New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, 1888-01-04
a Song nntI,e Night.
LEWISTON one. Jonpnal.

sOA NAzAc.J JOtsautSls
In the quiet waiting room of the
Grand Trunk depot in Lewiston
sat may-whiskered old fellow in
q broad brimmed hat. He had been
studying timetable with some per-
plexity, and had Just laid it aside. A
question from him relative to the
starting of the train for Oxford Coun-
ty was introduction enough. His
voice was hoarse, but not unpleasant.
His infection was old. Being down
Easter, it was safe for the writer to.
;uess that the stranger was from the
West.
From the West7''
1You bet, " was the reply.
Going to Oxford Connty7"'
That's where Pm going"
Conversation was desultory until
the Westerner opened up.
Said he: cts thirty-two years;
since I see the hills OF Maine. l was
raised up in old Oxford county. L
reckon amt thought o. these hills
since ! were boy in copper-toed
boots with s. good old daddy-too
good, God bless him, for nary such q
youngster as were. left home when
were sixteen and went out west, then
Icame back and went to sea. coast
ed eight years and in 55 went on a
deep sea voyage and brought up in
California. I've been there ever since.
Have come back now"
"Alone?'
"Alone2 Yes alone! That's the.
bother of it, my boy. Nary darned
soul there nor here as knows of that
cares whether get here or not-a
lonesome old man. Don't you do it.
Take my word for it, It's awful. For
thirty-fve years nothing to think
about but work and dig and dive. No
wife. Never had none. No friends, ex-
cept boys in the diggins when / first
went there, and in town, where I've
been ruunin' a little business of my
own for the past eight years. Nothing
ahead OF me for the past twenty years
but getting rich. Noletters from any
body I knows of. Nothing in my
dreams but money! Nothing else in the
visions OF the mountain peaks, moth
ing else in the changin' surface Of the
Pacific whenever I've caught glimpse
Of It. I've been a sordid, mean, low
lived skinhint part O. the time and a
roisterin', hell of a poor fellow rest of
it. Lookin' back it makes a lump in
my throat, boy, it do, honest, and I
agreed that a wasted life is the awful
lest thing beneath the canopy OF blue.
1t makes me sick. don't like to
think OF it. like to talk, ye see, to
keep away from thinking of it."
'.Goin' back to the old placer,
.'The old place? Eth! I'D Yes, the old
place. LeastWise that swhat reckon
On. What8d do y on suppose made me?
Hadn't thought o. home for forty five
years. Hadn' + been to church any to
speak Of. Itswere only just a song as
did it. A little old-fashioned song
that heard in the evening, three
months ago bout a another who want
ed to know where her wanderin' boy
was. 1t came up out O.
the night way off there be-
You'd the mountains and | thought of
my old mother, God bless her, and of
the old place. Icouldn't sleep for a
cent that night. I turned and twisted
and sweat great drops. I kept think
in about home and about all I'd ever
read or heard about it. Seems as
though could see the old Iady's face
looking into mine, with eyes full of
love, as good as she did when was p
kid. I thought it over for a day or
two, Life didn't look half so rosy out
there. Fact is / wanted to go home,
just home, nowhere else, and you
bet5I started ,,Then l made up my
mind. I think I only kind O want; to
see the grave of my mother and fix up
the family lot, you know, and do you
know, my boy, / been sort o. holdin' on
to have a good cry (somethin' ! amt
known for thirty years. land when Pm
done with that and when I've SHE'D
around and seen all want to of the
old place, Pm goin' to. Boston and see
a brother OF mine and go back again
beyond the Rockies and die there with
my face towards the East. I could
afford to do it and ain the sort to
be ashamed OF it. LIE me tell you
one thing though-all OF life and allits
gold amt worth the loss OF your
mothers love-"
"a Disorders nf ni0nSf;nn