HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1897-12-23, Page 6P I,N the Roche
maunt'ins, in Col-
oredp, 9,000 feet
above sea level, I
struck a vein of
good mineral and.
surveyed a claim.
I built me a log
cabin, and there,
miles away from
any human habi-
tation, I lived
alone. Far below
uie, like a thread,
was Otto Mears'
toll road. from SU-
verton to Ouray. a road that cost $40,-
000 a mile. In clear weather I could
-
sce the stages whirl : alum this. or, like a
gine of flies, a mule train pass on in single
!filo, and sometimes, like small ants, a
!taeavy loaded burro train. Them reminds
'xno of a green feller I see, reading about a
',burro as was knocked off a road by a land -
:Slide. "Serves 'em right," said he, "for
Making that heavy furnitoor way up
there." He wasn't much on spelling and
:didn't know a burro was the Colorado
'name for a donkey. The burro is the sal-
vation of the mount'in miner, for the lit-
tle ereatures can walk on the picket edge
ipf nothing and never miss a foot and carry
la load that weighs more than they do.
Far below the toll road the Uncapaghre,
/brown and dark in the shedders and silver.
'in the sunlight, meanders through the
'Taney. Row fax down? Waal, one place
fon that road is a cut torn from a solid
rmount'in wall and a look down of 900
!feet. It is a ticklish place, but we gets
used to them things after a time.
For six months in winter I was snowed
An to my lonely cabin. I could hear the
troar of the icy gales through the crashing
;timber and once in awhile another sound.
:that you never forget—a fearful roar like
monstrous wave breaking over jagged
mocks and carrying with it a grand, big
!ship. There's a jar of the girth, a snap of
trees, a crunching and rumbling and a
!thunder of roiling rocks, with a queer
sense of moving, net where you may be,
'but far off. That's a snowslide. It be-
igins on a snount'in peak, creeping slow, a
white mass, gathering more at every inch,
getting tighter for a clinch, then faster,
Staking everything in its path, cutting a
Mclean swath, like a scythe, then whirling,
roaring, swallowing up a cabin, with
ehrielung men, or a b'ar, hid and sleeping
for the winter. Then you understand what
:I meau by moving, for the air is full of it,
and it lasts till, with a muffled thunder-
clap, the whole mass drops down into the
valley miles away.
Then the summer storms, when the
:lightning don't seem no further off than a
through then papers feel the beating heart
of the great world.
Last September I got the blues so bad
that I quit work one day and went down
to the toil road, timing my trip so as to
see the stage pass and to git front some
passenger something to react. A feller
give me a book called "Doanbey and Son"
one day. Gosh, them old seafaring fellers
was the gamest crowd I ever see. (rattles
;ley choice. I know the book by heart, and
Florence and Walter, and that shop and
Soil Gills is jest as nateral as if I hod
knowed 'em. Why, I set and read that
over so Inueh, seemed like I could jest see
'em come into life and bo real folks in the
firelight. Like to know Dickens, the feller
that wrote 'ens Dead, is he? Waal, weal,
he'll never know what a comfort he was
to me. When 1 git the cha-race. I'rn going
to lay a wreath of posies where he is plant-
ed and tell hin them books he's writ has
been more'n a gospel to us miners in the
mountains, and I'll say I conte clear from
one of the newest states in the new world
to give him my bumble thanks.
Where was I? Oh, on the toll road. 1
set there and smoked my pipe, looking
down the gulch an the Unoapaghre spar,
kling like a silver sovd .gar below end li$
toning to the wind whispering through the
pines, and then I heard a sound. The road
is so sun dried and hard it echoes. Thie
was a sorter pattering, and wan't no shod
creature either. It can't be a mount'in
lion, I says to myself. Ile wouldn't dare be
here. I felt for my gun—revolver, you
know—and then I see this was a dorg, a
Gordan setter and a thoroughbred, white
and black, with the humanest eyes I ever
see in a animal. . I called him and after a
survey he carne and seemed friendly
enough. lie was footsore and lean and
looked like head come a long way. I picked
a cactus thorn out of his paw and wan't
be grateful? I kept a watch 'round a turn
of the ground for his owner, and pretty
soon I see four burros, heavy loaded, and
walking behind them a youngish feller.
