The Bozeman weekly chronicle. (Bozeman, Mont.) 1883-1889, 1883-07-25
.rINyIE MYRTLE"

"HINNIE HYRfLE."
Joaquin Killers Tribute to to his wife
"A Romantic Ceartshlp- Unhappy
Welded Life ASeperation-
ReUuiOn.
San Francisco Chronicle.
She seemed to see wreck and storm and
separation for us on the arena oflife long
before it came, and even while we were
newly married, very hopeful, young and
strong and happy. And 80, twenty years
ago this spring, while we were living in
the top of house on Fulton Street, San
Francisco, No. AZ, with this singular and
sad notion in her head she one evening
half playfully said that, whatever cau1e
to us, if died first she would write me
well before the world and let none do my
memory wrong. And she exacted the
same promise of me. And from that,
time, 90 far from forgetting the foolish
covenant, she reminded me of it ever
after. She reminded me of it in this city
only few days before her death, last
May. In the ful6llment of this promise
now undertake this most delecate and
most difficult task. For it is on my con-
science that the occasion is opportune and
that cannot well conclude these sketches
of my life in the sierras in this journal,
without trying, after years delay, to
keep this covenant and solemn promise
of twenty years ago. 1t was while l was
riding Moasman 4 Miller's pony express
from Walla Walla to Millersburg, in the
mines of Idaho, in the summer of 1851,
that first was attracted by her writings
in the newspapers. I wrote her and had
replies. Then when came down from
the mountains and embarked in journal
ism she wrote to me and our letters grew
ardent and full of affection. Then l
mounted my horse and rode hundreds of
miles through the valleys and over the
mountains, till came to the sea, at Port
Oxford, then flourishing mining town,
and there first saw Minnie Myrtle"
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT.
Tall, dark and striking in every respect
this first Saxon woman I had ever ad-
dressed had it all her own way at once.
She knew nothing at all Of my life, ex-
cept that l was an expressman and
country editor. Iknew nothing at all OF
hers, but 1 found her with her kind, good
parents, sorrounded by brothers and Sis
ters, and the pet and spoiled child of the
mining and lumber camp. In her woody
little world there by the sea she was
literally worahiped by the rough miners
and lumbermen and the heart Of the
bright and merry girl was brimming full
of romance, hope and happiness. ar
rived on Thursday. On Sunday next we
were married! Oh, to what else but 1uin
and regret could such romantic folly lead?
Procuring horse for her we set out at
once to return to my post far away over
the mountains. These mountains were
then as now, and ever will be l reckon,
crossed only by dim, broken trail, with
houses twenty and thirty miles apart for
tho fow travalora
The first day out we came upon great
band of elk. Toward evening l drew a
revolver and with wild delight we dash
ed among the frightened beasts, and fol-
lowing them quite a distance, we lost our
way. And so we had to spend our first
night together, tired, hungry, thirsty, sit
ting under the pines on hillside, hold
ing on to our impatient horses. We
reached my home all right, however, at
length, after weeks ride, but only to
find that my paper had been suppressed
by the Government, and we resolved to
seek our fortunes in San Francisco. But
we found neither fortune nor friends in
the great new city, and so returning to
Oregon, bought band of cattle and we
set out with our baby and a party OF
friends and relatives to reach the new
mining camp, Canyon City, in Eastern
Oregon. In fact, had gone before to
spy out the land. We fought the In
dams and got some foothold and we
selected this location for our future
home.
A ROMANTIC RIDE.
And what q journey was this OF ours
over the Oregon Sierras, driving the bel
lowing cattle in the narrow trail through
the dense woods, up the steep, snowy
mountains, down through the roaring
canyons! It was wild, glorious, fresh
full Of hazard and adventnrel Minnie
had made 4 willow basket and swung it
to her saddle horn, with the Growing and
pood-natured baby inside, looking up at
her, laughing, as she leaped her horse
over the fallen logs or made full hand
with whip and lasso, slashing after the
cattle. But when we descended the
wooded mountains to the open plain on
the eastern side of the Sierras the 1ndi-
ans were ready to receive us, and we al
most literally had to fight our way for
the next weeks journey, every day and
night. And this woman was one of the
truest souls that ever saw battle. l think
she never, even in the hour of death,
knew what fear was. She was not only
a wonderful horse-woman, but very
adroit in the use of arms. She was much
better shot, indeed, than myself In our
first little skirmish on this occasion l
had taken position on hill with few
men, while the cattle and pack animals
were corraled by the others in q night in
the foothills below to prevent q stampe-
de. And thus intrenched, we waited the
attack from the Indians, who held the
farther point of the ridge on which l had
stationed my men. Suddenly Minnie,
baby in arms, stood at my side and began
to calmly discuss the situation and to
pass merry remarks about the queer
noises the bullets made as they fattened
on the rocks about US and glanced over
our heads. l finally got her to 60 down,
or, rather, promise to 60 down to camp
for the better safety of the baby. But in
a moment she was back. She had hid
den the laughing little baby in the rocks,
and now aun in hand. kent at nv side