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A MONTH WITH THE MUSES, 
 COXjOZR-^TDO 
 
 Tales and Legends 
 
 OF THE EARLIER DAYS, 
 
 — AND — 
 
 Some Fugitive Rhyming J^ines, 
 
 — BY — 
 
 T. 0. BIGNEY, A OOLOEADAIf. 
 
 Written, Printed and Published in Colorado. 
 
 PUEBLO, COL. : 
 PUBLISHED BY T. O. BIGNEY, 
 
 1875^ 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by T. O. Bigney, in 
 the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 
 (»»^-- 
 
 Press of IVm. N. Byers, Denver, Colo. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Title. ' Date of IVritln}, 
 
 A Tale of Black Hawk in "59" — How a wife 
 
 was won — (A Miner's Story.) March, 1S73 
 
 A Tale of the Indian Massacre at Pueblo 
 
 IN "54" — (A Ranchman's Story.) Alarch, 187s 
 
 'J'he "People's Court", — A Tale of Quartz 
 
 Hill in " Fifty-Nine," Alarch, 1873 
 
 An Eastern Western Tale — (Stage Driver's 
 
 Story.) . . . . : March, 1873 
 
 A Legend of the RocKt> Mountains, — Love 
 
 and the Precious Metals March, [873 
 
 The First Baby Born on the Bar, — A Breck- 
 
 enridge Tale of "59" — (A Minei's Story.) . March, 1873 
 
 A Lover's Leap — A Legend of the Cucharas Val- 
 ley and Sangre de Christo Range - March, 
 
 "Fight It Out" ''. Marcli, 
 
 Looking Over March, 
 
 Colorado State March, 
 
 Lines Suggested by the Sudden Death of 
 
 Freddie, — a nephew aged about four years, Feb' y, 1873 
 The "Dead-Beat's" Dream, — Local, — Leav- 
 enworth, f8bq 
 
 Out in THE Night 1871 
 
 To Nettie 1871 
 
 An Acrostic, — Ale.xandria, La 1837 
 
 The Natal Star, ^873 
 
 Lines, . 1872 
 
 Little Allie, 1873 
 
 Amnesty 1872 
 
 An Indian Legend of Middle Park, — Ded- 
 icated to Wm. N. By ers, Esq., May, 1873 
 
 The Centennial State to Columbia ... May, 1873 
 
 The Prospector's Dream 1870 
 
 1873 ■ ■ 
 
 ■ 84 
 
 1873 ■ ■ 
 
 90 
 
 1873 - ■ 
 
 94 
 
 1873 ■ ■ 
 
 • 96 
 
 Faze. 
 
 19 
 
 35 
 
 &4 
 
 73 
 
 90 
 
 100 
 104 
 107 
 109 
 no 
 III 
 112 
 114 
 
 115 
 123 
 127 
 
DEDICA TION. 
 
 I, an humble, but earnest and ardent, lover and friend of Colo- 
 rado, do most respectfully dedicate these simple Colorado lays to 
 
 The Honorable George M. Chilcott, 
 Of Pueblo, 
 a powerful, influential, energetic and earnest lover and friend of 
 the nevi^ State, from the earliest Territorial days to the present 
 time. By efficient, honest and honorable public services for years 
 in various highly important legislative positions, and by innumer- 
 able benevolent and humane private acts and deeds, Mr. Chilcott 
 has won the confidence and true respect of the people of Colo- 
 rado, and I know his name is written in endearing characters on 
 the fairest tablets of the hearts and homes of many of her best 
 citizens. In view of this charming record I transcribe his name 
 on this humble page as a charm to forbid failure, and to secure 
 that which is so dear to all attempting authorship — success — the 
 blissful caress of that capricious but very fascinating being, the 
 
 PUBLIC. 
 
 T. O. BIGNEY. 
 
 Pueblo, April 2^ iS^S- 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 A TALE OF BLACK HAWK IN " 59," 
 
 HOW A WIFE WAS WON. 
 
 [A Miner'' s Story.') 
 
 I rode in a car, on the narrow-gauge, 
 
 Through Clear Creek Canon, deep and wild, 
 One day about three years ago. 
 
 When, as the toiling train defiled 
 From the deepest gorge of this grand ravine, 
 
 Near the northern fork of the sparkling stream, 
 A stranger, bearded, bronzed and old. 
 
 But still, without a time-worn seam 
 On cheek or brow, and in his eyes 
 
 The latent, smouldering, ardent fires. 
 That speak the man of passion deep, 
 
 And wild, intense desires, 
 Approached my seat, and then sat near, 
 
 And soon began, in a friendly way, 
 To talk of the olden times in these hills, 
 
 When placer mining had its day. 
 
 7 
 
8 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 ** I was a miner here, in 'fifty-nine,' 
 
 And washed much gold from the sand 
 Of the northern fork of this same Clear Creek," 
 
 Said he, "but I understand 
 The pay ground there is all worked out; 
 
 But that quartz from the lodes in the hills 
 Still yield the precious, glittering dust 
 
 When crushed in stamping mills. 
 
 " I learn that a thriving town has been built 
 
 'Long the base of the Bobtail hill, 
 I'm on my way to this Black Hawk burg 
 
 To see if my cabin stands still ; 
 It stood in the gulch, not far from the point 
 
 Where the Bobtail lode was found. 
 I'd many a claim in these early days, 
 
 And plenty of rich pay ground. 
 But I abandoned all one fearful day 
 
 In the winter of 'fifty-nine'. 
 And, friend, if you care to listen awhile, 
 
 My tale of this day shall be thine. 
 I like your ways my stranger friend. 
 
 And I long to talk of that day. 
 Although the strangest of all my life, 
 
 So come with me, I pray." 
 
 The train had reached old Black Hawk town, 
 I was charmed by the stranger's pleasing mien, 
 
 And glad to hear a weird tale 
 
 Of some old tragic mining scene, 
 
 So I quickly said my time was his ; 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 And then up Gregory Gulch we strayed, 
 The old man wondering at the change 
 
 That time and toil around had made. 
 At length he paused — his gaze was fixed, — 
 
 We stood beside a cabin old ; 
 " This once was mine," he sadly said ; 
 
 And there the following tale was told : 
 
 *' 'Twas a lovely day in early Spring — 
 
 A radiant halo crowned the hills, 
 Of beauteous sunbeams, heavenly, bright ; 
 
 The melody of rills 
 Just freed from Winter's icen thrall. 
 
