THE GHOST 
 TOWN LUNDY 
 
 BY 
 
 COL. CHARLES A. LUNDY 
 
 Boston 
 
 The Four Seas Company 
 1919 
 
Copyright, 19 19, hy 
 
 THE FOUR SEAS COMPANY 
 
 The Four Seas Press 
 Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 
 
 m 10 1919 
 
 ©CI.A525473 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Perhaps those sad sweet memories com- 
 ing from childhood through the adversities 
 and misfortunes of the aging man, and 
 developed by the latter to vivify the in- 
 herited knowledge of the privations and 
 sufferings of the fathers, have caused the 
 writing of this history, and' maybe envy and 
 jealousy have had their part in the crude 
 performance. For it was after I had read 
 with much interest, and too great regret, 
 the able story, by a well known writer, 
 'The Ghost Towns of the West," in which 
 he told of Virginia City, (on the old Com- 
 stock), and Aurora, Nevada, and of the 
 bloody hollow in the sage-covered hills of 
 California, Bodie, that I set myself to write, 
 in my poor way, the story of the other town, 
 the fourth, the younger, the smaller, but 
 not the less wild, less lawless, less bloody; 
 but which is to-day the most dead and has a 
 ghost more certain and more vivid than any 
 of its sisters. 
 
 Virginia, Aurora, Bodie are still among the 
 living, though Bodie's last gasp is near and 
 her bad man has long since ceased to bring 
 terror to peaceful citizens. In Lundy they 
 tell me, "not a human dwells, and no build- 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 ings stand," all are gone and the ghost of 
 the Red Man smiles at the human romance 
 and its end. Scowden's mighty walls echo 
 its laugh at the tragedy here begun. 
 
 In the heart of the Sierras, thirty miles 
 east of the famous Yosemite Valley, the 
 tirst pioneers laid the foundation of the 
 town that was destined to be one of the 
 most lawless of the lawless West, to pay 
 into the coffers of those whose feet never 
 trod a trail rougher than a city street, and 
 whose bodies suffered no greater torment 
 than an over fed belly's pain, millions of 
 gold, and to its founders unto death a 
 tragedy. 
 
 The adversities, the misfortunes, the 
 hope, the loss, the grief, the sufferings of 
 my people, their history is likewise the his- 
 tory of nearly all those pioneers who in the 
 early days crossed the great plains to the 
 Gold Fields of the West. Almost all of 
 these have now passed the great divide, but 
 if in the minds of the few remaining, 
 though through a veil of sadness, I can 
 bring a sweet recollection, and to this gene- 
 ration a thought of their mighty sacrifice, I 
 am satisfied. 
 
 C. A. L. 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 The fates for some men weave a life 
 
 That burns and breaks their hearts in strife 
 
 And each within his given sphere 
 
 Must fight for all that he holds dear; 
 
 Must sacrifice his life for love, 
 
 And wait reward in realms above. 
 
 The man who gave his all for me 
 
 Now lives but in my memory; 
 
 His strife is o'er, his work is done. 
 
 The grave has closed; all mortal gone 
 
 To dust: — yet in sweet solitude 
 
 There comes to me his fortitude; 
 
 The spirit of the great be}ond 
 
 Lures and binds me to immortal bond. 
 
 In days when I was but a boy. 
 
 And knew no more of life than joy. 
 
 My father often told to me 
 
 How, toiling painfully, he'd see 
 
 The hopes tnat grew within his breast 
 
 Vanish when misfortune pressed; 
 
 Confes-sed the faults of childhood days, 
 
 The wage that later manhood pays ; 
 
 The tears within a mother's eyes ; 
 
 The grief that brought a father's sighs; 
 
 And joined these two in earnest prayer 
 
 For just partition of a share 
 
 Of lasting hDppiness and health. 
 
 And 'Some small bit of this world's wealth. 
 
 [9J 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 The years have fled on tireless wings, 
 
 But memory still around me clings. 
 
 I seem to see before me new 
 
 My father's form and witness how 
 
 He gains his home with lagging feet, 
 
 And tries to slumber in hi-s seat. 
 
 A worker, wearied by his toil 
 
 In the hot, dry and dusty soil, 
 
 In vain seeks comfort in his chair; 
 
 Bows his grey head in grim despair 
 
 To see his unkempt, bleeding hands. 
 
 Impaired by work on other's lands. 
 
 His mighty frame was bowed with age 
 
 Ere years had turned his center page. 
 
 When death had called — ah ! then, too late 
 I knew the irony of fate. 
 And impotently sought for power 
 To call him back for just one hcur; 
 To whisper in that cold, dead ear 
 The love aroused and pleading here. 
 Confined for years the flood entire 
 Came rushing then in vain desire. 
 How often must a father's love 
 Seek sole return from one above 1 
 You, too, may pass within the grave, 
 And leave another man to crave 
 That earnest effort shall effect 
 Return to you for his neglect. 
 [10] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 The luring voice of solitude 
 Calls man on mysteries to brood ; 
 Asks the effect of love and hate 
 Upon his end or future state. 
 Sometimes a silent herald brings 
 A saddened hope on fleeting wings ; 
 A hope that fills an aching breast, 
 Yet yields no peace, no longed-for rest. 
 Unheeding youth, in careless play, 
 With pain and tears does age purvey. 
 Alas, if we past faults could mend. 
 And once again our youth could spend. 
 Would not each one then do his share 
 From pain another's heart to spare? 
 
 The past returns and hard besets 
 
 The present with its vain regrets. 
 
 To-day, we give a stunned review 
 
 To selfish self's long retinue. 
 
 And think to-morrow's smoother road 
 
 Will take this burden from our load. 
 
 But each to-morrow comes to pay 
 
 Alone the wage of yesterday. 
 
 And thus we live in dreams and hope, 
 
 While life reels out its slender rope 
 
 Beyond illusion, to the truth 
 
 That most of life has gone with youth, 
 
 And in its future grow no flowers 
 
 One half as sweet as vanished hours. 
 
 [II] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 Yet hope in mortal never dies. 
 
 It hides, it rests, and then it tries 
 
 To build again the broken form, 
 
 And gather fragments from the storm: — 
 
 A tireless worker in the fields, 
 
 That fights each step and never yields 
 
 A single victory to ill, 
 
 Till death makes both the claimants still. 
 
 How oft, the promise does deceive. 
 
 And then excuse so we believe 
 
 Expected gains are but delayed. 
 
 And that our trust is not betrayed; 
 
 We end complaint, and dry our tears. 
 
 And calm our momentary fears. 
 
 A weary worker stopped his plow. 
 
 And wiped the sweat from heated brow. 
 
 As panting sighs upheaved his breast, 
 
 Longing, he searched the distant West, 
 
 And through the waves of smoky air 
 
 He saw a fairy vision, where 
 
 A mountain on a foreign shore 
 
 Glowed with the virgin golden ore; 
 
 And rumor brought the glowing fame 
 
 Of paradise in more than name. 
 
 Of sylvan fields, and babbling streams, 
 
 A flora rich as fancy's dreams. 
 
 Where man could reap what he would sow, 
 
 And never heart sick hunger now. 
 
 [12] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 He and his in toiling strife, 
 
 Had spent near all their days of life, 
 
 And welcomed any promised gain 
 
 From mind's unrest, and body's pain. 
 
 And they, united all their bands, 
 
 Their wealth of hearts, and willing hands. 
 
 Bid blighted hopes a pleased adieu. 
 
 Turned West allured by hope anew, — 
 
 Across the prarie's sunburnt face. 
 
 Where neither wheel nor hoof left trace. 
 
 These families of the Lundy's tread 
 
 A weary way, that ever led 
 
 To loss and need, through greed and hate. 
 
 Deep in the net of weaving fate. 
 
 All the long way, in regions bare. 
 They kept their road in grim despair. 
 The fruit of nature's pregnant breast 
 Came freely to their needy quest. 
 But with each gift the giver laid 
 An ill, to neutralize the aid. 
 The sun spread o'er the vision's fold, 
 A dazzling glow of yellow gold. 
 That burnt and dried each trusting flower 
 Engendered by its fathering power. 
 The grass, that should have oxen fed. 
 Nourished devouring flames instead. 
 That swept -away the living bloom 
 And left the prairies black with gloom. 
 
 [13] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 The breezes came with gentle sigh, 
 And fleecy clouds embanked the sky; 
 A cool wave swept the sweltering plain, 
 And vitalized faint hearts again 
 To battle on their long hard way, 
 Through every hour of fleeting day. 
 Then clouds unmasked, and falling snow 
 Increased the raging blizzard's blow ; 
 The sun witheld his light and heat 
 From all this freezing vapor sheet; 
 And life was left to winter's ire ; — 
 While man sought shelter and his fire. 
 All plant life died, the beasts turned tail 
 And crouched forlorn before the gale. 
 
