 
 centred the night before the great staple articles so 
 indispensable for the approaching festivities, and 
 loads upon loads of poultry and country produce 
 were seen that morning strung along through the 
 different avenues almost buried in the snow-drifts, 
 deserted apparently by their owners, and their con 
 tents abandoned to the mercy of the storm. Im 
 provised stalls, occupying " commanding corners " 
 for trade, and " desirable locations " for jobbing, had 
 long been taken up, and the traveling vender with 
 his hand-cart hugged the curbstone with his straight 
 Rhode Island birds as " pretty as pinks." The 
 storm had struck the " early birds " that morning, 
 and the " worms " were seen lounging about the 
 warm, comfortable saloons under the shadow of the 
 Cradle of Liberty. Rain, snow, waste, and destruc 
 tion went hand in hand. Teams, stalls, hand-carts, 
 stood where they had been arranged the night be 
 fore, and many of their owners stood guard in the 
 
248 A WINTER EVENINGS TALE. 
 
 chilly air, wet to the skin, bluer than whet-stones, 
 and waiting for an opportunity to sell out. There 
 were turkeys upon the awnings, turkeys suspended 
 to hooks and frames ; there were turkeys and chick 
 ens everywhere, but nobody there to buy. 
 
 " Halloo, Skowhegan ! How s turkeys selling to 
 day?" asked a neighboring huckster, who with a 
 sad grin of irony stood eyeing his competitor from 
 a doorway through the drifting snow and rain. 
 
 " Sell ? neighbor ! " said the Maine man, his face 
 resembling a piece of honey-combed tripe and his 
 beard covered with icicles, " Sell ? " he again ex 
 claimed, with a whole volume of invectives boiled 
 down into one of immeasurable hate, and dropping 
 a quid of tobacco into the palm of his hand he threw 
 it savagely at a cock turkey fastened to a pole 
 which resembled a defeated candidate after an elec 
 tion. 
 
 " Say, Newmarket ! Is there any place here 
 abouts, as you knows on, as would take a turkey for 
 a good square drink ? " 
 
 " Well, I dun know, Skow. I knows where we 
 can get a drink for a quarter but turkeys, you 
 see, are dreadful poor property hereabouts." And 
 a moment later the twin venders, with a sickly look 
 ing turkey slung over their shoulders, were seen 
 to enter the " Bite " tavern in the Square and 
 " smile " over the mutual losses of the hour. 
 
7 HANKSGIVING WEEK. 249 
 
 "Halloo, Chelsea! What, are ye dead?" ex 
 claimed a tall, raw-boned woman from Salem Street, 
 wearing a pair of No. 10 rubbers and a green plaid 
 shawl over her head, her skirts wet and dragging in 
 the slush. 
 
 " Dead ! No ! " replied the little man, with eye 
 glasses resting upon the tip of his nose, and squat 
 ting upon a box of poultry with a mammoth um 
 brella over his head. 
 
 " Not dead, madam, but sleeping taking a nap 
 that s all. What do ye want ? " 
 
 " What do I want ? Why I want to buy a tur 
 key," said the dame, with a monster cabbage under 
 her arm and clinging with a death-like grip to a 
 pair of drowned " spring chickens." " Come, wake 
 up ! " and Chelsea handed out some half dozen fine- 
 looking birds. 
 
 " Well, old man ; them kind of goods are cheap 
 to-day. What s yer price ? " 
 
 "Yes, madam. We re giving them away just 
 giving them away only eighteen cents." 
 
 " Eighteen cents ! What ails you ? Been offered 
 a fine one for ten ! " 
 
 " A crow, madam ; must have been a crow, not a 
 turkey." 
 