 Filled the shimmering air, 
 And warmth, and beauty, lingered round 
 
 The canon everywhere. 
 When I began to hew the logs, 
 
 From mountain pine trees tall. 
 From which I built this cabin old: — • 
 
 I readily recall 
 The glowing thoughts, the wealth of hope. 
 
 That thrilled my heart the while. 
 For all around gleamed golden sands, 
 
 And Fortune seemed to smile. 
 
 " The cabin soon was built, and then 
 My mining toil began : — 
 Ten thousand men now worked the gulch, 
 With hopeful pick and pan. 
 
 " I wrought with might, was cheered by luck, 
 And soon had 'piles' of 'dust' ; 
 
j^ TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 It seemed that Fortune's choicest gifts 
 Were in my pathway thrust ! 
 
 " I was not young in ^fifty-nine' ; 
 
 But time had left no scars, 
 Although I'd battled desperately 
 
 In life's severest wars ; 
 Hot, youthful blood, boiled no more, 
 
 In arteries or vein, 
 But still I had a youthful frame, 
 
 And hopeful heart and brain. 
 ^ ^ * * * * 
 
 " Well, one day, in summer time,— 
 A day remembered well — 
 The air was sweet as maiden's breath. 
 
 When Love's emotions swell 
 Her glowing bosom, white and pure 
 
 As infant's smiling dream; 
 The sun rays on the hills around 
 
 Shone like a 'brilliant's' gleam: 
 There came among us on the bar, 
 
 A youth of comely mien; 
 His form was slight, but lithe and firm, 
 His eyes blue-black and keen; 
 
 His close-cropped hair was dark as night, 
 His cheeks a ruddy brown. 
 
 And round and full, and guiltless still 
 Of manhood's earliest down. 
 
 - He wore a plainsman's buckskin suit, 
 A hat of coarsest felt, 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. \i 
 
 A pair of 'navies' and a knife 
 Were hanging at his belt. 
 
 '* Before the night closed in, he bought 
 
 A paying 'claim' of mine 
 And paid the cash. To 'wet' the trade 
 
 I ordered in the wine; 
 So, in this cabin down we sat 
 
 To this, and mountain fare; 
 I gave him of my couch that night 
 
 A liberal, welcome share. 
 
 *' He shared the shelter of this roof 
 And 'bach'd^ with me until 
 He built himself a cabin near 
 The base of Gregory Hill. 
 
 " He worked his 'claim' with much success, 
 And toiled with strength and skill; 
 In all he undertook he showed 
 A strong and steadfast will. 
 
 *' He was reserved, — a quiet youth, 
 
 Who seldom sought the crew 
 In bar-rooms and in gambling hells ; 
 
 But for sound reasons, true. 
 Many knew he would game high 
 
 At 'faro' and at 'pool'; 
 At 'poker,' too, he seemed to bet 
 
 By some unfailing rule. 
 
 " For he was never known to lose. 
 And he always freely gave 
 
12 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 \ An opponent, no matter who, 
 
 I The 'revenge' that he might crave. 
 
 " I, too, gamed high in 'fifty-nine'. 
 And played with nerve and skill ; 
 I had the gamester's greed and heart, 
 Besides an iron will. 
 
 5H :^ ^ H' * >H 
 
 " Well, Summer and Autumn passed away. 
 And stern old Winter, grim and hoar, 
 Chilled the flow in the mountain veins, 
 And stilled the torrent's roar. 
 
 " And stayed the search for virgin gold 
 
 In Clear Creek's sparkling sand. 
 
 And clothed the hills in pearly garbs 
 
 By the touch of his icen wand ! 
 
 *' The sturdy miners in Gregory Gulch 
 Passed many an idle day, 
 While the stout old King of frosts and storms 
 Ruled with relentless sway. 
 
 " Some whiled the hours with tale and song, 
 And more with the fiery draught 
 Which burns the brain to a blacken'd crisp. 
 When the throat has deeply quaffed ! 
 
 " And others steeped their souls in play — 
 Myself among this class — 
 Until each heart was cold and hard 
 As bars of frozen brass ! 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 13 
 
 *' This youth, too, often deeply played ; 
 This he could scarcely shun, 
 For many claimed a 'sweet revenge'. 
 And still he always won. 
 
 " I also played with wondrous luck, 
 And won much glittering 'dust' ; 
 So far, I had not 'chanced' this youth, 
 But now I felt I must 
 
 '* So, one bleak day, storms yelled around, 
 
 The air was blind with rage ! 
 I hailed him from this cabin door 
 
 And dared him to engage 
 With me in some light betting game, 
 
 To while the tedious day ; 
 He came beneath this cabin roof. 
 
 Then we began to play. 
 
 " The game was 'poker'. First the stakes 
 
 Were trifling sums of 'dust' ; 
 But I resolved to win the gold 
 
 That luck had blindly. thrust 
 In this boy's pockets, and his pouch. 
 
 So I increased the stakes : — 
 He met my 'brags' without demur, 
 
 And winning, cooly rakes 
 The glittering 'dust' toward his 'pile' 
 
 With firm and steady hand, 
 Then dealt the cards with quiet care, 
 
 And waited my command. 
 
14 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 " Again I waged a heavy stake — 
 A 'pile' of precious gold, — 
 Again he won ; for many hours 
 Our play was high, and bold ! 
 
 " And yet he won ; his youthful mien 
 Was calm as moonlit lake ; 
 And he always met, without demur, 
 My heaviest golden stake. 
 
 ** My nerves were stout, my will was firm ; 
 
 But passion's biting fires 
 Were burning in my feverish brain, 
 
 And wild and fierce desires 
 Were swaying nerve, and will, and mind ! 
 
 I could not curb their power ; 
 But still I played this desperate game,-— 
 
 A fortune lost each hour ! 
 
 " The coolness of this beardless boy 
 Increased my passions wild ; 
 His brain seemed cool, his nerves were firm, 
 His mien still calm and mild. 
 
 " At length I held four kings — a hand 
 The best in all the 'pack', 
 Except but one, so I felt sure 
 I'd win my treasure back. 
 
 " I curbed av/hile the passions' flame 
 Burning in my brain ; 
 Then from my pouch took all my gold, 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 15 
 
 And staked it, every grain, 
 Ten thousand dollars, all in 'dust' ! 
 
 It was a goodly 'pile'. 
 Meantime the youth raised up his cards, 
 
 As cool as ice the while, 
 And calmly said, 'I'll see that stake', — 
 
 ' Count down the gold,' I cry ; 
 ' Of course, and would ten thousand more ; 
 
 But I will not bet so high 
 When holding sure the winning hand !' 
 
