The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1890-02-08
GRAVES ON The MOUNTAINS.
United In Death far from Home
and Friends.
fLeadyille Democrat


[Leadville Democrat
81 noticed a few weeks ago in your
paper description of lonely graves in
the mountains of Colorado" remarked
gentleman to the writer Monday. "At
the time read it was travelling in the
southern portion of the state, and it re-
called to mind two lonely graves that
know of which lie hidden in the recesses
of the mountains in Routt county. OF
course, there is history attached to
them, and if you have time I will spin
the yarn"
Being informed by the scribe that he
always had time to listen to good story,
the gentleman said:
Gin the year 1879 was prospecting in
the neighborhood of Hans Peak and the
Rabbit Ear range, and at that time very
little was known of the rich silveI.eeins
which traversed that portion of the state,
There were other prospectors in the coun-
try and the few of us felt elated over the
finding of several leads that contained
gray copper, and we went to work with
will to open the veins up You have
no idea of the many difficulties that one
has to contend with in a new country
and the privations one has to suffer. But
the excitement attending the life of
prospector that some day he will strike
it and be recompensed for all his trouble
buoys him up, and he endures all hard
ships and privations with good grace.
The country at that time was well
stocked with game, and we never had
any difficulty in procuring all the fresh
meat that was needed. l had built a
rude cabin at the head of a small gulch
and not far from my claims. 1t was a
lovely spot, with groves of quaking as
pen trees surrounding the cabin, and
about fifty yards from the door stood
two majestic pines that l named the
sentinels.
THE TWO VISITORS.
"One day when 1 returnd from work
found two strangers, man and wife,
had taken possession of my house, and
was little astonished at first to see
woman in that part of the country.
They asked permission to remain there
few days, and it was readily granted.
was indeed glad to see strange faces,
and welcomed them to my humble
abode. From the very first I noticed
that the woman was not strong, and
this aroused my curiosity, as l could not
figure out why woman in delicate
health should be in such wild part of
the country. She had been a very pretty
woman once, but consumption, the mall
ady from which she was suffering, had
robbed her of most of her beauty. She
had a sweet temper, that won for her
friends wherever she went. She was
also perfectly resigned to the inevitable,
and knew that her pilgrimage ON earth
was short. But she bore up with the
greatest fortitude.
"They had been at the cabin about
week, and everything about it had been
changed. Alice-that was the woman's
name-had remodeled the place, and all
things showed the touch of a woman's
hand. Well, one evening after supper
we were sitting in front of the cabin,
enjoying the beauties of an August even
ing, when the husband, Alfred, told me
what brought him to that section of
Colorado. His story was brief. He
stated that after being married in the
east for two years, his wife had shown
unmistakable signs of consumption, and
tho aeo.ors hod advised irilrr Take her
to California, and, if possible to go across
| the plains by wagon, as he would find
that journeying that way she would gain
strength. They found a party of emil
grants at small town in Nebraska, who
L <La o,al
their passage. For the first week out
Alice gained strength, but one evening
she caught cold and this nalady in
creased with awful rapidity. When
Laramie City was reached she could go
no farther and the trip had to be aban-
doned. At that town they were adj
vised to go into the mountains, as the
fresh air ladened with the perfume of
pine was beneficial to consumptives. A
wagon was procured that took them to
North Park, and by easy stages on horse
back they had reached my cabin. 1t
was by the merest chance that they
found it, and was glad they did.
THE LAST FAREWELL.
"a month passed, the happiest in my
life, but saw that gradually Alice was
sinking, and that she would never leave
| the gulch. Her husband noticed the
| change and was unconsolable. He ad-
ministered oher every want, which were
| not many, and realized what an awful
change it would be when she was taken
| from him. One night the end came. She
| called me into the little room that had
partitioned off for their use, and in a
feeble voice thanked me for all my kind
ness to her, and hoped that when my time
came to cross the mysterious river that
| she would meet me in that land where
sorrow is unknown. She told Alfred it
was hard to leave him, but that he must
be strong and bear the aff1iction that a
wise master had in his just wisdom sent
him to carry, and that all things were
| done for the best. 1t was scene the like
of which wish never to witness again,
the feeble girl, full of hope for the future,
bidding good-by to the man she loved,
and the strong, powerful man, bowed
down with grief at the thought of losing
her who was the only tie which bound
him to this world The end came; with
her head pillowed on the breast of her
protector, her spirit winged its flight to
eternal rest. Underneath one of the pine
trees we laid her, and carved her name
and the date of her death on its trunk.
| "Alfred was broken hearted, and wan
| dered about the hills like one lost. He
had no purpose in life, so used to ask
him to do the chores about the place to
engage his mind with something. One
| day asked him to go out and kill deer,
| as we were out of meat Whether he
committed suicide or whether the gun
was accidentally discharged shall never
know, but / found him the following
day, about two miles from the cabin,
with bullet through his brain. The
gun could have been accidentally dis
charged, as found the body in small
thicket of willows, and while passing
through it, the hammer might have
caught on a twig, and so discharged the
gun.
II got assistance and carried him to
the cabin, and he was buried alongside of
his beloved wife, at the foot of the other
pine tree, and today the place is known
as Lonely Gulch.'
"After the tragic death of Alfred, I
could remain no longer in the place, SO
left. returned to it few years ago,
and looked upon the two lonely graves
and thought of the few happy days that
the three of us spent there in the August
of 1872. By reading the article on lonely
orovoa tho1pht the first time 7 came