The Tiffin tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1868-1887, 1873-02-06
. From Appleton's Journal.
King Log.

At"H Ivy
The great six foot logs had burnt
down to bed of glowing Goals; the
woOdmen were asleep in their tiers of
berths at the far end of the shanty /;
and eleven o'clock had struck-late
hours for the lumber camp, where the
camp must be astir and abroad an
hour or two before the slow dawn
lighted up the snOw-covered lumber
country lying north and west of Sagi-
nav Bay.
Two men sat by the fire, smoking
clay pipes; one was visitor, the 9TH
er owner of the camp. Said the visi-
tor.
"Oh,I know something of hardship,
King. Like many boy, l thought l
must see border life and, as soon as l
got through college, started. don't
know what l expected a little of
everything, I suppOse-buffalO hunt
ing, a few gold nuggets, and any
amount of adventure. What I got
was ball in my shoulder, that has
troubled me ever since, and knowl-
edge Of what Is meant by the terms
freezing to death, starving to death,
and, worse than all, being frightened
to death; the Apaches carrying the
last art to perfection. Going across
the plains was not at that time what
it is now that was in 1856, the year 1
left college,"
"What college, may ask ~ said
King Log.
"YaIe, of course. That Is the only
college worth mentioning" said the
graduate, with that air OF superiority
which the New Haven alma mater
knows how to bestow upon her child
ren. At the same time he looked
curiously at the lumber-man. What
could he know of colleges ?
Then you were of the class of '5j,"
said King Log, laying down his pipe,
and claspinghfs hands behind his head.
From the mass of his curly beard and
! hair, from the coarse working clothes
| he wore, from the rough air of the
whole man, there yet peeped out for
/ the moment a something which
struck the eye Of the visitor, like those
strange ghost-faces family seen on the
/ little, wrinkled window panes of a
common tavern, although reason
knows there is nothing there. He
looked and silently wondered.
81 was in the class of '50," said the
lum herman, at length
'.EOuI Who, then, are you ~
King Log went on to the end of the
end of the room, and unlocking his
chest, lifted out an old valise, batter
ed and yellow. Bringing this to the
fire, he took from it book wrapped
in several layers of paper and handed
it to the visitor, who, opening it, read
on the title page, Frederick HOl.
combe, Yale College, 1S49." Strangely
enough, the book was a collection of
religious poetry, mostly of the weakly
pretty style which such collections
gather in.
"Proba5ly you don't remember the
name" said the lumberman, taking
back the book, and looking at the
writing with dreaming eyes.
"But do remember il, !" replied the
visitor. "HOlcombe was name well
known for the widest prsnks of the
decade. He was a good scholar, too,
they said. Friend of yours >"
King Log sat silent q moment, still
looking at the faded name then he
| folded the papers carefully around the
volume, took up his pipe, knocked
out the ashes and said, quietly:
eyes"
"Class of $50 ."
"But thought Fred Holeombs was
dead ?n
$50 he is. King Log has got his
skin, though"
The visitor stared.
"Now, then, man, what do you
mean 2" he said at last, finding that
10 ri lnn
"Well, I think I'll tell yOu, because
you can understand it. haven't
| seen a Yale boy for fifteen years (; the
last one was a mule driver out on the
Sacramento River, but he'd sunk so
low there was no comfort in him.
! Somehow it carries me back to old
times to think that poor Fred Hol-
cOmbe is remembered. But first,
stranger, when and where are you
going ?n
'For when, at daylight tomorrow.
| For where, across the plains to San
Francisco, and then on to Japan"
"I'm safe, then. 1t isn't the world
I care for-you'u laugh-but it's this
camp; I shouldn't like to have the
story get back here. You see I've set
tied down in this tract, and I've tried
hard TO make myself and it. known
and liked throughout the length and
breadth of the Saginaw country; it's
my one ambition now"
"You've succeeded, Holcombe.
They told me down below that this
was the crack camp of the lumber re-
gion, and you the king of the lumber
men. They call you King you
know.D
'tHow strange it seems to hear my
fathers name again ! scarcely re-
alize that it is mine. Well, if you
care to hear my story-you do Draw
nearer then. 1 think I shall feel the
better myself for telling it. 1 left col
p lege in 80, and went to BrentOn.
Father was there as usual,-a stern,
unkind man, as I thought then
hard.working, care-Yorn man, as l
know now, straining every power he
had to support in luxury his three
motherless children-my two gay eX-
travagant sisters, and my wild eX-
travagant self. We did not under
stand him, any of us (; he had grown
apart from his family. Weighed
down by the heavy cares of an intri--
cate business, he had no time TO stu1y
US no time to make himself under
stoodt; and We had come to regard
him as our purse-bearer, and nothing
more. A mother might have stood as
interpreter between US, but our moth
er died when we were little more than
children. So much for our home. AS
| I look back upon it nov, I am over
come with pity to think of poor, silent
father, working on and on alone,
growing old alone, and, with all his
straining eXersions, never able to see
q way out for as fast as he made the
money, we took it, almost without ask
ing. At last there came q pinch In
the money-market ; father made
superhpmap eKertions, but the world
was against him, and be failed. Then
his occupation vas gone, worn ont
with hard work, he died. ! see, now,
but / did not then.
ave were not bad hearted, but we
did not understand. Father seldom
spoke to Us /; We supposed he was made
Of money, and so We all went on our
rejoicing, until suddenly, one morn
ing, our pnrss-bearer failed, and the
next he died,
"My two sisters went 10 an aunt,
and 1 went, ! might almost say to the
devil. did make one or tEO efforts
to get a situation in Brenton, but
could not stand the malicious pity, the
cold shoulder, and the kick down hill,
which the world gives the rich man
turned poor. So went West. But /
knew nothing of wOrE-nothing of
l. =