Re was tall and broad shouldered, dressed
like the most of us in rough clothes, woolen
shirt, sombrero and long boots. He was
bronzed some, had early hair, pleasant
blue eyes and a straggling mustache trying
hard to cover a mouth pretty as a woman's,
"Good day," he says, halting the pack
animals. "Thanks for helping the dog.
It was oareless in me not to look when be
limped."
"Rowdy," 1 says, looking him over
"Stranger in these parts?'
"England," he answers, setting down
on a rook and mopping his forehead.
"Miner?"
"Going to be. By the way, am I any-
where near the claim of a man named
Day?'
"You be," I says cautious, "near Bige
Day's tunnel, It's up that trail."
"You must know him?"
"Sum'at. Do you?"
"No, the claim I have purchased of Gen-
eral Raymond of Denver is a half mils
farther up the mountain than his."
"Poker Sam, " I gasps, and mebbe I
sworn some, for the young feller looked
sorter s'prised. "That's bis old gag, sends
'em here, mentions my name and gits nee
into his schemes. Stranger, last month.
there was seven men I'd never set eyes on
afore traveling up that trail on the look-
out for Bige Day's claim. They come
different ways and times, and swore in
diff'rent langwidges, but all was directed
by General Raymond—where he got the
general ho don't know hisself—and had
all bought claims of him. I answered 'em
civil at first, but my dander got up and I
took the last one—a slim fellow from New
York—and I says: 'See that speck up
there, that p'int a half mile up mount'in
—weal, that's it. If you don't keer for
yer life and has good legs, you might reach
it alive. 11 you've breath left then, you
kin diskiver a tunnel six foot into the
mount'in and rook, all tbe rockyouwant,
but there never was, nor never will be, any
dirtthere and no wayof
streaks of pay
gitting it down if there was. Some of her
seerets this old mount'in won't give up,
and where a human gits overbold in
climbing up and trying to End out, why
she jest shets down on him at the start.'
Poker Sam played you for a sucker"—I
looked him over—"and 1 guess you was
easy to play."
"Possibly," he says carelessly. He
drawed out a cigar and give me one. He
set back then smoking coolly, his hat sider
him and the little rings of hair curling
round. his forehead. I chewed my cigar
awhile to git the taste.
"Busted?" I asks,
"In the vernacular of the country, just
that, " he laughs.
"Rich folks mebbe?'
"Haven't a soul to care whether I live
or die." He looked kinder far away then,
I SAYS SUDDEN, "I'LL DO IT, BY GOSH!"
ntone's throw and glares and blinds and
oes streaking ribbons of fire over the
Ines, while you're dazed and deafened by
h thunder! Don't that thunder boom
e ,
ta-playing catch across the crags, the last
one standing it back and all of it kinder
condensed and held in canyons and each
new roar and each past one mingling to-
gether until there's a very fury of sound,
like nothing else on earth.
Ag'in, one day you see a mount'in peak,
0, gray cloud kinder hovering, low; it's soft
nd full of crinkles and rolls like. cotton
batting all flung in a heap. Byineby there's
a chili in the air, and the gray cloud—now
'the sun don't shine on it—gets black as
Ink. It gets closer and lower and all of a
sudden turns into a sheet of dazzling sil-
ver. Now under it is a big river corning
with a rush and roar, faster than an ava-
lanche and churning up rocks, earth, trees,
animals and men in its awful boiling cur-
's a claudbuxst. It swells the
rent That
water in every stream in the valley, and
the river beyond, where the streams empty,
fres mad and rushes on over home and
arm, carrying havoc and misery all along
its course.
The silence up mount'in is awful, I've
gone out and yelled jest for the company
Of an echo. Then worse than the quiet is
the sound of something walking after
night, Sometimes there's a slinking four
footed creature like e. meustrous yellow
Qat, with the sliest gait cd animal
devil. That's a mountain lion. Often
there's a heavier tread, and a clumsy croft -
re goes sniffling by -a grizzly. He can't
3be tamed nor the little black imp of hie
iiamily connection. Then again thero'a
the sound, but when you look there ain't
nothing to znak_e it. That's the worst of
tall, "That's ghosts.
