, 1880-07-12
The Hermit.
A TALE OF MINING LIFE IN THE SIERRA
MADRE.

a
MADRE.
Away up on the main range-the
Sierra Madre-of the Rocky mountains,
twelve thousand feet above the sea,
rests a little mining camp of some
twenty or twenty five rough log cabins.
Right on the edge of timber line! Tall
spruce pines below; bare, jagged rocks
above. North, south, east and west
huge peaks tower in their massive
grandeur and resr their stony heads to
the rising and setting sun, and seem
like grim old sentinels keeping watch
over the little basin in which are the
cabiss, collectively known as Mineral
City. The mountain sides are scanned
and ribbed with the rich silver veins
of San Juan, and scores of cuts, shafts
and tunnels echo daily to the clang of
drill and sledge as the hardy miners
delve after the metallic treasures of
these great store-houses.
Near the blacksmith shop, where the
not unmelodious rings of drills and
picks teing sharpened is heard all the
day and far into the night, little cab
in stands unobstrusively upon its rocky
foundation. There is an air of neatness
about its hipped roof of nicely split
"shakes and its carefully hewn door
that speaks we'll for the patience, taste
and skill of its builder. In fact, the
cabin is pointed out as fine specimen
of frontier architecture.
The solitary owner and occupant of
this little building was known through
out the camp as 1.-THE Hermit" Not,
be it understood, because of his ilni-
tating those poor old beings of ancient
story who dwelt in caves and fed at the
approach of any one, but simply be-
cause he was a taciturn, quiet, old fell
low, who worked his mine alone, and,
when joining the rest Of the men about
the fire in the saloon, always sought a
corner and rarely, if ever, took part in
the conversation.
He was vastly different from the rest
of his fellow-laborers. Henever drank /;
he never swore; butin his quiet. unob-
trusive way would sit and gaze intently
ct the fire, unmindful of the stories, the
hearty laughter, the social drinking and
the absorbing games of cards going on
around him. Tall he was, with de-
cided stoop in his shoulders; a long
beard, plentifully streaked with gray.
and pair of wesried, restless, nervous,
yearning eyes, that somehow appealed
to the rough but good-hearted miners.
Mail came twice week in Mineral
City, and the saloon was the postoffice.
Regularly upon the carrier s arrival the
hermit would Join the crowd and listen
with an eager, expectant air as the
superscriptions of the various letters
were read by the salosn-keeper, and
then, when the last missive had been
reached and either claimed or set
aside, he would lower his head and
slowly slip away to his seat at the cor
ner of the fireplace, with never a word.
Every mail that went out carried let
ter from the hermit, always directed to
the same party, and every month he
registered one to the same address,
which the boys shrewdly guessed con-
tanned such money as the poor fellow
was able to scrape together from the
scanty yield of his mine-the Alice.
The boys had often debated upon
writing letter to the hermit, for his
continual expectation and his regularly
UlttcI tOuC0Ou tu0A, !,
but they argued that it would not be
what he wanted and SO the idea was
abandoned. Several of them asked the
postmaster to lay aside their letters
without reading aloud their addresses,
that the contrast might not be so pain
full to the hermit, and none of them
gave vent to any joyful exclamations
when the mail brought them favors, as
was their won't. The old whisky keg,
at the corner Of the fireplace, was al
ways reserved for the hermit, and come
when he might he never found it occu-
pied, or when sitting there was lie ever
crowded. And so these rough frontiers
men showed in various ways their SYM
pathy for their lonely and silent COM
panion, of whom they knew nothing
save what his pinched, careworn and
yearning eyes told.
One day the mail came in and the
hermit was not there. This was 60 un-