Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-05-12

hat a weeks struggle with mud bitches
would wind up the career of the whole out
fit. "How far is 1t to Ebensburg?" l
anxiously asked.
Eighteen miles, usually, but fully twenty
to-day, your wheels will slip back little
each mile.
In a reconnoiter l found that the first
five miles of this distance would be plowing
through terribly cut-up road and the next
five miles continual climb up Laurel
HILL Not since we LETT Pittsburg has
there been q harder days work before
Beaver and Bucephalus. There was no
help for it, and 1 engaged Farmer Kepple
to hitch two of his horses to our team and
pull us to the summit Of Laurel Hill. His
team was very strong, and with four horses
to the DISPATCH wagon we started again
eastward at o'clock A. n.
A Drenry journey.
The weather was cold and the sky was still
black with clouds. The mountain heights
were veiled with a drspery of mist, and the
higher we assembled this vapor condensed
and almost in the form of a rainy drizzle
penetrated our clothes to the very skin. To
people who know how dreary is rainy day
in the mountains, it will be appreciated how
cherries would have been our ride under
ordinary circumstances. But with four
horses in front, the merry jingle OF the trace
chains, the exhilaration of holding four
reins instead of two, the swish and crack of
the extra long whip as it reached to our
leaders; the roll and lurch of the wagon
all MADE our ride unusually exciting
Presently we began to ascend the noun
tain. The depths of Laurel Hill are a per-
petual cloudland. No sunlight penetrates
the thickets of rhododendrons, the glades of
pine and hemlOck, or mellows the color of
rich banks of moss and red patches of
pigeon berries. So when the canopy
OF evergreen arched over the roadway closed
us in from the uufriendly sky, we saw spring
time yerdure in all its beauty.
Beds of Spring Flowers.
Great punches oftrailing arbutus gathered
from the rocky ledges filled our moving
canvas house with a delicate fragrance.
The soft tint of the dainty petals was offset
by the fiery horn-leaves of bouquet or two
of wild columbines. Grassy spots among
the trees were flecked with thousands OF
homely dandelions and early violets, the
fragile stems of which deied the efforts OF
cleaners. The air was heavy with the odor
which always proceeds from a dense under
growth. But somehow that wet, cold morn
ing in May was more charming in the woods
than in the clearing.
1t was fortunate that we never tried to
climb that mountain with our two horses |
alone. The rains of two weeks had washed
down the mountain roads with an entirely
different effect than what is seen on level |
There is no dirt to moisten into
mud, nor is there a lack of foundation which |
causes ruts and sinkholes one and two feet |
deep. But the rains wash out the gravel |
from the stone and rock foundations, leav- |
ing the sloping road rough, rocky and
risking.
Over in Cambria County.
1t was an awful pull, even for four horses,
and it took us little over three hours to |
travel ter miles, from Mr.. Kepple's farm |
house 70 the top of Laurel Hill. When at |
last Beaver and Bucephalus pantingIy |
hsltd on the summit, clarion blast from |
or cornet player set the wild echoes fying, |
and startled the inhabitants of Belsano, |
Cambria county. This is the little town |
where we took lunch and where our relay of |
horses left us. We were only there an hour |
and half, but that was not long enough to |
solve o mystery, which still bothers us more |
Jr less.
Now, up to the present time, 1 have not |
disclosed a humiliating fact, and that is
that when our vari-colored blankets hap
pen to lop over the wagon bed, or when our
coffee pot stood out in bold relief against the |
trunk, we had often been |
mistaken for Gipsies. On one occasion had /
[ remained open to insult, backwoodsman
would have actually asked me where we stole
the last horse, or where Sybil the fortune teller
Wss. Now, when we approached Belsano,
oh cd vi
enough for circus, aud were not ragged
enough for Buffalo Bill show. Somebody
suggested that the fat lady was show
ing in Belsano, but that was de-
,ided impossible, for how could she
ever be pulled to the top of the mountain?
A HumiIiating Position.
AT last we were compelled to believe that
here indeed band Of rowing Gipsies had
pitched their moving tents, days march
nearer Mucklerat (the Gipsy rendezvous at