Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 3, Number 9, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 31 August 1872 — Page 6

"MOTHER, PO yOT SITUT THE .i -r\V02tf TT'JA. BV BOUEKT B. JOHNSON.

The last words of "Tad" Lincoln to his nioibtr, annhelofl the room, lua paioxyatn of grirf, were, "Mother, do not shut the door !"J „,Do not lonve me, mother darling (jive me one toml parting klsn

Beck'ntog me, as I «e the angel* ffi In their home of heavenly bUns, am getting weaker, mother.

And I soon shall cross the suore -j. Ijft me rest my eyes upon von Jt thedo

Mother, do not shut 1

oor!

Mother tfear have you forgotten, When the war was In iho land, And my father was the chleiiuln f» Of the glorious Union baud

Aud the drummer-boy who-e brother Was court-martialed In the war— WhJ, you're crying! Do not leave me!

Mother, do not stmt the door! Jnst because the poor, sick stripling Slept un hour while stand guard, *, lie must die and loave poor mother

Heaven help usit is hard Then mv father, good, kind hearted," Told him he nted cry no more,

Ood has heard your fervent praying, For he never shuts the door.' Mother dear, bend low and listen

What the gavior says is true, A And He said, "As ye show mercy Mercy I will show to you." Now I see my failier pleading.

As the drummer-boy of yore. Softly, mother! Bee the angels Holding wide the open door! ji'-t

From the New York Independent.]

The First Woman in

the Forks.-

BY JOAQUIN MILLER.

Three thousand men Not a woman, not a child, down in that canon of ours, so deep that the sun never reachcd us in the winter and but a little portion ot the day in summer.

Forests, fir and pine, in the canon, up the hills and up the mountains, black and dense, till tnev broke against the colossal granite peaks far above us and crowned iu everlasting snow.

Throe littlo streams came tumbling d:wn here from the snow peaks in different directions, meeting with a precision which showed that they knew their ways perfectly through the woods and from this little union ot waters the camp bad taken tho name of The Forks."

We had no law, no religion, but I insist, for all that, tho men were not bad. It is true they shot and stabbed each other in a rather reckless manner but then they did it in such a manly sort of away that but little of the curse of Cain was supposed to follow.

Maybe it was because life was so desolate and dreary that theso men threw it away so frequently,and with such refreshing Indiflorence, in the misunderstandings at the Forks for, after all, we led but wretched lives. That vast freedom of ours bocamo a sort of desolation.

But men were grandly honest men there. They invariably left gold in their gold-pans from day to day open in tho claim—ounces, pounds of it, thousands of dollars to be had for the taking up. Lock and koys wore unknown, and, when tho minor went down to town on Saturday night to sottle his account, he, as a rule, handed the merchant his purso and let him weigh whatevor amount be demanded, without question.

The first woman came unheralded. Like all good things on oarth, she came quietly as a snow-flake down in our midst, without ado or demonstration.

Who she was or where she came from no one soomed to know. Perhaps the propriety of questioning occurred to some or the men of the camp, but it never did to me. I had rather say,howover, that when they found there was a real 11 vo woman in camp, a deoent woman, who was willing to work and tako her place beside the men in the groat battle, boar her part in the common curse which demands that we shall toil to oat, they quietly accepted the lact, as men do the fact of the baby's arrival, without any question whatever.

This was not really the first woman to come Into our camp of three thousand bearded men and yet it was tho first. There wero five or six, maybe more, down at the Fork— some nom Sydney, Hotno from New (Means, and so on but these wore worso than no women at alt waifs of tho foam, painted children of passion. I am not disposed to put these women in the catalogue of salnis. They wore very devils, some of them.

Theso womeii set a man against man, and that winter made many a crimson place In tho groat snow-banks ot the streets. They started tho first graveyard at tho Forks and kept it recruitod. too, oveiy holiday and almost every Sunday.

True tlioy did somo gobd. I do not deny that. For example, I have in my mind now tho picture of one, Sack Hill, from Mobile, holding the head or a brave young fellow, shot through tho temple, long yellow hair in string and streaming with blood. She held him so iill ho died and mourned and would not be separated from him while a hope or breath remained—tho blood on her hands, on her face, all over her costly silks and lace, and on tho floor.

Then sho had him buried elegantly as possible sent for a preacher away over to Yroka to say the funeral service put evergreens "about his grave aud refused to be comforted.

