The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-12-27

called him, took his place, on the other side, and
and then passed his sleeve over his eyes
We watched a long time. Thought knew
when he would 60. l have seen many good
fellow die there; just at that strange hour, be-
tween and in the morning, when our vital
powers are at their feeblest; and I was right 1t
was just quarter to when he gave a little
sort of sigh and his heart stopped beating; and
then old Joe rose and said to me, Pard, you
may bet your life that the good Lord never took
whittier man.,
"WeH, next day we dug grave for him. some
distance across the valley in a canyon in the
Sangre de Cristos mountains. l had an old
prayer book in my pack and read the service.
Some of the boys in my party could sing, and
told them we ought to havea hymn. One OF the
dead mans party spoke up and said:
Joe knows the one he used to like so we'll
and wuz a-singin' so often Say, Joe, sing it
yerself'
And then poor Joe, with his eyes filled with
tears and in q voice that might have been very
good once. began to sing.
"'Oh! don't you remember Sweet Alice, Ben
BoltP can tell you, I've had plenty of strange
experiences, but that one did beat ALL Why,
there wasn't dry eye in the party, and all OF
them seasonedfrotiersmen too And | never in
my life heard Ben Bolt sung at funeral before
or SINCE"
He stopped for moment. All this time I
had never looked at Miss r. Now glanced at
her and saw her pale as a ghost. AS if she were
going to faint. In second would have made
a motion to help her, but a look in her eyes. as
they met mine, stopped me- Mrs. w. had not
stirred or breathed syllable. just then the
last rays of the sun had reached Magnolia, and
every window pane was blaze of light. The
narrator spoke again:
Il never knew who the poor fellow was. l
wish did. The only possible cew to his identi-
ty, which advertised without effect was ring
on lis finger with An inscription inside. r. W.,
from his mother" Mrs W. rose straight to
her feet. II thank God" said she, for what
you have told me; and thank you for caring for
my poor boy, and giving him Christian burial.
am an old woman and not as strong as | was.
cannot say more now, but you must let me see
you again Come, Alice give your arm.
You will excuse me- gentlemen, for leaving you"
We made way for her. we could do nothing
else Miss Il. had gained control of herself, but
was white as sheet. She supported the poor
lady. and they moved slowly away.
had acquaintance in the neighborhood of
the scene of Roberts ending and 1 could be of
some service. The lovely valley where the In
dams harred him to his death is as peaceful
as New England, and q busy mining town has
sprung up not far from the grave. This grave
my correspondent, a worthy mountaineer, sue
ceeded in finding. l have a letter from him before
me. His heart is better than his grammar.
Its all right" he says. 'the headstOne come
0. K, and some OF the boys went out with me
and set it up. They didn't tumble to the flower
racket at first go off, but they did mighty quick
when told them the story" | should mention
that the expression Flower racket" relates to q
request-conveyed to me in a sad, little, conf
dental note from Miss R-that if possible, the
grave should be decorated at stated intervals
| with flowers. at her expense.
when we was on our way back" the letter
went on, Sam Ryder come up to me. You re-
member Sam that stood in with us when the
crowd from Farplay tried to jump the Little
| Florence claim. He let on to me that he allowed
| that II thered been woman in the world that
cared for him like that. it would have made a
| good man of him. And says he. jest you write
to the Colonel (meaning myself and tell him I'll
take that contract, and them flowers will be thar,