Lyon County times. [volume] (Silver City, Nev.) 1874-1907, 1875-04-11

- N AIChEL ONDEh IhE II ILL.
While making our usual round for items on
Friday morning, chance led our footsteps to
trace the winding path that leads down under
the hill and across the classic ravine vulgarly
called Gold Canyon; and while thus abstract
eddy meandering we thought-thought how
happy might be this cold, unforgiving world
were it not for the ragged edges that beset every
avenue to earthly bliss-if the grim shadow of
the gaunt wolf would cease its prowlings at the
door of the poor, and if there were no news
papers, no cholera morbus, no spelling schools
and no Beecher trial. 1t was in this state of
moody musing that we stumbled upon the
PROSTATE, apparently lifeless body of an Indi-
an, lying face-downward in the dirt. We like
live Indian. We positively love dead one.
What wonder then that we bent over the fallen
hero of the plains to ascertain the correct
measure of our joy? "Noble son of an ignoble
race, art dead? or peacefully slumbering in thy
native sandsf" said we as the toe of our No. IL
brogan pryed his nose out of the gravel. cart
gone across the river of shadows to the happy
hunting grounds of thy fathers skeedaddled
before, or art snoozing the snooze of Bacchus
under the blue vault and bright sunshine of
this calm April day?" continued we, fondling
his ribs with our boot. But there came no
sympathetic response from the PROSTATE war
rior and we thought our joy complete. Ten
derby, affectionately, we gathered 50-pound
bowlder from the hillside, placed it on the
small of his back to mark the spot where the
great man had succombed to the cares of an
improvident life, and was about to inscribe an
appropriate epitaph to his sad taking off, when
the inanimate aborigine gave a grunt. The
monument erected upon his spinal column
weighed heavily on his diaphragm. He was
not dead but sleeping, oh SO sweetly sleeping
the happy hours away-superinduced by a
clear conscience and the essence of corn. How
beautifully appropriate the thought Indian,
Indian corn, corn whiskey, Indian corned!-
and in what harmony one follows the other!
In the fullness of our heart we stepped back for
another bowlder to embelish the observatory
we had builded on the back of his stomach,
when tired natures sweet restorer loosed her
soothing chains-the gentle savage rolled over,
opened the closed eyes, and gave a warwhoop
that trundled off up the canyon like the rever-
berations of an auctioneer's last call-goinS,
going-gonei Ere its last echoes were lost
on the divide, dusky maiden of sixty sum-
mers appeared on the scene, and in Rhythmic
snatches she thus spake to Natchez-fcr 1t was
old Natchez, squaw chief Of the Piutes;
PROUD scion of a noble race,
Why lest thou here in foul disgrace?
My gentle Natchy, you'll take cold
Let's tuddle! l aren't agoing to scold!
Come hubby Now here's Beecher's letter
DO come home; don't you think you'd better?
IT'S thy wife who speaks, i'll gentle tone
You darnation fool!-let's both go home!
The brow of the noble Natchez clouded, and
thus spake he:
''Git out, old gal why dost thou bicker?
I'm (hicl little full, '-juson my ticker.
You (hic) go 'ome and ten'ter biz,
My right ter spree faint right to (hic) quiz
Sag! what's er news in the Beeeher case?'
With this old Match turned on his face, and
Mrs. Match feelingly resumed;
"Hai dost thou then know of Civil Right,
And liberty take to thus get tight!
l blush for thee thou proud nomad-
You're clothes are wet-you look so bad!
For married bliss thourt quite unfit
Dost hear, old man?-get up and CTR
Natchez was with the drowsy god again. He
wouldn't bulge. The wife of his bosom went
through his pockets, garnered two ten cent
pieces, and sorrowfully went away. So did
we. He had stolen the whisky from a miners
cabin, got drunk, and thus has recorded an
other bright page in life's gloomy history.