 The far horizon's azure blue 
 
 Was sullied to a darker hue. 
 
 Inverted cones of rolling smoke 
 
 Ascended heavenward and broke; 
 
 A signal of the wild, red man, 
 
 A warning to the traveling clan 
 
 To ring their wagons end to end. 
 
 The savage rage of fiends to fend. 
 
 For the red man barred the white man's 
 
 way. 
 And harrassed him with hell's dismay. 
 And -some there are who linger yet 
 Where warring red and white man met, 
 And not one cross of stone or wood 
 Now marks the spot where martyrs stood. 
 
 [14] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 The summer's heat, the winter's cold, 
 
 The raging wind on frozen fold, 
 
 The elements and nature, all 
 
 Combined with men to tempt the fall 
 
 Of these peace-seeking pioneers, 
 
 And wet their trail with blood and tears. 
 
 The swish of arrows, twang of bows, 
 
 A circling ring of flying foes; 
 
 The crack of rifles, spit of lead, 
 
 The moaning wounded, the stark- faced 
 
 dead, 
 Were emblems that their memory held 
 Of bleaching bones and souls unknelled. 
 Of destiny or wilful fate — 
 Destruction of a race through hate. 
 
 Near regions where the eagle flew 
 The band of pioneers drew. 
 They struggled onward, day by day. 
 On their precarious, unknown way — 
 Up hills, through vales and prairie grass, 
 And o'er the mountain's rugged pass, 
 Across the shifting burning sands. 
 And through the blackened lava lands ; 
 Until the whitened flats were nigh. 
 The chalky fields of alkali. 
 The sage-bound shore of Mono Lake, 
 Where desert shadows blend and break 
 In cedar and in pine tree hedge. 
 At briny Mono's bitter edge. 
 
 lis] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 Beyond, the massive mountains rise, 
 Colossal guards, against the skies. 
 That vainly strive to blend their hue 
 Into the water's darker blue ; 
 But only heighten striking sights, 
 The frowning, towering jagged heights, 
 And sparkling, glittering, cry-stal snow, 
 With ground of bluish golden glow. 
 To North and South for countless miles 
 The grey, the brown and slate rock piles, 
 With barren, bleak, forbidding faces 
 And flowery, evergreen-bound bases, 
 Pass on in their eternal way, 
 Still paralleled by desert grey. 
 
 Below Sierra's gleaming crest, 
 Beyond the waters, in the West 
 The canyon opened to the band 
 The gateway of a wonder land. 
 Within the little level space 
 A garden lay in laughing grace, 
 Presenting like a picture rare 
 A flowery realm beneath rocks bare. 
 Which gave a promise and consent 
 To those whose efforts all were bent 
 To force the rough unconquered pass, 
 Through tangled vines and mingled mass 
 Of rocks, and trees that rending sHdes 
 Uprooted from the mountain sides. 
 [i6] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 Ah ! tears, and blood, and even life 
 Were given in that cruel strife 
 Before they camped upon the flat, 
 The little fir-tree shaded plat. 
 And in the jagged red bluff's shade 
 In haste the first log cabins made. 
 Gigantic pines were felled and drawn 
 Off the flowery woodland lawn. 
 And as the eagle's nest is made, 
 Unshaped, undressed, the logs were laid— 
 A simple and ungarnished plan — 
 These homely dwellings for the clan. 
 But leaping flames showed smiling faces 
 Gathered round the rude fireplaces. 
 
 Within this garden of a God — 
 
 They reaped the blessing of a sod; 
 
 The nymphs of water and of woods 
 
 Gave freely of their treasured foods 
 
 To suitors for her favoured hand 
 
 The bounty of a fruitful land. 
 
 The partridge drummed upon the pines ; 
 
 The plumed quail answered from the vines 
 
 And on the marsh and tule bed 
 
 The water fowl their legions bred. 
 
 In evening as the sun-light left, 
 
 The speckled trout, in feeding, cleft 
 
 The water's face and flashed to sight 
 
 A symbol of his myriad might. 
 
 [17] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 The men swung hard their heavy sledges 
 And deeply drove the iron wedges; 
 Among the peaks the blows resounded, 
 From every wall the echoes bounded: 
 Woke from his sleep the savage bear, 
 Who left his quiet hidden lair; 
 Then from his throne of granite rocks 
 The monarch of the mountain flocks 
 Looked on the strange things which began 
 With crafty, noisy, planning man. 
 And something in his sluggish mind 
 Foretold the downfall of his kind 
 And brought to him a sudden fear 
 Of lost domain in his wild sphere. 
 
 His natural instinct quickly stirred. 
 The wild buck led his stately herd 
 To seek the reason of that sound 
 That waked the echoes all around. 
 Through forest glades and woodland lawn. 
 With nostrils wide from dawn to dawn. 
 He scented foes, and from each mound 
 Reviewed each grove and spot of ground, 
 Till from a verdant, distant height; 
 He saw the strange disturbing sight; 
 And felt the haunting thrust of dread; 
 Akin to thought, that through him sped. 
 His nostrils snuffed the fatal scent. 
 That told his breed's extinguishment. 
 [i8] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 Untraced by mark upon the ground, 
 Betrayed by no incautious sound, 
 An Indian gained the outer edge 
 Of a near over-hanging ledge; 
 There by the red rock calm and still. 
 He stood unseen against the hill. 
 The silent, subtle savage knew 
 That those within his searching view 
 Foredoomed the grandeur of his power. 
 To race and realm a final hour. 
 In thoughtful and resenting mood, 
 He mused and saw no brotherhood 
 Unite the red and white man's hand. 
 A feud had come to stalk the land. 
 
 Unconscious that so many eyes 
 Thus watched in hate their enterprise. 
 The workmen mingled toil with song, 
 And built each cabm warm and strong; 
 Then when the wearing day did pass 
 And tools lay idle on the grass, 
 To rest they laid their aching frames 
 Where the leaping camp fire flames 
 Lured dreams of future happiness 
 To fill their hearts with joy fulness. 
 They heeded not the wild wolf's howl. 
 The doleful hoot of the wise owl, 
 A prophet's word that seemed to say 
 No man can know his destined way. 
 
 [19] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 Yet no complaint was ever made 
 By these lone children of the glade, 
 No cry, no call, lament or moan 
 From out this lonely mountain zone. 
 Grim disappointment left no trace 
 Of sad misfortune on each face. 
 The joy and sorrow that there met. 
 They paid together as one debt. 
 History records no name, — 
 The grave has both their life and fame. 
 The loss, the woes, the hardships known, 
 The tears, the grief, the valor shown. 
 Are locked within earth's silent breast 
 And dust to dust returns the rest. 
 
 Ah ! in a dream I live to-day 
 
 And beauty that has passed away 
 
 Around me lies as when a child 
 
 I roamed the Sierra's verdant wild. 
 
 And sought the forest and the glade 
 
 About the foot of each cascade. 
 
 Or mystic rainbow's golden end 
 
 Where Mammon's fairies should descend. 
 
 Or rambled o'er huge Scowden's walls. 
 
 All flecked with tiny waterfalls. 
 
 And little plots that everywhere 
 
 Inlay the flat of each rock stair 
 
 With pretty flower's sweet array , 
 
 A rainbow here in florid spray. 
 
 [20] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 When the dark shadows of the night 
 Have driven back the fading Hght, 
 The silver ripples of the lake 
 A darker color quickly take, 
 The cotton woods and stately pines 
 Blend together in dark lines 
 Against the ghostly granite grey: 
 And twilight, here, has come to play 
 A moment with the gathering shades. 
 Ere it withdraws and slowly fades 
 Away from mountain and from dale, 
 And leaves the peaks, in sunspread veil. 
 Displaying, with a mien intense. 
 The dearth of man's omnipotence. 
 
 That distant sky line in the West, 
 Around the brown stone mountain's crest. 
 Where frowning, ice-clad, cold and bleak, 
 Stilettoed crag and granite peak, 
 Rise from a field of sparkling snow 
 To pierce the fleecy clouds that flow 
 And turn the sun's bright golden flood 
 To playing flames, to end in blood. 
 The dying day's last rays are spent, 
 And night her somber shroud has sent. 
 The light from earth fades soft away. 
 Or floats beyond with passing day. 
 And leaves the land in darkest hue. 
 With nothing but the stars in view. 
 
 [21] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 And then the morning throws its light 
 
 Upon a most entrancing sight. 
 
 The bleak bare peaks and banks of snow 
 
 Are covered with a golden glow ; 
 
 While vale and town are hidden still 
 
 In the dark shadows of the hill. 
 
 Beneath the snow-clad wintry height 
 
 The icy waters start their flight, 
 
 Beginning in a crystal thread 
 
 Among the mighty boulders spread, 
 
 They rush together as they flow 
 
 And to a little river jrow, 
 
 That leaps the cliffs and strikes the rock 
 
 With flying foam, and roaring shock. 
 