All this was very beautiful—a touch of tenderness in it'all but It was spoiled by the reflection that she had allured and almost forced tho poor bov into the fight, In hopes of avenging herself on the man whom she hated and by whose hand he had to fall.

I know another woman there who w.»» very benevnloht—in fact, they wero liberal with their money, and wero the first and freest to bestow upou the needy. This woman was a MexioAn—from Durango, I tliiuk and her name was Dolores. Gentle in her manner, patient, sad not often in the dlflieu I ties that distinguished the othersj but generally alone, and by far the best liked of all these poor Magdaleus. This good nature of hers made her most accessible, and so she was most sought for deeds of chartt v. Toward spring it was said she was ill but no one seemed to know, or may be no one c*red.

It you will stop and consider, it will ©•jour to you that is a man's disposition to avoid & sick woman but a woman's dispositions to seek out a sick man and nurse him back to health. This being true, here is a text for a sermon.

A bank had oared on a man—only a prospector, a German, who lives alone in little of bin on the hillside—and crashed him frightfully. Nurses sad physicians were necessary. The man was penniless and alone, and help had &-> come from the camp.

Some one went to Dolores. She was in her room or cabin, out a little way from any one, alone and ill, sluing up in bed, looking "wild enough," ss the man afterward stated. He told her what bad happened. She leaned her

head on her hand a moment, and then lilted it, looked up, and drew a costly ring from her finger, the only one on her pale, thin hand, and gave It to the man, who hurried away to get other aid elsewhere.

Now there was nothing very odd or unusual in a woman giving the ring. That was often done. In fact, there was scarcely any coin on the Creek. In cases of this kind a man generally gave the biggest nugget or specimen he had in bU pocket a ring if he could not do better, sometimes a six-shooter, and so on, and let them make the best of it but always something, if that something was possible. Let this le said and rego®n,bered of these brave old men ot the mountains.

A few days after this, it came out that Dolores was doad. Then it was whinnered thatshe had starved to death. Tula last was said in a sort of whisper. It came with a shudder like between the teeth, as If the men were afraid to

8

*Ou investigation, it was found that the poor woman had been 111 some time, had lost bet bloom aud freshness and what becomes of a woman of this kind, who has no money, when she his lost her bloom and strength? Never had much money. alwa3's gave It away to the needy as fast as she got it, and so had nothing to tight the world with when she fell ill.

Then tho man with the rent, the lord of the log cabin—a cross between a Shylock-Jew and a flint-faced Yankee—took her rings and jewels, one by one. The baker grew exacting, and finally the butcher refused to bring her meat. And that was all there was of it. That was the end.

That butcher never succeeded there after that. Some one wrote "smallrox," over his shop door every night lor a month, and it was shunned like a pest-house. But all that did not bring poor Dolores back to life. The ring was an antique gold, with a costly stone, and a Spanish name, which showed her to have been of good family. The wedding ring.

But this woman, however was an exception, and at best, when in health, with the exception of her generous and sympathetic nature, was probabably no angel.

I was in a neighboring cabin one night when it was announced that the first woman had come to the camp. Tue intelligence was received with profound silence.

There was a piece of looking-glass tacked up over the fire-place of this

C£01d

Baldy whistled a little air, and

walked up to this glass sidewise, silently, and stood there smoothing down MlS beard®

Ginger blue!" cried the Parson, at last, bounding up from bis bench, and throwing out his arms, as if throwing the words from the ends of his fingers.

Ginger blue! hell-ter-fllcker!" And here be danced around the cabin in a terrible state of excitement, to the tune of a string of iron-clad oaths that fell like chain-Shot. They called him the Parson because it was said he could out-swear any man on the river an accomplishment I was inclined to doubt, wonderful as were his achievements in this lino.

Iam prepared Jo testify that during the half hour that I remained in that cabin after the announcement over*' one of the ten men there took a loo at the little triangular fragment of looking-glass that was tacked up over the tire-place

The arrival of Eve in Paradise was certainly an event but she came too early in the world's history to create much sensation.

