The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1892-04-17
A CRERDE BURIAL.
Rough Men at the Grave Drinking
Joe's Health on the Other side.

Rough Men at the Grave Drinking
Joe's Health on the Other side.
From the Creole Chronicle.
''Can q Teller buy e stack Of blues in here
to-day"
mot to- day, psrdner."
whats the matter"
"Well Joe Simmons is being buried to-
day, and the house is closed until after the
funeral"
"Who was Joe Simmons"
"How long have you been in the campP'
Game i'll on the afternoon train"
Thought SO. Well. Joe Simmons was
JEFF Smiths best friend. This is Jef's
house, and not q card will be turned or
drink sold until Joe's remains are care
fully planted. You eau slide up to the bar
and gulp one to Joe's health beyond the
| range, but your moIey don't e."
! The above conversation took place at The
| Orleans club In this camp Sunday after
noon. The inquiring party was miner
fresh from Leadville. The man who re"
sponde1 was the barieeper at the club.
| After the drink the mixoiogist waxed
laxative five known JEFF smith," be
said, for q number of years, but never
saw him knocked such twister as when he
found out that Joe had TO die. Down in
Texas. years ago. both OF EN- was Kids to-
| gether. They went to an old log school
| house and helped each other TO annoy the
teacher aud get a little learning, Then
| they went to punchin' cows and worked for
the same outfit, after ward graduating into
the Texas rangers. They ran together,
swore together, yes, aud guess they
skinned many a sucker together. too, but
they never gave friend dirt.
| "Well, Joe comes into camp when he
| bears the boom is on, and went to dealin'
for JEFF. He finally got sick-pneunomia
and Friday night few moments before
| ~ o'clock jeff goes up to Lis room. Joe
| was dyin,' and JET knowed it, but he tried
to give him u stall that he was looking all
right.
! I'm dyin' My last chip viii be cashed in
very soon, and l want to say good-by to
\ you. You wont have no preachin' at my
send-off, will you9 10. Good. Just lay
me out and wish me good health on the
other side of the range. il there is another
side and any health there. Gcod-bY, old
| pard, Pm Off
Them was the last words Joe spoke, and
| jeff came down to the saloon and cried like
baby. he says TO me- Chick, the
whitest man on earth just died and ]
| knowed what he meant. But there goes
the funeral procession"
Joe Simmons was one of the best known
gamblers in the West. He was Smiths
sohool-day friend, aud the last wishes Of
his friend were sacred trust to him. Ac-
cordiUgly, the funeral which took place
Sunday aud tue service at the grave we 9
perhaps the most unique ever witnessed.
1t is seldom that Bacchus is called upon to
preside at the grave. But the sound OF the
popping champagne corks mingled with the
curses of the ore drivers as they swung
| their leaders along the narrow trail which
passes besides Gods acre on the broad plat
eau above this rustliug camp. Yet the re-
mains Of human being were being con-
| signed to their last resting place.
At 2 O'Clock the funeral cortege left the
undertaker's. A wagon containing the de-
ce4 sed was in ad vance. Next followed the
only hack in town, containing JEFF Smith,
| John KinneRvy, Hugh Monau. and
| Chronicle reporter Wagons with fifty
friends of the departed followed.
A binding snow storm was in progress,
but the horses plodjed on up the steep hill
side. When half way up the mourners
were forced to get out and walk to the head
OF the bill, as the horses couldn't stand the
strain.
| Finally the cemetery was reached. Six
mounds of earth ominouslv close together
| marked il. A gaping, oblong hole had been
| dug beside the last mound. When the box
| had been taken from the improvised hearse
| IL was lowered into the grave. Every head
was uncovered, and jeff Smith, standing at
the foot of the grave, thus addressed the
throng:
1.-THE man whom we have just laid TO
rest is the best friend l ever had. You all
| know him. Did any of you ever know him
| to do a thing that wasn'5 square with his
! friends1 No. l thought not. Neither did
| |. The best we can do now is to wish him
the best there is in the land beyond the
range, or the hereafter, il thore is any here
after. Joe didn't think there was, and l
don't know anything about 1t. Friends l
! fT1t ~ alrnr RIt
friend, and all he wanted was for us to
! gather at his grave and drink his health
| when he was gone. Let US do It,"
Twelve bottles of Pommery were then
opened, and each of the assemblage took
his glass in hand while Smith said: Here's
to the health Of Joe Simmons in the here
after, II there is q hereafter" The glasses
were drained. Then all joined hands
around the grave and sang "Auld Lang
| Syne."
1t was strange aud weird sight. The
snow was falling in thick. heavy clouds,
and for a single moment the sun came out
above the crested cliffs and gliuted on the
| glasses, giving new sparkle to the wine
that toasted the obseques of the dead sport
Sorrow for the nonce was drowned by an
| Offering to Bacohus.
The dirt was filled into the grave and thu
cortege returned to town. In a few
moments they were busy again wit b cards
| ana cnlpsi ana the orleans cIuo opened Tor
| business.
This event. at which perhaps the outside
world would stand aghast, simply proved
that the sporting element OF mining camp
regard the last wishes of the dying as a
duty to be performed Faithfully. They
may be outside the pale of the world in
many things, but they practice the broad
principles Of humanity. How many CEN
ters of CIVILIZATION do this2