 He then four aces spread 
 Upon the board ; 'this wins the stakes, 
 
 I think,' he coolly said ! 
 
 " And then the fires in my heart, 
 
 The flames within my brain. 
 Burned loose the bands that bound my nerves, 
 
 So will could not sustain 
 The fearful shock that passions gave 
 
 To manhood, and I fell 
 Beneath the blow, and then arose 
 
 A demon fresh from hell ! 
 
 " 'Touch not that gold, my precious youth,' 
 
 I madly, fiercely cried ! 
 'Why not? I've won; 'tis mine, I think' ; 
 
 He quietly replied. 
 'Because you are a thief!' I yelled, 
 
 ' And stole the winning hand ; 
 But still you shall not steal my gold 
 
 While I a live man stand ! ' 
 
i6 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 " His brown cheek paled, his bosom swelled ; 
 Signs of fear, thought I ; 
 But soon these passed, and then I saw 
 True courage in his eye ! 
 
 " 'You'll take that back — and I the stake, 
 
 I trust ; — you are too wise 
 To let a youngster, like myself, 
 
 Cheat before your eyes ; 
 Besides, you are not cool just now, 
 
 You talk quite wild and bold' ; 
 And, while he spoke, he reached a hand 
 
 To gather up the gold. 
 I then my navy pistol drew ! 
 
 His from the scabbard flashed ! 
 Together through the stifled air 
 
 Two deadly missiles crashed. 
 
 " He fell — sank down upon the floor. 
 Without a groan or cry ; 
 I was not hit, but boldly stood 
 With murder in my eye ! 
 
 " The sounds of shots soon drew a crowd : 
 
 One said the boy had swooned. 
 And knelt beside him, and began 
 
 To search for hurt or wound. 
 The woolen shirt he kindly drew 
 
 Back from the throbbing breast. 
 And 'neath this garb was 'mazed to find 
 
 A rich and silken vest. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 17 
 
 " With careful touch he drew this back, 
 Then, wildly gazed around, — 
 'A WOMAN here, by God' ! he cried, 
 * And with a deadly wound ! ' " 
 
 The stranger now seemed strongly moved, 
 
 And ceased the thrilling tale awhile, 
 And gazed around the cabin wall. 
 
 And then with curious smile 
 He said, "perhaps you'd care to know 
 
 The fate of the wounded girl 
 Whom we left bleeding on the floor, 
 
 Her brain in frenzy's whirl ! 
 I told you early in this tale 
 
 That on a fearful day 
 I left the gulch ; but did not say 
 
 I bore with me away 
 The bleeding, almost lifeless form 
 
 Of a woman, very fair. 
 Whom I had shot in a gaming quarrel ; 
 
 But this I now declare ! 
 
 " There was no surgeon in the gulch 
 
 This early, and to find 
 The care such fearful wound must have, 
 
 I quickly, in my mind, 
 Decided I would bear her down 
 
 To Denver, on the Platte ; 
 With twelve stout miners as my aids 
 
 I soon accomplished that. 
 
1 8 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 ** The surgeon's skill, her pure, young blood, 
 And Colorado air. 
 Soon healed the dangerous bullet wound 
 In her bosom pure and fair. 
 
 Meantime a wound, that would not heal. 
 
 Had festered in my heart, 
 Which I must bear, without complaint, 
 
 Until life may depart ! 
 
 " One day when she had grown quite well, 
 
 And very fair likewise, 
 She spoke of that last fearful game. 
 
 With passion in her eyes ! 
 She said, 'you never claimed 'revenge'. 
 
 And you know I ne'er refuse, 
 And will not now, I promise you, 
 
 So take it, if you choose.' 
 
 " I chose, and took the fair 'revenge', 
 And found it sweet, indeed ; 
 That miner proved as true a wife 
 As ever man could need ! 
 
 " There'd been storms in the life of each, we knew, 
 But we felt, no stain or shame, 
 And so agreed to bury the past 
 In the grave of our wooing game. 
 
 '^ But I could not resist the curious charm 
 That lured me, this summer day, 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 19 
 
 To come up here, as you see me now, 
 
 And kneel and deeply pray 
 That the sin of the passions, fierce and wild, 
 
 That burned in my heart that day, 
 Maybe washed with the tears I am shedding now, 
 
 For ever and ever away." 
 
 A TALE OF THE INDIAN MASSACRE AT PUEBLO, 
 
 IN 1854. 
 
 ( A Ranchman^ s Story.') 
 
 Pueblo, to-day, is pleasant and fair — 
 
 A city whose progress will fairly compare 
 
 With western cities everywhere : — 
 
 The vale of the Arkansas river so great, 
 
 Flowing grandly and swiftly through many a State, 
 
 Is the site of this city, — peaceful to-day, 
 
 'Though often the scene of bloodiest fray 
 
 In the earlier times, before the reigns 
 
 Of Peace and Progress beyond the ''plains". 
 
 And the old-time men of the Arkansas vale 
 
 Tell many a strange and thrilling tale 
 
 Of these earlier days, when trapping was done. 
 
 Before Pike's Peak gold hunting begun 
 
 And peopled the valleys and mountains around ; 
 
 The years when Indians claimed all the ground. 
 
 And questioned the right of "whites" who dare 
 
 Invade their boundaries anywhere. 
 
 (3) 
 
20 ' TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 There were wars, and murders, and bloody affrays 
 
 'Tween Indians and "whites" in these border days; 
 
 And the theme of this budget of simplest rhymes 
 
 Is one of these frays of the olden times: 
 
 This was a terrible, murderous fight, 
 
 'Tween the Utes and their foes, a Christmas night 
 
 In "fifty-four"; the scene of the fray 
 
 A border plaza, — Pueblo to-day, — 
 
 And a ranchman told this tale of blood 
 
 As he stood by this river's rippling flood : 
 
 THE ranchman's STORY. 
 
 Near a thousand miles from the "Rockies" bold, 
 
 (This river flowing by). 
 The Arkansas is a mighty stream 
 On which great steamers ply, — 
 
 Spacious structures, built for speed 
 To match the swiftest racing steed. 
 
 These gaudy, gorgeous, treacherous ships, 
 
 Before the rail king's sway. 
 Conveyed most travelers of the time 
 In a speedy, pleasant way. 
 
 Along each deep and trusty tide 
 
 That crossed this land so fair and wide. 
 