Stop here, and fancy the arrival of the first woman on earth to-day—in this day of committees, conventions, brass-band receptions, and woman's rights

You fancy a princess had come upon us. A good angel, with song and haiys or at least, carpet-bags, and extended crinoline, waterfalls, and false hair, a packed train of .Saratoga trunks, and all the adjuncts of civilization. Not at all. She had secured the cabin once occupied by the unhappy Dolores and I toolt the first occasion to pass that way, and, if possible, see her with my own eyes. I confess that deep down in my heart was a delicate hope, the faintest, far possible shadow of belief that this, after all was my own good angel. I walked as in a droatn when I approHched the place. No one visible. I heard a sound like the washing of waves in the cabin—a dead, steady thud, and'thud, and thud. But under the eaves of tho pinethatch was a modest sign, written in charcoal on a cedar shingle. It read "washenlng and Irenlng dun hear."

The hopes of theyouug.and the imaginations of all nro like corks. Almost any other soul uuder the sun had been disgusted. 1 was not even displeased. Not being ablo to get a sight of the first woman, I whistled cheerfully and walked on.

This woman was called "tho Wider." Why widow rather than spinster, I do not know. Perhaps some inspirod genius,who had some knowledge of lifo, coupled with a regard for the truth, first spokoot'her as "tho Widder" as he tossed off a glass of gin and bitters with his companions at the "Ilowlin' Wilderness" saloon, and thus baptized her in a name, not without a sort of special dignity in it, that should bo hers as long as she should remain an individual element in the Camp.

Men, even tho most bloated and besotted, walked straight as possible up tho trail that led by tho widow's cabin, as they pass that way at night and kept back their jokos and war-whoops till far up the creek, and out of her hearing in the pines.

A general improvement was noticed in all who dwelt In sight of hearing of her cabin. In fact, that portion of the creek became a sort of West End, and cabin rent went up in that vicinity. Men wero made better, gentler. No doubt of that. If, then, ouo plain, ignorant woman, rude herself by nature, can do so much, what is not lett for gentle and cultured woman, who is, or should bo, the true missionary woman, of the West—the world

A woman's weakness is her strength. True, she is very plain. But you may adopt it as one of your rnlos of life, and act npo.i it with absolute certainty, that, if you have to trust any woman, trust a plain one, rather than a handsome one for the plain ones were not made to sell, else they too had leen made handsome "Not to be too particular about a delicate subject," said old Baldy, who had iteen fortunate enough to see her, "her memoiy possibly may reach to the Black Hawk war."

She was tall, geutle. gonial too, and soon a favorite with her many, many patrons. She had a scar on the left side of her fioe. they said, reaching from the chin to the cheek but, with a woman's* tact, she always kept her right side to her company, and the sc was not noticed.

What had been her history, what troubles she had had, what tempests she had stood against, or what great storm had blown this solitary woman far into the great black sea or firs that belts about and lies the shadow of the

Sierra, like a lone white sea-dove yon sometimes find far out in the China seas, no man knew and, be it said to the credit of the Forks, 90 man cared to Inquire.

This meeting together, thisoomlng and going ot thousands of men from ail parts of the earth, where each man stood on the character he made there in a day, deadened curiosity, perhaps.

At all events, you can go, a stranger, to-dav, anywhere along the Pacific, and if your character indicates the gentleman, you are accepted as such, and no man cares to ask of your antecedents. A convenient thing, 1 grant, for many but, nevertheless, a good thiug and oorrect thing for any country.

ma anon,

but rather melancholy than vicious, with a large mouth, which, as a rule, indicates au openhanded and generous nature.

The widow had admirers from the first many and many a worshiper, and not altogether without reason. There was about her a certain sweetness of nature that contrasted well with the rough life in which she was thrown and the strong men noted this, aud liked the sense of her presence.

Besides that, this woman had acer tain sincerity about her, a virtue that is as rare as it is dear to man. I think, if \?e look at ourselves clearly, we will discover that this one quality wins upon us more than any other—that it is more than beauty, more than goldsincerity, earnestness. For mv part, I only make that one demand on any man or any woman. You cannot be graceful at will, or wealthy, or beauti ful, or always good-natured but you can be in earnest. You can refuse to lie. either in word or in deed. I de mand that you shall be in earnest bofore you shall approach me, Be in earnest even in your villiany.

As the summer wore away, her suit ors dropped off like early candidates lor office, and left the field almost entirely to the two leading men of the camp—Sandy and the Parson.

Sandy was a man of magnificent stature, with a graceful flow of sandy beard but an ignorant, awkward child of nature. A born leader of men, but a man who declined to lead unless forced to como to the front by his fellows, and for the time take charge of whatever little matter was under consideration In the camp. Sandy was a man you believed in, trusted, and honored from tho first. Thero was not a crafty tibro or thought In his physical or mental make-up.