 " Devil a crow, old man, and don t you forget it. 
 Come, now, I 11 give ye twelve." And she grabbed . 
 a twelve-pound turkey by the legs and ran her long, 
 
250 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 thin nose up into its stomach, and then added, with 
 a contemptuous smile, "that rooster is sick he s 
 had the jaundice and he s musty, old man ! " 
 
 " It s you, granny," said the little man under the 
 umbrella, sharply, " it s you that s musty. Put the 
 bird down ! " 
 
 "What ! "_she screamed, loud enough to wake the 
 dead, and swinging the turkey high up in the air. 
 "What ! " yelled this piece of injured innocence, her 
 eyes snapping like tallow candles and glaring into 
 those of the huckster s with a malignant hate. 
 " What ! " she again exclaimed, " insult a lone woman 
 with five children and a sick man to home ! " and 
 quick as a flash of light, she brought that turkey 
 down like a sledge hammer upon the little blue 
 awning which instantly collapsed, and before Chel 
 sea could realize the situation she gave him a fear 
 ful whack over the head, amid the cries of " Go in 
 old woman, go in-!" from faces seen under wagon- 
 covers and awnings. 
 
 A moment later this representative of Copps Hill 
 was seen going very fast up Union Street with the 
 twelve-pound turkey in one hand and her cabbage 
 and spring chickens in the other, in " search of the 
 perlice," who of course were " in out of the wet," 
 serenely engaged over a hot sling with Billy Watts 
 at the Marshall House. 
 
 There were many similar scenes witnessed during 
 
THANKSGIVING WEEK. 
 
 that cold, blustering storm, and many personal en 
 counters of a far more amusing character between 
 huckster and marketman ; but cold and disagreeable 
 as were the surroundings, nothing seemed to dis 
 turb the steady good temper and the general flow of 
 wit on every side, and it is said that many heavy 
 sales were effected " between drinks " on that bleak 
 November day. 
 
 At the opening of the present chapter we find 
 our friend Graham in business in the vicinity of the 
 Quincy Market, and devoting the spare day to post 
 ing up his books. The storm still continued to rage 
 with great fury, and while he was bending over his 
 desk a young gentleman entered the counting-room, 
 and said, as he shook the snow from his wraps, 
 
 " Good morning, Frank." 
 
 " Hullo, Gus. What in time brought you down 
 here to-day ? " 
 
 " Come to see you, old fellow. Why don t you 
 have a fire." 
 
 " That s quite a compliment. Pray sit down." 
 
 " Don t fuss with the stove, Frank, for I m in a 
 fearful hurry to catch the next train out." 
 
 " Well, let me show my appreciation of your 
 visit." 
 
 " You can best do that by accepting the terms 
 which has made this visit indispensable." 
 
 " Pray, what are they ? I can almost promise you 
 in advance." 
 
252 A WINTER EVENING S TALE 
 
 "Nothing but an invitation from father and mother 
 to take dinner with us Thanksgiving Day. We are 
 going to have a quiet little time by ourselves, and a 
 sleigh-ride after supper. I promised to bring out 
 your answer to-night. Come, don t hesitate but 
 say Yes we are not asking you to attend a 
 funeral." 
 
 " Have you come from Bromfield Street through 
 this pelting storm for that purpose ? " 
 
 "Yes, I have, with the exception of a message 
 to the bank, and I don t see how you can very 
 well say No." 
 
 " Nor neither can I, Gus." 
 
 " Then you will come ? " 
 
 " Yes, I should be unworthy your parent s esteem 
 to refuse." 
 
 " Then take the i P. M. train, and I will meet you 
 with our team upon its arrival. It s all settled, 
 is it?" 
 
 " Yes ; I shall surely come if the train does." 
 
 "Well, then I ll be off," said his friend as he 
 wound the wraps about his head and shoulders, 
 and then added, " What message have you for the 
 girls ? " 
 
 " Oh, tell them not to kill me with any more sur 
 prises. I have n t fully recovered from the last." 
 
 "Beats the Dutch, don t it, Frank. But there! 
 they are everlastingly conjuring up some necromancy 
 
THANKSGIVING WEEK. 253 
 
 or other to bother and fret us fellows. I should n t 
 wonder if they sprang another trap upon you yet, 
 that will be worse than the last." 
 
 " Don t see how they can, Gus, for I have become 
 familiar with their schemes and tactics, and to be 
 forewarned is simply to be forearmed." 
 
 " That is quite true ; still they are such adepts in 
 their rdle that it would n t surprise me at all if they 
 " panned " you out a wife yet." 
 
