Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1886-08-18
CHAPTER I.
MYSELF.

De luluS UuG q DoS.
In some respects this was true. l did wlsh
= that hoyhood and youth could remain 1or-
ever. since all the manhood, or rather lia-
turity. about me seemed humdrum aHalr,
full of care and vexation, and the older people
grew the less 'fun" they had in the world
I wished, and even for time thought, that
things would always remain as they were,
that the ''old men" Of my youth would al
ways remain about so old and no older, ana
when heard that William Loper, the first
playmate of my infancy, was engaged to be
married to Fannie Lugar, it seemed to me 9
piece of audacity as well as serious lnnova-
tion on the established order of things.
Gradually it dawned upon me that must
cut loose from tops, marbles, kites and quail
traps, march out into the world and do some
thing for a living. did SO grudgingly. In
deed, held on to my boyish ways and sports
years after my companions had laid them
aside forever, donned frock coats, high stand
ing collars, gaudy neckties, tight boots, and
deemed themselves proper little men-as they
were
commenced "doing for myself with a
series of resolves to be something great, II
not good. I was one week a general, the
next an actor, the third an orator, finally a
sea captain. awoke from these dreams to
find myself still in status quo, eating the
bread of idleness, parent and sundry rela-
tives meantime broadly limiting that it was
high time should do something.
applied to certain solid men of the village
as to the choice of profession. I thought it
might raise me in their estimation so to con-
suit them. They might see that I was in
II, ohn,,f
business. knew that my reputation already
was none of the best, because was one OF q
set, perhaps the leader, whose pranks at night
had gained with the staid villagers an un-
favorable notoriety. We rang door bells,
changed store signs, ,impounded stray horses
in impromptu stables, built in the middle Of
the street at night of empty dry goods boxes,
raised false alarms of fire, and did many
other things Tin cases amounting to outrages
on property which boys at certain period
consider it remarkably clever to do, and
which may be the only means of venting their
surplus energy.
In so applying tc the influential men Of the
village had also fond hope they might
help me to a situation My father had been
their peer in business. l was not stranger
My family and theirs had long dwelt in the
same town The hope was natural.
But there was noproffer of the help l
craved. They talked we'll and wisely, gave
me much good advice in a general way,
and seemed to think that any occupation or
calling might adopt would be well for me
if "stuck to it."
had then such profound respect for the
Judgment of these men that deemed they
hol S,, al, fol- mi
thing valuable, and that had done good
thing in consulting them. But, practically,
found myself exactly where l was before
my interviews, to wit: nowhere.
In the midst of my tribulations as to the
choice of profession, the California gold
fever of 1S49 broke out. The problem was
solved. 1 would 60 to California and be-
come gold digger. There was something
fascinating in the idea of digging for gold,
much more SO than digging potatoes,
though the difference between the two is not
worth mentioning.
The fever seized most of the village youth
of my own age. A ship was fitted out, a
former whaling vessel 1t was not so much
of an undertaking for our people to make
the long, dreary voyage around Cape Horn
to California Two-thirds of the crew and
passengers of the Ann Mary Ann had made
the trip before.
Seventy, all told were to sail in that ship.
Matured men, young men and boys, taken
all together, constituting the flower Of the
village.
The Sunday before sailing the pastor OF
the Presbyterian church preached us fare
well sermon. The church was crowded. The
seventy about to sail felt themselves the at
fractions of the hour, as they were.
The younger men and boys came in body
and occupied pews by themselves. We went
full of excitement and anticipation. We
were the nuy elites of the hour. We could
give but moments fitting thought to the
sadness of the grieving mothers we were to
leave behind. We neither realized nor ap-
preciated their many little daily cares for us.
We hustled about with all the importance of
fedglings, proud of our pin feathers, and re-
garding them quite as good as matured plum
age. 1t was an impressive occasion-not SO
much to me then, but as see it now-sadly,
solemnly impressive, since it waS.for so many
the final departure, not merely from homes,
relatives, friends and associations, but also
in so many cases from our interest in them
and their interest in us-a hard saying, but
true. Gone a week. and memory is fresh
with those who leave and those who are left
month, and the raw, bleeding wounds of
separation and tearing asunder barely COM
mence to heal; six months, and new events,
situations, associations, circumstances com.
mence the process of deadening grief; year,
and we wonder where is the heart hunger OF
a twelvemonth past; two years. and our
friend is a memory; five years, a dream,
with possibly half a dozen new personalities
standing between us and her or him.
Boys sat in those pews who were to return
gray headed, battered and worn from q
rough encounter with the world of the
fartheSt west-who at their next attendance
in that church would look in vain for the
deacons or prominent church members now
standing erect during prayer time, after the
fashion which still fingered in the rural
Presbyterian churches of that day. Other
boys of that gathering, and OF these the
majority, were never to return. Their let
ters home, at first voluminous, were to les
sen in size, while the lapses of time between
each would increase. Searching for time
ever rcccding further in the distance, they
were to wander and become entirely lost te
home and friends in the renloter regions o
the west. Then unknown, unnamed, un
thought of, discouraged, reckless, weary
their pride and spirit broken, they were to
fill nameless graves on lone hillsides thou,
sands of miles away, or else hurriedly buried
in the crowded city, their bones would be
as hurriedly turned up a few years after as
the population extended its limits and dug
and plowed its way through waste land and
cemetery
I, in company with several Of my assocl'
ates, were grouped that evening about the
Seftons' front door, There were three of the
Seton sisters-Blanche, the eldest; Mary and
Phoebe. The Seftons was a favorite resort
for our ''set" of young folk. The parents
were plain, 'easy-going' people, and allowed
us more privileges at their house than we
could find elsewhere. The sisters were always
lat home" for company, and the old people
allowed them pretty much their own way.
Other parents were not so accommodating.
Socially their houses were colder, and if we
called MA" generally came and sat in the
parlor while we were present, and Ma" i'll
the estimation of at least one person, if not
two, at such times was very much out of
place. The Seton girls parlor in winter and
their front door 'stoop' in summer were fa-
vorite resorts for all the girls of our set,