McCook weekly tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 188?-1886, 1884-01-03
SANTA CLAUS IN THE MINES.

A California mining town, away up
amid the snow clad, rock-bound peaks
of the Sierra Nevada mountains.
The town was irregularly laid out,
and was scattered along creek which
emptied into the Costumes river sew
eral miles below. Both the dwellings
and business houses-or, more properly
speaking, cabins-were constructed of
unhewn pine logs, the crevices between
the timbers being ''chincked" and
plastered with mud. The town con-
tanned at least dozen saloons, or
saloons and gambling houses combined,
and in these shells much of the hard
earned money of the miner parted
company with him to take up its tenn
porary abode in the saloon Till or the
pocket of the professional gambler.
The dwellings of the town were scat
tered along the creek or built on the
side of the adjacent mountain, the ma
jority of them being rough ''bachelor
dens," for women were scarce in the
newly discovered diggings.
In small cabin near the upper end
of the town sat woman, in Widows
weeds, holding upon her knee bright
eyed, sunny-faced little girl, about five
years old, while little cherub of boy
lay upon bear skin before the open
fireplace. 1t was Christmas eve, and
the woman sat gazing abstractedly into
the fireplace. She was yet young, and
as the glowing flames lit up her sad
face they invested it with wierd
beauty.
Mary Stewart was the widow of Aleck
Stewart, and but two years before they
had lived comfortably and happy, in a
camp on the American river. Aleck
was a brawng miner, but the premature
explosion of blast in an underground
tunnel had blotted out his life in an in
slant, leaving his family without a
protector, and in straitened circum-
stances. His daily wages had been their
sole support, and now that he was gone,
what could they do?
With her little family Mrs. Stewart
had emigrated to the camp in which we
find them Gall western mining towns
are called "camps"), and there she
earned a precarious livelihood by wash
ing clothes for the miners. Hers was
hard lot, but the brave little woman
toiled on cheered by the thought that
her daily labors stood between her
darling little ones and the gaunt wolf of
starvation. Their clothes were patched
and shabby and their food plain, and
sometimes scant, yet they were never
reduced to absolute suffering.
Jack Dawson, a strong, honest miner,
was passing the cabin this Christmas
eve, when the voice of the little girl
within attracted his attention. Jack
possessed an inordinate love for chill
dren, and although his manly spirit
would abhor the sneaking practice of
eavesdropping, he could not resist the
temptation to steal up to the window
Just moment to listen to the sweet
prattling voice. The first words he
caught were:
"Before papa died we always had
Christmas, didn't we, mamma?''
eyes, lofty, darling, but papa earned
money enough to afford to make his
little pets happy at least once a year.
You must remember, lofty, that we are
very pool, and although mamma works
very, very hard, she can scarcely earn
enough to supply US with food and
clothes"
Little bright faced Benny raised his
curly head from its soft nest in the
warm bear skin and cheerfully said:
'sDes' wait till | dit TO be man,
mamma, an 100 won't have to wort. Is
dom to be dreat bid miner, like papa
was, an dit 700 ever so much money,
but won't do near 'em hateful blast
in fings an dit titled ike papa did,"
(Jack Dawson still fingered upon the
outside. He could not leave, although
he felt ashamed of himself for listen
inG.
"Why bless my little man, what a
brave future he has planned! do
hope and pray, darling, that you will
grow up strong and good man, and