 'Bout a score of fleeting years agone, 
 
 This river, through the State 
 Which bears its name, bore on its breast. 
 In numbers very great. 
 
 These palaces by steam impelled, — 
 A power man alone has quelled. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 21 
 
 These gaudy ships were always manned 
 
 By bold and venturous crews, 
 Charmed by risks, and never known 
 To willingly refuse 
 
 A challenge fair to match their boat, 
 In speed, 'gainst any craft afloat. 
 
 And so a race of "steamers" swift 
 
 Was, in this earlier year, 
 Upon this river an event 
 Quite likely to appear. 
 
 With heavy stakes risked by each crew, 
 And often by the travelers, too. 
 
 In these, excitement, strange and fierce, 
 
 Would seize the brains of all. 
 And danger, in its wildest form, 
 Would not one heart appall : — 
 
 Danger from the seething steam, 
 And from the deep, relentless stream ! 
 
 One day from Little Rock "backed out" 
 
 The brilliant " Fairy Dell " ;— 
 I listened to her throbbing steam 
 
 And to her parting bell, < 
 
 With feelings deep, for she bore away 
 Friends loved well, this summer day. 
 
 These were a wedding party bright ; 
 
 Thie bride, a charming girl, 
 Rear'd carefully and tenderly, 
 
22 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 Away from Fashion's whirl, — 
 
 A beauteous, winning, loving maid. 
 In virtue's chastest garbs arrayed. 
 
 The bridegroom was a stout young man, 
 
 His heart was staunch and true, 
 And his love for the trusting, loving maid, 
 Was very strong, I knew; — 
 
 A passion deep — an ardent flame 
 Worthy of Love's most sacred name. 
 
 Adown the river's glowing tide 
 The steamer steamed along ; 
 The sable "hands" on the lower deck 
 Chanted a weird song. 
 
 And pleasure's fairest, sweetest song, 
 Thrilled two hearts thus borne along. 
 
 The wedding passed but an hour brief 
 
 Before the party sailed 
 For New Orleans, and the honey-moon; 
 'Twas just that joy prevailed 
 
 In the hearts of the wedded this fair hour, — 
 Love gratified, is a charming power. 
 
 And still adown the glowing tide 
 
 The steamer steamed along ; 
 The sable "hands" on the lower deck 
 Still sang their weird song, 
 
 Still pleasure's song in those hearts was 
 
 sung, 
 When the steamer's bell was keenly rung. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 23 
 
 'Twas a signal that a rival boat 
 
 Was flying down the stream, — 
 The "Flying Cloud" — her timbers thrilled 
 By furious force of steamx ; 
 
 And now the exciting cry — " A race !" 
 Sent heated blood to every face. 
 
 The captain stout of the "Fairy Dell" — 
 
 A daring, 'venturous man — 
 Stood on the hurricane deck of his boat 
 And skilfully did scan 
 
 The rival boat, and rushing tide 
 There flowing swiftly, deep and wide; 
 
 And then he signaled, — "Crowd on steam", 
 
 To the engineer below : — 
 Fierce, sudden throbs, of the engine's heart, 
 Its fire's burning glow. 
 
 Showed this sign was answered well 
 By the fiery heart of the "Fairy Dell". 
 
 The sun sank down with ominous glow ; 
 
 A night of gloom closed in ; 
 And still these fire and water fiends, — 
 Their shrieks a horrid din — 
 
 Raced on ; their engines' fiery glare 
 Piercing afar the startled air. 
 
 About one hundred sinful souls 
 Freighted the " Fairy Dell " ; 
 What strange emotions freighted these souls 
 
24 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 No mortal tongue could tell, 
 
 Though wild, intense and fierce desires 
 Burned in some hearts like the engines' fires ! 
 
 An hour passed since night closed in — 
 
 A wild, exciting hour, — 
 When the fiery heart of " Fairy Dell " 
 Crashed by some desperate power ; 
 
 Its throbbings ceased — that heart is broke 
 By the force of the steam fiend's wildest 
 stroke. 
 
 The horrid wail of this broken heart 
 
 Was a fearful, hellish sound : — 
 'Neath the force of that stroke the "Fairy Dell" 
 Sprang with a deadly bound 
 
 High in the stifling, seething air, 
 Then sank in a gulf of dark despair. 
 
 Up in this air and down in this gulf 
 
 Went ninety human souls ; 
 O'er these and the wreck of the ''Fairy Dell" 
 The treacherous river rolls. 
 
 Ten wretched lives were barely saved ; 
 'Mong these the bridegroom wildly raved. 
 
 He never knew how he escaped 
 
 With life this fearful night ; 
 For weeks his mind from this dread shock 
 Did not recover quite. 
 
 And all the time he searched the tide, 
 With ample aid, for the corse of his bride. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 25 
 
 But all in vain! the cruel flood 
 
 Would not give up the prize, — 
 And still it flowed on pleasantly, 
 In peaceful, gentle guise. 
 
 This loss from his life took every charm, 
 His grief was a blasting, lasting storm. 
 
 And soon toward the setting sun 
 
 A wanderer he strayed ; 
 But keeping always near the stream 
 Whose waters claimed this maid, — 
 His wife by every sacred right 
 Except that of the bridal night ! 
 
 Westward, along the Arkansas, 
 Toward the "Rockies" high 
 He wandered all the Autumn days ; 
 And, when Christmas was nigh. 
 He sought Pueblo's plaza fair, 
 Intending then to winter there. 
 
 So, as this festal night approached, 
 
 Of Christmas, "fifty-four", 
 He and a friend rode in the town 
 And at the "trading store" 
 
 Found entertainment for the night ; 
 All seemed secure and peaceful, quite. 
 
 'Twas known the Utes were hostile then, 
 
 That war bands roamed around 
 Ready to slay defenceless "whites", 
 
26 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 When any such were found, 
 
 But seldom did the fiends appear 
 Where any armed white men were near. 
 
 At the plaza were more than a score of men, 
 
 Women and children, too, 
 Mostly Mexicans from the south — 
 Catholics good and true ; 
 
 So there were festal scenes that night 
 And many an ancient, sacred rite. 
 
 No th6ught of danger marred these scenes — 
 
 No dread of savage foe ; 
 And so, at length, repose was sought ; 
 Each fire's watchful glow 
 
 Was darkened, and no guardian sound 
 Was heard throughout the plaza's ground. 
 
 The wanderer and his friend did seek, 
 
 Quite early, needed sleep. 
 And much before the "noon of night", 
 In slumber, calm and deep. 
 
