The Donaldsonville chief. [volume] (Donaldsonville, La.) 1871-current, 1874-01-03

i glory of its appropriate name. Then it
i was that the vampires that sucked the
| blood of honest labor came forth Short
| card men, poker sharps, monte dealers,
| faro dealers and others of the fraternity,
sneakeG out to prey upon the earnings of
1 the days and the Bar ran riot. 1t was then
4 that great strong fellows who were wear
\ ing outEtheir lives in daily conflict with
nature--tearing open the mountains and
might wear the gold they won,
would gather round the gambling tables
to ''try their luck and this thing
called SH'luck I" in the early days was
strange! thing. Existing on the supersti-
ton 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 math-
4 ematicaa certainties, and forgetting that a
mans luck was much of his own making,
4 it was followed with persistent fatuity
| that led the feet of too many into bad and
dangerous places. 1t was the scapegoat
4 for all sins and shortcomings. 1t was the
4 rock upon which were built the golden
castles Of the hopeful future; the shifting
| sand that carried away with it the unfruit-
| full and disastrous past; the harvest whose
sheavesi of promise often yielded only Bit
terness and disappointment. In these tits
| with fortune the Bar drank deep. Ii 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 cursed it.
| Altogether, the Bar was wild and
abandoned place; but attrition with these
people taught me that there are solvents
! for even crystalized wickedness-tha there
| is no cloud so dark as to be without a sin
| gle streak of silver, no nature so rugged
rs to be!impenetrable, or beyond the reach
of humanizing influences.
[ had been domesticated in my new home
about month, when circumstance took
place which seemed to change entirely the
whole routine of Hell Roaring. There
was an arrival one morning and the Bar
throbbed with a new sensation; q quiet,
unassuraing 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 shewas well named. From this day
marked change took place. Everyone
desired to be well thought of by the new
comers dress became an object of solici-
tude; drunken yells rending the quiet night
were less frequent; spirits of the evil
| seemed Ito be quelled, and the Bar was on
| its good behavior.
Little Daisy Nsas everywhere as minis
tering angel. If there was a sick-bed IN
the camp, Daisy was beside it with the lit
tie luxuFies 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, neglected heart with
hope, OF to write the last message to loved
ones over and beyond the plains. Quiet
in her tninistrations AS she passed the
saloon ON her errands of nlercy-her brown
hair neatly folded over the pale forehead,
her little basket of 8 goodies . on her arm,
and word and smile for every oIle-oaths
half uttered would be choked back, and
rough and brutal jests shrunk unspoken,
as if ashamed in her presence. Even Ore
oon Sis4-to whom a blush was stranger
would lang her head silently when Daisy
was near, and her eyes would swell-per-
haps, peor hing! with looking back to the
old days among the apple blossoms. when
she, toos was pure and innocent-at least, L
thought so. Somehow, the Bar was not
so dry as formerly, and Joe Miles, its
ruling spirit, neglected his business and
said he was sick of whisky selling. He
laid aside six-shooter that, reports said,
had served him only too well on more
than one occasion, with the remark 1that
the BarIwas so quiet now, it want no use
to carry it," Joe was very particular now
as to his personal appearance, dressing IN
the once despised 9'store clothes,' and took
to solitary rambling about the neighbor-
hood. 1t was noticed if Daisy had occa-
sion to- pass along the dangerous trail
through the canon, Joe was there with his
strong hand to guide her. If she crossed
the foot-log over the turbulent stream, a
steady arm was generally there to support
her, and more than once Joe was found III
| earnest conversation with her, or reading
| the books with which she supplied him.
Joe finally sold out the saloon, and invest
ed in mining-claim. which he was indus
| triously working when [ closed out my
business and left the neighborhood.
Visited the Bar once again. Down the
| wild Sierra, by the same tortuOuS and
rugged trail that I had traversed nearly
| two years before; winding among the
same lordlv pines, rich in fragrance and
standing like sentinels in the mountain
| 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 i'll their
beauty.iI approached the Bar. The place
| seemedI changed. A few little white cot
tages peeped out from among the rich oak
/ foliage, ,Ispots of ground were under cult
\ vation, and the hand of industry had been
busy. The clap-boarded saloon stood in
the same old place just as had first seer
/ it. but its dilapidated condition showed
1 that the institution was poorly patronized
i A crowd had gathered near it-not such
i crowd us in the olden time, but sober ano
quiet one. Everyone looked anxious tG
/ tell me something, but no one spoke till ]
/ found my old friend Thorp. Taking, my
hand kindly, he led me aside, and for 9
/ moment was silent. s.Well, cap" he said
earnestly. s'things is rough on the Bar
i they amt like they was when you left
She's gone-that's Daisy-and things AIM
l. ,.-sra< a<,n.