My mine is a tunnel 100 feet into a
peount'in side, and often toward night
'When I'm working I hears tap, tap, tap,
£}oft and low, but clear as preaching. I
Ir its oat then, for them's the mine speerits,
,
;,and 1 don't 'e cm ag'in me
It's
i4naai,y, ain't
t it? But you just live up
tnount'in alone and see how you feel after
•f while.
Twice a week a burro train came 90
miles from Ouray for my ore, coming up
rwaif 1 made up to any mine not • three
oot wide andust cut out of the rock and
mend. :'Them and the nean with 'em
as mighty cheerfulo rrfu
l to see after
days
of
d-
onee. Letters? No• I.never bad a aqui to
t"vrite to me, but newspapers aweek or a
ftecnith old, it didn't matter, They was
comfort and me, setting up in that cabin,
lova' ° by all human creatures,;; could
Ouray—and cold, too -to git linnerment
and played the nurse oomplete. He was
lots of company, and so was the Borg—Deo
was the pup's came, Pard took just as
much int'rest in Cottle .and Gills as me,
and got more books—oue about the gamest
old feller, Pickwick, and the eating and
drinking in that volume would make your
mouth water. We read him while we eat
pork and biscuit and drunk coffee'thout
oho milk nor sugar. We was doing well in
the mine, but when you think of the ways
vittles has to be brought on the backs of
themblu•ros, youaint setting up forentrys.
—as Ed used to say. He was a cheerful
feller, but given to fits of gloom—never
said a word about his folks though,
'Bout Chris'mus time, and we want so
snowed in by then but that you could git
along on snowshoes, we was reading Pick-
wick over again. He read aloud in diff' -
rent voices, making it jest as real aa live
folks a -talking, when I says sudden, "I'11
do it, by gosh!"
"What?" He kinder jumped, and the
pup riz up and licked my hand.
"Why," says I, "I'll hoof it to Ouraty
and lay in a chicken—a turkey if I can git
it—pertaters and a squash and cranberries
and the truck to make a plum pudding.
I'll celebrate. I can't hear of them Dick -
icy. -J-;•%
•
I SET THEE$ AND MIMED 21Y PIPE:
and I would bet ag'in heavy odds that there
was a gal concerned in it, I took a big
chino to the feller, and after awhile I of-
fered him a job up to my mine, to work
on shares, him to throw in the grub stake
he had with him. He was willing enough,
so from that day Ed—that's name enough,
for . a story—pod me was parde. Folks
Bi
used to call ane"Groundhog"ge, and
they nicknamed him "English" Ed, but I
usually calledd him
"pard."Get along?
P
You bet. I was a ignorant, old creature
and he was college larned, but that wasn't
no diffeienoe. Re was friendly to me as to
a chum of his own class, niebbe more so;
for when I got rheumatics, he was off to
I STUMBLED 'UP THE AIOUNT'INSIDE A -HOL-
LERING.
ens fellers eating no more and try to fill
myself up on salt horse and slops, I'll git
one good feed if it takes a leg or costs a
life."
"It will be the latter," he says, sober
enough. "You couldn't make a walking
market of yourself over three feet of snow
on the edge of a precipice, "
"I'm light and easy on snowshoes."
"But," he interrupts, "what's the mat-
ter with my going?"
"You ain't," I answers, bringing to
mind his attempts to walk on snowshoes
and his wabblings, "you ain't no bird on
'em, pard."
He laughed then like a boy,
"It's a deal," I says, "and tomorrer,
the 24th, I'll set off early and git back by
night and we'll sot up and eat till morn-
ing. I'll git brandy for the pudding sass,
but pard," I finishes anxious, "how is
them puddings made?'
"Why, flour, raisins, lard' or butter
something that's rich"—
"Butter, " I puts in, "is 80 cents a
pound at Ouray, and I guess that's rich
enough."
"Butter, currants, molasses to make it
brown, and spice mixed and cooked."
"I cal'late Pll got it mixed to the store,"
I says, "and my traveling will beat it up."
" Then you sew it up in a bag which
you boil and make a sauce of brandy that
you pour over and set afire, and it burns
blue flame. This is the way we used to
have it at home." His face grew sad, and
I knew ho was going into them glooms
ag'#n.
