The Bozeman weekly chronicle. (Bozeman, Mont.) 1883-1889, 1886-12-08


was twenty-one, since she saw me growing
up without trade or profession, and ldling
away my time with no apparent anxiety 70
be anything but boy.
In some respects this was true. dld wlsn
that boyhood and youth could remain for
ever, since all the manhood, or rather ma
turity, about me seemed humdaum aita1r,
full Of care and vexation, and the older people
grew the less ''funn they had in the world :
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, and
when | heard that William Loper, the tTst
playmate of my infancy, was engaged TO De
married to Fannie Lugar, it seemed 10 me
piece Of audacity as well as serious mnoVa-
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 living. did so grudgingly. In
deed held on to my boyiGh 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 rnen-as they
were.
commenced "doing for myself" with q
series of resolTes to be something great, II
not good. / was one week a general, the
next an actor, the third an orator, finally
sea captain. awoke from these dreams to
find myself stfll in status quo, eating the
bread of idleness, parent and sundry rela-
tives meantime broadly limiting that 1t was
high time / should do something
applied to certain solid men Of the village
as to the choice of profession. l thought It
might raise me in their estimation so to con-
suit them. They might see that | was In
earnest to set seriously TO work about LIES
business / knew that my reputation already
was none Of the best, because | was one Of
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 Gn cases amounting to outrages
ON property which boys at a certain period
consider it remarkably clever to do, and
which may be tine only means of venting their
surplus energy.
In SO applying to the influential men Of the
village had also q fond hope they might
help me to situation Ny father had been
their peer in business / was. not stranger.
same town. The hope was natural
But there was no proffer of the help /
craved They talked well 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
had in telling me nothing told me some
thing valuable, and that had done a good
thing in consulting them. But, practically,
found myself exactly where was before
my inUery isws, TO wit; nowhere,
In the midst of my tribulations as TO the
choice of a 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 vent
full of excitement aRd anticipation We
were the novelties 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 bustled 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 eases from our interest in them
and their interest in us-a hard saying, but
true. Gone a week. and memoryi is fresh
with those who leave and those who are left
a month, and the raw, bleeding wounds of
separation and tearing asunder barely com.
mence to neal; six months, and new events
situations, associations, circumstances com
mence the process of deadening grief; a year.
and we wonder where Is the heart hunger of
q twelvemonth past; two years, and our
friend is memory; FIVE years, a dream,
with possibly half dozen new personalities
standing between US and her Of him
Boys sat in those pews who were q n ,rrii
gray headed, battered and worm -
rough encounter with. the world e HI.
farthest west-who at their next at;ca Ii ,s.ei
in that church would look in vain 10 il
deacons or prominent church member, ,1y
standing erect during prayer time, aftes He
fashion hnh still fingered in III rl al
Presbyt lrrches Of that day. }fli'-
boys 0t altering, and Of hs ths
majority i,ver to return rt, -
teTB HON 1l,. volumtnous wer7. s., -
sen in size. ati the iapses Of time between
each yotti-e sla-Iaf,se Searching for time
ever rece.iiH-s ,u her in the distance, they
were 20 wa;,,,;l = become entirely lost to
home end iemis tl.e remoter regions Of
the west kslawn unnamed, un-
thought e. g reckless, weary,
their pride and spirit broken, they were to
I'LL nameless graves on lone hiilsides thou
sands of miles away, or else hurriedly buried
In the crowded city, their bones would be
as hurFiedly turned up few years SITTER as
the population extended its limits and dug
and plowed its way through waste land and
cemetery.
], in company with several Of my assoct-
atos, were grouped that evening about the
Seftons' front door There were three Of the
Seton sisters-B 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
tat homen for company, and the old people
allowed them pretty much their OWN way.
Other parents were not 50 accommodating.
Socially their houses were colder, and If we
called MAJ generally came and sat IN the
parlor while we were present, and Ma IN
the estimation of MT least one person. If not
two at such times was very much out OF
place The Seton girls parlor in winter and
t6eir front door 'stoop7 in summer were IA
vorite resorts for al the girls Of our set 2
who, IL they could not Zee their youthful adj
mirels at home. were pretty sure Of doing 50
ct tie SeftonEf. There was 3 bit Of front
yard, shaded BY tail syeamores, and fronting
the door was big unhewn stone, serving as
its single step and worn smooth BIZ the tread
Of generations Of Seftoas The little hallway
and that stone often held large audiences on
summer evenings protracted neetings
evuu unto the going down Of the full or bed