The Findlay Jeffersonian. [volume] (Findlay, Hancock County, Ohio) 1870-1881, 1876-05-26
sMisrsHanenus,
For the Ieflefsnnian.
UNCLE LUKE AND HIS DOG.
BY kry. T. GORDON.

Western Pennsylvania, the valley of
the Brokenstraw may justly claim ali
important part. Everybody knows
that the oil regions are wild and rug
ged. This valley is in the immediate
neighborhood; SO what the fringe is to
the garment, the Brokenstraw valley
is to the oil regions. Here are ''the
forest primeval, ""the emurmuring pines
and the hemlocks" of Longfellow, ma
ture's sweetest poet.
In this valley are several villages;
Garland at the west where the valley
begins, and Irvineton at the east end
where the pleasant waters of the Alle-
gheny with a graceful bend receive
those of the Brokenstraw. Between
these two points is the village of Pitts
field, to me a place of the greatest in
terest. Here lives one of the purest
and best families l have ever met, "a
family in whose friendship and Lowell
share humble part, and so it often
happens that find myself in the home
OFF. W. Ross, Esq, the most extensive
lumber merchant in this part of the
country.
In the neighborhood of Pittsfield-
up a densely wooded gorge which opens
in the Brokenstraw valley-liyes a
queer old man, whose picture may in
terest the readers of the JEFFERSON
IAN. With that hope venture to send
you a short sketch of Uncle Luke and
his dog.
Uncle Luke is a hermit; his dog is
q hermit; and if the term is again
applicable, his horse is as much her
nit as either. Luke's house is away in
the forest overlooking little stream
which runs bubbling past, in eagerness
to join the Allegheny, the Ohio, the
Mississippi and the sea. To reach his
house, however, you must humble your
self, creep on your hands and knees
for five or six yards, then swing your
self down the face of a rock as much
as sixteen feet, walk along the edge of
a cliff and you have at last reached the
hermit's dreary house. The entrance
to this fissure and the roof, have been
filled up with rough boards, but the
walls of his house are the cold bare
rocks. This Uncle Luke has called his
home for over 80 years. Why should
there not be some limit to this dearest
of all words-home. The Empress of
of India says 'home" when she speaks
of the gorgeous palace of Windsor.
The street Arab says ''home" when he
speaks of some drygoods box in a dark
corner of the great city. The hermit
says ''home" when he speaks of tis-
sure in the rocks away in the dense
forest.
But / wander from my text. His
home, yes, meant to describe his home.
A plank resting Oh two lodges of the
rock supplies the place of chairs or a
couch. A board with one end resting
on the rocks with two legs in the other
end, supplies the place of table. The
luxury of a stove or crate is obviated
by building his fire against the rock.
At the extreme end of the fissure is his
bed, which is primative enough. Some
branches of evergreen and the skins
of animals which he has obtained
by his traps or rifle. Like Jacobs
coats they are of many colors. There
was plenty of food hanging on the
walls. One large chunk of corned beef
he had received that morning from Mr..
Ross in exchange for some trout
enough to keep him and his dog at
work for month. There was also a
large quantity of jerked deer which lie
had shot last winter, the skins OF which
he pointed cut in the corner where his
bed was. His traps lay in one corner
near the door. His rifle and two or
three fishing rods were supported on
notches along the wall. He sat at the
old rickety table preparing to roast
some trout he had Just caught. His
dog lay at his feet gazing earnestly Oh
the intruder, and listening to our con-
versation. Icould not help thinking
of the 80 years of this old mans weary,
wretched life, the wide chasm which
divided between him and human soci-
ETY., nor shall l soon forget the anath-
emas which he hurled at ell THOSE who
in any way bad crossed his path.
had met Uncle Luke several times
before ] was allowed to beard him in
his den. We had talked about hunt
ing. fishing, trapping, and in each inter
view l took occasion to condemn the
falsehood of woman, a theme very dear
to the old hermit, so at last he invited
me to go "home" with him a favor he
was never known to confer before on
any one. This was just what wanted
SO we started at once.
Luke appears to be about 20 or rs
years of age, under medium size, about
five feet three or four inches. He is
quite fieshy. He never shaves. When
his beard gets too long he cuts it off
with his knife. He has cold grey eyes,
which seem so be gazing on something
far away. He seldom washes his
clothes or his person. he always wears
his boots over bis pants, and they reach
to his knees. He always keeps them
soft with oil which he extracts from
the fat of animals, taken by his traps
or rife. Indeed, that seems to be the
great aim he has in hunting. Two or
three times day he oils his boots with
the greatest possible care. If he goes
out to hunt, or to fish, his oil can is
sure to accompany him. The boots
seem to occupy as important a part in
his history as they did in the history
of Peter Lehlemihl, the man who sold
his shadow. The polarities in Uncle
Luke's life are the dog and his boots;
nothing higher than bis dog, nothing
lower than his boots, and almost moth
ing between.
The rambling story which I gathered
from him of his history, and which
Others confirmed, was something like
the following: He was born at Sara
toga about the beginning ofthe present
century. There he married, and short
ly after this moved to q large farm in