Helena weekly herald. [volume] (Helena, Mont.) 1867-1900, 1872-05-09
A New Rip Van Wrinkle.

| DOWH ON tne HatS yesterday we met Jake
Gillillan in his original dress of $50. The
buckskin patches were greaser, glossier ant
blacker. His wOlfskin cap showed patche!
and spots above the line that looked az
though the mango had struck it, and the tai
of the animal that dangled about his right eal
was draggled, as though trailed in the snow
| and slush of dozen winters Jake's wooler
shirt was in tatters and strings, and it was
| plain that to perpetuate its usefulness he had
never entrusted it to the tender mercies OF
Biddy or Sing Lee. Jake came herding him
self up ii. street from the river bank, mean.
dering easily and gracefully from side to side
7 and occupying the full width of the 'scanon,
as he called it. Hanging listlessly under his
right arm was an old-styled Springfield musket
with the muzZle to the front Visions of
Carl Wood, Jim Harvey, and others of that
ilk, floated through our mind as he rose the
bill, but they vanished as we recognized good
hearted, simple-minded Jake. He essayed to
stop as we met but could not steady himself
until he had thrown out his gun as O brace.
Leaning upon its muZzle, he asked: q HDdl
II say, cap'n, is this 'Rarayp" (Auraria. J
"No, you are in Denver."f - >nsE3,aT I.
"Jes so, Gen'l Lar'mer's town. Well,
where's Denver Hall?"1. j., 3y.rrn off
1t stood up at the head of the next street,
but it was burned down nine years ago"
A1C DluoCu d lew moments anu JneT SAlO.
rather to himself, "Manys the lively times
We had 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 ?'' s*2l
t" Gone to San Domingo, la0G 3uf bGgd 70
.'H-lb but that's like Jack. He, left us
fellows up there to Deadwood and come down
to get some grub. told the boys that Jack
had likely forgot US, and I'd come down to
'Rary to see about 1t. So struck out across
the hills and waded Clear Creek over by Jim
Bakers, and the Platte right down there, and
here ! am. But I say, who built all these
We named dozen or SO bloated lot-owners
of to-day, but Jake looked more and more in.
credulous and shook his head. Says he, II
don't know none of them fellers. Where's
Bill Clancy and General Bowen and
Judge Smith and Jack Jones and Squire
Heat and Wagner and Mcclure and ali the
old boys?" .Ei t.''. h'...' p i|H2F
Patiently we answered his inquiries, until
he could think of no more Gathering his
musket under his arm, he started off with the
declaration that he was ''a-goin' right over to
Uncle Dick Wootton's for square drink of
waliPete. AS he swung around the corner
up ut F1erces block, we then observed the
holes in his moccasins were larger than when
he started with Jack Henderson and Jim
Goodwin for Deadwood Dfggings in April,
1859; and we sorrowed at the grief that would
overcome him when ne failed to find Uncle
Dick under the old cottonwood over at the
corner of Ferry and Fourth, Nv.
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 mistook, the Rio
Grande track for an arrangement to stretch
lNSD,o IL Al u.
ming buffalo hides. Fancy the surprises that
await his as he traverses the streets of Denver
and learns the events of the last dozen years.
--D6noer Neaes Z .rassEEyFzseg = .,