The Republican journal., 1873-04-03
The Lost Cabin.

The Lost Cabin.
| had the ''blues." For already I had
become satisfied that the young metropolis
OF the Northwest which Hope, with the
typical vermilion finger, had pointed out
To me as the city among ten thousand
where crowding eases and flowing fees
would overwhelm the ambitious disciple
Of Blackstone, had really more claw" than
il could conveniently carry with any
prospect Of municipal progress. Had
every inhabitant of the place given him.
self up entirely to the acrimonious and
implacable litigation, the felicitous equi-
poise of demand and supply would not
vet have been restored; on the contrary,
a gannt forest of legal climbs" would
have remained idle and unappropriated-
waving hleakly in the winter of inevitable
decay. A ''heart of oak" supposng it to
have been in the law business, could not,
under these circumstances, have been very
.ioyouslv imponderable and it was nc
wonder that my own, being of very com
mon timber. weighed heavily on this April
night. and dragged me down into tathom-
less depths of despondency. What was |
to do when the few hundred dollars
brought with me had wasted utterly away ?
The intewogatorv rose upon me again and
again with Il sphinx like emphasis that
was appalling. While amusing myself
with reyelies of this cheerful nature, some
one raped ut my office door and in re-
Sponse to my ''come n," not uttered in
the @entest Of torres, tall Young man, Of
dark complexion. and habited in n suit of
hrf, ,llGt 7 Il
him, atterthe usual salutations had passed,
as Il person who had for several weeks
been solouming at my hotel, the c.
house. Taking the chair protfered, he
seated himself near the stove, and, bend
inc upon me from under pair Of heavy,
black eyebrows q glance, glitterlng and
keen with scrutiny, said: "Its nasty
Might for April" !"
'Ii is, indeed" replied, stopping to
replenSh the stove; land you seem to
have had the benefit of it."
Yes. | had some difficulty in finding
Your otlice-and that reminds me that |
did hot come here to discuss the weather,
bat to tall; business"
lie bent his head for a moment, as if to
reflect, and fixed myself in an attitude
"i respectful attention, my first fee b eing
III" idea upppimoSt in my mind.
Are You satisfied with this ~ and as
he spoke he waved his hand satirically
toward the single Falsta tfian column of
law-booEa, largely recruited from the
patent office departmen t, on shelf against
the wall opposite.
smiled and without waiting for further
answer, he proceeded.
'lf you succeed at all in the practice Of
the law in Portland il will be after years
of patient, persistent labor and a life of
hideous economy and privation. | believe
that you realize this yourself, and for that
reason | come here to share with you
valuable secret and to solicit your assist
ance in u project which, if successfully
prosecuted, will enrich us both"
A suspicion of double -barreled burglary
flashed across me, and | suppose he must
have seen something of the kind in my
face, for he resumed immediately, with
an impatient gesture, 'Nay, it is honor
able; and all ask You in return for the
confidence | am about to repose in you, is
II pledge of secrecy in the event that you
do not Join me in the project to which
have alluded.'
Having received every assurance of
good 1aith on my part, he drew his
chair closer to mine, and then looking
toward the door, suggested that | had
better lock it. | got up to attend to that,
and when resumed my seat beside him,
he had lighted a cigar, and was evidently
going to be comfortable He held his
cigar-case toward me, and asked:
"Did you ever hear the story of the
Lost Cabin ?"
never had
"No? | will tell you. In the spring
of 49,, while the southern border Of
Oregon was ringing with the battles of
that memorable war between the heroic
settlers of the Territory and the Shasta
and Rogue river Indians, two brothers by
the name of Wilson-James and Henry
arrived at jacksonville, and getting to-
gether a small party Of hardy and expert
enced miners, set out, fully armed, to
prospect for gold along the rivers and
among the broken ranges of mountains
southwark of that then prosperous mining
town. The party had been out for several
weeks, meeting with but little success,
and had Just lost one of their number in
skrmish with the Indians, when council
was called, and all but the Wilson brothers
to return to jacksonville and wait for the
conclusion OF the war
The Wilson's were OF q naughty, obsti-
nate spirit thorough in mountain craft,
and brave to recklessness. With them
daring was a habit, and danger luxury,
and they held out against the entreaties
Of their more prudent comrades, until 1t
was agreed, finally, that they should have
the greater part Of the provisions, ammu-
milton, etc, and continue in their search,
while the others would retrace their steps
by the shortest and safest route.
On the morning of the parting, James
Wilson rose in his stirrups, and swinging
his rifle aloft with an arm splendidly
muscular, exclaimed: Goodbye, boys
and good luck to you, but we can't 90
back There is gold somewhere yonder
behind that smoky line of mountains, and
we are going to dig it out, though all the
red skins of the wilderness stand guard
over it. Wen come back rich as kings,
boys. or leave our bones to bleach there :;
it's a glorious battle-ground
This high speech fired the hearts of the
retreating party for moment, and some
Of them turned, ,as though they, too, would
fain peril their lives for that without which
life is more bitter than death; but the
momentary flash of heroism went down,
and, shaking their heads in denial, they
went away, shouting back rude words of
cheer.
They never met again. The main
division reached Jacksonville after many
days OF wearisome and perious travel,
and waiting in vain through lengthening
months for some tidings Of the Wilson's.
Their story is sealed to all, save me.
owe my own knowledge of their future pro-
gress and final fate to the fact that we were
cousins and confidential friends. With
this word OF explanation I will give you
SO much OF the history of the brothers as
came to me in the letters of James, written
at San Francisco in the year 1859. have