 And as the gilded light extends 
 And on the vale below descends, 
 It lights the charging river's way, — 
 The foamy stream in ceaseless play, 
 And wild the tireless waters rush 
 Through cotton wood and under-brush; 
 By evergreen pine-covered hills, 
 Enticing, grasping bubbling rills. 
 That playing under fragrant bowers 
 Would stay to w^oo the modest flowers ; 
 Then onward through the valley romps. 
 To slacken at the boggy swamps. 
 And stills and stays its wild outbreak, 
 To form in majesty a lake. 
 
 [22] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 Then Scowden's shadow in retreat 
 Discloses buildings crude but neat 
 That cluster at the monster's foot, 
 Where nature once a forest put. 
 Within the narrow deep ravine. 
 Which towering bluffs completely screen; 
 Between the colored mineral walls. 
 Below the roaring water falls; 
 Beginning at the mountain's base 
 And spreading on the level place, 
 Across the vale from ledge to ledge, 
 And downward to the water's edge. 
 Along the rushing river's way 
 The little hamlet Lundy lay. 
 
 The cabins stood in broken lines. 
 Each built of rocks and fallen pines, 
 A lumber shapeless, rough and crude, 
 The workmanship unskilled and rude. 
 Each mighty beam had to resist 
 Colossal forces that persist 
 In conquering all that does delay 
 Within the region of their sway. 
 The solid rock and sturdy wood. 
 Before the winter's charges stood 
 Alone, to guard the mortal life 
 Of man from devastating strife. 
 A fortress, not a form of beauty, 
 Man built to do this vital duty ! 
 
 [23] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 As an old master's painting sways, 
 This picture man's attention stays, — 
 Commencing at the village street. 
 And lying like an azure sheet 
 Of glass between the monster hills, 
 A mighty basin nature fills 
 With icy water from the drifts 
 Of melting snow upon the cliffs. 
 Begirt with firs and sugar pines, 
 And mass of climbing wild-rose vines. 
 The lake, a mirror, that portrays 
 In doubled beauty, all that lays 
 Within the border of its sphere, 
 To everyone who lingers here. 
 
 Above the hamlet a full mile. 
 Upon the mighty granite pile, 
 Seldom had man before this day 
 Beheld the wondrous scene that lay 
 Afar in spheres of rock and snow. 
 And chasms yawning deep below. 
 The vault of heaven cold and grim 
 Meets the horizon's distant rim : 
 And awes the mind at depth of space 
 Where time and tide have left no trace. 
 Surmising life immortal near, 
 The heart of man must yield to fear 
 At his short time, and small converse. 
 In purpose of the universe. 
 
 [24] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 And on this lofty dismal height, 
 Just as the day returned to night, 
 Foot-sore and weary with his climb 
 And heedless of the passing time. 
 Will Lundy crossed the mountain's breast. 
 Reached the last great jagged crest 
 And stopped, as the astounding view. 
 In darkening shades, revealed anew 
 The awful grandeur of the land. 
 Some fiend of hell sustained the hand 
 That to destroy this earth had sought. 
 And all this fearful chaos wrought; 
 Left wounds agape and bottomed deep. 
 His victim in unconscious sleep. 
 
 Though strong of limb and broad of chest, 
 The big man stood likt one depressed 
 By awe, that seemed his will to stay. 
 And bind it with its hidden sway; 
 His weary mind and troubled soul 
 Caught the spell that o'er it stole. 
 His pack he laid on the rugged reef 
 And straightened his frame with much 
 
 relief. 
 For he had come a tiresome way 
 Through trackless wilds day after day, 
 With ready step on slippery mass 
 Of shrubs and rocks in every pass, 
 And eyes hard strained for hidden breaks 
 Of quartz that bore the golden flakes. 
 
 [25] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 Alone on the great water shed, 
 
 Whence seemingly all life had fled, 
 
 He sat and watched the fading light 
 
 Impelled by the ascending night 
 
 Away from canyon, vale and hill, 
 
 Retaining only stark and still, 
 
 A bolitary barren peak 
 
 Snow clad and dreary, grey and bleak. 
 
 And he forgot each ache and bruise. 
 
 And let his mind begin to muse 
 
 On realms unseen, and promised peace 
 
 To souls that mortal ills release 
 
 To seek reward, but what, and where? 
 
 In seeming nothing but thin air. 
 
 The silent argument of space 
 Persuades the man to its embrace; 
 In the dark void there flashed a star. 
 Then many more through space afar; 
 And in their dim light reason spoke. 
 And a long sleeping truth awoke; 
 A spirit from those twinkling orbs 
 That gently holds, and thought absorbs 
 Until the tale of life is told; 
 And plans of the Divine unfold 
 To show the hand, and guiding art, 
 That yet will bring each doubtful heart 
 In reach of that majestic tide 
 Where every star and sun abide. 
 
 [26] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 Then Boreas from out the North, 
 Like one long hindered hastens forth, 
 And swept the ridge, with shriek and moan 
 That chilled the dreamer to the bone. 
 And startled him to sudden need 
 Of journeying homeward with more speed. 
 He quickly swung his heavy pack 
 Upon his broad and sturdy back, 
 And carefully down the gorges crept; 
 But loosened rocks that whirled and leapt. 
 Like wanton fiends in cloak of night 
 Do ravish in their fiendish might, 
 An avalanche with deafening roar. 
 Was hurled upon the canyon floor. 
 
 Across his path the landslide left 
 A dusty, deep and crumbling cleft. 
 And rocks that flashed a falling ray, 
 Perhaps the last of dying day; 
 With a laborious wrench he tore 
 The gleaming piece from out the ore. 
 He had pursued the golden scent ; 
 And like all men of fighting bent. 
 With heart near breaking with the load, 
 Had trod the rough and rocky road 
 Of hope, that led where most men knew 
 Success would wait and greet but few 
 Of those tired toilers in life's game ; 
 But death instead would meet and claim. 
 
 [27] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 Hope mingled still with sickening qualms, 
 He crushed the mass within his palms, 
 And broken quartz and sticky clay- 
 Fell off, and in his hands there lay 
 The long elusive grains of gold; 
 Ah! there before his eyes unfold 
 The fruitful end of this event 
 For him a day of sweet content. 
 Such hope of happiness was shown 
 As he or his had never known. 
 Then thoughts returned from pleasant 
 
 birth, 
 And changing into sudden mirth 
 He broke the spell with happy shout. 
 That echoed round and round about. 
 
 Joy threw the old discouraged weight 
 
 That long had been his constant mate. 
 
 Out from its snug and cherished rest 
 
 In his disheartened worried breast. 
 
 A lightness o'er his being stole, 
 
 A peace to body, mind, and soul. 
 
 And broke the bonds that wretched years 
 
 Had forged with many hoarded fears. 
 
 He saw his lean, malignant past 
 
 Succumb beneath success at last, 
 
 And those whose hair had streaked with 
 
 grey 
 Because of want on life's hard way. 
 Could live their few remaining years 
 With neither toil nor want nor tears. 
 [28] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 Yet in the shadows of that night 
 A grim and treacherous parasite 
 Stalked near to share a hoped repast 
 With death, on doleful grief recast. 
 To mock sweet joy with bitter pain 
 And crush the fruit of his first gain; 
 For joy but urged his homeward speed. 
 And he forgot the constant need 
 Of careful step, and marking stop, 
 Before he leaped from top to top 
 Of rocks, where vines and ferns entwine; 
 To hide the rough and steep incline; 
 To glut the parasite's desire. 
 With death, to feast on grief entire. 
 
 With flesh cut deep and smeared with 
 
 blood. 
 He reached the vale and swam the flood 
 Of waters that a moment rest 
 From their wild dash from mountain's 
 
 crest ; 
 Then picked his way across the moor, 
 Until he reached his cabin door. 
 And soon about the great fireplace, 
 With expectation on each face, 
 The families all were gathered round 
 To hear of riches he had found 
 Upon the side of the great peak 
 Where none had climbed or dared to seek, 
 And in each heart his tale did start 
 Again the hopeful, joyful part. 
 
 [29] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 Up steep and arduous mountain sides 
 
 Through solid rock, o'er glacial slides, 
 
 They toiled, like busy honey bees, 
 
 To make the trail, and mighty vees 
 
 Rose end to end up to the top. 
 
 One starting at the other's stop. 
 
 A winding, rough and narrow thread 
 
 To scenes that fill with anxious dread 
 
 Each one who stops at its mid height 
 
 To gaze astounded at the sight ; 
 
 Above, a thousand feet, the sphere 
 
 Of granite rises bold and sheer; 
 
 Within the welkin's azure sheet 
 
 The snow-capped earth and heaven meet. 
 
 A deep and clear abyss of air, 
 
 With just a bare crag here and there 
 
 Out-jutting, from the great grey wall, 
 
 To break the swift unhindered fall 
 
 Of stones that some, in wonder, throw 
 
 To the bewitching vale below ! 
 
