Wood River times. [volume] (Hailey, Idaho) 1882-1915, 1890-02-26


too sour or too yellow, or too heavy.
But don't care. l bake only for my
self, and l am unfortunately too easily
pleased. and probably too lazy to take
that care and elaborate preparation nec-
essary for good bread. never measure
accurately the proportions of -four,
water and yeast powder necessary for
good bread. throw them together at
random. It's "hit or miss generally
miss. It's too much trouble to bother
about these small details. A particular
few days reproved me for the poor quail
ity of my bread and the general sloven-
illness apparent about my cooking uten-
sis.
You have no PRIDE" said he.
l owned up. What was the use Of
pride about Il tin kettle. This friend was
my hacker. lie had set mo up on this
claim. and put me, after a fashion, on
my feet. He had come to see how l was
getting along. While on this visit, man
of some standing from camp up the
river came along looking for stray COW.
My friend asked him to dinner-one Of
my dinners-graced by about the worst
baking of bread l ever accomplished.
My friend did not realize what he was
about when he asked the future lieuten-
ant governor of the state of California to
that dinner. But when he sat down to
my boarl, and when they tried to eat
my bread, he sorrowed in secret and gave
me some good and forcible advice after
ward relative to culinary and domestic
matters. In these matters he was very
particular man. During his stay he in
augurated a rel. 81 of ncatncss, and for
me one of terror and discomfort He
put his whole mind on cooking. and COW
cred the stove with dishes. He was an
animated Liil of fare. He secured all
TIE tinwarc brightly.
But the man didn't enjoy eating his
deliberately prepared meals 80 much as
l did. lie worked too hard getting them
up. He exhausted too much of his force
in planning, worrying and cooking. He
worked his mind in too many channels
at once. He lacked rcpose. There's
where had the best of him. l was re-
poseful, and if you please so to term it,
lazy. He is dcad-I am alive. There's
the result of different mental conditions.
1t Is noon. l have no clock to tell the
hours. but we acquire faculty of feel
ing VIXEN noon arrives. The rain has
ceased temporarily, but it will soon re-
commence, for which l am glad, rs it
will prevent work on the claim during
the afternoon. Having eaten dinner.
finishing, with a piece Of mince pie, it
occurs to mo that this is a good time to
write home. It's hard work writing
home. lput it OF for weeks and months.
1t lays u load on my mind. receive at
times letters from people complaining of
my neglect. know ought to write,
but what il there to write? Nothing but
the same old story, "lIcp, soon to do
we'll" | have written in this strain for
the last six years, until am tired and
sick Of it. 1t is Of no use telling any
more about the country. All that has
been told. II my people knew how
much suffered in this entlcavor to be
dutiFul. perhaps they would not insist ON
my writing more than the line. Il am
still alive; yours truly"
The ink in my cabin il thick, tho pen q
bad one, apd my mind seems in this
epistoiArv effort thicker and rusticr than
ink or pen. Dear - and then u big
blot. and then Il long pause and the pat
ter of the rain and the roar of the river.
l write about u Page and u half, feeling
rs if every stroke of the pen were cncum-
bcrcd with IL ball and chain. accom-
plish half u dozen more blots. and fin
IL .,~. 4
prickly heat 1t is a barren, pithless
sapless effort. l will go out and get a
breath of fresh air ana rain. 1t is
o'clock. Still it rains. The heavens are
dark. and already the Cir; t shades of the
winters night ;ir, coming on. revisit
my haul Of lumber from, the river. 1t is
gone. The river has rot reached the
spot where placed it. 1t is the work of
those t.,eving Cinnamon on Chambers
bar, half Il mile above. There ia no use
in going after them. Ny lumber is de-
posted and hidden amid the piles they
have to-day dragged out of the river.
Ispcal aboat an hour getting in fuel.
l have II woodward on the hillside yonder
Nature has kindly felled and seasoned
there Il few scrub oaks for my Use.
drag down il few branches. The land
here is frec-vcry free. No fences. no
boundary lines, no gates. no proprictors.
It's Il pretty flat when the sun shines. A
dark background of mountain, in front
. river, with it,; cuvviny and varied out
line of tulc and hank up and down
stream. and close about the oaks are so
scattered as to give ono the impression
of Il park 3;ll an old mansion hidden
somewhere il the background What n
luxury would I've this spot to thousands
in crowded cities who haven't even the
range of a back yard nor the shadow of
n tree. Yet | a.n GiscoutcutGd and would
gct away to these crowded cities. The
early darkness has come. light my
candle. Niy can,ielabra is Of glass-dar,s
olive Erccn-a bottle. did use big
potato wiz. u hole therein sccoped. But
tho csthelic nature requires constant
change and l adopted Il bottle. Isprrad
tho evening r2past. Ic!t down alone.
From the window SEQ Light; Eiimmcr-
in:; i, the few other nci ,hbo:inS cabins.
Itakc iefuS> in IL" effort to repair
m. last AMI ouiv mir of hroalrfnth