The weekly herald. [volume] (Cleveland, Tenn.) 1876-1888, 1880-05-20
THE HERMIT.
PATHETIC TALE or MINING LIFE.

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 rear 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
cabins, collectively known rs 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 storehouses.
Near the blacksmith shop, where the
not unmelodious ring OF drills and picks
being sharpened is heard all the day and
far into the night, little cabin stands
unobtrusively upon its rocky founda-
ton. There is an air of neatness about
its hipped roof of nicely split shakes
and its carefully hewn door that speaks
well for the patience, taste and skill of
its builder. In fact, the cabin is pointed
out as q fine specimen of frontier archi-
lecture.
The solitary owner and occupant of
this little building was known through
out the camp as the Hermit" Not, be
it understood, because of his initiating
those poor old beings of ancient story
who dwelt in caves and fled at the ap-
proach of any one, but simply because
he was a taciturn, quiet old fellow,who
worked his mine alone, and, when join
ing the rest of the men about the fire in
the saloon, always sought corner and
rarely, if ever, took part in the conver-
sation.
He was vastly different from the rest
ofhis fellow laborers. He never drank;
he pever swore; but in his quiet, unob-
trusive way would sit and gaze intently
at 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; long
beard, plentifully streaked with gray,
and a pair of wearied, 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 post
office. Regularly upon the carriers
arrival the hermit would join the
crowd and listen with an eager, expect
ant air as the euperscriptions of the
various letters were read out by the
saloon 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 corner of the fireplace, with never
n word. Every mail that went out
carried a letter from the hermit, al
ways directed to the same party, and
every month he registered one to the
same address, which the boys shrewdly
guessed contained 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 a letter to the hermit, for his
continual expectation and his regularly
bitter disappointment touched them,
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
wnen the mai brought them iavors, as
was their won't. The old whisky keg,
Mt the corner of the fireplace, was al
ways reserved for the hermit, and
come when he might he never found it
occupied, or when sitting there was he
ever crowded. And so these rough |
frontiersmen showed in various ways
their sympathy for their lonely and
silent companion, of whom they knew
nothing save what his pinched, care
worn face and yearning eyes told.
One day the mail came in and the
hermit was not there. This was SO
unusual that IL led TO considerable |