 " That would indeed be a surprise," said Graham, 
 laughing, and pressing his friend s hand as he said 
 good-by ; and then added, " But, Gus, it s hard to 
 catch old birds with chaff. " 
 
 " Yes, I know, Graham, and yet I often think of 
 the many stubborn facts which occur daily to dis 
 prove your dogma and confirm the doctrine of pre 
 destination, which affirms, if it does not convince us 
 all, how impossible it is to avoid the inevitable." 
 
 " I am to understand, then, that my spiritual affin 
 ity is now floating about in the air in your neighbor 
 hood, and upon the certainty of this visit hangs a 
 story and a cheap wedding ? " 
 
 " I cannot discuss the subject, Frank. I have not 
 the time, but I will venture to say this much. I be 
 lieve for every Jack there s a Gill. I know you are 
 a man of warm impulses and strong social habits, 
 and that your sympathetic feelings crave a compan 
 ionable and faithful friend which cannot be realized 
 outside of a married life." 
 
254 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 " Go on, Gus ; this is beautiful," said Graham, 
 crunching a cracker. 
 
 "I know," continued his friend, giggling, "that 
 you are yearning for just such a companion. I feel 
 that there is now existing somewhere I cannot 
 presume to say where but somewhere there ex 
 ists a woman who is every way adapted to your 
 wants and tastes ; that she is looking for just such a 
 man to satisfy her longings, as you are for a woman 
 to assuage yours ; and that both of you are waiting 
 for the golden opportunity which shall consummate 
 both your desires. It may not be this year, nor the 
 next, that this meeting shall take place ; but mark 
 me, whenever this woman and you come together, 
 whether it happens in Boston or New York, you 
 will know it, and she will know it, and nothing short 
 of a first-class death will prevent a happy union 
 and don t forget it." 
 
 " Should your predictions ever be verified," said 
 Graham, as his friend strode out into the storm, " I 
 will join your church, and bless the fates which re 
 vealed to the nineteenth century such a stupendous 
 wonder." 
 
 Thanksgiving morning opened clear but cold, and 
 Graham, seated in the car, followed with his eyes 
 the hills, meadows, and beach as the train ploughed 
 through the snow-drifts over the marshes by the 
 sea. 
 
THANKSGIVING WEEK. 2$$ 
 
 The little peaceful villages nestling against the 
 frozen hills and the deep blue sky, with their unas 
 suming churches standing in their midst like watch 
 ful shepherds guarding their flocks, were passed in 
 succession, and in an hour the train dashed into the 
 famous old city of witches. 
 
 There is little to be said in reference to what oc 
 curred in the interval between Graham s leaving the 
 Mohawk valley and his unexpected appearance as a 
 clerk in a " down town " house in the city of Boston. 
 His disability rendered a change of profession nec 
 essary, and he sought and acquired in that city a 
 mercantile education, which will account for the 
 position he filled at the opening of this chapter. 
 With a private family at the West End of the city 
 he found a neat and peaceful home, where he was 
 gradually, but surely, wearing out the sad and blis 
 tering memories of the past. Without a friend or 
 an acquaintance, he had gone to that great city and 
 mapped out the hidden future before him. Conceal 
 ing from the world the diversities of his past pur 
 suits, confiding to no one the disasters which had 
 befallen his father s house, he lived the quiet and 
 secluded gentleman, bearing an aching heart which 
 refused to be comforted. 
 
 Jane Rugby s name had never passed his lips, 
 and with the exception of the casket containing the 
 little gifts, which lay at the bottom of his trunk, no 
 