 And then the mountain torrents gleam, 
 
 Like ribbons in the sun-light's beam. 
 
 The tiny log built town appears, 
 
 Afar between the giant spheres, 
 
 An atom in a mighty land. 
 
 Encircled by a massive band 
 
 Whose towering walls might well enfold 
 
 And leave no sign of what they hold. 
 
 [30] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 But nature's beauties quickly draw 
 The thoughts away from fear and awe; 
 The trail turns sharply from the edge 
 Of the appalling, narrow ledge, 
 And winds beneath great sugar pines 
 And clinging honeysuckle vines. 
 To a little valley set 
 With flowers, green and silver net 
 Of trees and ferns and waving grass, 
 And tiny lake, a looking glass, 
 Extending from its mirror face 
 A dozen pyramids base to base. 
 An Eden fairer than the first 
 And by no angry God accurst. 
 
 Colossal cones of myriad hue, 
 Twined in the water's silver blue 
 Bordered with white and yellow flowers 
 And the dark green of forest bowers; 
 Above the greyish masses frown 
 On porphyry slopes of golden brown, 
 And sliding slabs of dark blue slate 
 That ponderous pressures dislocate. 
 These end in mounds of gleaming snow. 
 Immaculate and all aglow. 
 Beneath the wooing orb of day 
 They take each warm enticing ray 
 Without return of love or tear, 
 Untouched, unfeeling, cold and drear. 
 
 [31] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 An Eden beautiful, alone 
 
 Within the wild and cheerless zone; 
 
 And yet so near the last frontier, 
 
 A spirit seems to domineer 
 
 From that domain beyond the earth, 
 
 And mind is near immortal birth. 
 
 Mignt, in silence, here reveals 
 
 What rushing, noisy life conceals; 
 
 And thought brings forth emotion strange; 
 
 And man delights to search the range 
 
 Of wondrous magic here displayed, 
 
 For that eternal force that laid 
 
 A fairy garden rich and rare. 
 
 In desolation rough and bare. 
 
 Here something stirs the mortal brain, 
 
 And dulls the heart with aweing pain ; 
 It brings the rebel passions, all. 
 In answer to the luring call 
 Of nature's symbols as they write 
 The record of a boundless might. 
 And argument's disclaimer stills 
 Before the eloquence of hills. 
 This silent presence comes to show 
 What thinking minds still seek to know; 
 .The doubter yields beneath the sway 
 Of the eternal certain way. 
 And loses in this mountain dale 
 The unbeliever's pathless trail. 
 
 [32] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 The first arriving of the group 
 
 The trail laid here with many a loop; 
 
 For everywhere it leads away 
 
 From trees and beds of flowers that lay 
 
 In the straight line of their survey, 
 
 As if a silent spirit's sway 
 
 On man, had held his hands from haste 
 
 That might have laid much beauty waste. 
 
 The old trail winds beneath the pines 
 
 In broken, fading time-blurred lines. 
 
 Often it skirts the valley's edge 
 
 Below a towering granite ledge. 
 
 Then, turning to the center, goes 
 
 Within the fields of fern and rose. 
 
 And then again the trail ascends. 
 
 With many curves and turns and bends, 
 
 To heights above the timber lines 
 
 Where some old lonely pine reclines, — 
 
 A squatty, bent misshapen tree 
 
 That from its own kind seems to flee. 
 
 As though aware of its defect 
 
 It would go there, where none inspect 
 
 The crime that nature gave to bind 
 
 A life away from its own kind; 
 
 To live alone without a mate, 
 
 Until design of ruling fate 
 
 Ordains that death correct the fault, 
 
 And take the victim from revolt. 
 
 [33] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 Still climbing far above the vale, 
 Where colors fade, and, growing pale. 
 Blend softly with the grey and white 
 That everywhere pervades the sight. 
 The trail goes upward, winding back 
 And forth upon its perilous track 
 Across the mass of loose rock-slides 
 That fill each gulch of the mountain sides. 
 It goes on past the last lone tree. 
 And ends beneath the snow-clad lee 
 Of that colossal, frozen ridge 
 That reaches in a monster bridge 
 Of ice, from earth's extending arm 
 To realms beyond terrestrial charm. 
 
 And here it was that happy night, 
 In evening's fast dissolving light, 
 That William Lundy saw the gleam 
 About the quartz-encrystalled seam. 
 And knew that he need search no more, — 
 That he had found the golden ore. 
 With plying shovel, drill and sledge, 
 "Men drove within the porphyry ledge. 
 Along the quartz vein's winding course 
 A tunnel to the golden source. 
 And from each cliff and peak, the peal 
 And clang of striking steel on steel. 
 Reechoed; with the duller thump 
 Of rocks they cast out on the dump. 
 
 [34] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 Near by each man staked out a claim 
 
 And gave to it a loved one's name ; 
 
 Yet, though they worked the whole wide 
 
 field, 
 But one returned a golden yield — 
 The first one found — May Lundy Mine, 
 A mount of wealth, a friend benign, 
 That promised to enrich each man 
 Of all this wandering Lundy clan. 
 Then hard they labored for the prize. 
 This hope held out before their eyes; 
 They filled with ore small canvas sacks. 
 And these they packed on sturdy backs 
 Of mules that wound their slow way down 
 O'er the long trail, from mine to town. 
 
 A giant wheel turned in the stream, 
 
 Its whirling paddles threw a beam 
 
 Of silver light among the rays 
 
 Of sunny summer's golden days. 
 
 It never rested, never stopped, 
 
 But night and day the water dropped 
 
 From little buckets to a trough 
 
 That quickly bore the water off, 
 
 To mingle with the sacks of ore 
 
 The workers emptied out before 
 
 The huge flat rocks the wheel dragged 
 
 round. 
 And all the ore to powder ground ; 
 Released the heavy gold which sank, 
 And the light mud ran from the tank. 
 [35] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 And when the summer months had passed 
 They gathered all the clay amassed 
 Within the deep capacious cracks — 
 Beneath the traveling flat rock's tracks: 
 Then placed it all within a sort 
 Of double bowl, for the retort, 
 And under one a hot fire burned, 
 The virgin gold to liquid turned 
 And lay within the cooling mould 
 Until a semi-sphere of gold 
 Came forth, with neither flaw nor dent, 
 In bullion ready for the mint. 
 Which in the early spring returned 
 The coin their summer labor earned. 
 
 Though large 'was not excessive pay 
 
 For the rough labors of their aay; 
 
 And not a profit all unearned ; 
 
 Nor could it give the comfort yearned ; 
 
 But its extent so far surpassed 
 
 Their earnings in that long hard past, 
 
 That it brought forth a sweet content 
 
 And seemed a heavenly blessing sent. 
 
 They owned the land on which there stood 
 
 The cabins crude and rough, but good; 
 
 Their needs were every one supplied, 
 
 And only luxuri'^s denied; 
 
 No want nor worry made :hem fret. 
 
 In all the world they owed no debt. 
 
 [36] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 Here in the depth of mountain realms, 
 They lost the care thrt overwhelms; 
 Amid the wild, delightful scenes. 
 They found a home, and all it means. 
 Their needs were met, their troubles fled, 
 Their hands and hearts no longer bled 
 Beneath the blows of fruitless toil ; 
 And fortune sent no ill to foil 
 The plans that new ambition laid. 
 Or kill the joy their building made. 
 A new life dawned from out the night 
 Of gloom and sadness and the light 
 Gave promise that the bitter day 
 Of life lay on the vanished way. 
 
 A little cloud of rumor grew, 
 
 And from the mist there quickly flew 
 
 A mass of tales (as falling rain 
 
 Enlivens even dying grain), 
 
 So these aroused the dying fire 
 
 In hearts of men who did aspire 
 
 To clear their ways of clogging weeds, 
 
 And fill their hearts with golden seeds. 
 
 From near and far a motley band 
 
 Of humans sought the rumored land, 
 
 All lured by the beguiling tale 
 
 Of gold about the mountain vale; 
 
 And soon they filled the little camp 
 
 With people of a different stamp. 
 
 [37] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 The woman with the scarlet fame, 
 The woman whom no scandals name, 
 The crafty gambler and his game, 
 The outlaw and the good man came. 
 Then, — like the ants that build a home 
 For countless numbers 'neath a stone. 
 To get protection from the weather 
 In dwelling thus, all together, — 
 A little city soon was laid 
 Within the mighty mountain's shade, — 
 Built of great logs and heavy rocks. 
 To best withstand the winter shocks; 
 A world within the Sierra's heart. 
 Far from the greater world apart. 
 