Tho Parson was a successful miner a massive, Gothic man, though not so tall as Sandy. He had been a sailor, I think. At all events, he had a blue band of India ink, with little diamonds of red set in between the bands, on his left wrist. Possibly it was bis right wrist, for I cannot recall possitively at this distance ot time: but 1 thiuk it was the left.

The Parson was the first authority In history, politics, theology, anything whatever that came up. I do no think bo was learned but ho was always so positive, and always so ready with his opinions, and so" ready to back them up, too, that all were willing to question his repiles.

After a while it became talked about that Sandy was losing ground with the widow—or rather, that the Parson was having it pretty much his own way there, as In other things In the camp, and that Sandy rarely put in an appearance.

About this timo a pretty little cotUgG began to peep through the trees from a littlo hill liack ot tho town and then it came out that this, wit hits glass windows and green window blinds, was the property of the Parsons, and destined ns the borne of the widow.

I think the camp was rather pleased at this. True, there was a bit of ambition and too a grain of cunning in the Parson's nature which made tho tree, wild men of the mountains look upon him with less favor than they did on Sandy. Still they liked him, and were glad that the widow was to have a home at last.

But somehow the wedding did not come on as soon as was espccted, and the widow kept on rubbing, rubbing and rubbing, day after day. week after

like leads of gold—we tome upon them in a kind of sudden discovery. The Parson's eye twinkled with delight. "I move that Handy take the chair for this occasion, and second the motion, and plank down twenty ounces for the widow,"

Sandy removed his slouched hat blushed behind his ear at the digniiy, and said: "Bully for you! I raise you five ounces and ante the dust."

Here he drew a long, heavy purse from his pocket, and passed it over to the barkeeper who thereby became treasurer of thes enterprise without further remarks. Tho Parson's eye twinkled again.

The old Jowish law of every seven years forgiving each man his debt was an age in advance of our laws of to-day and, if any means could bo devised by which every seven years to forgive all wblon every seven yoaru vu luiunoan ui um uo»u men their offenses, and let them begin amount was to be weighed from the life anew, all together, an even start,

I see yonr five ounces, and go you ten better." Called,,' said

the

little distance, as if her head was nearly poker gama, Where he was

half eyes. Her face was very plain twenty dollars

Sandy and he pecked

at tho barkeeper, which littlo motion of his bead meant that the further

purse for the

benefit of the widow,

iinVBname forward:

urau JUI VUQ w. One by one of the boys came forward: and, as the enterprise got noised about the camp, they came down to the Howlln' Wilderness saloon till far in the night, to contribute what they called their "widow's mite."

it would be bette»- still. She could not keep herself concealed. I saw ber at last, hanging out clothes, and talking at the same time, to a crowd of admiring miners. She was a tawny woman, in loose, thin calico dress, that clung about her long, thin body like a banner, about a flagstaff in a still day. She had black eyes and a eyco «uu a nuuBwia, black circle about hor eyes, that maije the most rough and reckless man in them look larger than an owl's' at a

Even the head man of the company up the Creek, known as the -Gay RooBters," and who was notoriously

camp, jumped up,from a first-class

playing

at

aufe,ai^d

pass tbe^uucK,

iwuui-y uuuwio ,— to come in and weigh out dust enough to"call"the Parson and Sandy.

Tho Forks felt proud of itself for tho deed. Men slept sounder and awoke In a better humor with themselves lor the act.

But tho crowning feature of this woman was her enormous head of hair. It was black as night and bushy as a It was DiaCK as nigub auu uusujr »a ibv nil 'U" I, •J. Kanaka's all about her head'iu a heap conceded that the gold, and the widow. .. 1 a._ u. nt/xtInn «mamM vflrv snnn will to tDe DOS" that seemed to be constantly in motion. But at the back and down between her shoulders it had gathered into a cue, and hung down there like a bell-rope with a black tassel at the end.