 Reposed their souls ; still, in a dream. 
 The bridegroom search'd the passing stream. 
 
 Searched for the corse of the wedded maid — 
 
 A wild hope in his heart, — 
 In the dream he clasped her beauteous form : 
 Then wakened, with a start, 
 
 To hear despairing, dying cries, 
 And see the glare of fiendish eyes. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 27 
 
 The murderous shriek of deadly balls ; 
 The "whoop", most drear and wild, 
 Of a hundred murderous, fiendish Utes; 
 The screams of many a child. 
 
 And moans of women dying near, 
 Blent in one fearful wail of fear. 
 
 The fiends soon lighted fiery flames 
 
 Whose horrid, blasting glare 
 Revealed most desperate, bloody scenes 
 Around the plaza square ; 
 
 Scenes of massacres, and blood. 
 Now in pools, then in a flood. 
 
 The Mexicans fought desperately, 
 
 Though neither cool or skilled ; — 
 They were suprised, and still they fought 
 Until each man was killed. 
 
 The few old trappers at the post 
 Were brave enough to fight a host. 
 
 These fought with coolness, matchless skill ! 
 
 Against most desperate odds ; 
 With courage of that truest kind — 
 Inspired by the gods ; 
 
 Still all but three of these were slain, 
 While carnage held such fearful reign. 
 
 The wanderer and his trusted friend 
 
 Fought cooly side by side ; 
 Each had deep and dangerous wounds 
 
28 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 From which the crimson tide 
 
 Flowed freely, — still they did not fall, 
 Still sped the deadly rifle ball. 
 
 Their purpose was to gain the bank 
 
 Of the river flowing past, 
 And in the shade of shrubbery there 
 Escape the foe at last : 
 
 But hark ! a woman's piercing scream 
 
 Is heard near the bank of the rippling stream. 
 
 'Twas a cry for help, in pleading tones, 
 
 Which touched the wanderer's ear 
 With deepest interest, and his heart 
 With a thrill akin to fear; 
 
 Not for the foe — this he defied, — 
 
 But that cry recalled his dream and bride. 
 
 Again that cry, and on they sped; 
 
 Nothing could restrain 
 These men from rushing to the aid 
 (Not e'en wounds' keenest pain) 
 
 Of a woman threatened by the ills 
 Of torture, planned by fiendish wills. 
 
 And soon the fire's devouring flames — 
 
 A lurid, fitful light — 
 Revealed a woman, struggling near, 
 In most unequal fight, 
 
 With two wild, frightful Indian brutes;- — 
 Beastly, lecherous, murdering Utes ! 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS: 39 
 
 With speedy, certain, deadly aim, 
 
 Two rifle balls are sped; 
 Two hideous forms leap in the air, 
 Then strike the earth, stone dead! 
 
 The wanderer grasped the woman's form 
 And fled away from a leaden storm. 
 
 The bottom's sheltering grove is gained ; 
 
 Here darkness reigns around — 
 A welcome shade, to aid escape 
 'Till certain aid is found. 
 
 The rescued woman now had swooned, 
 But was free, thank God, from hurt or wound. 
 
 Not so the wanderer's faithful friend ; 
 
 One missile of the storm 
 Which bursted when he fled away, 
 Pierced his bosom warm. 
 
 Deep to the heart's true, loving core, 
 And all his pams in life were o'er. 
 
 No time to rescue fallen friend, 
 
 Nor to avenge his fall, * 
 
 For still the murderous fiends were near 
 And chance for life was small. 
 
 Not his alone — the woman died 
 If he sank 'neath this fearful tide. 
 
 But he was staunch and stout, I ween, 
 
 And the female form he held 
 Seemed wondrous precious to his heart, 
 
30 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 Tho' he had not beheld 
 
 Her face, e'en by the lurid light 
 That pierced the air this fatal night! 
 
 And she was lifeless still ; the swoon 
 
 Was lasting and profound. 
 Still with her in his sturdy arms, 
 Despite his bleeding wound, 
 
 With cautious steps he moved away, 
 Praying for help and the light of day. 
 
 And down the river's bank he moved 
 
 'Neath shade of shrub and tree. 
 He crossed the Ifountain, and at last 
 Felt safer and more free ; 
 
 And so, with water from this stream, 
 Dispelled the woman's swooning dream. 
 
 She breathed ! she lived ! and loved again — 
 
 Her God, her life, his heart; 
 For bending o'er her tenderly. 
 
 Acting a savior's part, 
 • Was he most loved, revered — her life; 
 
 She was his lost and rescued wife ! 
 
 She dare not utter word or cry, 
 
 But breathed his loving name ; 
 That whispered sound pierced his heart, 
 Like ray of passion's flame. 
 
 Unto its core. "She lives ! " he cries, 
 "My bride, my life's most precious prize!" 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 31 
 
 The direful sounds of murdering strife, 
 
 The glare of treacherous fires 
 Were all unheeded ; in this hour 
 Love's purest, sweet desires 
 
 Dispelled all thoughts but those of joy, 
 That, death alone^ could quite destroy. 
 
 And this was just ; a bridal night 
 
 Should overflow with joy, — 
 The brightest pleasures should attend, 
 
 And not a pain annoy. 1 
 
 And was not this a bridal night? 
 A joyous one? — though not o'er bright. 
 
 This night, so fraught with strange events, 
 
 Slowly passed away; 
 The foe departed with its shades, 
 And with the light of day 
 
 Aid and shelter soon were found — 
 
 His wounds of heart and flesh all bound. 
 
 Her wonderous story of escape 
 
 Was told, midst smiles and and tears. 
 To loving, thankful, blissful ears: — 
 A tale of harrowing fears — 
 
 Strangest rescue — desperate flight 
 
 From haunts most vile — a life's worst blight. 
 
 The night the " Fairy Dell " blew up, 
 
 A roving, warlike band 
 Of young Apache Indian braves 
 
32 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 Were near the river's strand 
 
 Attracted, by the flame and sound, 
 This lingered near, 'till she was found. 
 
 She cannot tell how from the boat 
 She reached the dreadful stream 
 From which the Indians rescued her ; — 
 Her life was but a dream, — 
 
 A fevered, sickening, frightful dream, 
 For days — without one hopeful gleam. 
 
 And when her mind was clear again, 
 
 Disease, and grief, and pain 
 Assailed her with most direful force, 
 Their tortures burned her brain — 
 
 And still she lived. — Meantime the band 
 Had reached its tribe, in a distant land. 
 
