Greenbrier independent. [volume] (Lewisburg, Va. [W. Va.]) 1859-1980, 1897-08-19

Our versatile young friend, Colo
mel Peyton, has struck new gait
which, If kept up, will certainly
lead to fame and fortune. The Colo
mel is we'll known as capital story
teller, and The Colonel's PRAYER. I,
published in this paper this week, is
far and away ahead of some of the
work of many of the most noted
story-writers of the day. - Utdh
State Journal, Juiy 17M.
The Colonel, the Major and the
Judge were sitting in quiet, se-
cluded corner of tho long prone
made of the Grand hotel at the
Greenbrier White Sulphur Springs,
that famous resort where each sum-
ner for nearly century the beauty,
the wealth, the fashion and the aris-
tocracy of the South have gathered.
They were all three typical types
The Colonel was Kentuckian, and
the rare old bourbon of his native
State had given rOtundness to his
dignified form and a rosy, mellow
glow to his cheeks. No matter how
he gained his title; he looked and
bore 1t gallantly, and that was suffi-
cient. The Major was much shorter
and much fatter, and could tell q
joke and start the laugh himself In q
manner that would set his hearers
roaring. He proudly bOasted that
he was Georgian.
The Judge, a Virginian, was in
striking contrast to his two compan-
ions. His long frock coat butt0ned
tightly below his large expanse of
shirt front made his spare, painfully
straight figure appear two or three
inches taller than it really was.
All morning the three had sat to-
gether spinning yarns, smoking ci-
gars, and discussing various subjects.
Finally the conversation drifted
around to religion in general and
prayers in particular. The subject
was discussed with that quiet, dig
nified reverence which distinguishes
men of their class whenever they
speak OF so sacred theme. For it
1t Is a fact that the old Southern gen.
tleman Of the ante-bellum class had
profound reverence for religion,
and though he might fox hunt, drink
juleps, horse race, and play poker
half the night, and was by no man.
ner of means orthodox in the slight
est. he yet, with a seeming strange
inconsistency, offered blessings at
each meal, invariably quit cards, no
matter how exciting the game or
how large the pot, each Sunday
morning in time to attend church,
and never spoke in light or q flip
pant manner of God or His works.
Gentlemen" said the Colonel,
as he tilted his chair back against the
wall and put his thumbs in the arm
sleeves of his white linen vest,
"speaking of prayers reminds Inc
Of one l heard many years ago
which has always impressed itself
upon me, sub, as the shortest, sweet.
est and most directly from the heart
] ever heard. 1t was all the more
sweet and fOrceful that it was uttered
by the lips of the toughest, most
reckless man l ever knew. Some
time prior to the late civil war
when / was quite young man,
caught the gold fever like many 9th
ers, and drifted out to California
where ] remained for three or foul
years, knocking around from one
mining camp to another. That was
in the early '50's, when gold mining
was in its palmiest days. 1 was vi
In the mountains at a new camI
called Uba, doing little myself ex
cept playing poker and drinking
whiskey-w whiskey, may add, gen
tlemen, that not one of us would
think Of drinking now under any
consideration, for it was simply vile
1t was all we had and / was forced t.
drink IL or use water" "Of course, ,
"Of COURSE" the Judge and Majo
gently assented, as if fully under
standing and appreciating the Colo
nel's helpless condition under sucl
extreme circumstances.
"There were many rough men il
the camp" continued the Colonel
as he lit fresh cigar, "no women
and only one child-a little golden
haired girl to six, Of whom l shal
speak later. But of all the tougl
men In the camp, Tim Burt wa
easily the toughest. He had kille,
two men before coming to the cam
and one white man and ChInamal
since he had honored Uba with hi