"Waste of good liquor," I says under
my breath, but ho didn't note me.
I set out early the next rimming, leaving
him and the pup at home. It wasn't bad
going and the air was fresh and full of
sunshine. They was s'prised to see me at
Ouray, and laughed a deal at the truck I
bought and paid for with gold dust. I
found the pudding stuff so heavy that I
really had it mixed in a paiL I went over
to a saloon for awhile, and it was 'bout S
in the afternoon when I come back for my
things. I had asked the storekeeper, who
was also postmaster, if there were any let-
ters for pard, but there wan't. I tied the
eight pound turkey round my neck with
the pudding pail, the vegetables and a
squash—that seemed to weigh a ton before
I was four miles on my way. I filled my
pockets with papers and books and a bot-
tle of brandy and tobacco. As I fixed my
snowshoes, the storekeeper came out.
"Queer thing, Bige," he says. "'Bout
an hour 'fore you got back from the "sa-
loon an Englishman named Ingalls was
here asking if I knowed your pard, Ed. I
told him where he was and off ho goes.
Impatient and stuck up enough, wouldn't
listen to no caution. Thought mebbe our
moan -Via trail was a bolerward where he
could find hoss keets and them two wheeled
cabs with a jay up behind. Off he jumps
like a flash. I says, 'Try it, young feller,.
you'll be back in an hour or two.' I clean
forgot all about you was going that way."
"I'll meet him, " I says and starts. The
crowd give three cheers for sue and wished
me a "Merry Chris'mus I" "Keep some
of that pudding for me till .spring. It will
bo hard enough," yells the storekeeper,
"for you wouldn't take no soda in it. "
Pard hadn't mentioned soda and I
wouldn't put it in, though it was argued
it oughter be done. "S'longI" I calls and
goes onl, • For three or four miles I could
see tracks quite plain in the snow and I
kept a lookout for Ingalls, but my progress
was awful slow. I was so beat out that, I
swore at the vittles, pard and Chris'mus
straight along. The turkey growed heav-
ier and heavier, and once I lost it and
had to go back a half mile. I wan't a
likely r' as I floundered along and was
ugly enough to fight my best friend. Curi-
ous enough I put all my mad on that feller
ahead, 'The idee," I'd say, "of him dar-
ing to climb this mount'in alone in snow -
time, "
now -time,"
'Bout ten miles on my way, just as I
was straight'ning up my back after mak-
ing another 'hitch on the turkey, I felt
something sharp strike my face. I knowed
I was in for it, forsnow at Chris'mus time
in these niount'ins means dankness, drifts
and death, But that didn't stump me.
Every inch of that road was plain as
a map in my mind,and blunted by
cold, stunned by the snow and dark-
.tress, I forgot lugalis entirely and
must have passed close by him. I had
enough to do to fight for my own life. On
I goes and game enough to hang to the
truck. I want going to be beat outer
that dinner for all the snow in, Colorado.
Every now
and then when I got kinder
sleepy and a sly ldee kep corning how slick
it would be to lie down ; and take a nap'
that means never git up, but freeze to death
—the old turkey would sling around and
fetch ore a smart slap in the face, I kinder
growed to think the old bird wanted to be
roasted and git up to the cabin to give his
remains for tho celebration.
I got along all right till I got to where
I ought to turn off to the trail, and there
1 dassent leave the road. I wasn'tsure
where it lay, I listened and I heard the
mailed sound of a gun, and this I follered,
wondering where pard got his sense. I
stumbled up the nlount'in side a -holler-
ing, and soon I got a answer and the hap-
piest sight of my life—I see a big yaller
glare. It was pard a burning 'kerosene.
"Glad it's. cheap," I says ironical, for it
ain't. He laughs and takes all the trunk
and flounders on ahead a distance, where
by the howling I knowed Doo was tied,
and then the house was all lit up.
"Made three stations down the path,"
he explains; "house first, dog nest, myself
with the gun and bonfire last."
"You'll do," I says. He flew around
looking at the stuff I'd brought, found
some cloth and made a bag into which he
put the pudding mixture, tied it and slung
the same into a kittle of boiling water,
which he hung over the fire.