 She soon discovered this to be 
 
 New Mexico, and here 
 She cherished one sweet dream of hope 
 (Though all seemed hopeless, drear) 
 
 That HE still lived to love and save : — - 
 God was good ! and he was brave. 
 
 Months sped on — her health improved, 
 
 But illness fierce was feigned; 
 She knew her fate, with health restored, 
 (Unless she freedom gained) 
 
 She must a brutal chieftain wed: — 
 
 Her fate — the stake, or his marriage bed. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 33 
 
 The ruse of illness served her well: — ■ 
 
 One night, of gloom and storm, 
 Her savage guards released their care; 
 So she, without alarm. 
 
 Fled from the camp, out in the night; 
 The storm and darkness favoring flight. 
 
 Tortured by hunger, thirst and fear. 
 
 Three days she wandered on ; 
 At length she reached a Trading Post — 
 Freedom and life were won ! 
 
 The men at the Post were rude, but kind. 
 Relieved her wants and soothed her mind. 
 
 A freighting train from this far post — 
 
 A ponderous oxen train — 
 Soon northward moved; with this she came 
 To the Arkansas again; 
 
 With this she camped, this fitful night, — 
 With fear so dark and joy so bright. 
 
 I need not tell she suffered worlds — 
 
 From grief, disease and fear, — 
 The months passed with the savage tribe, 
 With but one hope to cheer. 
 
 And this a vague, uncertain dream; 
 Only one ray of a bright hope-beam. 
 
 But come down to my ranche some day 
 
 And she will tell you all 
 Her wonderous story of those times ; — 
 
34 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 I know she can recall 
 
 Each incident and thought to mind, 
 And she'll tell the story well, you'll find. 
 
 She's my wife, you see; since that night 
 
 Of carnage in this vale 
 We've lived along quite pleasantly, 
 (Have children stout and hale) 
 
 And always near the river here — 
 It fosters memories bright and dear. 
 
 Some maxims, very old and true, 
 This tale confirms, it seems: — 
 ^ ''All that's in danger is not lost!" 
 
 ''There's something true in dreams!" 
 
 " The search for what is lost should be 
 Near where the thing was lost," you see ; 
 
 And, " Never quite ^w^ up the ship," 
 
 How fierce so e'er the blast; 
 " Hope on, hope ever ! " " Fight it out," ; 
 You'll surely win at last; • 
 
 "A wife may be a maiden! " too, 
 "Be always staunch and always true!" 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 35 
 
 THE "PEOPLE'S COURT". 
 
 A TALE OF QUARTZ HILL IN " FIFTY-NINE" 
 
 Quartz Hill looks down on two fair "towns", 
 Now with smiles, and then with frowns ; — 
 Smiles, when the summer gladness brings, 
 And frowns, when winter fiercely flings 
 His icen garb of frosts and chills 
 O'er all, replete with shivering ills ; 
 And smiles, too, when its mines of gold 
 Yield bounteously to the miners bold ; 
 And frowns, when the cry of "cap" is made, 
 And naught but ores of the lowest grade 
 Are raised from shaft, or drift, or stope, 
 And the miner's yield is chiefly- — hope. 
 This hill is a stronghold, fully stored 
 With golden ore — a ponderous hoard : — 
 Wealth for a million 'neath the soil. 
 To be won by the sturdy sons of toil ; 
 And the sands of this hill, in the early day, 
 Were "washed" for "dust" and yielded ''pay", 
 And still a "color" will always be found 
 In each panful of its surface ground. 
 
 The towns along the base of the hill, 
 In the gulches near — which they fairly fill — 
 Are, Central— thrifty, wealthy and proud. 
 Although not beauteous, justly allowed 
 
36 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 A place in the ranks, so very fair, 
 
 Of first-class cities everywhere 
 
 Among the mountains, amidst the mines, 
 
 Where Colorado's bright sun shines ; 
 
 And then Nevada, with many mills. 
 
 Where the ''thud" of the falling "stamp" quite fills 
 
 The air with ponderous, crashing notes, — 
 
 The bass of the ore mills' metal throats, 
 
 Which grandly accords with the treble high 
 
 Of the whistling steam from the engines nigh! 
 
 And many a shaft-house, over mines 
 
 Down a thousand feet in the dark confines 
 
 Of rock-bound "lodes", filled with the quartz 
 
 Which to the hill its name imparts, — 
 
 Rich in gold and silver bright, 
 
 Very fair to the covetous sight. 
 
 But to the tale : The scene is laid 
 On the eastern slope of the hill, where the grade 
 Toward Spring Gulch gently inclines, 
 Then taken up by the placer mines. 
 The time was in Autumn, in "fifty-nine". 
 That year whose annals still brightly shine 
 With tales of adventure, wild and bold, 
 (Nine-tenths' of which are still untold) ; 
 That year when "Pike's Peak's" tempting star 
 First shone o'er the countries near and far 
 With golden radiance, wondrous bright. 
 Which dazzled strangely the hopeful sight 
 Of thousands on thousands of venturous men. 
 From many lands, who dream'd that when 
 They would reach the land beyond the "plains" 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 37 
 
 They could load their ''packs" with golden grains. 
 Such 'wildering dreams were not fulfilled; 
 Still, many a buckskin pouch was filled 
 With glittering "dust", in "fifty-nine" — 
 The yield of the gulch and the placer mine. 
 
 Among the thousands mining there 
 (Sluicing the ground with skill and care, 
 Working with "rocker", "pick", and "pan", 
 Adopting each measure, means, and plan 
 Known to miners for "saving" gold) 
 Was a man from the " States "; so reckless and bold 
 He was named by the miners, "Dare Devil Bill", 
 And shunned, because ready to quarrel and kill. 
 The years of his life were scarce twenty-eight ; 
 His form, like a pine tree, stately and straight, 
 And firm, and agile, — tendon and nerve 
 And muscles showing the sweep and the curve 
 That outline manly strength and grace ; 
 With perfect limbs and handsome face. 
 And bright gray eyes, and dark brown hair, — 
 In manly beauty few could compare 
 With "Dare Devil Bill"— reckless and bold, 
 Often with wildest passions controlled! 
 
 That fiendish foe of the human race 
 Which blackens the heart and robs the face 
 Of its fairest lines, had reached the hills, 
 And brought therein its basest ills ! — 
 The "Bottle Fiend" held revelries there 
 That poisoned the healthful mountain air 
 And crazed the brains of the sons of toil; 
 Besides, the gamesters treacherous coil 
 
38 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 'Twined round full many a manly soul 
 And gained o'er these complete control. 
 
