The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1897-03-14

your neck, for on such a night the bit
ter wind comes in stiff gusts from the
frozen river.
The red and green lights of the cleo
trio car bob UP and down as the car
makes its descent from the hill. circling
down Oakland avenue and passing out
of sight around Ramsey curve. Far
across the low lands you can trace the
snow line of the long hills until they
take their final dip. And right in that
dip Is Fort Smelling
Most men are too busy thinking Of
the brighter sparkle of somebody's
eyes to notice the glimmer of the long
row of gaslightS that stretches across
the river from bluff to bluff like
never make out what those lights are,
but you know them to be the street
lamps on the high bridge.
The high bridge is st. PaupS bridge
Of signs" More than one unfortunate
has leaped over it's railing and gone
out Of life and into the mystic here
after to the echo of a cry and a splash.
AS you follow with your eyes the
line of hills until they end you can
see in fancy the stone buildings and
the red roofs Of the old fort, and the
silent grave stones in the little ceme-
terry on the edge Of the rivers bluff,
and the ghostly watch tower Here
SHcul move DdCk ana
forth, back and forth, all night long.
There is a sharp pistol shot from
somewhere down on the flats, followed
by the wild yelp of a dog. The fort
and the sentries fade away as you lis
ten to the death cries Of the dog. An
other shot, then silence.
Now the houses begin to cut off the
view and you are hurrying homeward
between rows Of brightly lighted man
SiOnS
1 never take this walk without think
ing of the story an old army officer
once told me. 1t was one Sunday in the
car that runs out Seventh street to
the post He pointed up at Crocus hill
and said:
From that hill I got my first view
Of the post, where 1 served my first
years in the old army"
Why" I said, "I didn't suppose the
fort could be seen from that hill"
well, it couldn't, exactly" he said.
But 1 stood there. and the officer with
me said: That is the steeple Of the
church at Mendoza, and right beside it
to the right is the fort There wasn't
much of a city where St. Paul now
stands, and when l saw that Mendoza
was only a cluster of rude log cabins,
l had hard work to control my feelings.
Everything at the point had been so
gay and happy. I hadn't a friend nor
dreds of miles away Standing on the
edge of the hills and looking over the
low lands to the rugged bluffs beyond
Immediately made up my mind to
write out my resignation as soon as |
could get the paper to do 1t on.
"An hour afterwards we rode into
the post, and never will [ forget the
welcome I received. 1t was the gladden.
ing of an aching heart, the brighten
ing Of a dark and ugly mood Such
kind hearts as those army people had!
How home-like looked the long low
quarters! And floating from the flag
staff were the same dear old stars
and stripes The next morning
came the band, and guard mount. That
evening we had hop; and l tell you
we had some pretty girls. too!
II have been in the army over thir-
ty-f1ve years, and have served at many
posts. but not one Of them will ever
be as dear to me as Fort Smelling"
"And how about the resignatiOn?' l
asked.
BLESS your cried the old fellow, "I
never wrote 1t, and 1 never will until
I am so old and feeble that they COM
pei me to-"
He never did. He died before he
reached the age limit.
After you cross to the west side"
end Of the high bridge, you are in a
region of rugged bluffs and deep, dark
ravines. In winter, when these ravines