The Ottawa free trader. [volume] (Ottawa, Ill.) 1843-1916, 1886-04-24

and kept her in rack OF dhAie'y ui'.'
was twenty-one, since she saw me growing
up without trade or profession, ana iuiiiiS
away my time with no apparent anxiety 10
be anything but boy.
In some respects this was true. ! did wish
that boyhood and youth could remain lor-
ever, since all the manhood, or rather ma
turity about me seemed humdrum aiialr,
full of care and vexation and the older people
grew the less fun 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 Lopez, the first
playmate of my infancy, was engaged to be
married 10 Fannie Lugar, it seemed to me
piece Of audacity as well as n serious innoya-
ton on the established order of things
Gradually it Gawned upon me that must
cut loose from tops, marbles, kites and quail
traps, march out into the world and do some
thing fOI living. did SO grudgingly. In
deed, held on to my boyish ways and sports
years after my companions had laid them
aside forever, donned frocb coats, high stand
ing collars, gaudy necktes, tight boots and
deemed themselves proper little men-as they
were.
COllllcUhtil UblI5 lpl ulNAtt WIN u
series OF resolves to be something great, if
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 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. thought 1t
might raise me in their estimation 50 TO con-
suit them. They might see that | was in
earnest to set seriously to work about lifes
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 I'M
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 (in cases amounting to outrages
on property which boys at a certain period
consider it remarkably clever to do, and
which may be the only means of venting their
surplus energy.
In so applying to the influential men of the
village | had also a fond hope they might
help me to situation. My father had beer
their peer in business. was not stranger.
My family and theirs had long dwelt in the
same town. The hope was natural.
But there was no profer 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 lie veil tor E!s
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 interviews to wit: nowhere.
In the midst of my tlibulations as to the
choice of a profession, the California gold
fever of lS49 broke out The problem was
solved. | would go to California and be-
come a 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. 4 ship was fitted out
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 a fare
4, l,.l
seventy about to sail felt themselves the at
fractions of the hour, as they were.
The younger men and boys came in a body
aud occupied pews by themselves. We went
full of excitement and 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 APP
preciated their many little daily cares for us.
We BUSTED about with all the importance of
fedglingS, proud of our pin feathers, and re-
garding them quite as good as maturei plum
age. 1t was an impressive occaSion-not 50
much to me then, but a. | see it now-sadly,
soemnly 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
true. Gone a week, and memory 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 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
twelvemonth past; two years, and our
friend is a memory; five years, dream,
with possibly half dozen new personalities
standing between us and her or him.
Boys sat in those pews who were to return
graz headed, battered and worn from a
rouyi 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
tiers home at first voluminous, were to les
sen In size, while the lapses of time between
each would increase. Searching for time
ever receding further III the distance, they
were 10 wander aud become entirely lost To
home and friends in the remoter regions OF
the west Then unknown, unnamed, un