, 1860-11-09
From the San Francisco Weekly Mirror.
MY LAST STAKE.
REVELATION OF THE FAST.
BY PAUL DUoIR.

1t was a cold, chilly evening in Sierra
uento, and the northeastern winds that
come from the snowy tops Of the Sierra
Neyadas bring with them wintry feeling
Of fdiscomfort to the denizens Of the plains
as disagreeable in proportion to their rari-
". The heavy curtains Of the parlor in
nv snug little cottage are closely drawn,
and the bright, flashing, swapping wood
ere in the grato gives cheerful light and
heat to the happy home have found after
Years Of toll and Vicissitudes. The calm
content that now blesses me is a fitting
conclusion to the stormy days that have
passed. Sitting in my cozy armchair gaz-
ing OF the genial and changing flames,
host Of unbidden memories come to me
from the past, like dreams more than like
the bitter realities they were, for we scarce
y can realize, in looking back to early life
10 California, the Indifference and GOODNESS
with which we met danger and even death I;
when all was state Of delirious excite
ment, feverish mania for gold seeking ac-
tuating all, and proving a worse curse than
even at present.
While indulging in these thoughts, and
The luxury Of comparing past Sufferiugs and
sorrows with present happiness and joys,
Sot little hand had crept into my right
hand soft cheek rested against my cheek,
and the inquiring eyes Of my darling little
girl, Kitty, met mine; yet another hand
essped my left, and another head was rest
Ing against my heart, whence loving looks
sought mine from the liquid depths of my
Vife's bright eyes; gazing within them, |
could read there the unchanging love that
made my constant happiness; for what
more inestimable boon can fortune bestow
on man than the love Of true woman ?
Said q voice in my ear; Father, you
promised me a story, to-night--a renl, true
story; tell me one about yourself-when
you FIRST came here, and about gold dig
ging, and killing, aud oil those strange
things the newspapers tell about, some!
tines l know you can; and, perhaps, You
vas most killed in those horrid times, your
sf-Were you ever papa 2"
The child's eager curiosity brought to
ny remembrance one of those dark epis-
odes in my life, that came and passed so
quickly, that it is with difficulty can al
ways realize l was an actor in it, although
at the time viewed the incidents as not
90 very remarkable. The child nestled
closer to me, and as tho thoughts she had
suggested arose they came from my lips in
words, rather as If l we're thinking aloud
than relating a story for her amusement.
Yes, those were dark times for me 10
Tie latter part Of the year 1859. Recov-
sEing from a severe and nearly fatal illness,
Twas totally without means, or any steady
employment. Educated as a gentleman,
and having passed the greater part Of my
life among books as scholar, had no
trends among those who might have as
listed me in obtaining work and bread
Many more there were, doubtless, who, like
myself, preferred the keen, biting pangs of
hunger, to making a confession Of poverty,
Or asking aid from the mocking lips OF
charity. 1t is true, many will consider ii
very reprehensible degree Of pride, but l
ielt would rather die than beg favor
nom my fellow man, and very near came
70 it that winter of 80. How many in
IKE circumstances may have passed away in
Oeath, throughout the length and breadth
Of California, and whose sad stories and
Ate unknown shall never be told. In a
DISMAL garret, open to the winds of heaven,
unprotected from the cold, assailed by the
"Fturing pangs of hunger, can never for
S's those long, long, weary nights. A
Uoll, hopclcs: despair seized upon NE, and