Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1884-02-01
AN UNKNOWN FRIEND.

II w. Parsons, IN Boston Transcript.
AN UNKNOWN FRIEND.
Half-Moon was new mining camp
in deep canyon at the head waters of
the Gunnison. One of that adventurous
class known as "prospectors" had, in
the fall of 1881, wandered through that
country, following burro which bore
upon its back all his worldly wealth,
and had brought into winter quarters
in the valley of the Arkansas such
promising specimens of brittle and ruby
silver that many, seeing them, were in.
duced to go in the spring to spy out
the land. And so it happened, on n
March night in 1882, that q dozen
camp-fires were brightly burning,
dozen tents We're dimly outlined in the
shadows and openings of the stunted
pines, and forty or fifty men, in groups
of from three to six. were gathered
around the fires smoking their evening
pipes and relating their experiences and
wonderful finds of the year before
Among fifty men brought together
from every part of the world, in wild
country, by purpose born, to some ex-
tent at least, of selfshness and greed.
some are likely to be found in whom
brutishness predominates. There were
several such in the camp at Half Moon.
The poets say that communion with
nature reiines and elevates the soul. and
leads men onward and upward toward
natures God. The poets are somewhat
wrong. The kindly spirit born and
reared amid the best influences of a
city home, where all the surroundings
are of a refining character, will become
kindlier and better as the years 90 on ;
while the dull man will become duller,
and the mean man meaner, in the very
presence and hush of nature. At least
it is sometimes SO; and it was so with
Bill Lewis.
He had seen nature in all her majesty,
moods and aspects for more than thirty
years; had traversed the country from
the Missouri to the Pacific shore;
lunched on the highest SUBMITS and
camped in the deepest gorges. And
yet his depravity was immense! He
had been convicted of dozen crimes,
and committed an hundred others with
out conviction. Each succeeding fall
had found him worse in every way than
the preceding. spring, and those who
knew him best frequently remarked upon
the new and ever-increasing capabilities
for sin which he was constantly unfold
ing.
But he was not wholly bad. Perhaps
no man ever was. There was 'rumor
among the miners, credited by few,
that once or twice during his career his
rough voice had become gentler, and
the light in his fierce eye softer, when
he had been surprised Into speaking of
his mother. Where he had come from,
''what made him leave, where his moth
er lived, Or whether she lived at all, no
one knew or had the .hardihood to ask.
There was another manor rather
seen that evening around any of the
fires. He had'come into the gulch in a
crowd of seven who had been on the
trail some twenty days together, and
Bill Lewis was another of the seven.
His name was Zeno Brown. His COM
rades had failed to catch or compre-
hend his first name, and he had come to
be called Little John"
He would have been remarked any,
where in a mining region as one wholly
out of place. He was light, delicate
and fragile-though seemingly in good
health before coming to the gulch-and
was lily fitted to meet the vicissitudes
of mountain life. He might have
been born for an artist or poet, or both;
he certainly was never intended for
miner. Everybody except Bill Lewis
liked and pitied him. Bill apparently
did not hate him; but he despised him
for his soft, tender nature; was in the
habit of calling him "Susie' and mel
lie" and other feminine diminutives,
and never let pass an opportunity to hui
initiate and wound him.
In coming into the gulch the party
had an unusually serious trip. The
trail was lily defined; the snow was
deep and soft; they had been compelled
to unpack their animals score of
times, and TO sleepin wet clothes and
wet snow. For all this, however, most
of them cared hut little. They were
not invalid tourists, and they had
crossed the range too. many times in
bad weather to be much troubled by one
trip more.
But with Little John the case was
different. He had never before been
thus exposed, and was evidently not
sustained TO any considerable extent b.
hopeful spirit, and he had succumbed
lie lay in his tent in his rough blanket
bed, sick, prostrated, exhausted. There
was no physician there, although most
OF those men knew something of sick
ness, and in discussing his case, while
none could say that he had this or that
disease, all agreed that he was "clean
gone AM likely to croak."
They had been talking of him around
the fire when some one, coming from
tent in a grove near by, said:
II think Little John IL go up to-
night. He's crazy now, an thinks he's
in Ohio; an keeps talkin of his moth
err
Bill Lewis. before silent and sullen,
started UP at once. "I'll. 60 see the
kid. he said.
He went, and all followed in wonder
The bed was warm enough. and soft
enough. But it and its surroundings
were terribly rough for one like him In
his condition The pale face amid the
shaggy blankets. lit up by a tallow
candle burning in can; the saddles,
ropes, kettles and tools scattered
around among the bushes upon the
earth foor--all together formed a scene
weird and impressive.
AS the man had said. Little John was
delirions aud talking OF his home and
associates away back in Ohio, but most
OF all his mother, piteously begging her
TO forgive him for deserving her, and
never 10 believe him guilty.
Beyond this brief hint there was moth
ing Ineligible In his sayings. Now
and then a word Of pity or sorrow was