The Portland daily press., 1878-04-13
Two Saints of the Foot
Hills.
BY BRET HARTE.

ough-and- Ready-one Low, playfully known
to his familiars as "The Poor Indian"-de-
clared that the saints were afore his time
and occupied cabin in the brush when he
''blazed" his way to the North Fork. 1t is
certain that the two were present when the
water was first turned on the Union Ditch,
and then and there received the designation
of Daddy Downy and Nanny Downy, which
they kept to the last. As they tottered to-
ward the refreshment tent, they were well
coined by the greatest enthusiasm by the
boys; or to borrow the more refined lam
guage of the Union ecorder,-"Their gray
hairs and bent figures, recalling as they did,
the happy paternal eastern homes of the
spectators, and the blessings that fell from
venerable lips when they left those homes to
journey In quest of the Golden Fleece on
Occidental Slopes, caused many of them to
burst into tears" The nearer facts that many
of these spectators were orphans, that few
were unable to establish any legal parentage
whatever, that others had enjoyed states
guardianship and. discipline, and that major
ity had left their paternal roots without
any embarrassing preliminary formula, were
mere passing clouds that did not dim the
golden imagery of the writer. From that
day the Saints were adopted as historical lay
figures, and entered al once into possession
OF uninterrupted gratuities and endowment.
1t was not strange that, in country large
ly made up of ambitious and reckless youth,
these tWo-types of conservative aud settled
forms-should be thus celebrated. Apart
from any sentiment or generation, they were
admirable foils to the communitys youthful
progress and energy. They were put forward
at every social gathering, occupied prominent
seats on the platform at every public meeting,
walked first in every procession, were con-
spicuous at the frequent funeral and rarer
wedding, and were first godfather and god
mother to the first baby born in Rough.and-
Ready. AT the first poll opened in that pre-
cinct, Daddy Downey cast the first vote, and,
as was his custom, on all momentous occa-
sions, became voluably reminiscent. "The
first vote ever cast" said Daddy, twas for
Andrew Jackson; the father O some on you
peart young chaps wasn't born then, he! he
that was way long in '33, wasn't it? dis
remember now, but if Nanny was here.
she bein' schoolgirl at the time, she could
say. But my memory's failin' me. I'm an
old man, boys; yet l likes to see the young
ones 60 ahead. I reckleck that thar vote
from suckamstance. Squire Adams was
present, and seem it was my first vote, he
put goold piece into my hand, and, seq he,
says squire Adams, 'let that always be a re-
minder of the exercise of a glorious free
boys, l feel so proud of ye, that wish l had
hundred votes to cast for We all.''
1t is hardly necessary to say that the me-
mortal tribute of Squire Adams was increased
tenfold by judges, inspectors and clerks, and
that the old man tottered back to Nanny
considerably heavier than he came. As both
of the rival candidates were equally sure of
his vote, and each had called upon him and
offered conveyance, it is fair to presume
they were equally benefcent. But Daddy in
sisted upon walking to the polls-a distance
Off Inn n v,,1Io or,I taxv
for the California photographers, who fastened
to record that such was the influence of the
foot-hill climate, that ga citizen OF Rough
and-Ready, aged eighty-four, rose at six
O'Clock, and after milking two COWS walked
distance of twelve miles to the polls, and
returned in time to chop cord of wood be-
fore dinner" Slightly exaggerated as this
statement may have been, the fact that Dad
dy was always found by the visitor to be en-
gagged at his woodpile, which seemed neither
t0bincrease no diminish under his AKA fact
doubtless owing to the activity OF Nanny,
who was always at the same time making
pies, seemed to give some credence to the
story. Indeed, the woodpile of Doddy Down.
ey was standing reproof to the insolent
and sluggish miner.
''Ole Daddy must use a powerful sight of
wood; every time I've passed by his shanty
he's been maxim the chips fly. But what
gets me is that the pile don't seem to come
down." said Whisky Dick to his neighbor.
swell, you derned foolv' growled bis neigh
Dor; 'spose some chap happens to pass by
thar, and sees the ole man doin' mans
work at eighty, and slouches like you and
me lying round drunk, and that chap feelin'
kinder bumped, goes up some dark night and
heaves a load of cut pine over his fence,
who's got anything to say about it? Sayw
Certainly not the speaker, who had done the
act suggested, nor the penitent and remorse-
full nearer, who repeated it the next day.
The pies and cakes make by the old woman
were, think, remarkable rather for their in
ducisg the same loyal and generous spirit
than for their intrinsic excellence, and it may
be said appealed more strongly to the nobler
aspirations of humanity than its vulgar ap-
petite. Howbeit, everybody ate Nanny
Downey's pies, and thought OF his childhood.
"Take 'em, dear bows" the old lady would
say; sit does me good to see you eat 'em !;
reminds me kinder of my poor Sammy, that,
eff he'd lived would have been ez strong and
big ez you be, but was taken down with lung
fever at Sweetwater. I kin see him yet !;
that's forty year ago, dear! comm out O.
the lot to the bakehouse, and smllin' such
beautiful smile, like yours, dear boy, as I
handed him mince or a lemon turnover.
Dear, dear how l do run on! and those days
is past! but 1 seem to live in you againp'
The wife of the hotel keeper, actuated by a
low jealousy, had suggested that she ''seemed
to live off them," but as that person tried to
demonstrate the truth of her statement by
reference to the cost of the raw material
used by the oldflady, it was considered by the
camp too practicaliand economical for consid-
GRAFTON. ''Besides," added Cy Perkins. "ef
old Nanny wants to turn an honest penny
in her old age, let her do it. How would you
like your old mother to make pies on grub
wages? eh?" A suggestion that so affected
his nearer (who had no mother) that he
bought three on the spot. The quality of
these pies had never been discussed but once
1t is related that young lawyer from San
Francisco, dining at the Palmetto restaurant
pushed away one of Nanny Downey's pies
with every expression of disgust and dissat-
lsfaction. At this juncture, Whiskey Dick,
considerably affected by his favorite stimu-
liant, approached the strangers table, and,
drawing up a chair, sat unlimited before him.
"Mebbe, young man," he began gravely,
''ye don't like Nanny Downey's pies?'
The stranger replied CURLY and in some as
constituent, that he did not as rule seat
pie"
'fYoung man." continued Dick, with
drunken gravity, "mebbe you're accustomed
to Charlotte rusks and blue mango; mebbee
We can't eat unless your grub is got up by one
o. them French cooks? Yet are-us boys
var in this camp that plea good
competent pie'
The stranger again disclaimed anything
but general dislike of that form of pastry.
"Young man." continued Dick, utterly
unheeding the explanation man,
mebbee you once had an ole-a very
ole mother, who, tottering down the
vale O. years, made pies. Mebbee, and it's
like your blank epicurean soul, ye turned up
your nose on the ole woman, and went back
on the pies and on her! She that handled ye
when ye WOE baby-a little baby! MebDee
ye went back on her, and shook her, and
played off on her, and gave her away-dead
away! And now, mebbee young mani
wouldn't hurt ye for the world, but mebbee
afore ye leave this var table, YELL EAT THAT
PIEp
The stranger rose to his feet, but the muz.
zle of dragon revolver in the unsteady
hands of Whisky Dick, caused him to sit
down again. He ate the pie, and lost his
case likewise before Rough-and-R Ready jury.
Indeed, far from exhibiting the cynical
doubts and distrusts of age, Daddy Downey
received always with child-like delight the
progress of modern improvement and energy.
SIN my day, long back in the twenties, ii