 The gambler built a cosy den, 
 Built to attract these homeless men; 
 Hung with pictures of women fair. 
 Or master-pieces, rich and rare; 
 And their great beauty served to draw 
 Both bad and good men to the maw. 
 Which sucked the blood from out their 
 
 veins. 
 And blotted reason from their brains. 
 And here roulette and farobank. 
 Draw-poker games and montebank, 
 Spread out along each pictured wall, 
 On either side of the long hall; 
 And few were they who thither came 
 And did not stay to play a game. 
 
 [38] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 The turning card, the rolling ball, 
 The clink of gold, the dealer's call, 
 Enticed the watcher to the play 
 And balked resistance. He would stay- 
 To shout with winner's laugh of glee; 
 Or, looser, sit and silently 
 Behold his last small silver coin 
 Go forth, the winner's gold to join. 
 And in the morning's golden light, 
 He walked as one still bound in night, 
 With brain that fumbled in the dark 
 With its ill thoughts so ghostly stark 
 That every spur of manhood fled. 
 And all desire of good was dead. 
 
 Across the way a large dance hall 
 
 Allured the idler by the call 
 
 Of music's sweet, entrancing sound 
 
 To dance with women scanty gowned. 
 
 And wet his lips with many a glass 
 
 Of wine. Thus time would quickly pass. 
 
 And leave each one with tainted mind. 
 
 And no respect for self and kind. 
 
 When morn the sleeping world awoke, 
 
 Illusions of the dreamer broke; 
 
 These wrecks of lust came slowly, out 
 
 To stagger blindly, and in doubt 
 
 Of all except the scorching blast 
 
 Of scorn, from passion's wasted past. 
 
 [39] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 And everywhere along main street, 
 Through swinging doors there came to 
 
 greet 
 Each passerby the fragrant scent 
 Of hquor that these mortals spent 
 To quench the thirst's desiring fire, 
 And burn the sap of life entire; 
 Until the soul's enclosing shell 
 Held all the flames of burning hell. 
 But drink they did, as drink they will, 
 And many now are lying still 
 Beneath the desert's fragrant sage, 
 Who played their last scene on this stage 
 Too well to then perceive the fault. 
 That hell, for them, was earthly wrought. 
 
 Ah ! these men versed in hellish arts ; 
 With tearless eyes and grief less hearts ; 
 The faults they owned, the errors made. 
 The love unshown, the hate displayed, — 
 And even those who reached the brink 
 Too soon beneath the clutch of drink. 
 As you and I, were children born 
 To love and joy, and not forlorn 
 To die impenitent ; and you and I 
 Will see the shadow, by and by. 
 Lift from pride and selfish greed, 
 Neglectful care for doubtful meed. 
 And that their faults are part our own, 
 And we, like them, must this atone. 
 
 [40] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 But other men went on their way 
 From honest labors of the day; 
 The clink of gold, the wine-filled glass, 
 Or smiling lips of dance-hall lass, 
 Were no temptations set before 
 The pleasures at their cabin door. 
 Where many children played about 
 With healthy laugh and happy shout. 
 The good and bad lived side by side 
 And some to stay the other tried ; 
 But bad men killed with reckless hand 
 Each other in this lawless land, 
 And one by one they passed away ; — 
 The dawn looked on their riddled clay 1 
 
 It was a lonely, little zone. 
 To every sort of mortal known. 
 Where mingled every character 
 The greater world could register; 
 Of every color, every race. 
 No breed of man but that could trace 
 Its blood among the horde that came 
 To play with life in that grim game 
 Upon the vast unmeasured board. 
 Where not a miser chanced to hoard 
 A single pawn, beyond the day 
 That fate arose within his way. 
 And broke the last sustaining lance 
 That life laid in the game of chance. 
 
 [41] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 A few had come just to forget, 
 In this wild Ufe, a deep regret, — 
 Perhaps some single chance mistake 
 Which men seem ever doomed to make. 
 When youth is in the passion's sway, 
 Then youths with dangers often play, 
 And, too, without a wish or thought 
 That harm to man be through them 
 
 wrought. 
 So these had come to the far West 
 Hoping to ease the pain that pressed : 
 A sorrow of another place 
 Which time could never there erase, 
 Or lessen the distressing sting 
 That well-known scenes and faces bring. 
 
 Some, like the first, had come to seek 
 A home beneath the gleaming peak, 
 And in the great uncovered fields 
 The treasure Fortune sometimes yields 
 Those whom mischance does not suppress 
 Before the barriers of success. 
 And leave to float, poor as before. 
 Far from a safe and happy shore. 
 Good men and women tried and true, 
 Here still kept their God in view. 
 And lost no worth, nor honor spared 
 That they both joy and sorrow shared 
 With many who had lost their all 
 And sought in life no joy at all. 
 
 [42] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 And then there came those silent men 
 Who claimed no law of citizen. 
 They seldom smiled and never laughed, 
 Nor of the wine cup deeply quaffed, 
 But lavished gold and bought the smile 
 That tried with vain art to beguile 
 Those who had heard the whisper drear 
 Of death, who ever lingers near. 
 Quick of hand and sure of eye, 
 They wore, down low on either thigh, 
 A deadly gun, the trusted friend 
 On which the outlaw did depend 
 For the few hours he would abide 
 On life's untreasured mortal side. 
 
 They had defied and broken law, 
 And now it sought with hungry maw 
 To grip within its spreading ban 
 Each outcast, outlawed, hunted man ; 
 And close and vengefully it pressed 
 Them far and ever farther West. 
 They sought to hide in mountain bowers. 
 And spend their few unharrassed hours 
 Within those lawless mining camps. 
 Where mingled men from saints to 
 
 scamps — 
 They asked not why, nor whence they 
 
 came. 
 Or questioned past or present fame; 
 But went, each one, his chosen way, 
 And let the other go or stay. 
 
 [43] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 They moved with soft and crafty step. 
 And one hand near a weapon kept; 
 Always intent, alert, prepared; 
 While all their human hopes were shared 
 By warnings of the thoughts that haunt 
 Man, when crime's awful specters daunt, 
 With knowledge that Time's delay 
 Avoids no debt that wrong should pay. 
 Their hearts grew cold a spleen of hate 
 Alone their souls could animate. 
 And each, a lonely wolf, did dwell 
 His day upon the verge of hell. 
 With no desire for earthly love. 
 Or any hope of peace above. 
 
 And here their loneliness to drown, 
 Within the heedless little town 
 They came, alone and unafraid. 
 To spend much gold on bar and maid. 
 Their stay was short, their pleasures few. 
 Their gold, like frightened ravens, flew 
 Away; then silently the spender went. 
 And none asked why or whither bent. 
 Perhaps each watcher did surmise. 
 For none showed any great surprise. 
 When rumor said a distant stage. 
 Its passengers in futile rage. 
 Had given treasure on demand 
 Of outlaw's two-gun-backed command. 
 [44] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 Sometimes a daring passenger, 
 Or trained, expectant messenger, 
 Withstood the robber's deadly might, 
 And there was then a bloody fight; 
 Each man well played the hellish game. 
 And each was sure of his first aim. 
 But one was quicker on the draw. 
 He made no fumble, left no flaw, 
 His gun flashed fire an instant first; 
 The other stiffened, fell to earth ; 
 The flesh had gone back to its clay, 
 A soul had passed upon its way 
 To realms of dread, or joys above. 
 To hate of hell, or heaven's love. 
 
 No pen can well portray the town 
 In those days of its wild renown. 
 And ill it is to draw the side 
 Where evil and its art reside. 
 And tell no tale of those who gave 
 Their hearts, and some their lives, to save 
 A semblance of the law and right, — 
 Almost foredoomed to lose the fight. 
 For there were many men who fought 
 Against the ill the lawless wrought; 
 And time gives certain aid to all 
 Who battle and refuse to fall 
 Before the wall of pressing shields 
 A momentary victor wields. 
 
 [45] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 Good men and women played their part 
 Within the great Sierra's heart ; 
 The first to come they laid their claim, 
 But greater numbers played the game 
 With tricks, and methods wrong and bold. 
 That shed men's blood for greed of gold; 
 And shook brave hearts with frightful fears, 
 And dimmed good eyes with honest tears. 
 Out-matched, out-numbered, not out-braved. 
 And not retreating, they but saved 
 Their energy, until the hour 
 Debauchery would wreck the power 
 Of crime, and right and wrong transpose 
 To free the vale of evil's woes. 
 
 And when the flowery summer time 
 
 Drove far away the winter's rime. 
 
 The boys and girls roamed in the brakes. 
 
 Or floated about the little lakes 
 
 Their white-winged sails bulged with the 
 
 breeze 
 That whispered to the nodding trees 
 The tale of love, through ages told. 
 The tale that never will grow old. 
 The roar of mighty water-falls 
 Drown not fair nature's silent calls 
 To life, in youth and age, to play. 
 And leave the sorrows of the day 
 Forgotten, with their loneliness. 
 While mortals feast in happiness. 
 