A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 one would have suspected that such a person had 
 ever lived. Once in a while, in the gloom of the 
 hour and the seclusion of his chamber, that still 
 cherished remembrance of other days would be 
 brought to the surface and its contents tenderly ex 
 amined. He would composedly retrace his steps 
 through fern and thicket to Rugby Farm, and recall 
 the words that fell from her lips, as she fastened 
 the rosebud to the lapel of his coat. The tender 
 hours spent together upon Rugby Hill, the anxious 
 scenes with the Squire at the farm, and the ever- 
 memorable separation upon the balcony on that 
 chilly November night long years ago, the recol 
 lections of these eventful days, and the sacred mem 
 ories which clustered around them, would revive in 
 all their vividness those happy days, the happiest of 
 his life, and infuse into his heart the only consola 
 tion acceptable, that their separation was both for 
 cible and a monstrous wrong. The letter, " more 
 expressive than wise," would be read over and over 
 again. The ring, "the emblem of my plighted love " 
 embroidered on a black velvet pocket which held it, 
 and, " keep it as a talisman, and return it, when your 
 love for me is dead," finely written upon a card and 
 attached with a silken cord, was after a while laid 
 by its side, and " last but not least, the picture of 
 your affianced wife," was gazed upon fondly and with 
 a never-dying zeal. 
 
THANKSGIVING WEEK. 
 
 Reader, if Jane Rugby was a married woman with 
 a family growing up around her, what right had 
 Graham with these souvenirs ? Why had he not 
 buried them under the head-stone of his mother s 
 grave ? Why had he not destroyed them, since they 
 could never be of service to him, and the spirit which 
 actuated the giver at the time was as dead as she 
 had proven base and heartless, and their posses 
 sion only a quickening torment and an everlasting 
 stinging pain. As was his purpose so it should 
 have ended, he should have banished her name 
 and image from his heart and thought, and cast 
 these tokens, the reminders of her weakness and 
 perfidy, into the depths of the sea. But he had not 
 done so as you see and why simply because 
 his love for Jane Rugby was not yet dead. If she 
 had proven false to him and repudiated the dearest 
 ties of the human heart, not so with him his love 
 had been built upon a rock too firm to be so easily 
 washed away. The future was long and compara 
 tively narrow, there was a possibility of their yet 
 meeting again should such an event ever happen 
 it would be worth the sacrifice of one-liio. to prove 
 the strength of man s character and show how true 
 he might have been to her. 
 17 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THANKSGIVING DINNER IN THE CITY OF WITCHES. 
 
 " Come ! if you come not, 1 can wait, 
 My faith, like life, is love ; 
 My will not little : my hope much : 
 The patient are the strong 
 
 M Yet come, ah come ! The years run fast, 
 And hearts grow swiftly cold 
 Hearts too ; but while blood beats in mine 
 It holds you, and will hold. 
 
 " And so before you it lies bare 
 Take it or let it lie, 
 It was an honest heart ; and yours 
 To all eternity." 
 
 ANON. 
 
 FRANK GRAHAM was the guest of Joshua Living 
 stone, a retired sea-captain who lived in the central 
 part of the city of Salem. He had formed his ac 
 quaintance during the voyage from Nicaragua to 
 New York. This acquaintance had ripened into a 
 friendship which had continued ever since. His 
 oldest son, Augustus, was about the same age as 
 Graham, between whom there had sprung up an 
 attachment which had never been disturbed. His 
 daughters, Fanny and Mabel, were both married 
 and lived at home with their parents. These made 
 a pleasant family group, and contributed much to 
 
THANKSGIVING IN THE CITY OF WITCHES. 259 
 
 the enjoyments of this charming New England 
 home. 
 
 Upon Graham s arrival at the home of the Liv 
 ingstones he was met by, and of course became the 
 personal guest of, his young friend. Both gentle 
 men were engaged in arranging their toilets for 
 dinner, and listening alternately to the noise and 
 clatter which the girls were making as they scam 
 pered from one room to another. The air was 
 strongly impregnated with the savory odors, in 
 which the "Rhode Island fancy" contributed seem 
 ingly the largest share. The company were still 
 arriving, the gentlemen being in charge of the Cap 
 tain, while the ladies were being entertained by the 
 girls in the parlor. 
 
 " I tell you what it is, Frank," said his friend, as 
 he twisted the ends of his moustache between his 
 waxen fingers, " those witches down-stairs are plan 
 ning a campaign against some of us fellows, and 
 you had better open the door and listen." 
 
 "Well, I don t see what good that will do, unless 
 to show them they are suspected and stimulate them 
 to double their craftiness. 
 
 " Perhaps after dinner we had better go over to 
 the club for a while," suggested Gus. 
 