"Thewator'll git in it," I says. "Thom
stitches is too loose."
"It cooks out," he answers, beginning
to cut up the squash. "Now sit down,
Bige, and got straightened out, " he gods
on, , bringing me a glassof brandy.
"I. asked for a letter for you, but there
wan't none," I says, beginning to draw
off my boots.
"Yon were very kind, but there is no
one to writs."
"Land of the living!" I yells, jumping
up, "them tracks ahead—that feller.>, It
come to me all of a sudden. Where was
he?
"What did you say?" asks pard, keer
less like,
"Ingalls," I gasps.
Ingalls,„ he repeats, gitting white,
its
,
"for pity's sake who—what do you know
of him?”
I told him. He listened quite a minit,
then goes to whore his coat was hanging
on a, nail
"Where are you going?" I says.
14To look for him."
'Why? What's he to you?"
"My worst enemy."
"Pard, you're a fool. If me, an old
mountaineer, bed a bard fight for like a
half hour ago, what will it be for you, and
the storm is worse, The feller's dead now
anyhow. Mebbo he went baok—sure he
did, and you don't budge a step."
"You are sure he did not go baok," he
says quietly, lighting the lantern. "Let
go, Day, I mean to start."
"You're so smart on snowshoes, you'll
git about a mile and then tumble over a
precipice."
"I think not," be says soberly.
do, it don't matter."
"Waall, I'm not going,"
"I wouldn't let you," says he.
"Oh, you wouldn't," I growls, "you
wouldn't, hey, You young whipper snap-
per, you cub, you, Let mo go. I'll jest let
you know you don't stir a foot out till I
git fixed. Hero you are starting off with
a lantern and a dorg—no brandy, no rope,
nothing, "
" The dorg will scent him."
"The dorg will bo snowed in 40 rods.
from the house, and a dead dorg in 40
minits if we don't kerry him."
Re hung his head.
"I don't want you to risk your life," he
stammers.
"Ed," I says, "you aro all the thing I
have in this world to keer for. If I'd a
son, I couldn't love him more'n you.
Come."
We left the dorg in the cabin, wii"h food
where he might git at it if we didn't come
back, and I was pretty sure he'd break the
winder and git out if we were long away.
Pard fixed a candle in the winder and put
logs on the fire, and then we set out. I
had the lantern tied on my back, and had
made a rope fast to pard.
The night was jest like a curtain of
black velvet and absolutely still. The air
was thick and wet and stupefying. So we
goes on. The snow being damp had packed
some, and that kep' us•in the trail, but it
was hard work, and I was already wore
out. At last we tumbles into the road
and stops a minit.
"He never got as .fur as this," I says,
"and I'd better go on alone. You stay
here and. I'll shoot when I find him." For
answer pard ketches my lantern.
"•"If it's death to one of us, it shall come
to me, " he says. "You stay here. I'll go."
He'd cut the rope that bound us and
was off into the dark. I knowed one of
us must have sense, and if we lost that lit-
tle trail up mount'in we was done fur. So
I waited. I yelled to him to try and keep
inside from the edge of the road, but I
doubt if he heard, the air was so deadened.
The time I waited seemed years. I made
fast the rope to a tree near the wail, and
„H1
him undressed and rubbed him with snow
and poured brandy into bis clinched teeth:
tlfter an hour or so of this we could see
hint breathe, and this encouraged us for
new efforts. Tired? Wo wore nearly dead,
ameaf the stranger had any skin left on
him he was in luck. Bymeby he opens his
eyes. "What did you wake rite up for?"
he says orossly, and drifts off into a sleep.
"That's him," says Ed bitterly. "He's
a, natural kicker."
" Who is he?" I asks after we had made
ourselves comfortable—pard was fixing
the fire. "The pudding ain't spoiled," he
mutters, "though the water nearly boiled
out of the kittle. We'll have the dinner,
after all. He? Oh, be's Larry Ingalls.
lie and I were orphans distantly related
to Sir John Webster of—well, somewhere.
Sir ,Tohn brought us up. Larry was a rich
orphan. I was a poor one, and Sir John
had a daughter"—
"I collated there was a young woman
in the case," I says.
