The Wadsworth dispatch. [volume] (Wadsworth, Nev.) 1892-1899, 1894-03-07
ONE GIRLS FUNERAL.

at Was In the Early Days OF rJontana and
Was Different From Most Funerals.
b During .he .onstl uction days of the
Northern Pacific railroad many small
towns We're born that 1ourished until the
,oad was completed and then died. The
little story following actually occurred
and made an Impression on Inc that
shall never forget. To me there was
tingeof sadness that went straight to tho
heart. OCCUPIED the exalted po1ition of
llstice of the peace. Now, a justice cf
tle peace in Montana in early days wasa
bigger man than the chief justice of tho
United States Is today and had per-
fetual variety entertainment. He mar
ried people, buried the dead. put out fires.
took adrink with erybody. refereed dog
lights, settled family rows, preached,
+ made speeches and had to be ready for
any kind of work For this aggregation
of duties he was called judge, but if he
rendered a wrong decision his name was
Dennis.
One cold morning was waited upon
by delegation of gamblers and inform
ed that one of the girls was dead. They
said she had passed in her checks during
the night, and as she was the sliclsest
girl in the camp she was to have a "a
carat sendoff and no mistake. l went
around to see the boly to find out, if
possible, the cause of her death. / was
satisfied that the girl had taken morphine
and died from the effects, and so rem
dered my decision, which satisfied all.
set the hour for the funeral and returned
to the cabin to prepare my remarks.
There was not Bible in the camp. and
so had to play it alone. 1t was cold,
stormy Montana winter day, and that
added much to the sadness of the occa-
sion. The grave was dug out among the
pines. and more God forsaken place it
would have been hard to find, but it was
the best we had or could get.
The hour arrived; the procession form
ed, myself in front of the pallbearers,
consisting of gamblers, with the body in
a rough pine box. Next came the girls
of the town and the business men in the
rear. We wended our way slowly to the
last resting place, where, alone and un-
known, amid the rocks and pines, with
the awful stiffness of the mountains, all
that was earthly of that unfortunate girl
would stay until the last day.
No one could pray; no one could sing.
I poured out my soul to my God in my
poor, stumbling way-told him all about
ii. We were unanimous in the belief
that she was more sinned against than
SHINING, and would he in his infinite good
ness and loving kindness forgive her,
wipe out all the black spots on her soul,
forget her past and save her for her souls
sakep Would he suspend all rules, throw
open wide the portals of heaven, have
sweetest music played on a thousand
golden harps and bid that poor, tired,
sin stained soul enter the realms of hap
piness, purity and rest?
1t was our funeral, because everybody
did all they could. There were but few
of all kinds. to be sure, but humans
with souls to save. There are many of
the old boys scattered through the north
west who will recollect that stormy
Montana day, and how we knocked at
eternity's door for admittance for that
girls soul. and all will agree that our
knocking was not in vain-that the gates
were thrown open and forgiveness and
rest came to her.-Orting Oracle.