Yet all this time it was pretty well

too, would very soon fall to the pos session of the Parson. Set 'em deep, Parson Vet era deep!" said the head of the 'Gay Roosters," as he shook hands with the

ItU ft DiaCK t£18861 nl luti uuu. rvoosicrs* She generally kept her mouth closed. Parson that night, winked at the boys, «i...4 oKa mat •«hma/I 11\ iiio fftitvift of nnker• But I soon observed that when she wanted to say anything, she pulled up her back, took hold of tho bell rope, and pulled till her mouth came opeu then she would throw out her sunken breast, and wind and wind with her two hands, and corkscrew at her back mu owwu. hair, and pull and twist and wind, until sand bearded men showed unconcern, she had wouud herself up so tight that It was the great topic—the presidential it was impossible to closo either her campaign, the general conference, the mouth or her eyes. After that she Dolly Varden of the day. The apcould talk faster than any man in the proaching wedding was the morning world, and faster than a great many talk, the talk at noon, and the talK at women, until she run down, and the bell-rope hung loose between her shoulders. Then her mouth would close suddenly, and she would have to Close suddenly, Him suo wutiiu u»»D «. Baulk iu »uu stop that instant, even in the fhidst of strong men and, if truth could be told .11 Mm ftanimn undertaker, who asentence.untilshe could seize the bell rope, pull herself open, and wind her self up.

and returned to his game of poker. Thero had been many a funeral at the Forks but never a birth or a wedding. But now this last, with all its rites and mysteries, was abo,ut to come upon the Forks and the Forks felt dignified and elated. Not one of the three tbou-

night. And it was good for the camp. The last fight was forgotten. Monte took a Uack seat in the minds of these strange, 311UUK »'wn I dare say the German undertaker, who had set up under the hill, noted a marked decline in his business.

The boys were with the Parsou and the Parson was with the boys. They all conceded that ho was a royal good fellow, and that the widow could not well do better.

The amount of gold raised by the men in their sudden and impulsive charity was in itself, for one in the widow's station, a reasonable fortune.

What if she gets up and gits?" The man who said that was a narrow minded, one-eyed, suspicious fellow, who barely escaped beiug kicked down by the head of the "Gay Roosters," and kicked into the street by the crowd.

Still later in the fall the Parson sat in tho Howlin' Wilderness, with his back to the blazing, crackling fire, having it all his own way at his favorite game of old sledgo. He had led out his queen for the jack just as though he knew where every card in the pack was entrenched. Then he led the king with liko composure, and was just crooking his fingers up his sleeve for the ace, when a man in black, with a beaver bat aud white necktie, rode by the window oil a black horso. "Somebody's a dyin' up the Creek, I speck," said Stubbs. "Maybe its old Yaller. lie allers was a kind of a prayin', cod-fish eating cuss, anyhow."

Here Stubbs turned and kicked nervously at the fire. Tho game did not go on long after that. No one said anything. Perhaps that was tho trouble. The men fell to thinking, and the game lost its inter-

Thero was no fight of importance at the Howlin' Wilderness that night, and by midnight the frequenters of the saloon had withdrawn. The candles were then put out, and the proprietors barricaded the door against belated drunkard, spread their blankets on a monte table, with their pistols under their heads, and by the smouldering tire were at rest.

The ground was frozen hard noxt morning, and the miners flocked into the Howlin' Wilderness. The Parson was leading off gaily again, and swearing with unusual eloquence and brilliancy, when a tall, thin, and sallow man, from Missouri, known as "The Jumper," entered. He looked wild and excited, and steppod high, as if on stilts.

The tall, thin man wont straight up to tho bar, struck his knuckles on the counter, and nodded at the red bottle before him. It camo forward, with a glass tumbler, and he drank deep, alone and in silcnco.

When a minor of tho Sierras enters a saloon where other men are seated, and drinks alone, without inviting any one, it is meant as a deliberate insult to those present, unless there Is some dreadful thing on his tniiid.

Tho Jumper, tall and fidgety, turned to tho Parsou, bent his back over the counter, and pushed back bis hat. Then he drew his right sleeves across his mouth, and let his arms fall down at his side limp and helpless, and his round, brown butternut bead roll loose and awkward from shoulder to shoulder.

Parson." Well! well! Spit it out!" cried the Parson, as he arose from the bench, with a dreadful oath. "Spit It out! What In h— is busted now p5rgoo,^

and rubbing, day after day. week aflor Here the nc&d ro^.ea ana uiearujs .week, as it nothing o^ the kind was swung moro than ever, and the man ever to happen to her. seemed in dreadful agony of mind.