"Lady Maud. She was a sister to us
both when we were youngsters, but whon
we were grown •1 fell in love with her,
and so did Larry, who always did as I did.
We had a bitter quarrel, he and I, and I
told him Lady Maud loved me, and be,
the cur, wont and explained everything to
her father. 1 was ordered out of the house,
and came hero. That's all. I don't know
what Ingalls wants of mo, I suppose he
came to toll me he had married Lady
Maud "
'Bout noon the next day I got up and
fixed the turkey to roast and the vegetables
and set the pudding back over the fire.
Somehow, though it had ashape and
was
hard, 1 didn't feel much confidence in it.
Gd was lying in a corner jest wore out,
While .l was a -fussing round I see the new
feller looking at me, "Where am I?" he
asks. I told biro, and said who saved his
Iife 55 thorisk of his own, and hinted
that
I didn't think the life of a mean feller was
worth saving, and such had better go back
Where they come from,
"But you don't know all," he says wist-
ful, his eyes full of tears. "loci and I did
quarrel, but I did not toll Sir John."
"Oh, you didn't," I sneers. "Likely
story."
"Lady Maud did. She 'told her father
that she loved Ed and she wanted to marry
him. She is that kind of a girl. She never
bad a secret from him. Of course he was
angry, and turned bid out. I was mean
enough to be glad at first, for I know her
father would give Maud, to mo, but she
grow so thiu and unhappy and took snob
a uislike to mo that I was sorry enough for
the whole affair. I tried then to find Ed.
1 give you my word I did. Then an
uncle came from Australia, that ltd used
to brag about when he was a child and
say ho would bring back a trunkful of
gold. Well, he really did come back with
I SEE A FAINT, Q$OSTLY LIGHT A -COMING
AWFUL BLOW.
kept one end of it, and made trips down as
fur as I could where ho went, but I dassent
let go. Bymeby I was so sleepy and
numbed I thought I dreamt it when I see
a faint, ghostly light a -coming awful slow
and something big behind the light..
"I've got him," says Fd, panting: "I
fell' across him in the snow about four
miles down. I think he is dead,"
He had him on his baok, and luokily the
stranger was a small, slight chap, but as
it was it was awful: We took him be-
tween us, There was no timeto try to
bring him to life, for the storm was thick-
er every minute. But we tackled the
brandy ourselves and then started, Inever.
see sioli strength as that pard of mine had.
He held mast of the feller, and didn't seem
to touch girth at all—in fact, the last of
the way he . dragged me. Wo was pretty
near beat out when we heard Does howl,
That put now life in us, and soon the light
from the little cabin showed faint but
atidd
, The candle we
found nearly
flick-
ering
i k-ering out, but the fire on the hearth was
burning bright. The pup went crazy -over
the stranger.
"Knew him in England," says Pad,
working away at the chap's boots. We got
"THE PLUM PUDDING OF OLD ENGLAND,"
SINGS INGALLS.
lots of money, and he and Sir John aro
great friends now. He is a sick man or he
world have come to America with me. I
came for Lady Maud's Bake. She said if I
would find Ed she would give nee the old
sisterly affection. I told her I would be
a knight of the round table and find the
holy grail—a cup, you know."
" Oh, " I says, "sorter prize winner, eh?"
"Though that is a comical comparison
for lad, who looks like a rough. I have
been watching him, but women generally
like big, stupid bears."
"Thank you," says Ed, gitting up, "I
didn't save your miserable life to be
abused. Lucky for you, you were a little
fellow or you wouldn't be here."
"Game, though," I puts in. "The grit
of him starting alone up these mount'ins."
Ed and him looked at each other then
like two animals 'bout to fight. Then I
seen 'em lock hauds and I knowed their
eyes was dim.
"I brought you her photograph. She
r
sent it," says Ingalls; hunting around,
"but—but I must have lost it."
"Here 'tis;" I says. "It dropped outer
your coat last night and I set it by the fire
to dry. " The heat and wet had mussed it
so you couldn't tell what the picter was.
"Too bad," sighs Ingalls. "I meant to
give it to you. I brought it all the way."
