Rocky Mountain husbandman. [volume] (Diamond City, Mont.) 1875-1943, 1876-11-16

Is much in it that We do not understand save
in a general way there are ships sailing
down to tropical lands we see palm groves
and s~warthy-hued Indians pacing shining
sands; we see a man busy with the multi
tudinous affairs of business, ever active, run
ming hlther and yon and always, always
alone. We ponder for a moment upon this
part of the picture but as the picture rolls
along we see him handling heaps of gold
and silver, slowing them away in bags, hid
ing them in secret places, and it dawns on
us that it is the sole aim of this mans life to
Accumulate riches.
We recall for a moment the student at his
books and feel for a time a sad regret. Has
he forgotten the lessons then learned? Has
he forsaken the wife and child OF his early
manhood? Has he given himself up to the
demon of cupidity and does he walk only as
he is guided by this fearful and ayaricious
fiend?
In all the panorama as it passes by we do
not see one single sign betokening a happy
home circle no hand laid lovingly on ten
der shoulder, and no arms opening to take
into their endearing embrace the child of
love.
Now a new scene presents itself. A trail,
and an emigrant train winding over deselate
plains, by quiet valley streams, through
rock strewn gulches, over mighty mountain
passes. Men drop by the wayside, horses
lie down and rise no more. White canvassed
wagons are left deserted upon the road. But
one mans face shows clear and distinct it
is brown and bearded, resolute and stern.
Always alone, even in the biyouac, at the
campfire. Always alone, even at the noon
day meal. Always alone, though the crack
of the drivers whip rings Increasingly in his
ears.
A new scene presents itself. A city by
the sea. Full of an eager, busting crowd,
but no one so eager, no one so bustling as
the man whose familiar face we saw in the
marts of business, in the mine, in the mar
ket, in the field. Ever with the one thought
upermost in his mind. He walks over the
plains about the city, and 10! a change
comes over them and stately buildings rise
like Alladdin's palaces at his beck. Slowly
the canvass rolls on; we see deeper burrows
gathering upon his brow, a duller lustre
shining in his eyes; age is creeping upon
him and his step is growing feebler, his
hand less firm.
Always, always alone. Wrapping around
him his mantle of reserve closer and closer
as years go by. But the head and the heart
these restrain their strength all the time.
There is no taltering here, for their frmness
comes from the firm gold in which they are
encased.
Always alone, outwardly, but inwardly,
what was there going on in the mind Of this
man? Who can tell?
The scene changes and in the picture
comes the last OF the ~eyentful history. The
old man lies a-dying; the hands that have
worked so long lie motionless upon the COW
erlid the brain that has been active through
three score of years grows more and more
quiet; night and silence rest upon the scene
and as the clock strikes one the soul releases
itself from its tenement Of clay and the fee
Die, Pickering lamp of life dies out.
The hands that arc about his bedside are
not of his skin; no wife, no children kiss the
cold lips as the damp of death gathers upon
them.
lie died as he had lived essentially alone.
He left behind millions upon millions of
dollars; he took with him-what?
Dear reader, do you recognize the life we
have thus briefly sketched?
AS we think it over, what are the lessons
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