 [46] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 And when the moon with silvered glow 
 Tipped all the mountains high and low, 
 The families gathered round before 
 Another's hospitable door ; 
 And some one tuned his old banjo 
 To melodies of long ago, 
 Entrancing, dreamy, soft and low, 
 The notes, in honeyed cadence, flow 
 Sublimely in harmonious streams 
 Of music, to mind's lofty dreams. 
 And then the moon sank in the West, 
 And midnight darkness bid each guest 
 Begone upon his homeward way, 
 Ere mom disclosed another day. 
 
 When green leaves turned to amber brown, 
 And breezes spread them through the town, 
 Alone the pine's and cedar's smile 
 Would greet the autumn's frosty wile; 
 And gentle murmurs swelled to groans 
 Of angry winds, from Northern zones. 
 That brought the word from winter's mouth 
 To send the feathery rovers South. 
 The bluebell, lily, rose and fern, 
 Before the coming winter's stem 
 Repelling face, now paled and died. 
 And, held in death's relentless tide. 
 They vanished from all mortal sight, 
 The victims of the winter's might. 
 
 [47] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 The lake, its wide-swept bosom chilled, 
 Its restless waters calmed and stilled, 
 Its ripples gone, its mirror hid: — 
 Not one majestic pyramid 
 Displayed its grandeur 'neath the sheet 
 The raging wind, and pelting sleet 
 Within a single night had spread 
 In armor on the water's bed. 
 And all about the first snow fall 
 Had laid a gleaming frozen shawl; 
 And only pine and cedar tree 
 Shook all their mighty branches free. 
 While the remaining mountain land 
 Lay mastered by the winter's hand. 
 
 The fair days of the passing fall 
 Allured with their resistless call 
 Each healthy lad and winsome lass. 
 To come upon the field of glass. 
 And spend the day in joyful play 
 On gliding skates, and sliding sleigh. 
 The shadows deepened and the nights 
 Were dotted here and there with lights. 
 In each rock-bound and sheltered cove 
 And open fire or camper's stove 
 Threw fickle, changing light and shade. 
 And, of the skaters phantoms made 
 That glided round the whitened shore, 
 Like ghostly mysteries of yore. 
 
 [48] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 The coasting with its healthy sport 
 Drew worth and goodness to its court. 
 With muscles tense, on metal steed, 
 They'd rush with every quickening speed 
 Through the invigorating air. 
 That drove away all carking care, 
 But threatened all their limbs to freeze, 
 Gripped by the icy, maddened breeze, 
 Until they struck the field below 
 A gliding, sliding, whirling blow; 
 And, sledless, sat upon the ice; 
 Rebounding often once or twice. 
 Amid the laughs, and teasing calls 
 Of all who saw the graceless falls. 
 
 While youth beneath the autumn skies, 
 Loved and joined hands in exercise; 
 Pursued their way toward better health, 
 A wiser boon than sordid wealth; 
 The gambler in his smoky den, 
 Played his ill game with many men; 
 His face was pale, his hands were white, 
 For dissipation killed his might. 
 His eyes alone were sharp and bright. 
 And searching everyone in sight; 
 But not a muscle did portray 
 A sign of any passion's play. 
 As chance for or against him laid, 
 And gains he claimed or losses paid. 
 
 [49] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 The call of truth from virtue near, 
 Unheeded reached the women's ear, 
 Who held life's cup to painted lip. 
 And would its contents idly sip 
 Until their souls were lust-enthralled, 
 By right and wrong no longer called ; 
 And mind without a single thought 
 That ever good to any wrought. 
 These women, young and beautiful, 
 To passion's call quite dutiful. 
 Denied their gifts, and faces painted. 
 Enslaved their souls, and bodies tainted,- 
 Their happiness and honor sold 
 For just a tiny piece of gold. 
 
 A group of miners smoked and drank, 
 And played the game of faro-bank; 
 A drunken cowboy staggered o'er 
 The wet and slippery barroom floor. 
 And with an ill disguised pretense 
 Bumped into one who took offense; 
 A silence fell, foreboding, t:nse, — 
 A dreadful, gripping, grim suspense 
 On all, — till with the speed of hell 
 Two hands upon their weapons fell. 
 As one, both guns together spoke; 
 The rising cloud of powder smoke 
 Unfolded from the dread display 
 Of art, by artists in gun-play. 
 
 [so] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 The vantage asked by crime had won; 
 The cowboy's grim design was done. 
 Yet wary hand still held the gun 
 With muzzle threatening everyone. 
 For he was one of ill repute, 
 Experienced well in such dispute, 
 And knew the fate that often waits 
 The man who fails or hesitates. 
 The motive that impelled the deed 
 And sent the miner to death's meed, 
 Might lie within the silent past. 
 And he deserve this fate at last. 
 Or was it just desire to kill 
 That then the outlaw's heart did fill. 
 
 Many a man in this rough band 
 Died quickly by another's hand ; 
 But generally knave killed knave, 
 And there was little wish to save 
 One from the other's deadly art. 
 None tried to keep these foes apart. 
 A drunken brawl, a woman's sneer, 
 A hunted man's defending fear; 
 The killer's mad and hellish creed 
 To draw and shoot with lightning speed- 
 These symbols of the region's vice 
 Were reasons that did well suffice 
 To bring grim death in bloody fight. 
 And all the spleen of savage might. 
 
 [51] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 But time soon brought the frightful days 
 When might opposed the evil ways, 
 And good men died and good men bled, 
 Before the flying bits of lead. 
 They formed a fierce relentless clan 
 That held the trail of each bad man. 
 Until the vulture's sentinel 
 Proclaimed the wretched sinner's knell. 
 These bloody trails were thus the last 
 Some grim avengers ever passed. 
 Perhaps a jaded horse returned, 
 A message, to the hearts that yearned, 
 Of loss and horror, grief and tears; 
 The woe of death to quench their fears. 
 
 Then winter with its terror came 
 
 To play a part within the game 
 
 Of life and death, and feeble man 
 
 Was gripped in the colossal plan. 
 
 And, stripped of courage and its might, 
 
 They shrank together in affright, 
 
 Forgot their enmity and hate, 
 
 They who had laughed and sneered at fate ! 
 
 The harlot and the dancing jade ; 
 
 The faithful wife, and virgin maid; 
 
 Good men, and men in evil wrought. 
 
 Stood side by side in troubled thought. 
 
 Awaiting the expected end 
 
 That neither good nor bad could fend. 
 
 [52] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 The leaden clouds embanked the skies, 
 And hid the peaks from mortal eyes ; 
 The sun retreated to the North, 
 And not a single ray came forth ; 
 The wind subdued had passed away, 
 And everything grew bleak and grey ; 
 While countless flakes of crystal snow 
 Fell on the whitened land below. 
 The stately pine's huge limbs were bent, 
 And broke before the storm's descent; 
 And cabins disappeared below 
 The fearful fall of blinding snow. 
 The atmosphere was strangely still, — 
 An omen of oncoming ill. 
 
 Resourceful man had no defense 
 Against the awful, dread suspense; 
 And every mortal stood in awe 
 Of foes they neither heard nor saw. 
 But knew were forming o'er their heads, 
 On rocky cliff and old snow bed. 
 Were gathering, massive hour by hour. 
 The units of resistless power. 
 Till countless tons of snow and ice 
 Arranged a murderous device, 
 That rolled down the mountain side 
 And crushed beneath its swelling tide 
 All si^n of human work and plan, 
 And life of brute, and plant and man. 
 
 [53] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 From out that misty, clouded zone 
 A murmur came, a mournful moan 
 Grew to a rumbling, dreadful roar, 
 That passed the steep descent before 
 The terror of the mountain realms. 
 The soulless monster that o'erwhelms 
 Resisting nature's mighty power; 
 Wrecks years of labor in an hour. 
 Men's ears were deafened by the sound 
 Of forests tearing from the ground ; 
 And fear pressed then its piercing dart 
 Within the hardest mortal heart, 
 And all, like little children there. 
 United in an humble prayer. 
 
 Within the little mountain town, 
 One day before its first renown, 
 Beneath a fragrant, giant pine 
 The life first beat in heart of mine. 
 And baby years were haply spent 
 In this foe filled environment. 
 A friend in each belligerent; 
 A home at every battlement; 
 I shared with outlaw, and with her 
 Whom passion and emotions stir 
 No more beneath her grief and joy. 
 The happy favor of a boy. 
 Perhaps my childish prattle brought 
 Some sinner back to better thought. 
 
 [54] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 The voice that menaced, harsh and cold. 
 As it demanded another's gold; 
 The eye that shone with dangerous lights 
 As it stared through six-shooter sights. 
 Surrendered to the babe that played 
 Where stalwart men ne'er delayed 
 To help, with friendly hand or word. 
 The man neglect and error stirred. 
 The voice that whispered in my ear 
 Was loving, gentle and sincere; 
 And I saw tears within the eyes, 
 And felt a breast upheave with sighs. 
 And knew that every heart would beat 
 With love, if love it once could meet. 
 