"I carry her face in my heart," laughs
Ed, and then he fell to singing:
"Come into the garden, Maud,
For the black bat, night, has flown,
Come into the garden, Maud,
I am here at the gate alone."
While pard was setting the table Ingalls,
who had all our bedding piled on him,
crawled out and got on his clothes.
"You live high for miners,'; ho says.
"This is Chris'mus day," says Ed, and
then they shook Mind ag'in. "The dear
old day, Larry, and we'll spend next
Chris'mus at home, and Lady Maud, my
wife, Larry—don'tthat make you hate me
—will welcome you under the mistletoe,
Perhaps I'll let you kiss bei then."
"She is my sister," answers the other:,
not a bit of meanness loft in him, "arid
the world is full of fair women. 'Is it not
so, Mr. Day?"
"They don't trouble me none," I says,
"l3ut, pard, look at this pudding." He
crossed the room still a -singing: •
"My heart would hear her and beat
Wore it earth in an earthly bed."
"He never could carry a tune," grins
Larry.
Ed turned the water outer the kittle and
ripped open the bag. A round, warty
looking thing, like a small cannon ball
acid pretty near as hard, rolled out, It
was a grayish color, specked with raisins
and as vicious appearing a compound as I
ever see. "The plume pudding of old Eng-
land, " sings Ingalls, and , then wo roared
with laughter. But the turkey, roasted
in an oven cider the fire, was good' and tbe
l i the young vegetables sla end d, and g fellers
was the best company 1 ever see, and you
kin bet the dorg didn't go hungry, He'
was Lady M.aud^s pup, and Ed had brought
him clear from England. That was the
jolliest meal 1' ever eat, and it was as good
as sunshine to see them two, friends now
and forever.
Where am I going now? Oh, down to
W g g
sorieething hall, where pard lives with his
uncle and Lady Maud, Of course Ed mar-
ried her. Sir .Tohn and Ingalls, who, pard
wrote, has got a gal of his own is going
to be there. I've sold the mine for a good
sum, and. I'm carrying Ed his (share.
queer, though, Ingalls would have never
found ltd but for Poker Sam, So the old
Villain did a good turn once, not knowing
t.. Yes, I'm pretty well fixed, rich enough
to drink champagne out of a pail—which
is westorn—and I'm going to spend the
Chris'mus holidays with pard. I've
brought the dorg way across the oaoan
with rue to show to. Lady Mand. I forgot
to tell you that whoa the young fellers
went away the pup wouldn't quit me, and,
is mine now. We'll probably bane a good
drorfs', but
won't tasteChnornus. bettor, ndayor the crowdthe bovittles ria.
merrier, than it was last year in Colorado
in the Rookies, 0,000 feet above the sea..
About the plum pudding weal; I have
nothing to say. That subject's a tender
one 'twixt pard and me.
PATIENCE STAPLETON.
RICHES TAKE WINGS,
A Christmas Story With an Unusual End.
ing.
He was a fine looking fellow, In his
hands he carried three large bodied,though
none too plump, turkeys, and the big cal-
ico sign behind him with its legend, "Tur-
key Raine Within," gave a pretty good
inkling of how he came by his burden.
"Turkeys enough hero to last a week,"
he soliloquized as he swayed to and fro on.
the edge of the sidewalk. "Guess that bur-
key they've got at home lays over all those
but then turkey is a thing you can't have
too inuoli of,"
Just then a man approached him from
the shadows—a man with a gaunt look
and a coat that would fail to attract the
attention of a rag gatherer. It was the
usual request for ' a little assistance."
"I guess they took all my spare change
inside, . pardner. Just hold this 'turk'
while I look."
He found a quarter and handed it to
the beggar, who started tomovo away, but
an idea seemed to strike the young fellow
and he called the man back,
"Was that dead straight about your have
Ing children at home and nothing to eat?"
"It's true, sir, so help me God."
"Then take this turkey."
A block farther up an old woman
orouobed in the lee of a high board fence
grinding out some melancholy tune on a
wheezy hand organ. Without a word the
young fellow approached her and dropped
one of the remaining turkeys into hor lap.
"I'm a trifle short on poultry," ho said
with a merry chuckle, as he hopped aboard
his street oar.
