Worcester daily spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1850-1888, 1872-03-30
A New Rip Van Wrinkle.

Down on the flats, Yesterday, we met Jake
Gfan, in his original dress of So. The buck
skin patches were greasier, glossier and blacker.
His wolfskin cap showed patches and spots
above the SnOw-line, that looked as though the
mango had struck il, and the tail of the
animal that dangled about his right ear was
draggled, as though traied in the snow and
slush of a dozen winters. Jake'S wooden shirt
was in tatters and strings, and it was plain that
to perpetuate its usefulness he had never en-
trusted it to the tender mercies of Bddy or Sing
Lee. Jake came herding himself up H street
from the river bank meaHdering easily and
gracefully from side to side, and occupying the
full width of the "canon," as he called it, Hang
ing listlessly under his right arm was an old
style Springfield musket, with the muzzle to the
front. Visions of Carl Wood, Jim Harvey, and
Others of that ilk, doated through our mind as
he rose the hill, but they vanished as we
recognized good-hearted, supplemented Jake.
He essayed to stop as we met, but could not
steady himself until ne had thrown out his
gun as brace. Leaning upon its muzze, he
asked:
81 say, cap'n, is this 'Rary?" (Auraria.)
mo, you are in Denver"
"Jes' so; Gen'l Lar'mer's town."
eyes," we replied.
"Well, where's Denver hall"
at stood up at the head of the next street,
but it was burned down nine years ago.
He unused fOr few moments, and then said
rather to himself: "Many's the lively times we
bad there, when the pistol balls whizzed
through the canvas partitions" and the thought
seemed to sober Jake on the instant Says he,
Where is Jack Henderson"
Gone to San Domingo"
HI! but that's just like Jack. He left us
fellows up there to Deadwood and come down
to git some grub told the boys that Jack had
likely forgot us, and I'd come down to 'Rary
and see about ii. So | struck out across the
hills, and waded Clear creek over by Jim Ba-
kers, and the Platte right down there, and here
am. But | say, who built all these housen?"
We named dozen or so bloated lot-owners of
to-day, but Jake looked more and more incredu-
lous and shook his head. Says he "a don't
know none of them fellers. Where's Bill Clan
cy and Gen. Bowen and Judge Smith and Jack
Jones and Squire Heat and Wagner and Nc
Lure and all the old boysP Patiently we ans
wered his inquiries, until he could think of no
more. Gathering his musket again under his
arm, he started off with the declaration that he
was" a1goin right over to Uncle Dick Woottoon'S
for square drink of walipete" As he swung
around the corner, up at Pierces block, we OBJ
served the holes in his moecasinS were larger
than when he started out with Jack Henderson
and jim Goodwin for Deadwood diggngs, in
April, 1859, and we sorrowed at the grief that
would overcome him when he failed to find IN
Gle Dick under the old cottonwood at the corner
of Ferry and Fourth.
Jake's sleep has been long and unbroken. He
knows not that there has been war; that we can
talk with Europe, or that iron rails span the
continent. He mstook the Rio Glande track
for an arrangement to stretch antelope skins,
and the other to aid in tanning buffalo hides
Fancy the surprises that await him as he trav-
erses the streets of Denver and learns the events
Of the last dozen years.-DenUer NelCS.