The weekly Shasta courier., 1873-12-13

sharps, mOnte-dealers, farO-dealers, and
others of the fraternity sneaked out to
prey on the earnings of the day, and the
Bar ran riot. 1t was then that great
strong fellows, who were wearing out
their lives in daily conflict with Nature
tearing open the mountains and wrest-
ling with the streams-that others might
wear the gold they won, would gather
round the gaming tables, to TRY their
luck this thing called "luck" in
the early days was a strange thing. Ex-
isting on the superstition that is found
in the composition of every man, in a
greater or less degree, it was phantom
that haunted all classes, and entered
into all human calculations. Luck
shamed reason and set at naught all
mathematical certainties, and, forgetting
that mans luck was much of his own
making, it was followed with a persist
ent faulty that led the feet of too many
into bad and dangerous places. 1t was
the scapegoat for all sins and short-com-
ings. 1t was the rock upon which were
built the golden castles of the hopeful
future; the shifting sand that carried
away with it the unfruitful and disas-
trous past; the harvest whose sheaves of
promise often yielded only bitterness
and disappointment. In these tilts with
fortune the Bar drank deep. If it was
dry by day, it was unquenchable by
night. If luck was with the boys, they
drank, and dallied with it; if against
them, they drank still deeper, and ours
ed it.
Altogether, the Bar was wild and
abandoned place; but attrition with these
people taught me that there are solvents
for even crystallized wickedness-that
there is no cloud so dark as to be with
ont single streak of silver, no nature
so rugged as to be impenetrable, or be-
yond the reach of humanizing inf1u-
ences.
l had been domesticated in my new
home about month. when a circum-
stance took place which seemed to change
entirely the whole routine of He'll Roar
ing. There was an arrival one morning,
and the Bar throbbed with a new sensa-
ton; quiet, unassuming lady-a Mrs.
Hampton-and her little daughter, who
sought rest and health in the mountains.
Mrs. Hampton was widowed, but no one
inquired into her history. She was
welcomed as new and strange element
among so much wild, reckless life, that
brought back memories of mother, or
sister, or sweetheart far away, and the
Bar was pleased. The boys christened
the little daughter Daisy" and she was
well named. From this day marked
change took place. Everyone desired to
be well thought of by the newcomers;
dress became an object of solicitude; !;
drunken yells rending the quiet night
were less frequent; spirits of evil seemed
to be quelled, and the Bar was on its good
behavior.
Little Daisy was everywhere as min
istering angel. If there was sick bed
in camp, Daisy was beside it with the
little luxuries that the hand of woman
only knows how to prepare. If poor
fellow was about to ''pan out" his few
last sands of life, Daisy was there, to
wet the parched lips, to fill the poor, ne
elected heart with hope, or to write the
last message to loved ones over and be-
yond the plains. Quiet and unobtrusive
Daisy moved about in her ministrations
AS she passed the saloon on her errands
of mercy-her brown hair neatly folded
over the pale forehead, her little basket
of goodies" on her arm, and word and
smile for every one-oaths half uttered
would be choked back, and rough and
brutal jests shrunk unspoken, as if
ashamed in her presence. Even Oregon
Sis-to whom a blush was stranger
would hang her head silently when
Daisy was near, and her eyes would
swell-perhaps. poor thing! with looking
back to the old dsys among the apple
blossoms, when she, too, was pure and
innocent-at least, I thought so. Some
how, the Bar was not SO dry as former
ly; and Joe Miles, its ruling spirit, ne
elected his business, and said he was
sick of whisky-selling. He laid aside q
six-shooter, that, reports said, had serv-
ed him only too well on more than one
occasion, with the remark ''that the Bar
was so quiet now, it want no use to car
ry it." Joe was very particular now as
to his personal appearance, dressing in
the once despised "store Clothes" and
took to solitary rambling about the
neighborhood. 1t was noticed if Daisy
had occasion to pass along the dangerous
trail through the canyon, Joe was there
with his strong hand to guide her. If
she crossed the foot-log over the turbu-
lent stream, sturdy arm was generally
there to support her, and more than
once Joe was found in earnest converse
tion with her, or reading the books with
which she supplied him. Joe finally
sold out the saloon, and invested in a
mining claim, which he was Industrious
ly working when 1 closed out my bust
ness and left the neighborhood.
I visited the Bar once again. Down
the wild Sierra, by the same tortuous
and rugged trail that had traversed
nearly two years before; winding among
the same lordly pines, rich in fragrance
and standing like sentinels in the noun
tain passes; through the same groves of
laurel and manzanito, glistening like
waves of emerald and silver in the noon
day sun, full-blossomed and wondrous
in their beauty, 1 approached the Bar.
The place seemed changed. A few little
white cottages peeped out from among
the rich oak foliage, spots of ground
were under cultivation, and the hand of
industry had been busy. The clap
boarded saloon stood in the same old
place just as had first seen it. but its
dilapitated condition showed that the
institution was poorly patronized. A
crowd had gathered near it-not such a
crowd as in the olden time, but sober
and quiet one. Everyone looked anx-
ious to tell me something, but no one
spoke till found my old friend Thorp.
Taking my hand kindly, he led me aside,
and for a moment was silent "Well.
Cap he said, earnestly, things is
rough on the Bar; they amt like they
was when you left. She's gone-that's
Daisy-and things amt gone right for
some O. the boys ever since. Yes, Cap,