 Often I saw the face of one 
 
 Who died before another's gun; 
 
 The pallid, cold and silent clay, 
 
 That was a man but yesterday. 
 
 Had passed by crime's predestined road 
 
 And brought my heart a heavy load. 
 
 And baby eyes unashamed did weep 
 
 O'er outlaw in eternal sleep. 
 
 No one can trace the future way 
 
 Of broken, wretched, bleeding clay; 
 
 No one can tell if tears are vain. 
 
 Which fall for some grim outlaw's pain; 
 
 No prayer so low but will be known 
 
 Which asks that mercy thus be shown. 
 
 [ssl 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 Each outlaw passed this well-marked way, 
 And reached the sunset of his day, 
 The end of strife against the might 
 Of tireless time, and deathless right. 
 A body sick with passion wild. 
 And erring mind by crime beguiled. 
 Too ill to see, or yet suppose 
 Supreme, the forces that oppose. 
 Thus many mortals come to fall. 
 Broken and bent against the wall 
 Of obstacles, that right erects 
 Wherever time its might elects 
 To use ; and then the rebel's breath 
 Obtains no aid from aught but death. 
 
 But time accounted not, to man, 
 
 Attaining its inevitable plan; 
 
 It took alike both good and bad. 
 
 And left the living stunned and sad; 
 
 For outlaw and opponent died 
 
 In final battles side by side ; 
 
 Their blood was mingled in the sand. 
 
 And their flesh, too, allied in land. 
 
 Strange will that brings a clod to life, 
 
 The toy of terror, ills and strife, 
 
 The king of nothing, pawn of chance, 
 
 A knight that lays in rest his lance 
 
 Alike for truth or error's lie; 
 
 To fight and bleed, and then to die. 
 
 [S6] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 Their end was one, both fighters fell 
 Before the will no men repel. 
 The noble and the outlaw knave 
 Both came to rot within the grave; 
 Not always from the deadly lead 
 Was greedy d^ath its morsel fed, 
 For winter's wild destructive storms 
 Took toll, in crushed and battered forms. 
 And finite men did seem forgot. 
 Their strength and worth reckoned not. 
 When nature loosed her mighty powers 
 From those colossal granite towers, 
 And underneath that murderous blow 
 Crushed half the valley down below. 
 
 Stern nature always spurred her own 
 To rule again the mountain zone ; 
 Her elements were all arrayed 
 To kill or frighten all that stayed. 
 The snow in eddying torrents fell 
 On rocky ridge, and meadowed dell. 
 And massed before the sweeping air 
 That came coercing everywhere; 
 Combined with rocks and loosened earth 
 The avalanche was given birth. 
 And fire, too, lent destructive aid ; 
 The town's notorious decade 
 Ended in smoke and fiendish flame, 
 To live again — but as a name. 
 
 [57] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 There is a lonely dismal spot, 
 A little sagebush-covered plot; 
 A monument, an empty shell. 
 Above the dead stands sentinel; 
 A graveyard of the days long past 
 Now all forlorn, where time at last 
 Has swept the words and lines away, 
 And filled their place with somber grey. 
 Few tombs show record now or name. 
 And unkempt graves look much the same. 
 These dead, forgotten, give no sign 
 From whence their lineage or line; 
 Without distinction grey dust claims 
 The ones with cursed or honored names. 
 
 A scanty pine grove scarcely covers 
 The graves of these old freedom lovers ; 
 A few wild flowers bud and bloom 
 Within the melancholy gloom ; 
 Upon the harlot's grave the rose 
 In just as sweet profusion grows 
 As where the virgin lies serene. 
 In life and death all men are seen 
 To differ in the road they tread. 
 The love imbued, the rancor spread, 
 And life's rough circle each one drew 
 Until they meet to start anew ; 
 For dust they were, and dust ordains 
 All mortal, of men, alike remains. 
 
 [S8J 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 I muse tonight on man's release, 
 And endless search for final peace, 
 My heart is filled with sorrows dread, 
 O'er thoughts of these my old home's dead; 
 The questions that seem vainly asked 
 Perhaps are answered by their past; 
 Does not each death but just repay 
 To earth its borrowed bit of clay? 
 Is this first circle mortals thread 
 But just improved and wider spread; 
 The evil road with break and swerve, 
 The way of truth a perfect curve, — 
 Will not tlie soul in evil hand 
 Return, like clay, to its birth land? 
 
 The world rolls on its endless way 
 As man draws near his final day; 
 Nor aids nor stays a struggling one. 
 But breeds the mass with neutral sun ; 
 And men will come and men will go 
 Beneath its rays like melting snow 
 Which comes today, tomorrow flees. 
 Returning to the mother-seas. 
 This melting snow but changed its form 
 And comes once more in winter's storm 
 To dampen all the breast of earth, 
 And bring fresh life again to birth. 
 The endless round will never cease. 
 Or by a single drop decrease. 
 
 [59] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 It seems a certain, changeless plan 
 
 Compels the destiny of man 
 
 To pass through ill, and loss, and pain 
 
 And from adversity to gain 
 
 A greater knowledge of the laws 
 
 That ignorance is evil's cause. 
 
 And this experience must learn 
 
 Before man can the evil spurn; 
 
 And time indeed is reckoned not, 
 
 Nor yet the individual lot, 
 
 In guiding the unthinking horde 
 
 To stand upon the monster board, 
 
 Where pawns consist of worlds and 
 
 suns ; — 
 A game that souls with wonder stuns. 
 
 The fates the masses will defend. 
 What God has made can never end. 
 Yet men may wander far, alone 
 Within a faithless. Godless zone; 
 The law of progress then, but yields 
 Then to the force rebellion wields; 
 And lets them enter in that hell 
 Where idle, thoughtless humans dwell. 
 But when they cross the last frontier, 
 Will they not gain the better sphere? 
 Are souls less gifted than the snow. 
 Reborn with neither pain nor throe. 
 To nourish life's fresh-springing flowers? 
 Oh ! surelv, man regains lost powers. 
 
 [60] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 I listen to the learned today. 
 And to the wise of yesterday 
 Discussing mortal life and fate, 
 And in their grave and stern debate 
 They use much swaying eloquence, 
 That leaves a questioned consequence. 
 Their many arguments commend 
 Attention, but no proofs attend, 
 And all the words of sage and bard 
 Convince me not, nor do retard ; 
 My hopes remain, my fears reverse ; 
 Advancement rules the universe 
 And every atom has its part 
 Predestined in the Creator's art. 
 
 When the old town's last embers died. 
 Its checkered past was crucified: 
 The fickle mob, unhoused, had fled 
 And left its ash to shroud its dead. 
 A few old pioneers alone. 
 Who loved some spot within the zone. 
 Returned to build, in better mould, 
 What evil had so long controlled. 
 And on the grave of many a heart 
 A new town grew with feeble start. 
 To struggle on from year to year, 
 A lonely hope in this vast sphere 
 Of avalanche and wilderness. 
 Which human strength could not impress. 
 [6i] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 The old log cabins ne'er returned; 
 All but their memory, was burned; 
 Though the new town more beauty traced. 
 The crude old one was not replaced. 
 The street — now wide, and laid quite 
 
 straight, 
 With walks and lights to decorate. 
 Seemed quite misplaced within the vale 
 That better knew the rougher trail. 
 The painted wall and gabled roof 
 Seemed but a foolish, vain reproof 
 Against the ponderous works that broke 
 Beneath a foe's first master stroke; 
 And passed, a gaseous, greyish cloud, 
 Within its smoke-grime blackened shroud. 
 
 Again the village many sought. 
 And all their failings with them brought, 
 A mingled horde of many breeds. 
 Swayed by full as many creeds ; 
 But held within the pale of law 
 That each revolter plainly saw 
 No longer he could void or break 
 And not repay with loser's stake. 
 Once more the gambler brought his game ; 
 And smiling dance-hall women came 
 To lure with passion, chance and wine, 
 The gold from toilers in the mine; 
 But seldom did the rising sun 
 Greet the work of a slayer's gun. 
 [62] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 The laden stage rolled in and out 
 Unstopped by the familiar shout, 
 "Hands up!" which men in haste obey. 
 Nor saw they now a bandit slay 
 With certain and uncanny speed, 
 And too, without a bit of need 
 Some hesitating, plodding man. 
 Who failed to heed the spoiler's ban. 
 The certain eye, the lightning hand; 
 No more were needed in this land. 
 And men could go to work or fun 
 Without the burden of a gun; 
 Or fear this bareness might invite 
 The snuffing of their mortal light. 
 
 This realm of blood and death and crime, 
 Was as a quiet, peaceful clime. 
 Where never man had man's blood spilled 
 Or mortal hand a mortal killed. 
 And many lips framed silent prayer 
 At vanquishment of that despair 
 Which fills the heart with hate and fear 
 When strife a land does domineer. 
 But who marked not the sorrow, too. 
 That crept into the hearts that knew 
 The price, the lives, the value lost; 
 The tears, the grief, that triumph cost ; 
 The men who lived with memory, 
 And smiled from hearts of misery. 
 
 [63] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 A strangeness filled the atmosphere. 
 
 Giving all things an aspect queer. 
 
 For from the old familiar creek 
 
 There came no more the rasping squeak 
 
 Of wooden wheels that jerked and turned, 
 
 And noisily the water churned. 
 
 The water wheel no longer dripped, 
 
 Or on its tireless errands tripped; 
 
 The old arrastre stood quite still, 
 
 Its work done by a better mill, 
 
 The rumble of whose falling stamp 
 
 Hurled echoes all about the camp, 
 
 And drowned the murmur of the calls 
 
 That came before from water falls. 
 
 The groaning mules now came no more 
 From Scowden's top with sacks of ore; 
 Each stepping slowly and with care. 
 For fear a rock might slip or tear. 
 Their place was taken — threads of steel 
 And swaying buckets turned a wheel. 
 And, parallel, propelled themselves 
 O'er yawning gorge and rocky shelves. 
 As servant to designing greeds, 
 Man made to labor what he needs. 
 From mine to mill the slender rope 
 Ran up and down the rugged slope; 
 One half accloy with wealth of hill. 
 The other gaunt from greed of mill. 
 
 [64] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 The lakes and streams were dammed and 
 
 bound, 
 And overflowed the land around, 
 The waters lapped a foreign shore. 
 And beauty flourished here no more ; 
 The hedge of lilies, and of roses, 
 Beneath the water now reposes ; 
 And pretty dress and fragrant breath 
 Soothe not this saddened home of death. 
 The forests, burned, and left to rot, 
 Their former green a dusky blot, 
 Where careless hand of man debased 
 A verdant realm to barren waste. 
 When industry her progress plies. 
 Much native worth and beauty dies. 
 
 And e*en the harnessed waters, too. 
 
 Were made the miners work to do ; 
 
 No murmuring, playing on their way: 
 
 Their courses dried in heat of day. 
 
 Confined the liquid atoms pressed. 
 
 In tapering tubes down the mountain's breast. 
 
 Until a water arm of steel 
 
 Sent in a maddening whirl a wheel 
 
 Which built, within a slender wire. 
 
 An omniforce of flameless fire, 
 
 That did revert as it began, 
 
 To whirling wheel and work again; 
 
 Propelled machines in mill and mine. 
 
 And lit the dark of vespertine. 
 
 [6s] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 The narrow tunnel was dug and deep 
 And crosscut in the granite steep. 
 Deep in the giant's mighty heart 
 Man forced on his destructive dart. 
 The stony vitals ripped and tore 
 Away from veins of gold-filled ore, 
 And from the vaults of Scowden's breast 
 The hidden hoard of treasure wrest. 
 To earth the Lord decreed this dower, 
 To man, desire, and cause, and power 
 To win this wealth and by its aid 
 The depth of heaven to invade: 
 But when men shall disclose its use, 
 Will not their record show abuse? 
 
 Before the days of its decline 
 The first, the rich May Lundy Mine, 
 Made many haughty millionaires, 
 And broken ties among their heirs. 
 But neither in the founder's clan. 
 It left them just as they began. 
 Except that some had passed away; 
 The others older grown, and grey 
 Through years of hard relentless toil. 
 And broken hopes that fate did foil 
 With grim, untiring crushing hand 
 Wherever they had tried to stand. 
 Yet each one fought until the last 
 And smiling to oblivion passed. 
 [66] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 Here man no longer battles man; 
 The Sierras breed no outlaw clan; 
 But nature never knows defeat; 
 Her mighty forces ne'er retreat. 
 She yet commands the towering heights; 
 Disdains the claim of other rights. 
 And crushes, kills, and still destroys 
 Intruders, just as petty toys. 
 Today the battle she has won : 
 Of all the webs the mortals spun. 
 But two weak strands remain to show 
 The seed they planted long ago : — 
 A mass of graves — a few grey hairs 
 That soon will lie with their forbears. 
 
 The mine is silent as before 
 
 They took its wondrous wealth of ore; 
 
 The ghost of its illustrious past 
 
 Pervades the subterranean's vast 
 
 Extent, with mockery of must, 
 
 And solitude's accumulated dust. 
 
 And grips the mind of man with dread, 
 
 Like catacombs of ancient dead. 
 
 And grim forgotten tragedy 
 
 Comes pleading to the memory; 
 
 Its specters silently pass by, 
 
 As troubled minds do vainly try 
 
 To picture good for ill-spent gold ; 
 
 While derelicts alone unfold. 
 
 I671 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 The bucket-laden cableway 
 
 Is sagged and loose, a castaway. 
 
 This traveller's high, aerial round 
 
 Above the rough untrodden ground, 
 
 Has ended, its busy hum is hushed; 
 
 Its latticed girders bent and crushed ; 
 
 It lies far down the mountain side 
 
 At times beneath a rocky sHde. 
 
 A worker, worn, near life's last days, 
 
 Just left unused and time decays. 
 
 And wastes, the strength that does remain 
 
 In desolation's idle reign : 
 
 These strands of steel, in crumbling rust 
 
 Will reach the common goal of dust. 
 
 The thunder of the crushing mill 
 Is hushed, its giant stamps are still, 
 And on the shivered, copper plates 
 The muck of time accumulates ; 
 The swallows nest beneath the eaves, 
 And with the rat and chipmunk leaves 
 The offal of their busy fold. 
 Where man once gathered virgin gold. 
 The mountain lion snarls and growls. 
 At the intrusion of the owls. 
 The darting, whirling, somber bat. 
 Disturbs the slumber of the cat; 
 And life that first this region knew 
 Returns, today, to start anew. 
 [68] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 The crystal lake's blue mirrored face. 
 
 Where mountains once stood base to base, 
 
 Reflection doubling an Eden rare, 
 
 The false in water, the real in air. 
 
 Now is a flat of yellow clay; 
 
 And no reflections on it play; 
 
 Its shores are strewn with rotting stumps. 
 
 And pine and fir's fire blackened lumps. 
 
 But see! a honeysuckle hedge 
 
 Is building here about the edge; 
 
 The sweet and pretty flower entwines 
 
 About a few small baby pines: 
 
 Perhaps some eye in ages hence 
 
 Will view the old magnificence. 
 
 The trail that wound among the trees. 
 
 And up the mountain in huge "v's," 
 
 Is now untrod and dimly traced; 
 
 The hand of time has near erased 
 
 This memorable, rocky thread 
 
 That man, with awe and wonder, tread. 
 
 The peaks, snow-capped at peerless heights. 
 
 Still show to men entrancing sights. 
 
 Eternal mien, and might sublime, 
 
 Unscathed by man, or rage of time; 
 
 And gently their great shadows throw 
 
 Across the lonely dale below, 
 
 And veil the wrecked, deserted town. 
 
 The charnel house of its renown. 
 
 [69] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 With walls pierced through and roofs caved 
 
 in, 
 Left a mere prey to nature's whim, 
 A few old shacks remain to show 
 Where many men in vain did sow 
 Their hopes, and life, through fleeting years 
 Of slender joys, and broader tears, — 
 And now the fruit of all their toil 
 Returning back to native soil. 
 And where the clustered buildings stood. 
 And logs decayed, the vanished wood 
 Comes forth, unhurt, from dormant seed, 
 An infant host, with wondrous speed. 
 Springs up to claim its rightful own; 
 To sylvan once again the zone. 
 
 The silence reigns, we hear alone 
 The waterfall's clear, crystal tone. 
 Which seems to tell each native ear 
 No enemy is lingering near. 
 The stately buck, with fearless tread 
 Tramps on a famous hunter's head ; 
 His timid roe and playful fawn 
 Graze on the sleeping hunter's lawn. 
 And far above the valley stands 
 A red man, gazing on the lands ; 
 The phantom calmly views the scene 
 As one well-blessed with vision keen; 
 Then fades from sight, in pleased content, 
 Revenged for all his banishment. 
 
 [70] 
 
THE GHOST TOWN LUNDY 
 
 The village Lundy is no more. 
 
 And memory now locks the door 
 
 On children who once worked and played, 
 
 And erred and strove ; and each day made 
 
 Their human fight with fate and chance 
 
 And mortal's common ignorance. 
 
 Repentant souls that prayed alone, 
 
 And hearts whence all the joy had flown. 
 
 The crime, the goodness they displayed, 
 
 Rewards received, or penance paid. 
 
 Are only known to those still hearts 
 
 That in this drama played their parts ; 
 
 And these alone know all the cost 
 
 Of man's sad end, with hopes that lost. 
 
 THE END 
 
 [71]