 " What ! retreat in the face of your enemies ! 
 That s cowardly. Better capitulate or even sur 
 render unconditionally. Who is the lady that s 
 
26O A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 singing in the parlor ? " he added, stopping suddenly 
 in the midst of his sentence". 
 
 " Oh, that s a school-marm from Ipswich. She 
 taught school here some years since and sister Fan 
 was one of her pupils." 
 
 " She has a sweet pretty voice," remarked Gra 
 ham, " but a little too sad to be popular. It seems 
 as though I had heard that voice before some 
 where in my rambles. What is her name ? " 
 
 When he asked this question he stood looking 
 out of the chamber window, and his face wore an 
 unusually sad and dejected expression. 
 
 " Miss Miss Miss somebody," said his 
 friend, deeply interested in the effects of the comb 
 and brush upon his nicely cut side whiskers. " I 
 thought," he continued, " I could spit her name right 
 out but let me see Ah, I have it Bugbee 
 yes, Bugbee that s it." 
 
 Miss Bugbee continued to sing. Her full rich 
 voice seemed to rise up out of the floor and fill the 
 room with its strange and affecting melody. As the 
 following words burst from her lips, distinct and 
 clear, and fell upon the ears of the young men, they 
 stopped and listened, 
 
 " Oh, no ; I never mention him, 
 His name is never heard ; 
 My lips are now forbid to speak 
 That once familiar word. 
 From sport to sport they hurried me, 
 
THANKSGIVING IN THE CITY OF WITCHES. 26 1 
 
 To banish my deep regret, 
 But if he loves, as I have loved, 
 He never can forget." 
 
 " Why, Graham, what ails you ? Don t you feel 
 well ? " questioned his friend, feelingly. 
 
 " Never felt better in my life, Gus, never. Why 
 what made you ask such a question ? " 
 
 " Well, nothing beyond a slight pallor I fancied I 
 saw in your face." 
 
 " You must n t forget I am in the city of witches, 
 of whose subtile influences I am cautioned to be 
 ware. " 
 
 Rap rap rap. 
 
 " Come in," said Gus, " Come in." 
 
 " The dinner, gentlemen, is on the table, and the 
 company are waiting for you," said the servant, 
 peeping through the door. 
 
 "We ll be right down," said Livingstone, exam 
 ining himself carefully before the glass. 
 
 " Come, Frank, brace up," said his friend, as he 
 held the door in his hand. " Let us go down and 
 behold some of your much dreaded witches. By 
 the right flank, forward march." 
 
 " And fall a prey to their delusive charms," added 
 Graham, laughing, as he followed his friend down 
 the stair-way. 
 
 " Nothing of that nature can ever harm you, old 
 fellow ; for, like Macbeth, you have a charmed life." 
 
262 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 " And yet these prophetic deceptions led him to 
 his death," replied Graham, as they entered the 
 hall. 
 
 " In your case let us hope the scene will be re 
 versed," said his friend, as they walked into the 
 dining-room. 
 
 The dining-hall for the occasion had been en 
 larged and to meet the requirements of an unusually 
 large number of guests the tables were extended 
 into the sitting-room by removing the folding doors. 
 Dinner, as Dolly had said, was all on the table and 
 the guests were being waited upon as rapidly as 
 possible. The young gentlemen walked quickly to 
 the head of the table and took the seats assigned 
 them. They stood for a moment in full view of the 
 company, while young Livingstone introduced his 
 friend. Then both bowed politely, and dropped 
 quietly into their seats. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Livingstone were in the very best 
 of spirits. The waiters were kept busy in passing 
 the various side dishes, when suddenly a goblet fell 
 with a crash upon the table, spattering the water in 
 every direction, instantly arresting the clatter of 
 knives and forks and the hum of voices. A faint 
 scream accompanied the clatter of broken glass, 
 and although it was partially drowned by the con 
 fusion caused by ladies and gentlemen rising to 
 their feet quickly and closing in around the scene 
 
THANKSGIVING IN THE CITY OF WITCHES. 263 
 
 of the accident, still a low, piercing wail was dis 
 tinctly heard by Augustus Livingstone and his 
 friend. "A lady has fainted, one of the guests," 
 came up from one gentleman to another in a whis 
 per, and a moment later she was taken up tenderly 
 and borne away. 
 
