The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1896-03-22
CROSSING TIE DIVIDE.

All afternoon the long overland train
had toiled YEARLY up the steep slope of
the continental divide. 1t was a dull,
dead November day. The prospect
without was about as cherries as the
continent of America affords. The
bleak Wyoming landscap e-barren,
broken and wind swept, was at its
worst The sunny plains of Nebraska
were left far in the rear, and the relst-
i've warmth of the Indian summer ON
the prairies had given away in a few
hours to grim winter Here and there
in the hollows Of the rocks and in the
deeper arroyas little drifts of snow
were packed securely, to lie during the
long months to come. The passengers
looking out of the windows shudidered
as with a chill.
About the center of the tourist Pull
man two seats were turned down, some
quilts were spread out upon them, and
on this improvised couch a pale faced
figure lay. Now and then the large,
dark eyes ceased their rowing gaze
about the car and sought the wintry
landscape without The hollow cheeks,
the hectic flush and the attenuatid
figure spoke as plainly as words the
story of the invalid. All the passen-
gers on the overland knew THAT Law
renee Nicholson had only short time
to live, all except himself. Tempted by
the ajluring tales of the balmy orange
groves of southern California, he had
been induced to undertake the long
journey from his faraway home in
MISUNDERSTANDING health and strength
would be found within the life-eXtend
ing -pales. --------
Some emigrant women seemed TO take
an interest IN the boy, and made it as
comfortable as possible for him. Now
and then I could see them standing in
groups at the far end of the car talk
ing in a low tone and looking toward
the invalid. 1t was plain they had lit
tie hope of his recovery. | had been
talking to the conductor about cross
ing the divide. Few people from Cow
attitudes, he said, not in robust health,
ever started down that long western
slope toward the sea without a feel
ing they never forgot-if, in fact, no
more serious results were experiences.
1 rose and walked to where the young
Englishman rested. He lay on his side,
looking out longingly toward the west.
In his hand he held a photograph of
a young girl-a face of rare beauty
and sweetness. From the picture the
sick man gaze roved again and again
to the wintry wastes of the table lands
without HIS lips moved. l stood close
beside him and stopped to listen.
I'D give ten years of. my life for one
glimpse of the spire of York cathe-
drel," he murmured family.
The evening sun shone out from a
rift between the dark gray clouds in
the western sky. Its yellow, slanting
beams lit up the interior of the car and
formed a million roseate rainbows on
the windows. The engine puffed wear
fsomely The cars moved at a snail's
pace in its wake. Now we were ON the
crest ,of the summit. Over to the north
the Ames monument STOOD on the high
est knoll. The invadid's eyes were
rowing. He caught sight of the gran
lite shaft, gleaming white and yellow IN
the dying sunlight. He raised on his
elbow by mighty effort. a delfrious
light came into his too bright eyes.
"York-York cathedral, Mother! Jen-
nier' he gasped and sank back ON his
hard bed. His lips were half opened in
a smile of greeting-or of parting. The
speed of the train increased. 1t rolled
swiftly over the summit-and one pas
senger had crossed the great divide
Frank B. Moore, in The New Boheml-