The San Francisco call., 1897-02-28
Portrait Of Lone Miner in His Cabin
Olive Heyden Wea7es Story About Species Of GodHunter
That Is Nearu Extinct

| ways amuses me. 1t reminds me of the
habit country folk have of onsulting
! Ayers Almanac for to-morrow's weather.
! They have firm faith the CLOUDY" fits the
whole face of the earth like a garment,
and that the prophecy "rain" opens Hood
! gates upon all the world.
We have been assured that Bret Harte's
miners are like Cooper's Indians, ian ex-
tinct race that never existed; but we
can't help thinking them fine fellows, and
so they are, or were, and so were the
truly" miners. They were of sundry and
divers kinds those real miners l grew
among, but they were men whose like is
not looked upon every day.
When the feminine element came it was
wonderful how the cabins bloomed. Some
| broke out into tumor-ike wings and lean
tos and some disappeared entirely, fright
ened at the array of white curtains and
polished teakettles, overalls ceased to be
adorned with patches of sacking, and fan
mel shirts had buttons on. Evolution had
begun. The stately palaces and disease
breeding tenements were in active
embryo.
There are always a few of species that
tinction, but even with that certainty
they keep out of the current of evolution,
content to have their own way, and die
Thus some of the lone dwellers in cabins.
Their habits had, indeed, become fixed,
petrified, fossilated; and as the days of 40
saw them live they live now. Time never
forgets. No hiding in the hills will fool
him. The miners are old, feeble, few and
failing fast.
AS look upon those I have known all
my life and think upon those more num-
erous whom have seen laid in lonely
and unwept graves, think what On un-
explained ,unappreciated, inexorable thing
habit IS.
how can men, gregarious animals as
they are, grow so to love solitude that
they labor on alone-such drear word,
alone--for years and years almost within
sound ofthe voices OF their fellows. 1t is
all very well to call the world bad and we'll
lost, but the hermit takes q part and an
uncomfortable part, of the world with
him when he takes himself. And, be-
sides, the lone miner doesn't hate the
word; he has just become used to being
alone. He pans out his little hoard, cuts
his wood, fries his bacon and smokes
When he goes to town he goes and comes
with no unnecessary delay. Silence and
the cabin have become indispensable.
Some of him come out at stated
periods and get drunk. Some of him
walk each day 10 the Office to get papers,
TO keep in touch with the world they
never touch. Some OF him live in pairs
and exchange "reminiscences. Some of him
never see the face of man except twice a
year. But the stamp of the old miner is
on the brow of all.
One of the genus - dead now-lived
alone except when some friend of long
ago climbed the hill. This old man, in
blue shirt and rubber boots, could take mis-
pipe out OF his mouth and roll forth Greek
verse, pure and true, like martial music.
He knew what it meant, too. All the
classics were stored in his bottomless
memory. and l believe he dreamed in
Latin. He loved the admiration of his
friends, but he died up there alone and
his dog came down 10 tell it.
Another sat in his hovel after his work
was done, poor, bent twisted old fellow,
and saw spirits. His wife OF years agone-
the wife VINO never came to him in life
spoke tender words from the spirit world
al0 AO was LdpEN. 70 I'LL see SD1rltS OF
the past sometimes. Perhaps if we lived
alone and thought constantly of the loved
ones we would shape for ourselves a few
homemade angels, too.
knew one, and know him yet, whom
Bret Harte might have immortalized for
his half-drunken speech. (Then could
the critics have proved he never existed
Even so.) When he tells me he saw 1.-THE
time previous before the next to the last"
he was in town, and goes on tangling him
self in verbiage thus l would not be sur
prised to hear him say (which the same"
There is another who loves only his
dog. l wonder what sad twist came in
his life to make him hate woman and
idolize a crop-eared cur. 1t sleeps IN his
bed, eats at his table, rides on the wagon
seat and is out of place generally. The
man is cruel and sour to his fellow-man.
Something did it; something makes him
say his dog, spoiled, snarlY and tyranni-