Late in the fall, one evening, as the The Parson sprang across the room men stood in a semicircle in tno How- and caught him by the shoulder. He iin'Wilderness saloon, with their backs shook him till his teeth rattled like to the blazing log on fire, Sandy qnartz in a mill.

W V1AAIII0 V»« «**V| »•'«J brought his fist down emphatically on the bar, as he took part in the conversation, and, turning to the crowd, said

It's an everlastln* and a burnin' shame!" He rested his right elbow on the bar. and drew the back of his left hand

Here the head rolled and the arms

The—man—in black," gasped The Jumper. "Ttio black imn, on the black horse, with a while choker. Sandy—the—the Widow."

The Parson sunk into a seat, dropped his face in his hands for a moment, trembled only a little, and arose pale [Ie did not swear at all. I

across his mouth, as if embarrassed, and silent, lie did notswear at alf. I iflhd again began am perfectly certain that he did not It's a breathin' and a burnin'shame swear. I know that we all spoke of

camp can't afford one lady In tta pre- oftnis man. ciucta, why, then I shall pull up stakes When the Parson arose, The Jumper and go to where the tall cedar cast their shook himself loose from the counter, shadows over the coyote, and the coy- and tilted across to the other aide of ote howls and howls—and—and—" tho room to give him place.

He wiped his hand again, and broke The stricken man put his hands on down utierly. Bnt he had said enough, the counter, pecked over the barkeepresponsive ehord was touched, and er's shoulder at his favorite bottle as the men fairly sprung to their feet with it mournfully to a friend bnt said not delight at the thought. a word. He emptied a glass, and then.

Some ot the best thing* In life aro without looking right or left, opened

the door, and went straight up to the Parsonage. The Parsonage was the pame the boys gave to the cottage on the hill among the trees.

Gone for his two ltttle bull PUM, ie Pa

said Stubbs. That was what the Parson called his silver-mounted derrinffera.

There will be a funeral at the Forks to-morrow," gasped the Jumper. Here the German undertaker arose cheerfully, and went down to his shop. "Well, Sandy is no sardine. Bet yonr boots Sandy ain't no Sardine I said Stubbs. "And, anyhow, he's got the start just a little, if tne Parson does nail him. For he's had her first snd that's a heap, I think,

for

wimmen

mighty precious in the mines—sumthin to die for you bet." The Parson was absent for hours, and the Howlin' Wilderness began to grow impatient. "He's a heeling himself like a flght-ing-cock," said Stubbs "and, if Sandy don't go to kingdom come with his boots on, then chaw me up for a shrimp."

The man here went to the door, opened it, put his head out in the frosty weather, and peeied up the creek for Sandy, and across the creek for the Parson, but neither was in sight.

The "Gay Rooster" company knocked off from their work, with many others, and came to town in force to see the figbt. The Ilowlin' Wilderness was crowded and doing a rushing business.

The two bar-keepers shifted ana carefully arranged the sand-bags under the counter, which iu that day and country were placed there in every well-regulated drinking saloon, so as to Intercept wbatover stray bits of lead might be thrown in the direction of their bodies in the coming battle, and catnly awaited results.

About dark a thin, blue smoke, as from burning paper, curled up from the chimney of the parsonage, and the Parson slowly came forth. "Blamed if he hasn't been a making of bis will and a bnrning of his letters. Looks grummer than a deacon, too," added the man, as the Parson neared the saloon.

He spoke quietly to the boys, as he entered, but did not swear. That was thought again remarkable, indeed.

He went up to the bar, tapped on the counter with his knuckles, threw bis head back over his shoulder toward tho crowd, and yet apparently without seeing any one, he said

Boys, fall in line, fall in line. Rally around me once again." They fell in line or, at least, the majority did. Some, however, stood off in little knots and groups on tho other side, and pretended not to have heard or noticed what was going on. These it was at once understood, were fast friends of Sandy's and unbelievers in the Parson.

The glasses were filled quietly, slowly, and respectfully almost like filling a grave, and then emptied in silence.

Again it was observed that the Parson did not swear. That was considered as remarkable as the omission of prayer from the service in a well-regu-lated church, and I am sure contributed to throw a spirit of restraint over the whole party friendly to the Parson. Besides, it was noticed that he was pal#, haggard, hardly a word to say, andL most unusual of all, had hardly touched the glass to his lips.

