The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1875-02-24
ftOarsO
BY JESSIE BENTON FREMONT

~ tain. and gain the knowledge at
forwards nut to such good use. There,
also narratives of endurance, sagac-
itv. daring and s~elf-relying courage
were told in the quiet, matter-of-
course manner Of men to whom the
opposite qualities were unknown.
When Washington Irving was
about to make his journey in the In
dian country. be was often at our
house while in St. Louis, and bis
comments on the simplicity as well
ae the fine courage Of these men was
NV first perception that there was
ANYTHING unusual in them. l am moi
qualified to do justice to the best o
these-only men who have shared
their lives can do so. But as a child
in St Louis, then in our winter home
in Washington, and for many year,
after on our own frontier, on that O
California, and 10 long weeks O
camping-out travel, | bad many oP'
portunities Of knowing them We-.
They were princes in their way a.
one If tbem said 20 me when be haa
his f~eeliprs a little hurt by q man Of
bigL nosition in Washington "Who
wSpId have thought it of him, such
a 8~pelooking gentleman, too. They
are great men here-princes ! n their
wav-but when they come out to the
claims. we are the princes, U they
could not live without Us"
When needy King John tired to
collect revenne By requiring each no.
IN. 70 produce bis titles and written
doeds or failing, forfeit them 10 the
crown one old eaTl's answer was
charming. He drew his great sword.
and flung it on the table before the
kings enjoys:
TELL your master / am no clerk,
nor were nv ancestors before me
Tkoae lands are ours by the sword,
and Inv the sword we viii bold them"
So with our mountain men-they
were not clerks, but great men.
One Of them. to whom | bad been
reading Mazeppa, said to me;
Read that part again where be
comes back with twice five hundred
men to thank him for his courteous
ride. That's the way ] felt when
The Blackfeet destroyed my caches,
and [ went back and thanked them
FOR II. Now if | had had reading
like that l might have made q scholar.
I was a young boy in the school
house when the cry came, indians. J
[ Jumped to my rifle, and threw
down the spelling book, and thar 1t
lays"
Oar good, dear friend Carson made
his mark rue and high, however,
without the need Of any more schol-
arship than the frontier school house
gave.
His instinct was true and delicate,
and led him to acts as correctly cour-
teous as the most thorough training
could do.
When the first boat that had v e
rested on the lonely, silent waters Of
the Salt Lake made its way TO the
island near the center, and the mar
at the bow was jumping ashore to
draw her up, Carson held him down
with "the Captain steps there FIRST. f"
] liked greatly an expression of bis
referring to q man who bad done him
a mischief: IF ever / get the chance
/ will do him an honest injury"
Nothing that was not honest and fair
Rnd open and Of good repute, found
lis place in this wholesome nature.
Carson had eminently the nature
shat rendered him "surtout douce ct
fscile dams ie commerce de la vie"-
tie nature that comes from g~entleness
combined with strength, from that
ianate sense Of justice which gives
60 others what we require for our
selves, from a healthy nature TO
which cheerfulness is so natural that
i~nstinctively they feel Its lack and
seek to impart it. To such a nature
the morbid, tho nervous, the heart
sick and weary, come and are com
1orted, and feel as invalids do when
hey get into those favored climates
ghers an even temperature aud the
certainty Of daily returning sunshine
and no surprises Of frosts or rains,
ihsensibly bring calm and healing.
Such a nature attracts to itself and
retains only what is hes: in all il
meets, and as the character engraves
itself upon the countenance, so the
many years since / had seen Carson
had done their ennobling work so ef-
fectually that my old friend was per
fectly in keeping with the beautiful
library of the friends house in which
we met again.
He had lived what we idealize in
writings and love to read Of. And
abou. him, too, was the dignity Of
coming death.
/ had been written TO from v ash
inCton that Carson was there. i'll and
depressed; that he had not consulted
a physician yet, but thought be had
hsd the heart injured in an accident;
that if / would urge him to come to
me and be well nursed and see a
physician, something might vet be
done, although his condition seemed
very serious. Carson had been for
years an important part o! my life.
when il was all filed with energetic
action, and when true friends in the
old home watched for and protected
the absent and welcomed them back
on the return from long dangers;
and nov that death, and political diff
f~erences as relentless, and the war,
had completely ended that life, / saw,
for the last time, one Of the few who
had not changed from that old time
Of youth and health and friends and
a complete home.
But Carson al only troubled by
my emotions, and told me with his
own simplicity Of courage, that be
had seen DR.. Sayre, who told him he
might live to reach his home, lat
Taos, near Santa Fe,) but that be
might also die at any moment, as the
heart was fatally injured by the ac-
cident from which Carson dates his
illness. In trying to save a mule, be
had become wound in its %lasiat, ard
both fell together over a steep preci-
pice-Carson's left side getting the
blow as be fell on the rocks below,
His open air and absolutely temperate
life DELAYED the inevitable end