The Press., 1891-07-30

seven out Of the one hundred who once dwelt here and roundabout. Now that recollection concentrates herself you do call to mind two others -one died in the county almshouse and another became insane and was sent to Stockton. That is all. Nine out of the one hundred that onea resided at Dry Bar. It is mournful. The river monotonously drones, gurgles and murmurs over the rifle. The sound is the same as in '5s. A bird, on; the opposite bank gives forth at regular intervals 8 loud queru- lous cry. \. It was a bird of the same species whose note so wore on the nerves of Mike McDonald as he lay dying of consumption in big house which stood wonder. that, after anathematizing it, he would beseech his watcher to take a gun and blow the .'cussed" things head off. Perhaps it is the same bird. The afternoon shadows are creeping down the mountain side. The outline of the hills opposite has not at all changed, and there, down by the bank, is the enor- nous fragment of broken rock against which Dick Childs built his brush shel- ter for the summer, and out of which he was chased by a sudden fall rise of the river. But it is very lonesome with all these people here so vivid in memory, yet all gone, and never. never to come back. s-'7 y~s ''
 Here it is. The remains of your own cabin chimney pile of smoke black ened stones in the tall grass. Of the cabin every. vestige has disappeared. You built that chimney yourself. It was an awkward affair, but it served to carry out the smoke, and when finished you surveyed it with pleasure and some pride, for it was your chimney. Have you ever felt "snugger" and more cozy and comfortable since than you did on the long. rainy winter nights, when, the supper finished and the crockery washed. you and your ttpard" sat by the glow ing coals and prepared your pipes for the evening smoke? There were great hopes and some great strikes on Dry Bar in those days; that was in '52. Mining was still in the pan, rocker and long tom era; sluices were just coming in. 7 HydrauGc6ng 100 foot banks and washing hills off the face of the earth had not been thought of. The dispute as to the respective merits of the long vs. the short handled shovel was still going on. A gray or red shirt was badge of honor. The deep river beds were held to contain enormous store of golden nuggets. River mining was in it's wing and coffer dam phase.
 Perhaps the world then seemed young CT to you than now? Perhaps your mind then set little store on this picturesque spot, so wrapped were you in visions of the future? Perhaps then you wrote regularly to that girl in the States-your first hearts trouble-and your anticipa- tion was fixed entirely on the home to be built up there on. the gold you were to dig here2 Perhaps the girl never mar ried you. the home was never built and nothing approaching the amount of orc expected dug out. You held, then, Dry Bar in light estimation. It was for you only a temporary stopping place, from which you wished to get it's gold as quickly as you could and get away from as soon as possible.
 You never expected Dry Bar, it's mem ories and associations thus to make for themselves: 'slocal habitation and name" in your mind. We live sometimes in homes we do not realize until much of their material part has passed away. A horned toad scuttles along the dry grass and indates himself to terrify you as you approach. Those ratlike ground squirrels are running from hole to hole, like gossiping neighbors, and "chip- ping" shri1ly at each other. These arc old summer acquaintances at Dry Bar.
 Is it with feeling of curiosity you take up one of those stones handled by you thirty-one years ago, and wonder how like or unlike you may be to your self at that time? Are you the same mann Not the same young man cer- tainly. The face is worn, the eyes deep CT set, the hair more or less gray, and there are lines and wrinkles where none existed then, but that is only the out side of your 'tsoul case" Suppose that you, the John Doe of 1883, could and should meet the John Doe of 1e532 Would you know him? Would you agree on all points with him? Could you ''get" along with him? Could you s'cabin" with him? Could you 'ssummer and wintere with him?
 Would the friends of the John Doe of '53, who piled up that chimney. be the friends of the present John Doe, who stands regarding it's ruins? Are the be- liefs and convictions of that J. Doe those of this J. Does Are the jokes deemed so clever by that J. Doe clever to this J. Does Are the men great to that J. Doe great to the present J. Doe? Does he now see the 6lm1y, frothy fragments of scores of pricked bubbles sailing away and vanishing in air? If man die shall he live again? But how much of mans mind may die out and be supplanted by other ideas ere his body goes back to same man is there standing herea
 .-..--- -..- .r. PREKETrcH MTu E0pn