The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1891-05-23
bits Of rome to tie up their suspenders

among them.
They have long since gone. They are
scattered for the most part you know
not where. Two are living in San
Francisco and are now men of might
and mark. Another you have heard of
far away in the eastern states, living in
a remote village whose name is over
heard of outside the county bounds.
One has been reported to you as up
north somewhere" another down in
Arizona somewhere" and three you
can locate in the county. That is but
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
that once resided at Dry Bar. 1t is
mournful. The river monotonously
drones, gurgles and murmurs over the
rifle. The sound is the same as in '58.
A bird on the opposite bank gives
forth at regular intervals loud queru-
lous cry. 1t was a bird of the same
species whose note so wore on the nerves
of Mike Mcdonald as he lay dying of
consumption in a big house which stood
yonder. that, after matchmaking 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 shell
ter for the summer. and out of which he
was chased by 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.
Here it is. The remains of your own
cabin chimney a 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 "pard" sat by the glow
ing Goals 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 so.
Mining was still in the pan, rocker and
long tom era; sluices were just coming
in. Hydraulicking 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 a
badge of honor The deep river beds
were held to contain enormous store of
golden nuggets. River mining was in
its wing and Golfer dam phase
Perhaps the world then seemed young
er 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-
ton 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
dug out. You held, then, Dry
Bar in light estimation. 1t was for you
only temporary stopping place, from
which you wished to get its gold as
quickly as you could and get away from
as soon as possible.
You never expected Dry Bar, its mem
cries and associations thus to make for
themselves a "local 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 initiates himself to terrify you
as you approach. Those ratlike ground
squirrels are running from hole to hole,
like gossiping neighbors, and "chip-
ping" shrilly at each other These are
old summer acquaintance 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
man? Not the same young man GER
tainly. The face is worn, the eyes deep
sr 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 "soul case" Suppose that
you, the John Doe of 1888, could and
should meet the John Doe of 1852
Would you know him? Would you
agree on all points with him? Could
sou get along with him? Could you
cabin" with him? Could you summer
and winter" with him?
Would the friends of the John Doe of
SO, who piled up that chimney. be the
friends OF the present John Doe, who
stands regarding its ruins? Are the be-
iefs and convictions of that j. Doe those
Of this J. Doe? Are the jokes deemed so
clever by that j. Doe clever to this J.
Doe? Are the men great to that J. Doe
great to the present }. Doe? Does he
low see the filmly, frothy fragments of
scores of pricked bubbles sailing away
md vanishing in air: If man die shall
ne live again? But how much of mans
mind may die out and be supplanted by
other ideas ere his body goes back to
lust? How much of this j. Doe belongs
% that J. Doe, and how much Of the
same man is there standing here?