 " Dear me ! " said Mrs. Talbot, in a profound whis 
 per to her neighbor, " how sudden ! why it gave me 
 such a shock ! " 
 
 " How is the lady ? " inquired Mrs. Banister, ad 
 dressing Mrs. Livingstone, who a few minutes later 
 resumed her seat at the table. 
 
 " Oh, she is quite comfortable and very happy," 
 said the lady addressed, with a pleasant smile and a 
 significant wink. 
 
 " It was not a shock of paralysis then, as I feared," 
 inquired a lady from the opposite side of the table. 
 
 "Oh, no," said the lady spoken to; "nothing so 
 serious as that, I hope. The doctor," she added, 
 "calls it nervous prostration, caused from sudden 
 fright. She will be all right presently." 
 
 " Sudden fright ! " exclaimed Mrs. Talbot. " Why, 
 how dreadful. Pray, where is the monster?" said 
 the lady, as she stared inquiringly into the face of 
 each gentleman with assumed gravity and alarm. 
 
 " It is you, Graham," said young Livingstone, as 
 he passed the celery ; " I 11 bet my bottom dollar it 
 is you." 
 
264 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 " More than likely the poor girl has seen one of 
 your infernal hobgoblins, which infests this unfort 
 unate city." 
 
 " You remember, I told you the devil would be to 
 pay here to-night." 
 
 " Yes, I know it, and I am gradually yielding to 
 his cursed influences." 
 
 " What was the name your mother gave the lady, 
 was it Bugbee ? " 
 
 "Augustus," said his mother, interrupting, "I 
 would speak to you if you have finished your 
 dinner." 
 
 "Yes, mother, I will follow you." And Graham 
 returned to his friend s room alone. 
 
 When young Livingstone came back to his room 
 he walked quietly up to the fire-place and said, 
 while his face beamed all over with pleasure : 
 " Come, Frank, it s your turn now ; the plot is thick 
 ening, and you re in for it. Mother wants to see 
 you in her private room." 
 
 " Wants to see me in private ! " said Graham, in 
 surprise. "You are joking, Gus." 
 
 " Not a bit of it. Go along down ; you cannot 
 fear my mother, surely," said Livingstone, lighting 
 a cigar. " Go ahead," he continued. " She is wait 
 ing for you." 
 
 " Trust myself with your mother ! Well, yes, I 
 think I can ; but if this private interview does not 
 
THANKSGIVING IN THE CITY OF WITCHES. 26$ 
 
 prove the prelude to a grand comedy, in which, as 
 usual, I am assigned the heaviest part, you can shoot 
 me with an onion." 
 
 " Remember, you are invulnerable," said his friend, 
 with a deep chuckle. 
 
 " Invulnerable, indeed ! ^ exclaimed Graham, ner 
 vously, as he strode towards the door. "Why, 
 nothing can withstand the plots which these girls 
 can get up. Already they have commenced to in 
 flate one of their diabolical balloons, and in its as 
 cension, mark me, you will miss your friend, and 
 when you find him, if you ever do, it will be a-strad- 
 dle of Bunker Hill Monument, or some other emi 
 nence equally fatal." 
 
 " More likely find you in the arms of some beau 
 tiful witch, floating about in the moonbeams intox 
 icated with hymeneal joys," whispered his friend, as 
 the former disappeared in the hall. 
 
 "Mrs. Livingstone, did you wish to see me?" 
 asked Graham, as that lady responded to his sum 
 mons. 
 
 " Yes, I did, Frank ; please walk in. I have a 
 patient here," she began. 
 
 " Indeed," exclaimed Graham, suspiciously scan 
 ning the form upon the sofa. 
 
 "Yes," she resumed, "and she has expressed a 
 wish to see you." 
 
 " I feel deeply flattered, Mrs. Livingstone, indeed 
 I do," said Graham, bowing with profound civility. 
 
