The New Bloomfield, Pa. times. (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1877-188?, 1877-10-09

vance, and made me hope that he might
forget me entirely, or push on, grown
weary of waiting. But regularly he
would halt by boulder, or reappear
from some chin,isol, where he had pa
tlently halted was beginning to hate
him mildly, when at one of those reap
pearances he drew up to my side, and
asked me how liked Dickens
Had he asked my opinion on Huxley
or Darwin, 1 could not have been more
astonished. Thinking 1t were possible
he referred to some local celebrity of La
grange, said hesitatingly
"You mean-Y"
"Charles Dickens. OF course you've
read himp Which of his books do you
like best ~
/ replied with considerable embarrass-
ment that L liked them alias l certain
ly did.
He grasped my hand for a moment
with fervor quite unlike his usual
phlegm, and said, "That's me, old man,
Dickens amt no slouch. You can count
on him pretty much all the time"
With this rough preface, he launched
into criticism of the novelist, which
for intelligent sympathy and hearty APP
probation, had rarely heard equalled.
Not only did he dwell upon the exuber-
ance of his humor, but upon the power
of his pathos and the all-pervading ele-
ment of his poetry. l looked at the
man in astonishment. i had considered
myself rather diligent student of the
great master of fiction, but the stran-
gers felicity of quotation and illustra-
ton staggered me. 1t is true that his
thought was not always clothed in the
best language, and often appeared in
the slouching, shaggy undress of the
place and period, yet it never was rustic
nor homespun, and struck me with its
precision and fitness. Considerably
softened toward him, tried him with
other literature. But vainly. Beyond
a few of the lyrical and emotional poets,
| he knew nothing. Under the influence
and enthusiasm of his own speech, he
| himself had softened considerably; Of
fered to change horses with me, read
| justed my saddle with professional skill,
transferred my pack to his own horse,
insisted upon my sharing the contents
of his wiskey flask, and, noticing that
1 was unarmed, pressed upon me sill
ver-mounted derringer, which he assur-
ed me he could warrant" These vari-
GUS offices of good will and the diversion
of his talk beguiled me from noticing
| the fact that the trail was beginning to
become obscure and unrecognizable. We
were evidently pursuing route un-
known before to me. / pointed out the
fact to my companion little impa-
tiently. He instantly resumed his old
manner and dialect.
| well, reckon one trails as good as
another, and what hev ye got to say
about it 7" e
L pointed out, with some dignity that
preferred the old trail
" "Mebbee you did. But you're jiss
now takin' a pasedr with me. This yer
trail will bring you right into Indian
| Spring, and onnoticed, and no questions
asked. Don't you mind now, I'll see you
through"
1t was necessary here to make some
stand against my strange companion. L
said firmly, yet as politely as could,
that l had proposed stopping over night
with friend. fH
"Whar?" on
| hesitated. The friend was an eccen-
tric Eastern man, well known in the To-
cality for his fastidiousness and his hab-
its as recluse. A misanthroye of sm-
pie means, he had chosen secluded but
picturesque valley in the Sierras, where
he could rail against the world without
opposition. Lone Valley" or ''Boston
Ranch," as it was more familiarity called
was the one spot that the average miner
both respected and feared. Mr.. Sylves-
ter, its proprietor, had never affiliated
with "the boys" nor had he ever lost
their respect by any active opposition to
their ideas. If seclusion had been his
object, he certainly was gratified. Never
theless, in the darkening shadows of the
night, and on lonely and unknown
trail, l hesitated little at repeating his
name to a stranger of whom knew SO
little. But my mysterious companion
took the matter out of my hands.
" Look yar," he said suddenly, "thar
amt but one place twixt yer and Indian
Spring war ye can stop, and that's Syl.
vester's." "
Iassented, little sullenly.