Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1876-12-05

[
yass bag of letters he accompanied IT,
They rode till about ten o'coek, and
went into camp near cluster oil trees
near brock. fire was lighted, a pot
of coffee made, after drinking cupiul,
Reynolds mounted and rode silently into
The dark.
His path lay through trackless will
derness--two hundred miles OF it the
constant haunt of hostile Indians, and
not foot of the ground had Reynolds
ever seen before. He had never been
at Laramie; ne only knew the general
dire ction in which it lay, and his only
guideboard was the stars. After four
nights af riding and three days OF sleep
ing he reached his destination unharmed.
He got through nicely and mailed the
letter entrusted TO his care.
1t was said that under his gentle de-
meanor lay romance as remarkable as
any Cowper ever wrote, and one day ne
was asked to tell the story OF his life.
lie blushed u little. laughed quietly and
replied that he did not think il worth
while. But from the lips OF others it
was learned that he had not always been
Lonesome Charlie Reynolds" No one,
however. knew his true name. lie was
called Lonesome" because of en- absent,
pensive way he had-a habit of seclu
siveness. lie came to Lincoln three
years b, fore, with his partner, from
Montana, where the two had been hunt
ing and tapping together Tor several
years. The story OF his life that his
partner told was this:
Reynolds was the son OF wealthy and
aristocraiic family OF Tennessee, but was
educated in the North, and when the
war broke out, he found himself in
painful dilemma. He had imbibed
enough OF Northern ideas TO make him
strongly hostile to the secession move
ment, while his family, consisting OF
father, mother, and sister. were violent
| sy ympathizers with the South. His faith
er entered the Confederate army rs an
officer. early in the war. The son could
not GO with him and fight against his
principles. nor could he stay at home
and brook the taunts of his mother and
sister, nor could he join the Federal
army and fight against his father, and so
he left home and wandered away 10 the
mines on the Pacific slope. His home
was at the center OF hostilities and all
communication was cut of.
| At the close OF the war he went back
TO Tennessee, and what was once his
home was desolation. The neighbors
| told him his father had been killed in
one OF the early battles, his mother had
died, and his sister had married rebel
officer whose name was not remembered,
and all trace of her had been lost. The
old plantation had been coniiscated, and
there was not single tie left to bind
him to the past. He spent some months
| in search OF his sister, without result, and
| finally homelessness and disposition
which shrank from fellowship with men.
drove him back TO his old home in the
mountains to spend the res. OF his weary
! life.
From 1865 to 1872 he was in the mines
| in Colorado and Montana. and hunting,
trapping along the streams Of the great
Northwest, being employed occasionally
| by the government 10 do some work for
which ordinary men were too cowardly
or incompetent.
He was g short, stocky man. with a
little stopping OF the shoulders, and o
way OF carrying bis head bent forward
with his eyes towards the ground. lie
had n shrinking blue eye. Il very hand
some mouth, and forehead on which
you could trace blue veins, as you trace
|
was full-bearded, but neither the growth
of hair nor the marks of exposure had
effaced the lines OF beauty from his lace.
His manner was unobtruSve and gentle,
his voice was soft and tender as a wom-
an's tones. lie was man that horses
and dogs love instinctively at first ac-
quaintance whom men respected. al
though he was never iathomed by the
wisest OF his friends. lie had fought a
whole tribe of Indians single-handed,
people. said, although no one ever
learned OF an exploit from his own lips.
He never learned the necessity of swear
ing, never told story, never smoked q
pipe or cigar before a camp fire. and
never drank any liquor. Yet despite his
daring, and his hair-breadth escapes, he
met his death at the hands OF the Sioux,
after all.