 A willing victim Bill became 
 Of both these fiends, and the passion's flame 
 That burned with ardor his fevered brain — 
 Its fires, increased by these ills, did gain 
 A mastery, quite, o'er his mind and will, 
 And he became more desperate still ! 
 At length his hour of evil came: — 
 He engaged in a reckless gambling game 
 With a sportsman, famous far and near. 
 For his skill at cards and his lack of fear. 
 Scarce an hour pass'd before Bill had lost 
 His all of gold, but the winning cost 
 The "sport" his life, though cool and skilled 
 In the use of weapons, and well drilled , 
 
 In the art of taking human life 
 In deadly, desperate, personal strife : 
 Before he could draw his pistol, true, 
 " Dare Devil's " ball had pierced him through! 
 His nerve and skill counted as naught 
 'Gainst a brain with fiercest passions fraught, 
 And arms of wonderous strength, combined 
 With motion swift as a gleam of the mind, 
 And steady and firm as the rod of steel 
 Which binds wild steam to the engine wheel. 
 
 And now a human life he had ta'en, 
 And his was forfeit for that of the slain; 
 And speedily the debt must be paid, 
 For the laws of the " People's Court" were obeyed 
 Without such delays, as too often retard 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 39 
 
 The rulings of legal courts, which guard 
 
 The lives and chattels of the people, where 
 
 The laws are framed by statesmen rare; 
 
 And in the mines, in the Pike's Peak land 
 
 In "fifty-nine," the laws were planned 
 
 By the miners, and so nicely framed 
 
 That the "People" got all rights they claimed. 
 
 Can this be always truthfully said 
 
 Of the laws by the nation's statesmen made ? 
 
 And the courts which enforced these wholesome 
 
 laws. 
 As free as any from wrong or flaws? 
 Were the "People's Courts" where the judge was 
 
 named 
 By the powers by which the laws were framed ; 
 And in these, the ermine was seldom soiled, 
 Or the ends of justice basely foiled. 
 This ermine, though not of the finest grade, 
 Was a fur whose color would not fade; 
 E'en the glitter of gold would never blur 
 The perfect white of this mountain fur. 
 
 No escape was attempted by " Dare Devil Bill," 
 He had broken the law, and bowed to its will 
 Without complaint ; nor did he pray 
 For a single day or an hour's delay. 
 And so the miners, in gulch and on hill, 
 Responded at once to the sheriff's will, 
 And a session of court was held in an hour; 
 A just tribunal, with life-taking power! 
 The room of the court was arched o'er head 
 By a sky, in which the glorious red 
 
40 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 Of an autumn's sunset, blent with blue 
 
 And gold, and purple, in a radiant hue 
 
 Strangely beauteous! Wonderous bright! 
 
 A heavenly tint; a God-like light! 
 
 Its walls were mountains bold and gray — ■ 
 
 Grandeur held court on these alway, 
 
 And often Beauty's fairest smile 
 
 Rested on these a goodly while; 
 
 And again, around fierce storms would rave 
 
 With horror's dark, as a murderer's grave ! 
 
 Its floor was gneiss rock, and debris 
 
 Of placer mines, and sands washed free 
 
 From the golden dust ; in short, a '* dump," 
 
 And the judge's bench was a pine tree stump. 
 
 Near by stood a tree, its use known well ; 
 The miners had named it a "short road to hell; " 
 It stood near Spring Gulch, that gallows tree 
 On which felons paid the death penalty 
 In earlier days, when justice decreed 
 That crime should be punished with utmost speed 
 The jury impaneled every man in the mines. 
 All the "people" within the district lines; 
 More than a thousand men were there. 
 In this open court, in the open air. 
 Miners and traders, and gamblers too, 
 Made up this jury, a motely crew ■ 
 
 Of strong, stern men, rough, but I deem 
 As honest as those who may fairer seem. 
 In fairer scenes, far, far away 
 From this border court, with its stern array 
 Of sturdy people, met to declare 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 41 
 
 That laws be enforced, with the strictest care. 
 
 And now the prisoner was duly arraigned — 
 A friend of the gambler briefly explained 
 That Bill had shot, while engaged in a game, 
 His comrade dead, and that the same 
 Shooting was done without a just cause, 
 And in violation of justice and laws. 
 ''Dare Devil Bill" was quiet now, 
 And a shadow of sadness was on his brow ; 
 His cheeks were pale and his gray eyes mild, 
 That an hour ago were fierce and wild ; 
 But he stood erect, cool and brave ; 
 His mien was fearless, but very grave. 
 When the judge enquired: "guilty", or not? 
 He calmly replied: "It is true that I shot 
 ' Nevada Jack ', we had words at the game, 
 My passions were burning with wildest flame, 
 I drew, and fired, and he fell dead ; 
 That is all, judge, I have ' guilty' plead." 
 A few inquiries 'bout the cause of the crime, 
 The place it occurred at, and the time 
 Were made and answered, and the judge 
 Said he must most reluctantly urge 
 That the jury vote "guilty;" the case was clear. 
 And the crime must be punished ; however severe 
 The sentence might seem, death alone 
 For willful murder could fully atone. 
 For a moment a wave of motion rolled 
 O'er this sea of minds, which strangely controlled 
 Each thought, and inspired mercy therein, 
 And whispered human life-taking was sin, 
 
42 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 Whether did by the hand of one man, or the laws, 
 Regardless quite of disposing cause. 
 But this wave of mercy soon flowed away 
 Like a gleam of sunshine 'fore storm cloud's array. 
 And the vote was guilty of murder ; the decree 
 That the prisoner be hanged until dead, on yon 
 
 tree, 
 And the hanging be publicly, speedily done 
 By the light of this evening's setting sun. 
 
 The shades of sadness on Bill's brow grew apace, 
 For a moment a flush crossed his pallid face; 
 But still he stood firm and calm to the end ; — 
 The deepest emotions may fiercely contend 
 In his brain, this terrible, deadly hour. 
 But all are controlled by mighty will power. 
 
 There was in this district, in "fifty-nine", 
 One man of God, a working divine. 
 Who worked, it might be, most in the mines. 
 And did not despise the treasure that shines 
 In good "pay dirt"; still he always stood by 
 The miner whose soul was ready to fly 
 To the unknown land — it mattered not 
 Whether sent by the rope, the knife or the shot. 
 Or disease: Parson Fish was his name — 
 A christian, thrifty, prayerful, and game. 
 Now this parson kneeled by the doomed man 
 And prayed, as only a brave christian can. 
 That, e'en at the latest hour, this soul 
 Be saved from the devil's eternal control. 
 Bill silently stood while the prayer was made. 
 And then to the parson quietly said : 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 43 
 
 ** I've a claim or two here, paying quite well, 
 
 Worth some thousands, may I ask you to sell 
 
 These claims ; I have, besides these. 
 
