Year: 1874

here, get breakfast" We had de-
termined to stop here, and had
kept this spot in view as an objec-
tive point during several hundred
miles of stage journeying. There
is something wearisome, and six
days stage riding gets slightly
monotonous in twenty four hours |;
cramped up in a corner, unable to
lie down or get good stretch, is a
trial to the patience of an ordinary
American.


We cannot present an active
looking picture Of our fellow
travellers to your mind-they were
all to still and sore, and we might
say out Of humor. The man who
could rest his head anywhere and
sleep was an object of envy and
distrust, and general desire was
felt by each wakeful one to pinch
the man driving you mad with his
delicious snores. Twas at q time
when our nerves, detached and
shaken up, and our very brain
sloshing around we heard the well
come sound, "Sandy Gulch."


Not o very beautiful name nor,
as we poked our heads out Of the
coach window, did it look particu-
larry charming. Two hundred
more miners cabins that seemed to
have started from the stage station
and got lost in all sorts Of places
along the Gulch; odd little boxes
of houses perched up on the very
top Of an immence rock, or nesting
close to their mossy sides, down by
the mountain stream or far up on
mountain side as the rough owner
in fee simple dictated.


The "main house" of the Gulch
was at the Bar" and the bar was
the main house. The broad stretch
of golden sands, washed by heavy
rains from the mountains and de-
posted near the mouth Of the





Gulch, gave the place its name.


The "Overland" always stopped
at the main house, we suppose on
account of the bar. The coming
of Skaggs, Sim Jones, and Boss
Myers was something to Sandy
Gulch. They were heavy operators
and the owners of the ponderous
machines that were up the Gulch
battering away at the Silver ore.
Even the bar-keeper shook hands
with all and said, "What is it
Skaggsy ." But we we're unnotic-
ed. We who had come to edit the
Miners Friend-found none-no
one to do us honor. However
having visited strange towns and
edited short-lived dailies before, we
prepared to meet any fate like
philosophers.


There was one passenger we
pitied in his loneliness-not more
than four and twenty, slender deli
cate, whose face and form indicated
the intellectual man striped Of his
grosser attridutes-who shrank
from the rude oaths and boisterous
merriment of his fellow-travelers,
and who seemed as untitled for
their society as would an angel.
We say we felt sorry as We some
times feel for On inexperienced fel-
low-traveler on life's journey. It
was whispered about that he was q
missionary. This opinion became
fixed when it was found after re-
peated trials that he would not
drink, nor had he been known to
swear during the entire trip-some-
thing truly wonderful. His place
in the coach had been so far re-
moved from Skaggs, Jones g. Co.,
that, much as we desired to make
his acquaintance, no opportunity
was offered.


He, too, got out at Sandy Gulch
and the greasy register bore the
name of Rev. Milton May


We learned that he had Just
graduated at one of our leading
theological colleges, and had come
to look after the spiritual welfare
of the "Gulch,"


The "Gulchcrs," big and little
were 70 be brought under the
sound of Mr.. May, voice-that is
if they wanted to. On the first
Sabbath ten of them did. But Mr..
May being an enthusiast and an
earnest Christian, determined to
increase this number: and during
the second week climbed sinice-
boxes, jumped bitches, waded the
creek again and again In pursuit of
litfla narfias Of miners. Nor did