Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1883-11-16

Dicks father, calls on you that he may learn
something Of bis son he has not heard di.
rectly from him for fifteen years. Dick long
since renounced writing home, and with il
the idea of ever coming home. Unfortunate.
ly, you know too much Of Dick, "What is he
doingY asks old Mr.. Harvey. You believe
he is mining, and doing tolerable we'll, (Dick
has been doing" every one he could make
raise" from for years and years. His best
suit is gray shirt aud a pair of blue jean
overalls. He never comes to camp without
making disturbance. He was once offere
fifty dollars to quit the neighborhood and be.
take himself to other parts, but refused TO go
under one hundred dolars.) With all this
fresh in your mind you sit before old Mr.
Harvey, who longs to hear something com.
forting Of his lost and never-to-be-found son.
You wish that he would go, because II is hard
work, in answering his inquiries, to equivo-
cate and squirm and sneak, aud dodge about
the truth, which is not to be told at all times
about Dick
One certain opinion possesses all Dozeville.
IL is that any man in good health, who has
spent years in the land of gold, ought to have
a fortune. Vainly you reason and attempt
some explanation on this point Vainly you
talk concerning the risks Of mining; Of the
months idly spent on Pacific Flat, waiting
for water Of the years employed in barring
the rivers bed at Grizzly Canyon Of the
race 80 expensively cut through a solid gran
ite ledge of the hume at Split Bar, costing
thousands, only to be swept down stream by
the fall freshets of the gravel which did not
prospect cent to the cart-load when you did
get it into the bed of the river of the tunnel
it took years to bore through the rim.rock of
Table Mountain of the high prices paid for
water, which took all the life out OF your
proftsin the hydraulic claim at Coyote Greek /;
of capital put into the Columbia quartz lead
whose rock assayed q cent per pound, and
whose actual returns fell little short of a
cent per tom of the fruitless scrambles to
Frazer river, to Colorado Of the unsuccess.
full hunt for the Comstock extension In Neva-
da. All this is useless. Dozevillians have it
firmly rooted in their brains that when a man
goes to California it is his duty to get rich.
That he does not is an indication of loose
screw in his moral machinery. You cannot
alter their minds They have been locked in
this conviction for 20 years. and the wards
are too old and rusty to be turned back with
out danger of breaking to pieces.
You remain in your dear old Dozeville a
couple Of months Would you stay there for
life? Will you call it your home now?
No, no, no There is another land nearer
the setting sun, which claims you for its own.
You are longing now for San Francisco, with
its afternoon gales and mosaic of nationality
for the sight of the Contra Costa hills, feck-
ed in the springtme with their thousand
shades Of green, and cloud and sunshine for
Tamalpais at eve, with svalanches of white
fog rolling down its sides for the great in
land plains, walled westward by the dimly
blue Costa Range, eastward by the far-away,
snow-tipped Sierras for the dark green cha
parral and the scent of pine and balsam in
the foothills with their rich foliage and heavy
laden vines. Dozeville is dear, but it is not
galvanic enough for you. You require earth.
quakes, grizzlies, and periodical gold fevers.
Dozeville is pleasant. calm and quiet, but it
seems the calm and quiet of a well. kept
churchysrd 1t abounds overmuch with wid.
ows, carefully outstanding the property of de.
ceased partners. 1t is outhsnked by too
many rheumatic aunts with lame backs and
Dutch clocks. Dozevlle is dear because it
was your boyhood's home. But the lively
Dozeyille of your youth no longer exists. The
realized Dozeville Of 1852 has passed away
forever. -Neio York Grdphic.