The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1877-05-19
LETTER FROM ARIZONA.
ELLIoT's CAMP, Arizona Territory,
April 10Th. 1877.

7
April 18th, 1877. !
DEAR HIG:-With me the last five
years seem almost like dream as | look
back aud think OF the wild rides in pretty
northern California, the dark grandeur of
the Sierras, where every breeze seems whis-
pering of romance; again comes the men,
DRY of the soft, sunny plains rolling away
for miles, where the horses hoof gives back
no sound from the thick carpet of wild
flowers, and where the sun glances back
from the glossy backs of herds of fleet
footed antelope and cleaning name and
tail of the flying wild horse. Truly, Cali
fornia is the land of romance and sunshine,
poesy and flowers. No wonder that the
native Californian, the Mexican and Indian
look with hatred on the ''Americano " and
"Gringo." Again, my dream shifts away
to the burning plains of lower California,
still the uudisputed land of those Of Aztec
and Spanish blood, where the giant cactus
rears his mail clad form and scorns the
burning heat of a tropical sun, and, where
the broad leaf of the prickly pear bears its
pretty fruit, pleasant to the taste, but
pleasure dearly bought. for he who eats
must suffer from its small, sharp needles.
This is a beautiful day, reminding me of
the May days in dear old Maryland; so tax
ing my writing traps and board, climbed
the hills and am now pretty well up in the
world. Beneath me the flowers aud grass
are growing. and above the tall pines are
the pine clad mountains of central Arizona.
Away off through the canon of Lynx Creek
can be seen the Mesa de la Aqua Fria
(Masa da lab Owa Frea). On the other
side, ninety miles to the northward, stand
ing dark and grim against the sky, can be
seen the ragged peaks of the Mongoilens.
The most prominent Of these peaks are the
San Francisco and the Bill William They.
towering high above their rugged compan-
ions, seem like grim sentinels set to watch
the mountain hosts of Arizona. One hun
bred and fifty miles to the eastward can be
seen the dark outline of the Binal range,
the home of the Apatche Indians; and
many pale face sleeps beneath the ever
green pine and juniper trees Of those hills
brave men who sought for gold and found
grave at the hand of the red man. Every
time l see one of these lone graves, the
lines of "The Graves of a Household" are
brought to my mind:
I'm, no IF ba Wavt
By dark stream is laid;
The Indian knows his place of rest
Far in the cedar'S shade.
Below me lies the works of the Old Min
ing Company. Many Of the log cabins are
deserted and falling to pieces, but they
still retain their names, as "Kenluk's, the
Nolverine;" :" Uncle Bnly's;' "Freuchy,
the Huron's;'' Long Jake s. etc, etc.
Gambling is as bad to-day as it was in
1919. Every mining town has its green
covered monte and faro-table. On enter
ing these saloons of an evening, you won
der where so many people come FROM
Some are playing, others looking on. Here
the miner loses at night what he makes
during the day. | have known men who
have been playing twenty years and they
say: ".Tust as soon as get even will play
no more;' the consequence is, they die
gamblers " Green-horns think to make
a fortune, but find only misfortune. Every
once in a while they have terrible :" row."
and the next day a funeral but no one
seems to notice it.
One of my readers has expressed some
doubt as to the cleanliness of our tin cups
at all times, but beg you will not judge
our camp by the majority of such places,
where the inhabitants think they are do
ing finely if they wash things once month.
Such cabins present the appearance of
wood house and pig pen combined. have
endeavored to introduce some order and
ueatness into our camp, and for my trou-
bic, get from the boys the name of
Lady jack