Fayetteville observer. [volume] (Fayetteville, Tenn.) 1850-1966, 1866-02-08
MY LAST STAKE.
A THRILLING Story OF EARLY LIFE IN
| CALIFORNIA, ~ s9r

A THRILLING SluRf VI ekRLf lltE IN
CALIFORNIA. ssI
tits a cold, stormy, chilly yevening
in Sacramento, and the nolth-eas-
tern winds that come from the
snowy tops of the Sierra Nevada
bring with them wintry feeling
of discomfort to the denizens of
the plains, disagreeable in proper
ton to their rarity. The heavy
curtains of the parlor in my snug
little cottage are closely drawn,
and the bright, flashing, wood fire
in the CRATE 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 con-
clusion to the stormy days that
have passed. Sitting in my cozy
arm chair, gazing at the genial
and changing flames, a host OF un-
bidden memories come to me from
the past, like dreams, more than
the bitter realities they were;
for we can scarcely realize, in look
ing back to early life in California,
the indifference and GOODNESS with
which we met danger and even
death-when all was in state of
delirious excitement, q feverlsh
mania for gold-seeking actuating
all, proving aworse curse than even
at present.
While indulging in these
thoughts and the luxury Of com
pairing past sufferings and sorrows
with present happiness and joys,
soft little hand had crept into
nv own, and soft cheek rested
against my face, and the inquiring
eyes of my darling little girl, Kitty,
met mine; yet another hand clasp
ed ny left and another head was
resting against my heart, whence
loving looks sought mine from the
liquid depths Of my wife's bright
eyes. Gazing Within them, l
could read there the unchaneing
love that made my constant hap
piness; for what more inestimable
boon can fortune bestow on man
than the love Of a true woman?
Said voice in my ear, Father,
you promised me story tonight
"a real, true story-tell me one
about yourself-when you first
came here, andabout gold digging,
and killing, and all those strange
things the newspapers tell about,
sometimes. l know you can; and
perhaps you was mcst killed in
those hor-id times yourself-were
you ever, papa?
The child's eager curiosity
brought to my remembrance one
of those dark episodes 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 l viewed the
incidents asspot very remarkable.
The child nestled closer to me,
-and as the thoughts she had sug-
gested arose, they came from my
lips in words, rather as If | was
thinking aloud than relating a sto-
iry for her amusement.
! Yes, those were dark times for
me in the latter part of the year
1852. Recovering from severe
and nearly fatal illness, was to-
tally without means, or any steady
employment. Educated as a gen-
tleman and having passed the
greater part of my life among
books, as a scholar, | had no friends
among these who might have as
sisted me in obtaining work and
bread. Many more there were,
doubtless, who, like myself, pre-
ferred the keen, biting pangs of
/ hunger, to making confession of
poverty, or asking aid from the
inocking lips of charity.
/ 1t is true many will consider it
a very reprehenslble degree of
( pride; but | felt l would rather
die than beg a favor from my fel-
low man, AID very near came to
lit that winter Of '52. HnW many
4 in like circumstances may haFe
passed away in death, throughout
the length and breadth Of Calitor-
MIA, and whose sad story and fate
unknown, shall never be told. IN
a dismal garret, open to the winds
!of heaven. UNPROTECTED from the