On the opposite seat of the dummy sat
an urchin, red Dyed and sobbing.
"What's the matter?" asked the turkey
dispenser of the .gripulan.
"You see, the kid's mother is a poor
woman living out near the park, and she
sent him down town to buy a cheap turkey
for their Christmas dinner. Well, he got
it right enough, but some thief snatched
it from him at the corner of Seventh street.
That's what's the trouble."
"Say, take this home to your mother,"
said the man who had been to a raffle, as
he flung the bird across the car and came
near knocking off the gripman's cap in
doing so.
In the morning someone knocked at his
bedroom door..
"What's the matter?"
"Matter enough, Somebody gotinto
the larder during the night and stole our
turkey."
The man in bed laughed so loud that his
sister, who had called to him, pronounced
him an idiot.
"Say, sis. "'
"Hello!"
"Doesn't the Bible say something about
casting your bread upon the waters and
having it come back again?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Oh, nothing—only it don't work with
turkey. But we can get along without on
for Christmas. Why, we could hawse bird
every day in the year if we wanted one."
A Christmas Pie.
The following appeared in the Newcas-
tle Chronicle of Jan. 0, 17701 "Monday
last was brought from Howick 50 Berwiok
to be shipp'd for . London for sir Hen.
Grey barb., a pie the contents whereof
are as follows—viz, 2 busbies of flour, 20
lbs: of butter, 4 geese, 2 turkies, 2 rab-
bits, 4 wild ducks, 2 woodcocks, 0 sniper
and 4 partridges; 2 neat's tongues, 2 our-
lews, '7 blackbirds and 6 pigeons. It to
supposed a very great curiosity was made
by Mrs. Dorothy Patterson, housekeeper
at Hawick. It was near 9 feet in circum-
ference at bottom, weighs about 12 stones,
will take two men to present it to table:
it is neatly fitted with a case and four
small wheels/to facilitate its use to every
guest that inclines to partake of its con-
tents at table." Thus it is no wonder!
George Wither sung so merrily;
So now is come our joyfulest feast.
Let every man be jolly.
Each room with ivy leaves is drest
And every post with holly.
Though some churls at our mirth repine.
Round your foreheads garlands twice,
Drown sorrow in a cup of wine,
And let us all be merry.
Christmas In Russia.
The Russian Christmas is ton days later
than the English one, but is celebrated
very much in English fashion. Families
all meet upon that day and country house
parties are many. The tree is a Christmas
yew and is beautifully decorated. The
gifts are placed on small tables near the
tree. The churches are decorated with
greens and so are the houses, but no mis-
tletoe is used. Two or three days are pub-
lic holidays at Christmas time, and the
people greet each other with, "Happy feast
to you. "' A huge pyramid of rice with
raisins in it, whichhas been blessed at the
church, is served at the Christmas dinner,
and the moats are goose, duck and sucking
pig. A great delicacy at a Russian Chris"
mss dinner is veal which has been fed en-
tirely upon milk fot:that special day. "'•`'
An Old Time Christmas.
Reap on more woodl The wind is chilli
But let it whistle as it will
We'll keep our Christmas merry still.
Each age has deemed the newborn year
The fittest time for festal cheer,
And well our Christian sires of .old
Loved when the year its coarse had rolled
And brought bliiho Christmas back again
With all: kis hospitable train.,
Domestic and religious. rite
Gave honor` to the holy night.
On Christmas eve the bells were rung.
On Christmas eve the mass was sung.
That only night in all the year
Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear.
The damsel donned' her kirtle sheen.
Tho hall as dressed With holtyygreea
e
x •1 the cod did merryamen o
Forth w g
To gather in the miptlotee.
Then opened wide the baron's hall
To vassal, tenant, serf and all.
Power laid his rod. of rule aside,
And ceremony doffed his pride.'
•' he heir, With roses in his shoes,
hat night might village partner choose;
e lord, undo o ating. share
The vulgar game of
"Rest and pair."
411 hailed, with uncontrolled delight
nd general voice, the happy night
i.
hat tothe-cotta a as the crown
g,
roc hb' tidings of Salvation
down.
B g Sir Walter goop.
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