The Portland daily press., 1878-07-09
After Bret Harte.
And Not SO Very Far Afaer Him Either.

We are about to relate an incident which
would in our opinion form a first class basis for
Ga story of California life" as portrayed by the
thousand and one amateur imitators of Francis
Bret Harte FIRST describe the surroundings.
An alkali village in the heart of tue Mono
country, where the "frst low wash of civiliza-
tion'' is indicated by battered oyster cans and
empty Bourbon bottles. The village itself
conglomeraton of adobs and canvas, saloons
and cabins, vice and virtue, reckless ndepen-
dence and supernatural idiocy. The occupa-
tion of the inhabitants anything appropriate to
that section of the country-at present we are
at loss to suggest any occupation suitable to
the surroundings, but have no doubt that the
fertile brain of the amateur will readily find
something for his heroes to earn their diurnal
sustenance By. As for name for this dilapi-
dated, out-of-the-way place, Satan's Roost will
perhaps do as well as any other. 1t is not at
all necessary that all should bs prominent, bat
their remarks lin dialect of course) must be
judiciously selected and crammed in whenever
the writer is at a loss for paragraph. Lst the
broken down hummer play the male hero. 1t
may be as well to call him man of superb
education and classical parts, formerly placer
miner in the southern mines. The woman
who is to lend grace to the story must be the
only female in the scamp" Don't picture her
as pretty or over-virtuous, for that would be
entirely unorthodox and not at all after the
style of the master Bohemian. Around these
two the incidents of the story must cluster.
The man drinks like fish aud the woman is
"unconventionap'-t in washing for liv.
ing and is idolized by the community in which
she lives, all of which may be entirely incon-
sistent with the truth; but no matter-you are
writing aCalifornia romance, and inconsistency
must be your ground plan. The mans name Is
SANDY" or "Scotty." or "Jim," or any sug-
gestiye title. The woman may be ''The Pride
of Mono," or Cherokee SAL" or "Chiquita,'
it matters not which. And now for the incl
dent. 'Sandy," or whatever his name is, falls
In love with the ''Pride of Mono" His pas
sion is reciprocated A gambler called "Short-
card BilP' classical cognomen) is also in love
with the heroine. Deadly animosity exists
between the hummer and the gambler In con-
sequence, and they plot each others ruin.
Finally the woman tells the gambler that she
cannot love him. He RACES around for awhile
and at last comes to the conclusion that he
will decide the whole matter by an appeal to
chance. He throws dice to see whether he shall
kill "Sandy" and marry "Cherokse Sal" or
whether he shall mount his splendid thorough
bred and depart in the early dawn Just as a few
drowsy Cinnamon are vending their way down
the rocky revive to their daily labor. The dice
decide that "Sandy" must die. The scene
changes to the "Howling Wilderness" saloon.
At this point the amateur may display his
powers of description and his knowledge of
perverted dialect. Enter SANDY" Enter
monstrosities of designated citizens of 'Satan's
Roost" The gambler provokes quarrel with
the meek-eyed hummer. A pistol fight en-
sues. Here the amateur can literally throw
himself" He can get scene of confusion and
carnage that might rival the famous fight at
Gilgal, 'where they piled the dead outside the
door by cords" and in which the Short, sharp
bark of the Derringer" was heard sounding
the knel of departing souls" The gambler Is
victorious, and SANDY stretches himself out
California romantic fashion. "Short-card Bill"
mounts his horse, and in company with 'sCher-
okee Sal, who has relented, departs from that
vicinity forever. In the meantime the life
blood slowly oozes from the left side of
SANDY" Apparently the bummer's minutes
are numbered. The only physician in the
place is called, and the following realistic"
conversation ensues:
"Doc, old pard, what's the chances?''
"Slim, Sandy, id SLIM"
''Has she gone, Doc?"
A world Of pathos burdens these words of
the dying man.
''Yes, Sandy, she's gone"
Tears well up in the eyes of the bystanders-
OJOc ehoH LOU hO" NAN"A sO@to oinOo thoJ Aaob
gazed upon the well-worn strap that hung ba-
side the paternal fireplace.
Gone and left me; gone, gone, gone" A
pause and silence in the "Howling Wilder
ness' that was tomb-like in its solemnity.
"How much longer, Doc, ken L hang on?'
"Just two minutes aud three. quarters" said
the doctor, grasping this hand of the dying
man. A convulsive shudser passed through
the frame of the almost defunct hummer.
Then raising himself on his elbow with a
mighty effort he throws one arm around the
neck of the doctor, and in pathetic tones ex-
claims:
s,Kiss me, Doc. kiss me. pve nothing more
to live for now thai SAILS gone. Kiss me, Doc,
kiss me-"
Another pause.
'Time up, Doc?" contio ues the dying mao.
"Time's up" replied the doctor. "About
time you were dead
More pauses. The BANNER tries to die, but
does not succeed. Finally he gets up, and,
going to the bar, he sententlously remarks:
"Come, boys, let's lcker'
The "boys" Ticker.
The mystery being explained, it appears that
the bullet glanced around "Sandy's" ribs and
came out near his vertebre instead of going
straight through him as it should have done.
The man lives, much to the physicians dis
appointment. This magnificent plot is offered
to the aspiring amateur free of charge --Sono.
rG Democrat.