266 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 " She has," again resumed the lady, enjoying the 
 secret, and realizing how supremely ignorant he was 
 of the impending revelation, "she has made many 
 inquiries concerning you, and regards these simul 
 taneous visits of yours in the light of a special act 
 of Divine Providence. She now feels that this in 
 terview is absolutely essential to her recovery, and 
 perhaps necessary to your future happiness." 
 
 " This is delightful," added Graham, with a laugh. 
 
 "Be that as it may, Graham, she has conceived 
 the idea that this meeting is inevitable, and hope 
 fully awaits the remedies which can alone save her 
 from a long and painful illness, and possibly a pre 
 mature grave." 
 
 " I like these little side shows ! " exclaimed Gra 
 ham, pacing the room ; " they are quite refreshing, 
 Mrs. Livingstone. I am glad you are taking a part 
 in the comedy arranged for to-night. The girls must 
 appreciate your peculiar merits if I don t. It is a 
 little too late, however, for a midsummer s night s 
 dream, and I am not equal to the part of Romeo. 
 Assign me, please, as the fatherly Friar, for then I 
 can kiss the maiden with impunity." 
 
 " Come, dear," said Mrs. Livingstone imprinting 
 a kiss upon her patient s lips, " Come, be not afraid ; 
 for "all s well that ends well," and bowing, with a 
 mischievous smile upon her face and a merry twin 
 kle in her eyes, she withdrew, leaving the invalid 
 and her physician alone. 
 
THANKSGIVING IN THE CITY OF WITCHES. 267 
 
 As the patient timidly arose to her feet and re 
 moved the veil which had partially concealed her 
 face Graham stepped back and uttered a deep cry of 
 startled wonder, and a name which had once been to 
 him so tender and familiar, died upon his lips, in one 
 long stifled whisper. For some moments he neither 
 moved nor spoke, but gazed fixedly upon the face 
 before him. A change soon became perceptible ; 
 the previous ten years of his life seemed to pass rap 
 idly in review ; the slender girl of seventeen stood 
 before him now developed into a full-grown woman ; 
 the delicate tints and girlish bloom were gone, but 
 the same lines of character and singular beauty still 
 remained, only more fully defined. And she, poor 
 girl, trembling before his searching look, with hands 
 clasped before her, and eyes dimmed with tears, she 
 stood the very picture of hope, smiling upon a new 
 born day. 
 
 " Jane Rugby ! " he exclaimed, impassionately. 
 " In God s name is this you ? " 
 
 " Yes, I am Jane Rugby of Rugby Farm." 
 " And do you still bear that name ? " 
 " Yes ; I have never borne any other ! " 
 " Then you are not married, Jane ? " 
 " I am betrothed but not married." 
 " Betrothed, did you say ? Then you have sought 
 this interview simply to tear afresh the wound, and 
 teach me to hate your memory ? " 
 
268 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 " No, Graham ; indeed no. God forbid. You mis 
 understood me. Don t leave me ; pray don t go ! " 
 
 " But you say you are betrothed, and yet you 
 once pledged yourself most solemnly to me." 
 
 " Yes, Graham ; I remember well those happy 
 days, but they extend back to long years ago." 
 
 " Nevertheless, those vows, so sacredly plighted, 
 were registered in heaven." 
 
 "And so were yours, alongside of them." 
 
 " True, Jane ; and there they still remain. They 
 have never yet been canceled." 
 
 " Neither have mine, my poor dear boy. Oh, bless 
 you for that avowal." 
 
 " Then it is I, Jane, to whom you are betrothed ; 
 and do you still love me as fondly as ever ? " 
 
 "Yes, Frank ; I am to you just what I was ten 
 long years ago your faithful queen. " 
 
 " And you have been true to me all these years ? " 
 
 " Yes, my poor boy. I could not have done less." 
 
 " Kneel, darling ; kneel with me, and before God, 
 and in his sight, let us pour out the fullness of our 
 hearts before Him, tell how boundless are our 
 joys, how immeasurable are our thanks ; beseech 
 Him to bless this reunion and sanctify our immedi 
 ate marriage." 
 
 " Seal it, Frank dear, seal it with eternity s kiss." 
 