No one, however, ventured to advise, question, or in any way disturb him. All were quiet and respectful. It was evident that the feeling in the Forks was largely with the Parson.

Sandv did not appear that evening. This, of course, was greatly against him. The Forks began to suspect that he feared to take the responsibility of his act, and meet the man he hai so strangely deceived and so deeply injured.

The next day the saloon was crowdcd more densely than before. Men stood off iu little knots and groups, talking earnestly. There was out one topio— only tltie one great subject—the impending meeting between the two leading men of the camp and the probably result.

The Parson was among the first present that day, pale and careworn. They treated him with all the delicacy of women. Not a word was said in his presenco of his misfortune, or the occasion of their meeting. To the further credit of tho Forks, I am bound to say there was scarcely an Intoxicated man present.

The day passed and still Sandy did not appear. Had there been any other way out of camp than through the Forks and up tho rugged, winding, corkscrew stairway of rocks opposite, and in the face of the town it might have been suspected that he had taken the widow and fled to the other lands.

The Parson camo down a littlo late next morning, pale and quiet, as before. He did notswear. This time, In fact, ho did not even drink. He sat down on the bench behind the monte.table, with his back to the fire and bis face to tho door. The men respectfullv loft a rather broad lane betwoen the Pars%n and the door, and the monto-table was not patronized.

The day passed dusk, ana still Sandy did not appear. By this time he had hardly three friends in the house.

IlMsn't got the soul of a chicken Caved in at last!" "Gone down In his boots!" "Busted in tho snapper!" "Lost his grip!" "Don't dare to show his hand!" Theso and like expressions, thrown out now and then from the little knots of men here and there, were the certain Indication that Sandy had lost his place in the hearts of the leading men of the Forks.

Toward midnight the bolt lifted Shoo! The door opened and Sandy entered, backed up against the wall by the door, and stood there, tall and silent.

His great b&ard wfts trinlfted a little, his busby hair carefully combed behind his ears,"and the necktie was now subdued into a neat love-knot, in spite of its old persistent habit of twisting around and fluttering out over bis left phouldcr. His ej'O uiet tho Parson's but did not quail.

Tho bar-keeper settled down gracfully behind tho uags of sand, so that his eyes only remained visible above the horizon.

The head of the "Gay Rooster" tilted a table up till it made a respectable barricade for his breast, and the crowd silentlv settled back in the corners, acked tighter than sardines in a tin x.

You might have heard a mouse, had it crossed the floor. Even the fretful fire see mod to hold for the timo its snappish red tongue, and the wind without to lean against the door and listen.

The Parson slowly arose from the table. He had his right hand in his pocket, and was very pale.

Experienced shootists, old hands at moral combat with their kind, glanced from man to man, measured every motion, every look, with all the intense eagerness ot artists who are favored with one great and especial sight, not to be met again. Others held their beads down, and only waited in a confttsed sort of manner for the barking of the dogs. jj jj. tvj

Neither of Sandy's hands were vieiblo but, ss the Parson took a few steps forward, and partly drew his hand from his pocket, Sandy's right one come up like a stool spring, and the nglv black mnzzle of a six-fchooter was in the Parson's faee.

Still he advanced, till his face almost touched the muzzlo ot tho pistol. He seemed not to see it, or to have the leant conception of danger.

It was btrange that Sandy did not? pull. Maylte he was surprised at tho singular action of tho Parson. Perhaps he had bis eye on the uplifted right hand ot his antagonist. At all events, he had the "drop." und could afford to wait the smallest ptrt of a second and see what he would «lo.

I have been walt-ing—the Parson halted a long time at tho particle. "I have been a waiting for you Sandy, a long time."

His voice trembled. The voice that had thundered above a hundred barroom fights, and had directed the men through many a difficulty in camp was now low add uncertain.

Sandy," he began again, and he took hola ot the counter with his left! hand, "I am going away. Your cabin is too small now, and I want you and I —and—your—your family to take care of the Parsonage until I come back."

Sandy sank back closer still to the wall, aud his arm hung down at his side.

You will move into the Parsonage to-morrow morning. It's full of good, things for winter. You will move in| it, Isay, to-morrow inurnin', early! Promise me that."

The Parson's voice was a little severe! here—more determined than before and as he concluded, he drew tho key. from his pocket and handed it to San-1 dy. s«,

You will... es." The men looked a moment into each other's eyes. Perhaps they wero both embarrassed. The door was convenient. That seemed to Sandy the best way out of his confusion, and he opened it softly and disappeared. The Howlin' Wil-j derness was parlyzed with wonder.

