The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1881-09-01
DEATHsfN THE DREARY DES-
9 ERr. 81
A Prospector's Melancholy End in
the Mountain of the Holy
Cross.

tains, comes from the Holy Cross
district. Last week a party OF Gold
Park miners started up Turkey
Greek, south of Battle Mountain, on
a tour of pleasure and investigation.
Near the head of the creek the coun-
try is wildly picturesque, and no
human feet have yet explored it
thoroughly. The land here rises in
a gradual ascent to the west until it
kisses the clouds in the majestic
peaks of Holy Cross. In no place is
it level, but broken by canyons and
cut by tOrtuous gOrges carved in
some prehistoric glacial age, while
the tiny patches of bottom land are
covered with Yerdure and spangled
with wild flowers. A more lonely
spot nature could not have fashioned
in her most Winsome mood, each
turn revealing some new beauty,
forever varied and forever enchant-
ing. .a a. q.
By some strange incongruity of
circumstances, here it Was that the
party found d scene replete with a
sadness that words fell to define.
AT the head of one of the gulches,
half hidden by gigantic accumu-
lati0n of bOulderS, knitted together
by the roots of the pine trees that
found sustenance between them,
was a little cabin. 1t was so crude,
so simple, and so rough of work
manship that it seemed part Of
natures self and placed there when
the trees and rocks and mountains
came. 1t was, indeed, only noticed
by the sheereSt of chance as the
prOSpectorS passed up the canyon,
but once seen, they resolved to pay
it a visit and see if anyone lived in
the vicinity. 1t was reached by a
half-Obliterated trail, and appeared
to be deserted. The. party were sur
prised and half frightened when,
upon pushing open the door, they
saw the PROSTATE form of a man
extended on the rude bunk. At
first they thought he was dead, but
as they approached the bnnk they
saw from the Auttering motion of
the chest that life still fingered.
The body was that of a man about
40, partially disrobe, and the eyes
closed. On his breast, tightly
clutched in one of his hands
was tiny Catholic prayer
book, stamped on the back with
a gold cross and we'll worn.
Shocked beyond words, they en-
deayored to restore the man to con-
seriousness. His livid hue, his
sunken cheeks, and all, bore witness
to the fact that he had been stricken
down by some disease, as he ap-
peared to have tainted from exhaus-
ton. In few minutes he regained
his consciousness, and began to talk
in almost audible tones. From
Whist he said it was learned that he
had been working some claims |
about quarter of mile below the |
cabin, and had caught a severe cold. |
1t had grown upon him until at last |
he was barely able to be about, and
his lungs became very sore. In this
condition he had Yentured to visit |
his property down the gulch, and
was there taken very sick. 1t was
only with the utmost difficulty, and |
after an hour of painful exertion,
that he reached his cabin and |
craWled into his bunk. This was
the day before the party arrived, |
and during the night swift conges-
ton of the lungs had evidently set |
in. At the time he was discovered
this had progressed so far that, even !
were the best physicians at hand it |
was easy to see that he was beyond
mortal aid. Realizing that the great !
destroyer was at hand he had man
aged to get his prayer-book down |
from a shelf at the opposite side of |
the room, and resolved to die with a |
to God on his lips. The |
cabin was far from any neighbors, |
and he gave up all hope of seeing
human faces again, while, in a desc |
latiOn that forever beggars words. |
he lay dying there.
He said that his name was Charles |
and that his home was
at Cincinnati, Ohio, and left a few
brief instrHc ions as to whom to
write to. He originally came to
the Holy Cross, coming here from
Golden about five months before. |
Even as he spoke the poor fellow /
grew Visibly weaker and still |
weaker. and towards evening sank |
into Inconsistencies again. In this
way, as the day moved and died, his
life went out, and when night fell it
was corpse that the men tenderly
Strengthened on the clumsy bunk.
In the morning they buried him
close at hand, in the sunniest,
spot that they could find,
and marked his name on rude
board at the head.
The life of a prospector may be
free and grand, and untrammeled,
indeed, while health is there and
hope is young, but in sickness, all |
alone, in death, with no kind hand
to even close the eyes, what a dreary
desert, what a waste and desolation,
The mountains must have BEEN
Leadville Chronicle.