Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1889-12-29
PILLS CHRISTMAS.

neys of miners cabins, once spread so gen.
orally over the mining region Of the State,
and which he still SO often meets in travel
ing through the country. A sight of one
of these decaying monuments of a grand
period of the history of the State calls to
his mind thousand recollections quaint
and strange, and to him all absorbing. He
sees clustering about each one vague
mist from which arises a fragment of the
wonderful history which he assisted in
making. Beyond is the great and almost
unbroken forest Of oak, spruce and pine;
the hundreds of log cabins dotted along the
water courses, and the busy mining camps
teeming with their thousands of pushing,
crowding and enterprising men, actuated
by one impulse, often found in unexpected
places. And what is left to remind him of
those never-to-be forgotten days but that
lowly ruin, an occasional pile of stones
and gap in the hillside that tells where
the soil was washed away for gold.
A few months ago, while travelling along
mountain road and enjoying the beauti-
full scenery, the bright green vineyards
and orchards upon almost every hillside,
while pretty cottages nestled among the
trees, | saw a gray-haired man sitting
upon pile of stones and sticks by the
roadside. stopped and congratulated
him on the lovely appearance of the coun-
try around and the wonderful change
which the last score of years had wrought.
He slowly removed pick, which lay at
his right over to his left side, where a
shovel and pan reclined against the stones,
then turned an intelligent face toward me
and said: "Ah, yes; but it has very little
beauty for me, after all its attractiveness
| is all in the past This ruined chimney
! tells of past far more attractive to my
eyes than this, with all the beauties you
describe. Somehow there is a fascination
about it that you can hardly understand.
l cannot quite explain it myself, but it is
there all the same When you came up
admit was dreaming little of other
days, when my hopes and aspirations were
greater than they are now. though | do
not yet despair. My pick and shovel are
still the stars which will light me to sue
cess"
| Anu may luty W IT, Sdlus 4NO
doubt there is a story hidden somewhere
about every one of the ruined chlmneys
YOU meet"
81 quite agree with you-some to my
certain knowledge"
81 would be greatly interested in the re-
cital of one of them while | am resting
here"
He hesitated a moment, then said pleas
antly, his whole manner changing from
dreaminess to animation, 81 will tell ii
most willingly, but l fear l shall not inter-
est you much"
l said 1 was quite ready to take the
chances.
Every well, then; the reason l tell you
this particular story will soon become APP
parent.
SIT was, l think, in the early fall of 80.
Ny partner, Ned Hartley, and l had been
engaged during the summer in throwing
up dirt for the winter rains and were now
getting impatient, early as 1t was In the
season, for them to come.
eve had Just built ourselves most ex-
cellent cabin of three rooms; one rather
small, to be used as storeroom, though
we did not really need it; one for kitchen
and parlor and the other for bedroom.
We expended good deal of time on this
chimney here"
''1hiS chimney; why, is this the place?
Was it here"
eyes, sir; this is the very place, and this
little pile is all that is left to mark the
spot, and this would not be here only it
happens to be outside the fence there.
Yes, we spent much time on the chimney
because we wished it very large so as to re-
ceive the great logs that were so handy
then Everything about the cabin was
ready for winter whenever it CHANGED to
come.
"The road that leads down past that
clump of houses yonder was the old emf
grant trail. Along it passed strings of di-
lapidated wagons, drawn by frightfully
bony oxen and horses, driven by men so
sunbrowned and begrimmed with dust that
you would never guess their nationality.
And that string of wagons, wherever it
passed, was really procession in mourn
ing, for the cholera had followed them like
a starving wolf, fastening its horrid fangs
in hundreds and dragging them down.
Zone night couple of wagons camped
under that old tree just over there. A
father, mother and one son were stricken
down within a few days of each other, we
were told, leaving only boy of fifteen or
sixteen out of family of four.
1.-THE next morning Ned, in going to the
spring for water met this very boy wan
about, and brought him in to breakfast.
The wagons had already gone away. The
boy frankly admitted he had run away
from the wagons and those in whose care
he seems to have been placed, and hid in
the fiat below until they had disappeared.
ale was bright-looking boy, with
bushy hair and clothes too big for him.
After his parents and brother died, and
while ne was i'll himself, the wagon train
separated, some coming in one route and
some another, so he never knew what be-
came of his clothes, and few of his
brothers were all that were left him. He
was not very strong, we thought, and no
wonder, poor boy, for he must have been
half-starved for a month or more We
did not ask him many questions at first,
only his name, Phil Waters, for he was
very quiet and shy, and we fancied there
was something connected with one or both
of those wagons which he did not wish to
speak of-some mystery, perhaps, though
that was guesswork on our part.
"After breakfast Ned took me to one
side, and said, Gil, FL tell you what let's
do. 1t will never do to allow that young
ster to wander off alone by himself. What
say to keeping him with us and teaching
him to cook-that is, as much as we know,
which is mighty little admit. I'd rather
do days work than cook meal; and you,
to my certain knowledge, are not in love
with cooking So, what do you say?
@'Well,' l said, if you will teach him
the cooking it will be satisfactory to me-
So we made the proposition to the boy, and
as l live he seemed frightened out of his
wits.
"'Why,' said Ned you needn't be afraid
I'll show you all you need to know Of
cooking, and you will soon do it as well l.
You can have the little room near the
chimney all to yourself This was quite
alluring, but he feared he'd be burden to
us, and all that, but finally consented. So
| left Ned giving him a lesson in the
science of bean cooking. He was to take
about so many-not do as we mad done at
first, put in two or three times more than
we ought, and when they began to swell,
gradually fill up all the spare dishes We
had in the cabin-'and them said he, it is