The parsou looked a little while outs in the (lark, through tho open door and was gone. There was a murmur of. disappointment behind him.

Don't you fear!" at last chimed in the head of the "Gay Roosters." "Don't yon never fear! That old seadog, the Parson, is deeper than an infernal gulf." "Look here!" He put up his finger to the side ot his nose, after a pause,! and, stroking his beard mysteriously,? said: "Isay, look herel Shoo! Not a word! Seftly, now' Powder! that's what it means. Powdor! Get 'em both into tho Parsonago and blow 'em to kingdom come together! Gay loving^ move that will be, won't it

The Howlin' Wilderness was reconciled. It was certain that tho end was not yet by a great deal. It was again struck with wonder, however and, for want of a better expression, took a drink and settled down to a game of monte.

Early next morning—a morning full of unutterable storms aud drifts of snow—Sandy with his bride and their few effects, entered the Parsonage as he had promised.

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The Parson was not to be seen. Men stood about the. door of tho Howlin' Wilderness, and up and downE the street, in little knots, noting the* course of things at the Parsonage, and now and then shaking their loose blanket coats and brushing off the fast falling snow.

After a while, when tho smoke rose up from the cbimney-top, and curled above the Parsonage with a bouie-llke| leisure, as if a woman's hand tended the fire below, a man, with his face muffled up, was seen making his way slowly up the ragged way that led froui| the town across the Sierra.

It was a desperate and dangerous undertaking at that season of the year.. He made but poor headway, in tho faco of the storm that came pelting down in his face from the fields of eternal snow but he seemed determined, and pushed slowly on. Sometimes it was observed he would turn, and, shading his eyes lrotn the snow, look down, intently at5: tho peaceful smoke driftiug through the trees above tho Parsonage. "Some poor idiot will pass in his checks to-night, if' lie don't come back pretty soon," said Stubbs, as he brushed the snow from his sleeves and went back in tho saloon.

Fandy soon took his old place in tho hearts ot the boys. His wifo was tho sun, moon and particular star of tho ciimp and the Parson wus lor a time almost forgotten^ save by tho two pcoplo at tho Parsonage. Often Sandy sought bim up and down tho creek, but ho was not to bo found. Ho had evidently loft tho camp.

After a month or two the talkbecame moro general and respectful about tho Parsou.

It was with a little surpriso that tho Folks discovered, one evening, whilo discussing his merits and recounting his achievements, that ho bad never really killed a man during nil his stay in the camp. How a man could liavo maintained the roputation for courage that this man had, and h.ivo hold tno influence over men that he did,without having killed a single man, seemed to tho forks unaccountable. Still they 5 spoke of this man with kindness and almost with gentleness, aud missed bim through all the long, weary winter more than they were willing to admit.

Spring came at last but not tho l'arson. The summer passed but tho Parson still refused to appear.

Early in autumn some prospectors pushed far up tho Fork, running parallel with tho trail loading out of camp and thero they found a skull. Tberos was a hole in the temple,and the marks of sharp teeth on the smooth white surface. They also found a few other bones, badly eaten by wolves, and a small sliver-mounted pistol.

The party camo down to the Forks one night when Sandy and his friends, wero enjoying themselves at the Howlin' Wilderness.

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The leader told what they had fouud, and laid tho pistol on the counter. It was one of the Parson's littlo "bull

'Fho pistol was empty. S.indy touched it tenderly, almost reverently. The boys stood in a lino at tho bar. Tho glasses were filled in silencc.

Then Sandy pushed back his black slouch hat. pulled it from his bead, and laid it on the counter. "Boys," he began," as ho stood on one le#f leaning against the counter, and looking sadly down into tho tumbler. "Boys here to—here's to the

He looked down and began again. Boys, he was deep, deep down to the bed-rock, boys but the pay grit was there—pure, pure gold.

The strong men drank and wipea their beards and eyes with ^eir sleeves as they turned away, Sandy did not touch the glass to bis Upas but his brown face and beard were wet some-, how. as he took np bis hat and went to the door. He looked up the hill, along the rocky trail then brushing bis eyes with hisWis, went slowly "nd sadly back to the cottage in the treea to tell the sad news to his "family." 'i n&t ,y

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