Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1898-03-17

| Iuelr lilies DEOk0n dL near intervals Dy
the door yards of modest residences
where the homemalzing instinct strug-
gled against heavy climatic odds in a
sickly showing of geraniums and morn
ing glories. There were a Chinese
laundry and bakery; rickety frame
blacksmith shop Haunting covering of
out-of-date circus posters, and an I'M
pretentious drug store, developed out
of the office of the one physician, who
| generally attested the healthfulncss of
the place by sitting all day long before
his door, idly occupied with literature
which bore no outward resemblance to
medical treatises.
The houses were generally of logs, the
few of frame for the most part left I'M
| painted, and, like their more primitive
neighbors, wearing an air of premature
age and decrepitude from the dark
brown stains which the fierce Colorado
sunshine had wrought on those sides
which looked to east and west. Few
were of more than single story in
| height, although the stores and saloons,
as a rule, had reached after more i'm
| posing effect in the square, sham fronts
so popular in mining-camp architecture,
while these had further emphasized
| their pretensions to style by washes of
| paint in which preference for pure
white had with the passage of time
| brought painfully bedraggled appear
| ance to the dusty place.
Rising abruptly behind the shabby
procession of buildings on that side
| facing the hotel was mighty hill ter
minating in castellated heights of red
| sandstone, n mass of color showing in
superinduced brilliancy above the faded
slopes which appeared dead beyond any
hope of resurrection; and the stunted,
dull-hued pines, sparsely dotting the
eXpanse, gave scarce more vivid show
ing of life. All up and down this color
starved surface yawned prospect-holes
beyond counting, few gray dump
piles at intervals telling of deeper
work; the smaller number still that had
gone so far as to erect shaft-houses
showing now for the most part deserted.
1t is the common background of the
mining camp, this disproportionate
showing of failure and success; and es-
pecially were failure and gaunt woe
most in evidence in Windy Gulch in
this summertime of 1894, for it's veins
were mostly but rich in silver, the ILL
omened metal at this time cast into
limbo by the powers that shape the
financial policy of the world.
But the camp wore an air of lethargic
Indifference to al its ills on this warm
August afternoon. Itspday began early,
when the steam whistles of the working
mines shriIly cried out for change OF
i
every side the miners, always with tin
dinner-pails swinging in their hands,
might be seen going to or coming from
their labors like struggling professions
of overgrown ants. Then women, bare
headed and bare-armed, came out to
fetch water from the creek or to stand
gossiping at their doors, while with
loud cracking of the drivers whip the
stage for Orodelphia would wheel up
before the post Office to have the lean
mail-sack heaved on board with mighty
show of Importance. And after the
stage would come a disjointed follow
ing of men on horseback and dusty
couples in open carts; more often still
heavy freight-wagons laden with ore
and others piled high with fresh lumber
4CSALOuEo OOOAoS GA
these cumbrous conveyances with gay
jangling of bells at the horses heads,
for the road down the canyon was mar
row, and for safety's sake it behooved
that all give warning of their coming.
All this was in the early morning, for
the majority would choose to have the
day before them for the long, hard trip
to town, making their homeward way
when the shadows had begun to length
en- and the air had grown cool. Now in
raid-afternoon nothing disturbed the
sleepy calm of the place save a few
children and chickens pottering about
in the thick dust of the street, the one
brood apparently as listless and void of
purpose as the other. Across the way,
the postmaster, secure in belief that no.
body would come botbering him for
either mail or merchandise at this hour
of the day, smoked in dreamy content,
his thin form luxuriously telescoped in
a wooden armchair. his long legs dis
posed across an iron wheelbarTow,
which was evidently part of his stock
in trade. The saloon man next door
was visibly snoring, his mouth very
cavern of escaping sound; while SO long |
O time had elapsed since the doctor
had turned page of his book that it
would seem he might well have commit.
ted the last to memory. There was a |
soft, broken murmur from the creek, q |
drowsy swish of leaves among the cot |
tonwoods along its banks, and the |
stamp-mill at the far end of the place |
went on in dull monotone, like a
devils tattoo that would never stop; |
but withal it seemed deadly quiet.
Dorothy Meredith yawned helplessly
as she turned from her outlook behind
the dusty lace curtains of the Palace
hotel parlor to purposeless survey OF
the large, bare room. She had brought
her book here in the hope of finding
cooler place than her room on the floor
above; it was cooler. but the atmos-
phere seemed oppressively close, while
there was that in the stiff arrange
ment of the conventional parlor suit OF
cheap furniture which somehow con-
vcyed the impression that the apart
ment was not intended for everyday use.
Now that she was here, Dorothy found
herself instinctively stepping about on
tiptoe, with a vague sense of intrp
sion, very soon deciding that even as
choice of evils the place would not do
She only halted while fretfully consid'
ering whether she should return to her