 " From this hour, Jane, no more separations, but, 
 one and indivisible, we will tread life s thorny path 
 
THANKSGIVING IN THE CITY OF WITCHES. 269 
 
 together, forgiving and forgetting all things but the 
 memories which cluster about this most fortunate 
 and happy meeting." 
 
 " Could there be anything more gratifying, more 
 beautiful, or more deserving, my boy ? " 
 
 " No, darling. It is the happiest hour of my life. 
 And are you compensated for having waited these 
 long weary years ? " 
 
 " Yes, Frank ; I am more than repaid. I am in 
 deed happy. To know that you are with me to 
 see you with my own eyes to feel that I hold you 
 in my embrace and share the felicity of this meet 
 ing, is a joy too extravagant, almost, to be real. O 
 day of thanksgiving and praise. O day of rest and 
 quietude." 
 
 Rap rap rap. 
 
 "Come in," said Graham, "come in." And in 
 stantly the family and guests gathered around the 
 happy couple and extended to them their heartiest 
 congratulations. Young Livingstone seemed wild 
 over this " stupendous wonder," and declared it an 
 infallible proof of his theory of preordination. It 
 was a conspicuous example where fact had proven 
 stranger than fiction. Nothing, he asserted, could 
 excel the charm of the play or equal the adaptability 
 of its characters. It was a comedy, cleverly got up, 
 beautifully performed, and the principals deserved 
 the highest encomiums for the conception of their 
 
2/0 A WINTER EVENING S TALE. 
 
 parts and the artistic grace which marked their de 
 portment throughout the last and most trying scene. 
 He declared that Graham should join his church as 
 he had promised to do, and then make a speech. 
 The peculiar scene witnessed at the dinner-table by 
 every one present, together with the singular, if not 
 dramatic, conclusion, seemed to him to require a 
 little explanation which his friend he knew would be 
 only too glad to make. When the balloon shall 
 have been inflated, and the happy couple have taken 
 their seats in the car which shall bear them up into 
 the realms of celestial joys, no one present would 
 look more proudly upon its ascension or wish the 
 aeronauts a more lasting happiness than he. 
 
 Graham, upon rising to reply, thanked his friends 
 for their cordial sympathy and good wishes, and as 
 sured his friend of his conversion to his faith. He 
 then entertained the company with a recital of their 
 early attachment and separation ; of her belief in 
 his death and her subsequent acceptance of a home 
 with an uncle in Gloucester ; of his own return and 
 the story as told to him by the miller, and his be 
 lief in her marriage and departure for Calcutta ; and 
 finally concluding his brief review with the follow 
 ing story : 
 
 "While we were working on Gold Flats in the 
 old Corral," he began, " an old sailor straggled into 
 our claim and asked for work. He said he had no 
 
THANKSGIVING IN THE CITY OF WITCHES. 271 
 
 tools, neither money with which to purchase them. 
 We invited him down to our camp. * Next day we 
 set him to work cutting a ditch from a little gully 
 to bring the water nearer our camps. That noon, 
 while being served with dinner, he uncovered a six 
 teen pound lump of gold, and said : 4 Messmates, I 
 found this prize in the ditch yonder, and I suppose 
 it rightfully belongs to me, but I found it on your 
 camp grounds, and I did n t care to leave without 
 first showing you the prize, and getting your full 
 consent to take it away. Now, friends, I have found 
 a prize of inestimable value to me, but I found it, 
 as I might say, upon your premises. I have no 
 doubt but that it is mine, yet I feel like the old 
 sailor, and don t care to leave without first showing 
 you the prize, and asking you, not only for the right 
 to take it away, but that you give me a written cer 
 tificate which shall guaranty me a legal claim to it 
 as long as I live. Friends, this is my prize. Let 
 me take her away ; for wheresoever I goeth thither 
 will she also go, my friends shall be her friends, and 
 my home her home. God hath brought us together, 
 let no man put us asunder. Let us kill the fatted 
 calf, and eat, drink, and be merry, for she that was 
 lost is found, and he that was dead is alive again." 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 BERKELEY 
 
 Return to desk from which borrowed. 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 FEB 6 1975 
 
 LD 21-100m-9, 48iB399sl6)476 
 
BERKLB 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY