wi^ University of California • Berkeley Purchased from THOMAS W. STREETER BEQUEST So ^ ^^^uu^^y^^^^^^^ ' £ati4pt<^ J^lAAAr^ aO<^K_ VI? \^» ^ WHAT LIFE HAS TAUGHT ME. r— «--W^ ;B "X" i^Z^'"'-*--* E. L. GALLATIN IXF JNO. PREDERIC, PRINTER. DENVER, COLO. PKEFACE. A book, without a title, would seem as odd as the sentiments expressed in this little book, and, strange to say, the writer never thought of a title until the young lady who is typewriting and correcting the mistakes, asked me what title I had selected for my book. Well, a seventy-two year old amateur writer is liable to get out of line and fall short. I suppose a book with- out some name would be like a ship without a rudder, drifting and calling for a tow line of some friend to pull it in. But, friends, this little sketch is not expected to go beyond those who know the writer and will not be sold unless it might be to help some one who needs help, but I do not flatter myself that it would keep any one from starving. I might call it, "My Opinions;" but who cares for our opinions? We all have them. Are they worth read- ing? I could call it, "My Experiences in the West." Such are yet galore. Old Father Wiggins at the Post Office can give them out by the yard, colored with hardships and narrow escapes from Indians. Captain Billy Wise is on tap at any time to be drawn out on long marches, starvation and eternal vigilance to save his scalp. Dave Cook, the pioneer detective and sheriff, is a liv- ing store-house of Western adventure. So a plain citizen that never held any office, or shouldered a musket has very little to attract attention in these days of mental strain that is upon our American people. They are fever- ish and want sensation. The plain truth is not satisfying. To get the truth in any subject before them it must take the form of romance, well colored. They climb the ladder of life in leaps. If they fall in the attempt they get up and try it again and again, until old age comes to weaken their determination to become rich. After some thought about titles which might fit the subject matter which is miscellaneous in its nature, I have decided to call it, "The Lessons of Life," or "What Life has Taught Me." If my friends or descendants can get here and there a thought that appeals to their judg- ment as being worthy of their consideration, I will be only too glad to have them use it. The thoughts, expressed in this book, are my honest convictions, though they may not accord with yours in any respect. A man or woman without some personal opinions is a blank and must pass as such until time rubs that one up to the standard by which he or she will be known by an individ- ual personality. INTRODUCTION. When one writes a history of one's own life, it is supposed that that one must have something of more than ordinary interest to relate or must through some public capacity belong to History. This is not necessary, however, if the History is not forced upon the public. Then it is private property as any other effects that one may leave behind. I, for one, would be very happy to have a brief history of the lives of my own father and mother and of their parents but they left nothing of genealogy that can be traced even one generation. My father was born in Pennsylvania and of Swiss parents. My mother was born in Kentucky, near, or in Lexington. She was of Scotch descent and her maiden name was Thompson. She was mari'ied to my father at Lexington, Kentucky, and they moved to St. Louis, Miss- ouri, when it was a French village in the far west. My father rode on horse back across the country on a tour of inspection before moving the family and being satisfied returned and built what is known as a kiel boat, having a sharp or rounded prow with roof. In tliis he stored all his worldly effects, with the family, and two men. They floated down the Ohio river to its junction with the Mississippi river and from there up to St. Louis. It was a tug of hardship. With a long rope two men on shore pulled this boat while one with a long pole kept it from the shore. Steam boats were not in fashion at that time and rail roads only in the inventor's dream. Flat boats as 1/ _4_- they were called floated down the Mississippi river load- ed with all varieties of produc?, to New Orleans. Such boats were sold for what the owners could get when unloaded and the crew would walk back to points from whence they started, from eight hundred to twelve hun- dred miles, and I am creditably informed, they were so used to it that it was not thought any great hardship and they would swing off sixty miles a day. These clumsy home made boats were very plenty up to 1860, long after modern double-engine steamboats navigated all streams large and small. Since railroads have cross-cut every state and paralelled every river, the grand old steam boats have gone never to return. They are too slow for the nervous dyspeptic American. Life is too short to take comfort. One must amass a fortune before he is forty and lose his health, then travel to save his life a few years longer. The grand old river, the Father of Eivers in North America, floated all kinds of inland craft, from the small trading boat to the palatial "steamer like the A. T. Shotwell, J. M. White, Henry Chouteau and Crystal Palace. Each could carry and feed one thousand persons and give them all the comforts of a well arranged home. They had crews of sixty men to load and unload goods. A negro crew added much to the life and excitement of these boat trips, as the negroes always had more interest in their work than white men that dropped down to the low calling of a deck hand. They would gather on the forecastle and sing their boat songs at night while the boat was gliding along, till the shore would ring for miles on either side. They became adepts in loading bales of cotton. They worked in pairs with bale hooks and made the bales spin up and down a stage plank and landed them with dexterity away up until one could see nothing but smoke stacks above the cotton bales. iJeep down in the hold of the vessel were thousands of stacks of corn, wheat, oats and bacon. The constant change of scenery and river towns at which the boats landed gave new interest every hour of the day. At night after the tables were cleared the boat band of two or three pieces would strike up the music and dancing commenced or songs were sung and all were made happy. The bill of fare furnished on the first class boats was par excellent, fitting the taste of any stomach worshipper, from plain food well cooked for the careful eater to the fastidious epicure. The Mississippi valley, covering millions of rich acres of land which produced tropical and semi-tropical fruits reaching northern products, made it possible for the traveling caravansaries to fill any bill of fare at any time of year. Louisiana melons, berries and oranges could be had while snow covered the upper Mississippi valley. Fresh oysters in the shell in barrels from Mobile Bay, fresh and salt water fish, wild game and domestic produce could be obtained at almost any landing, fresh and cheap. St. Louis was then the mart for all the upper Miss- issippi valleys and the Mississippi river. At her long wharf could be found boats from all navigable rivers that fed the Father of Rivers from small stern-wheel flat- bottom boats that plied up and down the Ozark, Tennessee, Columbia, Illinois and Tallahassee rivers, to the Ohio, Missouri and upper and lower Mississippi, monster steam- ers, like the John Simons and Ecli pse. Honest and slow business men of St. Louis were not progressive. They did not see their opportunity of hold- —6- • ing this vast trade against their rival on the lake, Chicago, who was ready to build a rail road to any point where she could increase her trade. She soon had the largest grain and stock market ia the borders of our country, attracting the attention of the whole commercial world by her aggressive moves. Even New York is in danger of los- ing her laurels as the first city in population and s^s a business center. Chicago outbid her for the World's Fair of 1893, and Chicago outdid the world in grandeur and massiveness in her preparations; nothing like it had ever been put before the world on so large and beautiful a scale as the White City. It was an unfortunate year for it. Dull times had been gradually creeping on the people since the demoniti- zation of silver through the connivance of England and her bribed tools, John Sherman, and others. By stealth it was accomplished in 1873, and in 1893 the deadfall came in no mistaken manner The repeal of the Sherman act by a called session of Congress by Grover Cleveland knocked out the last prop for silver and the climax came in July, when banks by the dozen closed their doors, and times have steadily grown worse, wages going down and thousands out of employment half the time, till laborers can barely exist. This is the object lesson Cleveland wanted to show the American people, while he got his millions for carrying out the bargain made by John Sher- man to sell his people out to England. John G. Carlisle, one of Kentucky's favored sons, sold himself and turned traitor to his people to be Grover Cleveland's Secretary of the Treasury and carry out the behests of the money mongers. The poor miserable worm of the earth is squirming under his own repeated speeches made years ago. W. J. Bryan in his campaign for the peoples' rights, fired these words back at the traitor when he spoke so well for justice years ago, and now would deny it if he could for gold. Benedict Arnold or Aaron Burr could not hold a candle as traitors compared with these gold standard trait- ors that dance under the flag of the Republican party and rob the people. Their political blindness is past all understanding as to honest methods. In fact, honesty, with them, is a by- word. They teach that every man has a price on his head in the matter of bribery, and with this thought foremost, in their actions, they have robbed the people over and over again, and still, they in blind- ness cry for help and again fall in the ditch. —8— CHAPTEK I. This day, September 5tli, 1896, the writer of this little sketch has reached his sixty-eighth mile-post, having been born in St. Louis, Mo., in 1828. While I was very young my parents moved to Mon- roe County, Illinois, thirty miles below 84;. Louis, on the banks of the Mississippi river, to hew out a new home in the heavy timber and make a new start in the world. My father, through a mistaken view of his duty as a friend, had allowed certain persons to prey upon him for support and signed notes and other obligations until it involved him so that he lost all he had in making the contracts good. Then their friendship ended as usual in all such transactions. In this double log cabin the eight of us were housed. A small clearing was made and seeds were sown and new hopes kindled. But Father became impatient. It was too slow for him, a man full of activity. Some friends told him of the great possibilities of Texas, then a terri- tory, ceded by old Mexico to some adventurous Americans- So he, with my oldest brother, Albert Gallatin, started with a herd of horses which, he was told, would sell for fabulous prices. He found this a mistake, but he could and did trade them for a large amount of line land. But the land in Texas was like water in the ocean. It had but little value. There was so much of it that it could not be utilized. Father wore himself out on it, was taken sick and died about the year, 1840. My mother, my next older brother, John T. Gallatin, three sisters, Margaret, Ellen and Mary, and myself, the youngest of all, moved across the river to the village of Herculaneum, on the Missouri side, where the family — 9— managed to make a living. As my mother wa# a good manager and a great economist, her untiring industry managed to make ends meet. She made all the clothes I wore, of old clothes given her and made me look as clean and genteel as any of the village boys. But like most boys I did not realize what labor and anxiety was expend- ed by my mother for me, and thought it hard that I could not go to shows and have skates and many things that other boys of my age had, I could not reason the matter out then. But I learned after her death how it was without her care for me. 1 found that no one took the place of mother. My brothers and sisters married and had their own family cares which were about all they could manage. They were kind to me and gave me a chance to get some of such teaching as was found in the common country school .during winter terms. I was a poor student and did not make the best of my opportunities, which I have regretted all ray life. At the age of seventeen years I got a situation, to learn the saddlers' trade with one Thornton Grimsley, through the influence of Mr. James Bissel, a good thoughtful rich man, who saw my need of a trade and the better conditions it would bring, above that of a common day- wage worker, with no skill, and I shall never forget his kindness in noticing me, a poor green country boy. Grimsley was a peculiar man of very strong predjudices, likes and dislikes. He had at one time previous to my coming, a left- handed Irish boy who was dull to learn anything, and Grimsley judged the fault to his being left-handed, while the fault was not in his left hand but in his head. Poor —10— Pat Casfty never ceased to get all the blame for every mis- take made in the shop, / This laid the foundation that caused all coming boys who might have this misfortune to be barred from learn- ing the trade with Thornton Grimsley, as he made a strong resolution never to have a "south-pawed boy," as he termed the left-handed. This was my misfortune and he, from some oversight, did not catechise me on that point. The boys soon saw my lameness and told me that if the boss found that I was left-handed he would certain- ly discharge me. This put me on my guard and I learned to use all tools except the hammer and table knife with my right hand. ISo I escaped being discharged for one year, before he made the discovery of my misfortune, and that was when I was not on my guard, at the Sunday dinner table. # There were a number of us and he was calculating how much each one of us was worth to him in dollars and cents and he noticed I was using my knife in my left hand. He was thunder-struck and when he had recovered enough to speak he said: "Sir, are you left-handed?" "Yes sir," I said, "I am." You can never learn the trade," he said. "Please give me a chance to try," said I, "don't discharge me." He did not discharge me but he haggled me from that day until two years after, when my apprenticeship was out, until I revolted and offered to bet him ten dollars that I could do anything that he could do and as good and as quick. After that I had some peace but he never lost his predjudice toward me. In large manufactories one individual cuts a small figure in the personal sense, unless he fills some special place through his capability. —11— I had two men of this character as my friends, both fine workman, during my four and one half years of apprenticeship. Thomas Hart, who was killed at Palmyra, Missouri, by a jealous husband, saved me from the heavy drudgery by telling Grimsley that it was a shame to work any decent white boy so hard when he had an idle negro about- Mr. Hart had many noble qualities and was about the handsoinest man I ever saw, six feet tall, straight as an Indian, with fine form, splendid head and face, black curly hair, eagle nose and black silky w^hiskers, just heavy enough to look handsome, and courageous as a lion- My other friend was S. F. Currie, an older man, laro-e and fine looking and mild in manner. He too was a fine character and fully understood human nature. He saw my difficulty in mastering my trade and would often jose his own time to instruct me and help me out of my dilemma. He was one of nature's noblemen. All his impulses were on the side of the oppressed and he had no fears of doing right at all times. He was a model work, man at his trade but could have filled almost any position among men. His and his noble wife's pictures in life size adorn my parlor walls They and their family were always my friends. Most of them have gone to the other shore to continue their good work, while I linger on this side awaiting the bugle call. Though I am not extremely old, there are only a few of my school-mates left to tell the story of school days, which shows how brief and uncertain is the sojourn on this mundane sphere of which we make so much in all our efforts, as though it would last always. In the thous- ands that are born few reach old age, thousands are cut Off. in childhood. — 12— The writer has witnessed the effects of two wars in oar country, and three financial panics, one siege of the Asiatic cholera and the great flood of the Mississippi valley in 1844, and nev^er was seriously affected by any of them; never went without food that was needed and never went raopged; never got so high in life that it would hurt him to fall. CHAPTER II. After many years of hard work trying to scale the r ladder that leads to comfort in my native state, and find- ing all my efforts abortive, I decided to try some new field. I had missed the golden chance of California in its great mining days of 1858 and '59, when many of my friends went. Ten years later when news of the Pike's Peak gold discoveries filled the daily papers with vague reports, I carefully read the letter writer of the St. Louis Republic. / In those letters there was an expression of sincerity that led me to believe there was truth in them and I read them to my employer, Mr. John Landis of Independence, Mo., and finally got him interested to the extent that he fitted up two four- mule teams and loaded them with saddlery, such as, in his judgment, would be salable in a . mining country. On May 28th, 1860, we bade farewell to our friends. There were five of us, Mr. Landis, the owner, Lee Scott, Mat Kelly, the experienced plainsman. Old Uncle Rob, a colored man, and myself. Uncle Rob was installed as cook, Scott and myself took charge of the rear team, Kelly and Mr. Landis of the front team and we also had an extra pony. Kelly was made wagon master, to look for camping ground and tell —13— lis when to start and stop. Each one was supposed to do any camp duty that came up and not wait to be told. This I proceeded to do, in all earnestness to learn and do my duty and I did it so well that Kelly insisted that I had done camp duty before and could not fool him by saying I had not. In a few days we were Joined by the McOlain broth- ers, their sister, Mrs. McCook, and a Milwaukee banker, Peckham by name. They were strangers to us but wanted to travel with us as we had tools and repaired their wagon. Only one of them had ever camped out and they filled Kelly's sails full of flattery for his good management and soon his Irish head began to swell and he had to show his authority in some way. He thought Scott and myself the best subjects to try it on, and soon it was impossible for us to do anything to satisfy his highness. It soon became too irksome to stand his insult- inor actions with us and our team, and we talked the matter over. Not wishing to get into any unpleasant- ness, we thought best to bear and forbear but it grew day by day harder to stand. One afternoon Scott was too sick to drive and it devolved upon me to drive the team. Kelly had made camp and the lead team was out of harness when I drove up. He opened on me for making the lead muks pull more than their share of the load. I denied the charge and he said some cutting words which stirred me to the quick and I jumped off the wagon and made for him in desperation. He pulled in his horns when others came between us. I said to Mr. Landis, "You own this outfit and if you say I am wrong I will take my belongings and pack them on my back the balance of the way to Denver. I will not stand such uncalled for insults from this ignor- — U— ant Irishman." 8cott raised his voice and said, "I will go with you." But we were safe in our threat as Mr. Landis was one of the best men I ever knew, though he was always too modest to assert himself until matters got to the worst. After that my advice took precedence with Kelly and he held me in high esteem. JScott returned to Missouri, went into the rebel army and was killed early; the McClain brothers and the sister have crossed the silent river, Mr. Landis died two years V ago in his eighty-fifth year; old Uncle Rob died here in / Denver many years ago; Mr, Peckham, if living, must be ninety-six years old; Kelly may be living. If they are dead, I am the only survivor of that party of nine. One other incident I will relate which came near ending my life on the trip. We had, through the day, passed a large Indian camp of friendly Arapahoes. For our night camp we drove down near the Platte river, just above four other camps of four teams. That was my night to stand guard and at midnight I heard a great racket at the camp below us and soon their teams broke their fastenings and stampeded toward our teams. I got between them and ours and saved ours from doing like- wise. It was very dark and I could not discern any human agency in their hasty flight but it made our animals very uneasy and one mule kept up a constant snorting, loud and strong, and kept those not on watch wide awake, and Uncle Rob, who had crossed the plains to California and had some Indian experiences, insisted that the snorting mule smelt Indians who might be skulk- ing behind a clump of willows, or under the river bank, to steal something or stampede our animals. So I proposed to Larry McOlain that we reconnoitre, one go- ing along the river bank, the other around the willows and — 15— meet. Both of us had double barreled shot guns heavily loaded. He heard and saw me first and called. I did not answer and he then was ready to shoot, thinking I was an Indian but he called again and I heard him and saved my life. He trembled for hours after that, feeling how near he came to shooting me. There were no In- dians and our neighbors in the camp told us that sonie of them thought a reptile of some kind had got into their buffalo robes and they were shaking them out and stam- peded their own animals. CHAPTER III. On the 28th of June, thirty days from the time we 'f^ left Independence, we arrived in Denver, the great Eldo- i rado of the mines. It was a wild, typical mining town? - though thirty or forty miles from any regular camp. \ Some were sluice mining up the Platte, some at Boulder, along Clear Creek and Balston Creek, but no regular camps like Central City, Black Hawk, Fairplay, Georgia Gulch, Breckenridge, French and Galena, Delaware Flats, and Nigger Gulch or Russelville, thirty-five miles up Oherry Creek where the first gold was found by Green Russel, his brothers and some friends from Georgia. They had passed over this country on their trip over- land to California, ten years before. Not being success- ful in California, they remembered the similarity of the countries and made up a party and came out in 1858. The gold up Cherry Creek was so fine that it could not be saved and Russelville was soon a deserted camp. Gambling in all its glory, was the principal occupa- \J tion when we came. Auctioneering was the next best thing. Everything that anyone (who did not know Just what he wanted) would be likely to bring in a wagon, was — 16— sold at auction. Blake Street was a perfect bedlam of voices. Street gamblers with strap games, three card monte, dice shaking, and band playing in gambling houses full of games of every device The bottom ground all along the Platte River and Cherry Creek was covered with camps of tents and wagons. We camped where the Union Depot now stands, under some large cottonwood trees. We soon had a small store built, opened business and from the first day, did a good fair business. Our mail came by express, stage line, run by Majors Russell and Waddell, a large freighting firm from Lex- ington, Mo. Our letters cost us twenty-five cents each in cash. Two rows of people nearly a block long formed to take their turn to ask for a letter and could not ask for but one person at a time, and must go to the back end of the line and come up for every name called for, and, if they could be insulted with mean questions of how they spelled their names, etc., one John Filmore would surely do it. He seemed to take delight in it. In after years he became quite a speculator in Denver real estate, as he had the use of Uncle Sam's money, being quarter master for this military district. During a heavy wind storm he became excited and burst a blood vessel and died very suddenly. The estate was large but the government demanded reimbursement for the money he had used in its purchase. During the summer and fall of 1860, the desperadoes, of which there many, got to shooting people and a regular band of robbers was organized under a lawyer by the name of Ford, and matters got so rank that a Vigilance Committee was formed to check their high handed work, and hanging was made the order of the day or night. - -17— Ford thought things might be complicated for him and attempted to take leave of absence, hired a man to take him out twenty miles on the coach road going East and waited for the stage to come, had his fare paid and seat secured, boarded the coach but had gone only a few miles when some men on horse back halted the coach and called for Ford to step out, which he did, no doubt with fearful expectations of what was in store for him. They ordered the driver to go on and not stop and he obeyed with alacrity. That was the last ever seen of Ford by any one outside of the committee. His personal effects, money, watch and pistol were sent to his wife- Young James Gordon was tried and hung, by this committee, for killing an inoffensive German who hap- pened to come in his way while on a wild spree. One James Steel and Carl Wood were blood thirsty and, while in a drunken orgie, fired into the Rocky Mountain Kews office, located then on HoUiday (now Market) and 14th Sts. Steel got a return shot from the office which wounded him in one arm. He was on horse back and went down the creek bed to get out of range of their shots. Wood rode up the Platte. Steel took a circuit and came up 16th to Blake St. Here he was met by a number of men in search of him. Two were on horseback, with double barreled guns. When some one shouted, "Here he is," one of the men on horseback turned and shot Steel. The horse made a plunge and Steel fell a dead man. The writer was an eye witness to this. Thomas Pollock did the shooting. Carl Wood returned and in a few days was called out of his cabin by a crowd and they were making good time for some cottonwood trees about the place where the 16th St. viaduct commences at Wazee St. But they were — 18 — halted at 16th and Blake Sts. by old Major Bradford, who was well acquainted with Wood's father, a fine man and a district judge in Lexington, Mo. Bradford and Dr. McDowell plead to save the young scamp's life and suc- ceeded. He was tried and sentenced to banishment from the country. He went south, joined the rebel army and has become a steady, good citizen, travels for some large house in St. Louis, but has never come to Denver to make sales. In the fall of 1860, people who had no settled business here, began to take the road back East. The writer was expected to go with the stream turned homeward, but to their great surprise, he refused to be one of them. "Why will you stay here and starve and freeze to death?" some said. I said, "Here is where I will stay, live or die." Not long after Mr. Landis, with whom I came, turned over to me the remainder of his stock of saddlery and some provisions and told me to do the best I could to meet expenses until he came back the next year, and I did fairly well, became an expert cook and always washed my own dishes after eating, departing from the usual bachelor habit of letting them go till they got so foul that tliey could stand it no longer. The spring and summer of 1861 were fearfully dull. The placer mines were not paying and the lead mines about Central City had struck a cap rock that no one had gone through to know how thick it was or whether they would find the pay vein or not after they did go through. Matters looked very doubtful for all classes of people. Some were in a desperate dilemma. Living was high and the hauling of all that we had six hundred miles by team added greatly to its cost. All depended upon the mines and the mines were flat as a pancake. - 19 - Actual war had commenced in the East and our lead- ing merchants saw their chance of raising and outfitting a regiment of volunteers, without orders from Uncle 8am and took chances of his endorsing their movement. William Gilpin was governor by appointment and he lent his aid in this move and vouchers were issued for all supplies furnished by the merchants and the recruiting commenced and many a tramp got his empty stomach iilled and a place to sleep, on the ragged edge of hope, far from his home and friends. Camp Weld was established about where the Lake- wood road crosses the Platte. These valiant soldiers had not been recognized by the government and they had no uniforms, and not very good supplies of any kind. So they made a raid on a Jew Urm on what was then Ferry St. (now 10th St.) and they receipted for all they took. Whether they ever got their pay I am not aware. They wanted some leather belts, and called on me as Mr. Landis' agent to furnish them for vouchers. This I refused to do by the order of Mr. Landis who said he had all the vouchers he could stand. To carry out this refusal on my part caused them to make a raid on our place and take what they wanted at night. Myself and a boy were repairing harness for the transpoi'tation company that was hauling their supplies when one hundred men entered the store, two with drawn pistols. It looked rather formidable for one man and a boy to meet them. Their colonel, a dead beat, by the name of Slough, had made a debt of |35.00 with Mr. Landis, which he gave me strict orders to collect if possible, and I went after him with a business intent and it made him mad, and he talked and I talked back in no uncertain — 20— way and he paid me to stop publicity which I threatened him with. He paid me in gold dust which I had not emptied out of the blower when in came this mob and tilled the store. Protesting against so many men to' handle one man and a boy the leaders gave orders for them to go out. They had stolen the gold dust and several other valuable articles which 1 could not detect among such a mob. I took some articles away from them which I saw them take. They searched the store for belts and leather and could not find what they wanted so took a lot of girth webbing, in all amounting to ^35.00 and gave me a receipt, which I demanded. This with what they stole amounted to near $100. Of this Mr. Landis never recovered a cent. The puny excuse was that he lived in Missouri and was a sympathizer with the 8outh. Some scamp put that much in his own pocket and there were plenty of very loyal citizens there that were robbing the government hand over fist. This valiant Colonel Slough proved himself a coward and tyrant before they got two hundred miles from Denver and when he got near where they supposed they would meet the Texas troops under Gen. Sibley, the poltroon resigned and came back to Denver and begged Gen. Frank Marshall, who was coming home, to protect him from the people along the road over which he had gone with troops and he could treat them like dogs. He was appointed provost marshal in the District of Columbia, was after- ward killed at Santa Fe, N. M., by a IJ. S. army officer for some of his dirty work. J. M. Chivington, a Methodist preacher, was Slough's successor in command, a man of little better principles but not a coward though he did one of the most cowardly —21- acts that any human being ever did when he led the volunteers to kill Indians at Sand Creek. They were there with their families by his orders to await orders from Washington for a treaty. Men, squaws and helpless children were murdered under this man's orders, he claiming to carry the cross of Christ. No savages ever did more savage acts than these men that were named the pet lambs of Colorado. Such lambs must have had she-wolves for mothers. For this dastardly act Chivington was cashiered. He should have been hung. He and Slough may get their dues beyond the power of man to shield them from justice. They are tliere to meet what may come, which is only conjecture on our part. In 1863 Mr. Landis made Francis Gallup and my- self a proposition to buy him out, which we accepted, and the firm name was E. L. Gallatin press ca.n make or .unmake sentiment with such freedom ;that few people care to, place their feet I on; the threshold of publicity,, to be .kicked, and cuffed by •- some anxious reporter that wants to make a reputation for himself, regardless: of how miucjh he .may injure you in S!Dm6 thoughtless way. • The bubble of fame 'is very thin and brittle, and is more enduring after one is; dead, but does not always •escape rough' usage' theuu > DespoilerS' are always on the alert and their jealousyi piushes -them, to dig up the dead ■ for food to 'Satisfy that abnormal appetite that is burning within their depraved natures. This. has been done time and aorain, and will continue while time lasts. Mr. Dewey, must look well. to hi.s ;laureU.i£ he wishes —193— to retain them untarnished, and a presidential canvas would give a wider field for opposition to manufacture scandal that he never dreamed of, out of shadows of truth and if he still hankers for more honors, he may reach the end of his Joys in sorrow, as U. S. Grant did, as there is such a state of mind that nothing can satisfy, and Grant reached that point when he said that people had no gratitude. He was like a spoiled child that had been humored beyond all reason. Every honor had been heaped upon him, yet he did not respect the people that did it, enough to keep sober in their presence. As I have said before, man worship is repulsive to me, when it goes beyond a certain limit, and it is sense- less and wrong to make a fool of a man that might otherwise, be a good man. True greatness would not admit of sycophancy. Washington, Jefferson and some others of their type and time felt above this lick-spittle fawning that is so common in our country now. Only very recently, some American ladies visited Queen Vic- toria for the purpose of raising a hospital fund for English soldiers in South Africa, who are there to crush out the liberty loving people, the Boers, for no other cause but greed and tyranny. This is the sort of sycophantic mo- thers we now have in our vaunted, liberty loving America, where this same nation of tyrants tried twice to conquer our forefathers. Oh shame, on such fawning fools. This coterie of soft-heads felt highly honored that they were admitted into her majesty's great presence and, when returning, bowed themselves out backward. Damn- able fools that the fool-killer missed in his last round. Many years ago John Yan Buren, son of President Martin Yan Buren visited England and had the young Queen Yic's invitation to call at the palace and did so, —194— and when ushered into her angnst presence, she extended her hand for him to kiss and he clasped it with his, and gave her a square kiss in the mouth. This was the true American style that should always prevail, irrespective of any royal blood or custom of royalists, as they are no more and no better than other people and are very likely to be much worse in morals and all that constitutes good people. A free born, true American would never place himself in a position to require him to truckle for favors of such far-fetched mockery that has held sway among these titled gentlemen. It is time people should come to their senses and see that by nature we are all born free and equal, and one is only superior to another by their deeds. A king, a queen, a czar or emperor is of no superior blood, flesh and bones, than you or any other decent human being with all the toggery that you can hang on their bodies or all the titles you can write before or after their father's and mothei-'s names, and all may fall short of making them good or generous in the calls of life. Mr. Bryan in his plain apparel, who meets his fellow- man on common ground and shakes his hand, though it may be rough and horny from daily toil, is a far greater man than any king that holds his title by inheritance or the shiftincr of conditions that throws the mantle of honor on any undeserving shoulders, that they never earned. He is greater by a higher intelligence and sense of liuman rights, that mingles with his fellow-man, as does Mr- Bryan, with feelings of equality not known or felt by any potentate that ever wore regal wool or a silken scarf, and has his person covered with unearned badges of honor, and I sincerely hope to see Mr. Bryan made president of our nation, and if I do, will not have cause to change my opinion of him as a man, citizen or president. — 195— Thnrman, of Ohio, was my ideal for that high posi- tion, but, like Henry Clay of Kentucky, fate would not allow it. Some might say Destiny was against them, but availability had more to do with it. They were truly great men and statesmen, well equipped for the position. They were generals of a civil sort, that should outrank the mil- itary, as one is earned by a long term of intellectual tests, while the other is more often earned in a single act or accident that favors the victor, and thousands will share a part if properly credited, in the victory that served to make our man great, while the private dies in the ditch and the subordinate officers stand in the fore and the great general is at a distance, safe from harm, dispatching his orders. This is a trade, learnead as mechanics learn a trade. Some are good and skillful while others are indiff- erent. CHAPTER XXXL This great gathering of wonders, the Paris Exposition, is now open, but not in full blast, as the hordes from the way off countries, have not begun to move, and only the exhibitors' agents are on hand to arrange goods and ma- chinery and other preliminaries to perfect full order for the million eyes to see, later on. The genius of the French people, in forecasting big exhibitions, is well understood by the world, and the Chicago Exposition of 1893, will seem tame in comparison to the present one. They name thirty-iive wonders that are unusual in con- ception, namely: the sea beach, water pumped one hundred and twenty-five miles, a great telescope that brings the moon so close that it seems but one mile away, an active volcano, the palace of light, with walls of glass, studded with precious stones, a subteranean world, show- — 196— ing how the richest gold and silver mines look and are worked, a diamond worth two million, an enchanted house with everything upside down where people seem to walk like flies on the ceiling, moving sidewalks on which you can stand still and see the whole exposition, a statue of solid gold worth two hundred thousand dollars, the bot- tom of the ocean with a sunken ship and strange subma- rine life, the American corn palace with walls of corn stalks and tower of corn cobs, a monster wheel, twice the size of the Ferris wheel, the Eifel tower one thousand feet high, a wine cask forty-tive feet high, a dancing pavilion on its end; these are a few of those specially named won- ders of man's genius, which comes with the years of progress. In my short life time! have seen wonderful improve- ments, from the lumbering old stage coach to the palace car, on which you can have every comfort of a hotel, and fly along at the rate of a mile a minute, with safety; from the old single engine steamboat from which you could hear the escaping steam four hours before the boat came in sight to the double engine palace that will skim along in silence: from the old waterlogged ship to the great steamer of Ave thousand horse power engines that cross the ocean in a few days, when it formerly took weeks, and sometimes months, if they had calms, head winds, or storms; from the slow mail to telegraphy, from single to triple message, then telephones, so you can distinguish the voice of your friend, a thousand miles away and chat as though you were face to face, and the phonograph, that imitates any sound made into its recepter; from the old tallow dip candles, for light, along the line of cam- phine, to coal oil; from coal and water gas to electric liorht; from the old street omnibus to horse cars, and —197— from cable to electric and compressed air and soon we will have automobiles that will run independent of tracks or, wires along common roads, and stop on either side of the street for passengers, and the nuisance of horses to draw vehicles will die and be of the past in cities. They are a dangerous dirty nuisance, that will be good riddance in many respects, and when the old rumbling iron-tired wagon is relegated to the country or put away, that will stop the eteraal noise that is irritating in a crowded city, and I am glad to see the rubber tire innovations in many lif>*ht vehicles and carriages. A good substitute for rub- ber will soon be on the market, that need not be taken from trees in some far-away t?'opical climate in limited quantities. In some things the world moves rapidly; in others, oh, how slow! So many that would be optimistic in their sentiments and actions are held in obeyance to the pessi- mistic sentiment on certain subjects that have worn out its usefulness, if it ever had any, long years ago. I have . just read a Swiss gentleman's opinion of the Yankee as he terms all Americans (this is his mistake) and he is much surprised as to our honor as compared with the precon- ceived opinions formed of us which prevail in his own and other countries, that we are a rude set of people, cheats and scoundrels, and that one is hardly safe on public high- ways, or in the hands of our officials. In all this he was agreeably disappointed, as he says he found himself free to go where he pleased and was treated kindly and civilly. If this was so evident to him in the North Eastern States, had he traveled to the far Western and Southern States, he would have had a great- er admiration for American urbane outspoken civility than he has expressed. —198— It is a noticeable fact that a cold shyness prevails the farther East one goes, traveling from the West. The peo- ple act cold and suspicious of strangers of their own nationality and gentility. You can hardly lead them into any conversation and they will answer a direct question with the fewest possible words. They seem locked up in their own affairs or are afraid of confidence men playing them. This is far different in the West. They have no pinched indifference about them. There is a healthy freedom in their looks and actions that betoken a hale fellow well met, ready to oblige you in any reasonable way, share their lunch, divide their beds, tobacco and cigars. They are not afraid of being taken in, feel able to take care of themselves if the stranger manifests any disposition to go beyond the line of demarcation of a gentleman. They are happy themselves and wish all others to share with them. The Southern gentleman is of a different style, full of hospitality and kindness, easy of approach, despises conventional customs and pinched-up meaness, glories in his family blood, is easy to offend and strong in his resent- ment of a wrong, and often goes to the extreme in retali- ation. This is one of his greatest faults, aside from his bluster and pride. He is a good companion and friend that you can rely on in most cases. This Sw^iss critic spoken of, hits some of our faults squarely and one of these he names, is our thirst for gold. He says this desire leads the investigator of us to think we are, as a class, dishonest. Another fault is our lack of moral courage to be outspoken about religion, especially so when we are in business that may be affected by our — 199— avowal of beliefs or disbeliefs that may antagonize pop- ular opinion. He says an atheist would say grace at the table in contradiction to his own opinions. This is hypocritical, if true, and I am inclined to believe it has many grains of truth in it, as I have experienced some such many times when I said, for one, I did not accept the Bible as an inspired book, that I did not know much or care much about it one way or the other, those that chose to believe in it were welcome to all they could get out of it. I have shocked men that had no ear marks of religion in their actions or life persuits, and never had. They were loose and not honorable or humanitarian and never thought of the golden rule as a compact between man and man, as necessary or obligatory on themselves. In our opinion there is no higher cast of religion than this rule teaches. It covers all the ground that leads to unselfishness and if we could unself ourselves, harmony and good will would exist between us and that would fit us for any condititon that an after-life would require. It would be a heaven on earth certainly as compared to anything known to man, as all history has told of strife and wars and there would never be war, only because of our selfishness. The money is the root, tree and branch of all evil acts. They are one in the bond that makes misery, and who can tell what it is all for, when all things tell us this world is but a fleeting show to man's delusion given, and that all we may gather about us is only bor- rowed from the storehouse of nature, while the lamp of life burns. When our light is turned out there is a scramble for what we have left behind and we are soon forgotten by the new stage managers who set the play to suit themselves, not respecting our wishes in matters they think do not concern us. —200— The unending generations come and go like the seasons, that cover the earth with verdure in the Spring to give beauty for a short time, then to be blasted and turned back to earth again by the frost of time, fulfilling the law of reproduction that nature forces upon all that live and die. All this must have a purpose that reaches beyond all that we can see or know here, and it resolves into the thought, if a man dies shall he live again? And how? And where? And for what purpose? Is it for his own pleasure and good, or for a higher aim than that which has crippled and deformed him here? If all this that individualizes us here is lost in transition, will it be for all eternity or shall it finally make a full rounded ego of all the links of a perfect chain of life? This is our nat- ural thought of this great mystery that veils our intellect. Soliloquizing about this that concerns us most when we are through here, we wonder if we are never to grad- uate and have something to say about our own destiny, or are we to be mere puppits in the hands of a master manipulator that moves us on and on, call it God, if you please, nature or force of nature, any pet name that is fitted to this wonderful cosmic of the universe and we the little toys that play our part and depart. As to onr coining, going or staying, it seems of little matter beyond our immediate selves, or families. The small speck of our entity is like a drop of water on the ocean's bosom. It makes but one little ripple and is dis- solved in the great body and becomes a part of the whole and some are of the opinion that we as spirits may be massed in the same way, but to our minds our own indi- viduality must never be lost or be interwoven so as to lose —201— our identification or personality, which, to the human mind, is our gift or inheritance that should never leave us. This may be bigotry on our part as in our ignorance of what the future might be, we are not capable of judg- ing from our standpoint whether we would be like a new born child in this and would be moulded to suit new conditions, and not care for that which we adhered to and enjoyed here. The new birth is often spoken of by dealers with the future, in which it is somewhat ambigu- ous as to meaning. Some say it is accepting religion that is necessary for a through ticket on their particular road to the Kingdom of Heaven where they speak of angels harps and gold paved streets that would meet a goldbug's ideal of Heaven, only the pavement would be in danger and he miglit form a trust on harps and angel wings. For our part we are willing to accept what comes, even if it is nonentity, as we came here without being con- sulted and have not fared badly. We are willing to accept the change, whatever it may be, and take chances on our chosen road for safety. If any change in opinion takes place after one has lived past three score and ten and two years, something very much stronger in evidence must come than ever has been presented, while younger and more susceptible opinions are things that cannot be bartered and changed, if they are founded on experience and are of any value and not substantially built on fanati- cism and superstition. The proof sheets of time make our own opinions and they become a part of us and we would be a blank sheet without them and nothing seems so flat and uninteresting as senility, without opinions or knowledge, a mere living machine that gathers no moss in the journey of life. The phonograph can hold great speeches on its parafine roller, —202— and can hold the record in little tiny markings for ages and repeat in exactness. Why should man, the maker, be less than the machine? The unfortunate idiot has our sympathy. It might have been our own fate. The once intelligent but now insane being causes more sympathy. What does the oft repeated saying of a ripened old age mean if one does not store up knowledge and have opinions. My old, revered friend, Mr. Alexander Majors, mentioned in the fore part of this sketch, and who has since passed away from us, in his eighty-fourth year, in Chicago, was a man of ripened years in the full sense of the term. When a young man and until sixty, he was a fervent religionist, so much so that he distributed Mis- sionary Bibles by the thousand to those he employed and at Sunday School he attended, where his large business took him, all over the West. But a change came over this enthusiast in religious matters. He became a free- thinker and was extremely liberal in all his views. He told me personally that he had found reason for this radical change and was glad that he had gotten his eyes open and nothing would cause him to retract. He was the same good man of former years, full of good cheer, always saying when passing a friend, that he never felt better in his life. His little book, "Seventy Years in the Far West," is very interesting and instructive and very truthful, and it is worth anyone's time to read it. Strange to say, Mr Majors never had any school education and when doing a large business, employing live thousand men, filling large contracts, he could only sign his name mechanically. Later on he learned to read, and a more interesting man to converse with, it was hard to find, using good language and having tine descriptive powers. He was a self made man who would forge to —203— the front and be respected by all men as he was honest, truthful and kind. He is another of that class of men that pioneered the West and founded towns and cities for the coming generations. They are passing away, one by one, having done their part, and will live in history. Peace and good will to them. CHAPTER XXXII. 1 must not forget to say something about the risk of mining and my blind nephew, William Redman. It is no uncommon item of news to see recorded in our daily press that some one has been blown up, or has fallen down a mine shaft, by the breaking of a rope or ladder on which they descend and ascend from their work. The handling of high explosives is never safe, yet miners become careless and often lose their lives or are maimed for life. The warming process of dynamite in warm water or in their hands, to soften it, is like risking life. Again they attempt to pick out an unlired shot which is in the way, which is very dangerous work, as the least jar may explode the death-dealing stuff. Sometimes a shot will linger so long without explod- ing that the miner feels sure it is dead and may get near it, under this belief, and lose his life, or be torn almost to pieces and live. This was the fate of my nephew. He lost both eyes and his face was tilled with little bits of stone, his nose split and left arm broken in a dozen places. He and his partner were doing what is termed assess- ment work on an unpatented claim. So much work must be done each year to hold the claim by law or it is in jeopardy and is liable to a reiiling. This claim was some distance from other mining camps and difficult to reach —204— in the rugged mountain side, not far from a precipice, and when the poor man found he could not see he begged his partner to put him out of his misery, and while his part- ner had gone for help to carry him down from this pre- cipitious place, he tried to crawl over the steepest place so he might end his life but, in his confusion, could not find it. The help came and with great difficulty they got him to Alma,- ir'ark County, Colorado. There a physician did the best he knew, in dressing his many wounds. His cousin, T. E. Meanea, of Denver, on the call of a telegram, went immediately after him and brought him to his home on Platte St. and called a German surgeon of some renown, but it was a failure as no poor man suffered more from not having a skilled surgeon, than he, and he might have lost his life, only this miserable pretender got thrown from his horse and so crippled himself that he could not tend him and sent his partner, a worse quack if ible, than himself. This caused a change of doctors and they condemned the treatment he had received and said blood poisoning had taken place and that the end was not far. But in their great wisdom, they consulted and determined to amputate his broken arm to save his life. We all pro- tested against this move and he got well in spite of five butchers that bandaged too tight and gave poison that would have killed any but one with an iron constitution. That arm and hand have been of much service to him in his darkened life. Outside of the doctors, no one could have had better or more careful nursing than he had from his cousin, brothers, aunt and cousin's wife. When he got 80 he could travel he went to his father's home in Mar- shall, Missouri, and after a time, found a young lady that was willing to make many sacrifices to marry him in —205— his sad condition, and to them was born a son who is now nine years old and a great comfort to his parents and the home is made more cheerful by his young, bright life, that entered in where it is much needed. Mr. Redman was a very ambitious young man when this great calamity came upon him to darken his life. Though totally blind and a cripple, his mind was active and he still hoped to gain from his mine near Alma, known as the Champion, a competency that would give him the comforts of life, and not having means to develop it, he formed a company and sold stock which gave him con- siderable cash, and the mine was leased and is now being worked to some advantage to all concerned, and may in time prove a valuable mine as it has all the indications to make it one. On the basis of his prospects he got married and built a home in Marshall. He had considerable money due him from parties in and about Alma, and had some cash loaned to an old friend of his father and the family, but not secured, only by note, and this old friend failed and never made an effort to save this helpless man, and has ignored the debt of fifteen hundred dollars entirely, and others took advantage of his situation to defraud him. This shows plainly to the world that some people are masquerading under the guise of honesty until an oppor- tunity comes to show their real character. These are the people who, when in distress themselves, cry aloud for help and find great fault with all who do not come to their aid. If the X-rays could be made strong enough to penetrate the grey matter that makes a man a rogue, and have him branded by order of his gov- ernment, it would be of great benefit to those who are honest and willing to earn all they get. —206— The honest man is taxed in every conceivable way to guard himself against the rogues, courts, juries, sheriff's police, jails, penitentiaries, safes, etc., and his home is invaded. Nothintr is safe from the intrusion of this wolf o in sheep's clothing. The little paper, started by the members of the Den- ver Club, in relation to colony matters, has out its second issue, and matter for the third issue, as the first stirred up the whole nest of hornets to say something in the last "Altrurian," that needs the attention of "Equality," to tell them of their short-comings, and if they retaliated in the first issue, the second one will set them wild as it is full of facts and figures, taken from their own reports of their great business effort, which they cannot explain by any juggling, such as has been swallowed by some and overlooked by others in the past. Mr. Gibbs attempts to lay the fault on the printers but that will not go, as we have his written report, which corresponds to the one published in the colony organ, and no expert has been able to tell from his figures what he means, yet this distant correspondent living in Brooklyn, N. Y., extols this management to the skies, and finds fault with what I wrote him three years ago, about the progress of things as they then were reported to me. I could only give him what I had and gave no more nor less. • At that time they were making good headway with the sort of ditch they had decided to build but by the ad- vice of some one more experienced in the weight and pressure of water, they decided to change to a more solid and enduring plan that counted for much more labor than the first projector had thought of. Now, three years —207— later, a wild-headed Johnny Englishman takes me to task for this report to him, while he has been reading the col- ony paper from the beginning of his investigation to this time, to get colony information. Such foolish vaporings should not be noticed by me, but as this book will contain more colony data than will be put in print by anyone else, I wanted to set myself right, before those who are interested. All the old guards who do not know just where they stand are hesitating, while the Denver contingent have come to the front, and caused them to chatter like parrots and monkeys to counteract facts. "Just what we wanted," said one. Let the philoso- phers tell their own tale. If they swear a horse is sixteen feet high, instead of sixteen hands, all right. It will only make them that much more ridiculous in what they attempt to make the stockholder believe, and may set some of them to thinking and finally, to acting. We have no object but to save the colony from final collapse and the loss of one of the best opportunities ever pre- sented to the poor people. CHAPTER XXXIIT. Looking backward to youth, within the past few days I have met a lady acquaintance of my youthful days. She married at the age of sixteen and left St. Louis, for Fairfield, Iowa, soon after and we have never met until now. Fifty-one years have passed over our heads in that interval, and we are both well and cheerful as in youth. Both have had our sad experiences and our pleasures. Both have seen, one by one, our relatives and friends pass away until we stand as lonely as an old oak tree bereft of -208— its limbs, standing alone as landmarks of onr generation which shared our joys, fifty- one years ago. To some this might seem a sad thought, but to me it is all right. Being inevitable it must be all right, or nature would not so decree it. . Henrietta Fleishman, now Mrs Cole, was a handsome, vivacious, young girl, full of hope and joy, that made her company very fascinating for young men of my age. Her mother was a widow left to care for a mother, herself and three children, James, Sublect and Henrietta, the middle one. Time and death scattered them as the Autumn leaves are scatted after a chilling frost comes, and to-day we meet to talk over those that were friends and compan- ions of the long past, to us who count the days, months and years, in our calendar of life, that is slipping by so silently, yet so steadily. In youth we were impatient to reach maturity. After we pass the meridian and get on the down grade, time goes too fast and we become alarmed at our velocity. We watch others of our age, as time marks appear. These mile posts are plain, as each decade is counted. The once erect, elastic form begins to stoop, and we lower the head, the step becomes more uncertain and finally stiff and clumsy until the cane is a constant companion and aid. The muscles of the face get too flabby to hold the flesh in place. The once brilliant, full eye loses its charm and almost refuses to act as it did in youth. If we did not get used to ourselves as we go along, we would need some one to introduce us to ourselves, and as strange as it seems, when we look at our pictures taken in youth, we have a sensation of how green we must have looked and do not feel so bad about the marks that have transformed every feature from one extreme to the other. —209— and we think we are not such homely creatures after all. if the house in which we live is sonnewhat weather beaten, Pride lives within and holds the citadel as of yore. Henrietta holds her own very well. Old Father Time has dealt kindly with her, giving her good health, a cheerful and happy disposition and plenty of flesh to round up with, and push away the intruding wrinkles that are modest little crow feet at first, but deepen so on lean faces like mine, as to resemble a sweet apple that had lingered on the tree all winter and had frozen and thawed out a number of times, brown and drawn up with wrinkles. My only consolation is that I am not an old dandy, so slick and smooth that a fly could not find a resting place on my person. Such old chaps are too precise to have any comfort themselves or allow anyone else to enjoy life and are generally so stiff and opinionated that they look with indifference on lesser lights that may come within their august personal range, making themselves more disagreeable than young fools. A stuffy, puffy, nervous old man or woman is so cranky that one must laugh low or only smile, in his or her presence. Such a one is a nuisance and is a fit subject for the embalmer. When a boy, I resolved if I lived to old age there would be one old man that would not be crusty and chilly to everything about him, and now at the age of seventy-two, I can enjoy the company of old, young or middle age as well as I ever did in my life, and can enter into fun and joke better than ever before, as my age gives me freedom that I could not enjoy before and I hope this will continue to the end of my human life. —210— I am glad to see my old friend, Mrs. Cole, so jolly and up-to-date in all her views about life. There is little left for us to live for if we get soured in old age. Intel- ligence and cheerfulness are our only attractive features. The younger day blush has gone. We are looked upon as back numbers that the dust of time has settled upon. Some are thoughtful of us, while others have no respect for gray hairs or a trembling step and let us shift for ourselves. The last named will make the most pitiful cry for help when their time comes to sip from the cup that is being prepared for them. Then only, will they realize. -Fortunately for myself, I have not needed sympathy or help on account of age or anything of that nature. I have all my faculties as acute and vigorous as at any time in my life and hope to retain them, but may not. No one can tell what may come in a day or moment. Per- sonal independence as far as being able to help ourselves and have our opinions untrammeled morally, religiously or politically, is a great boon. One that must speak what he believes under his breath, as in secret, is not a free person. He is a slave to other people's opinions. I never wish to offend anyone with what I believe or disbelieve. That is not my intent or desire at any time, but I am so plain spoken about false notions that prevail, when all should see them as they would the noon day sun, that I am perhaps more emphatic in my expressions than I should be, but i have very little policy in my composi- tion and what 1 think is not hidden or cloaked, from fear, yet no one has more tender consideration for good people than myself, especially those that have all the sorrows that they can bear, from sickness or unavoidable misfor- tune. Those in health and affluence can care for themselves —211— and do not need sympathy and I am not drawn to them. An innocent old lady, Grandma Crabtree, was laid away yesterday (that is, her aged body was) at Riverside Cemetery, by the side of her two little grandchildren, Ella and Jennie Gallatin, who passed away some years ago. They were my son's and her daughter's children and had their lives been spared, would have been young ladies of seventeen and nineteen years of age. This kind, charitable old lady was born in England, eighty years ago, lacking a few days. Her birth was not in luxury or in hope of a crown or any high honor from the Queen's hand, but to labor in a factory and be satis- fied with an humble life and what pleasures might come through her family and friends. Her amiable disposition always brought friends and admirers and many tears were shed by those who saw her placid face and snow white hair for the last time, May 6th, 1900, The vacant chair at the little home, at my son's, whose roof has been her welcome shelter for many years, while their joys were her joys, their sorrow her sorrow. The care of the children and their safety from harm was her constant thought, to the last moment of her life. No one could have more devotion and solicitude than she manifested toward Lida, Albert and Joseph, but they, as children, do not fully realize what has gone from them in warm and enduring affection that came from a true heart. Her dutiful daughter, Anna, is the one that will feel more deeply than anyone of the household. Their mutual feel- ings and interests of long standing had united them in a closer bond of relationship than blood alone could make, but the time of parting was long deferred by Father Time. His call is never quite welcome while the weary body struggles and we can see the light still burning and feel —212— that it may continue. Hope lingers in the citadel of onr thoughts, but when the time cord is cut and the light goes out and darkness enters in, to the untutored mind all is gloom. Poor old grandma will find her place among those who have gone before and take up her new lamp of life that will reveal to her more than she ev^er dreamed of in this life, that has been cramped by the duties she had to fill. We should be glad that she does not have to suffer with a worn out body longer. Let her take on new conditions and prepare a place for those she loved, that must follow her, as certainly, as the leaves come and go with the seasons. Death is as natural as birth and just as necessary in the economy of nature. The early teaching of the churches has made death a great chasm of uncertainty. If you did not follow their dogmatic road you would surely go wrong, but since peo- ple read and think for themselves, they can reason out that much was founded on man's superstition and igno- rance, and death does not seem so black. Now they bring flowers and do many things that would have been considered sacrilegious and they would have been punished with some severe punishment. The mourning garb is gradually dis- appearing, and in time all these old customs of sadness will be of the past when death is better understood. CHAPTER XXXIY. I know of no better ending for my sketch than a short history of Billy Gallatin, as we called him. He was an Indian pony and was captured from the chief of the Cheyennes, Tall Bull, by the Fifth U. S. Regiment in Wyoming, in the year 1868 or 1869. It was quite a battle and the Indians were badly routed. Lieutenant —213— Mason made the capture of the Chiefs race horse and Billy and brought them to Fort Russell, near the city of Cheyenne, and won several races with the horse, got into some trouble and was killed in some dispute over the race. He tried to make a race with the pony and offered to place one thousand dollars that Billy could beat any pony in Colorado or Wyoming, on a running race, but could not find anyone to take up his offer, so he ran him on time and won a considerable sum on him. After Mason's death, Billy went into the hands of a Mr. Gline, a liveryman of Cheyenne, and Gline was indebted to me so I took Billy to secure myself. I found him to be the best riding animal I had ever rode and he had all the gaits of a Kentucky trained horse. I had no use for a horse or pony and sold him to Mr. Whitcome, a cattle raiser, near Greeley. I then concluded to return to Denver to live and bought a home on Capitol Hill, some distance from my place of business. I needed a horse or pony and looked for something to please me but after two month's effort, could find nothing, so I wrote to Mr. Whitcome to see if he would sell Billy back to me and he said : "I do not wish to part with him. He is the best piece of horse, flesh I ever saw, and I own many horses." I finally prevailed on him to sell him back to me, and he sent him to me. He was thin and my partner said: "Is that the wonderful pony you have described?" I said it was, and that he was all I said for him. He seemed to know everything you said to him and acted more like a human companion than an animal. He was made like a deer and carried his tail as though he were proud of it. He was clean in his habits, always ready to —214— greet me in his way, but if a stranger wanted to ride him, he would try to bluff him with every sign of disapproval, feet, head and ears, but not viciously. One word from me settled it. He seemed to say ''All Eight" by his acquiescence. When leading him he would have his head even with mine, never lagging behind, as other horses do. While in the mountains I wanted to cross a stream which was two feet deep and lead him, while I walked a log, not suspecting that he could or would follow on the log, which he did like a goat. in this connection I will say that I dream of this pony at intervals, ever since 1 lost him twenty-four years ago. I have owned some twenty horses in my life, but never dreamed of any but him. He seems as real as life and I cannot help but believe that all animals live again in a future state. Is it reasonable that a faithful, intel- ligent horse which does his full duty even more fully than man, until he falls dead, has no right to continuity, while man, who is tricky and unfaithful, may continue to live, because he is man? Tliis does not appear of great wis- dom and to my mind, the animal in many kinds, is far superior to the lower grade of humanity, that grovels in the vilest of vile habits. Nothing can sink so low as man, or become so repul- sive, and even educated men too, whom I have in mind, that were full of vermin and befouled themselves so that they could not be tolerated in the house. No other brute if given a chance, would fall so far below his fellows, as man, in a thousand ways. Then why should he be enti- tled to the kingdom and a harp and heaven? This is the final page and I wish all my friends that may scan what I have written, may overlook my short- —215— comings as a man and fellow traveler through this world, as I did not make myself or my thoughts. Through the drift of things I came into being, as any of you did, and I shall pass out in the same way. From whence I came or whither I shall go, is not of man but of nature, and nature knows its business. So farewell, my friends. Yours Respectfully, E. L. GALLATIN. Denver, May 10th, 1900. ^bbtj^ A3> /90V % ; f ^ \