 Some gold in the Denver Bank, — will you please 
 
 Get all together, pay yourself all right, — 
 
 Please give me a pen and I will write 
 
 The name of a lady, far, far away, 
 
 To whom you will send the balance, I pray ; 
 
 Her name — can I write it — false and so fair ! 
 
 Great God! am I mad? behold! she stands there ! 
 
 Alas ! my poor brain is shattered at last, 
 
 Broke down by the very last breath of the blast!" 
 
 And prostrate he fell, veiling his sight 
 
 From a vision — (to others wondrous bright), 
 
 A lady, quite young, with beauty and charms 
 
 So winning, the heart of the sternest warms 
 
 Toward her, while she stands sorely amazed 
 
 At the scene around, her brain half crazed ;— 
 
 A moment she stood — then lovingly kneeled 
 
 Beside Bill's form, and there appealed 
 
 To him in the wildest, sweetest tone. 
 
 That love — her love, should here atone 
 
 (A love so ardent it burned her soul 
 
 And swayed her will with sweetest control,) 
 
 For all the wrongs of the wretched past, 
 
 And the gloom that these o'er his life had cast ; 
 
 "But why so moved — look up, I pray, — 
 
 Great God ! if his love has passed away ! 
 
 Oh, no, — this kiss — he loves me still ! 
 
 Then, pray, look up! love cannot kill !" 
 
 And then he arose ; the flame of his eyes 
 
44 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 For a moment all surrounding defies, 
 
 And he stood like a lion boldly at bay, 
 
 Ready, it seemed, for desperate fray ; 
 
 And then became calm and cool again. 
 
 Though plainly suffering the keenest pain 
 
 She clung about him, praying to know 
 
 The cause that pained and moved him so ; 
 
 Besides, at once she fain would hear 
 
 The purpose of all assembled here. 
 
 *'I beg you, sirs", then she quickly cried, 
 
 "Leave us alone, let what e're may betide". 
 
 And then, with the maiden grasped in his arms, 
 
 Her touch stilling passionate, 'wildering storms 
 
 In his brain, and his heart breaking the while, 
 
 He clearly spake, and almost a smile 
 
 Dwelt on his face — pallid, but calm — 
 
 " My dearest, you see, at present I am 
 
 Engaged with these men on business which will 
 
 Delay but a little, only until 
 
 The sunset, now tinting the glowing west. 
 
 Is over, and then I'll have leisure and rest ; 
 
 This business is pressing and cannot be stayed. 
 
 Even to please you, my darling, I'm afraid; 
 
 So join your attendant — he waits you, I see — 
 
 And soon from engagements all, I'll be free; 
 
 Then, God willing, forever I'm thine; — 
 
 One kiss, my dearest, — at last you are mine. 
 
 Then, aside, to the parson, he whispering said : 
 
 *'For God's sake take care of this hapless maid, 
 
 Lead her away from this horrible crowd — 
 
 She's a lady — her family is wealthy and proud — 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 45 
 
 And spare her, if possible, news of my fate, — 
 I know, sir, the favors I'm craving are great; 
 But grant them, I pray, — the last I'll crave 
 But a simple prayer, o'er a felon^s grave." 
 
 Parson Fish had a heart tender and true. 
 But staunch, and though drops of feeling's soft dew 
 Lay on his cheek, as frost gems adhere 
 To the glass of the window when sun-rays appear, 
 He approached the lady, with frendliest mien, 
 Saying : *' It seems by your friend I have been 
 Named your companion while he is delayed. 
 Winding up some business not to be stayed ; 
 So come with me down to the tavern you see — 
 It will not be long e're your friend will be free." 
 Strangely bewildered she moved to comply — 
 A step or two forward — then, with a cry 
 So sharp, so appealing, it pierced to the heart 
 Of the sternest man there, to its tenderest part ! 
 She flew to the side of the felon and sobbed, 
 " I will not depart ; I will not be robbed 
 Of my heart's only treasure ; and truly I feel 
 You all are striving from me to conceal 
 Some fearful event ; and much I do fear 
 Something that threatens this life I hold dear!" 
 
 Just then, from the door of a cabin near by. 
 Two men came forward and stood quite nigh 
 The criminal ; between them they openly brought 
 A rope with a noose — the hangman's dread knot ! 
 'Twas a terrible moment; a shuddering thrill 
 Pierced every brain there, but all stood still. 
 One glance at this rope and the maiden knew 
 
46 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 Its dreadful purpose, and then she flew 
 To the parson and wildly prayed to be told 
 Why HIS life was forfeit; would thousands in gold 
 Redeem this one life ; would her blood, her heart 
 Pay the debt, she would willingly, freely part 
 With her soul to save him, — "he must not die" ; 
 " Why will you kill him, — I pray you tell why." 
 The parson was silent, but the judge, speaking low, 
 Said it was best the maiden should know 
 The crime for which her lover must die ; 
 And I think when he spoke his cheeks were not dry, 
 And I know his heart was shedding soft tears — 
 He had not worn the ermine of justice for years: — 
 "You see, young lady, he shot a man dead, 
 Has been tried in this court and guilty has plead, 
 And the sentence of death was passed this hour: — 
 I would save him, dear girl, but I have not the 
 
 power." 
 For a moment it seemed she must fall ; but soon 
 Every token of weakness, faintness or swoon. 
 Passed away, and lovely and fair she appeared 
 By her lover's side one instant, then neared 
 The judge's bench and begged to be heard, 
 And to know just how this killing occurred: 
 "Oh! judge, it is hard for a woman to tell 
 Her dearest secret — how she loved well, 
 But was willful, capricious, exacting and wild — 
 Hardly a woman — no longer a child — 
 Full of strange fancies, dreaming sweet dreams, 
 Now, drinking draughts from love's pure streams. 
 And then, tasting waters that harden the heart, 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 47 
 
 And bid all tender emotions depart ; 
 
 Now trusting, then fearing,— one day would give all, 
 
 And the next every gift of the heart would recall ; 
 
 And he that I loved was passionate, bold 
 
 And wilfull, but never unfaithful or cold; 
 
 And his love was intense — a passionate storm — 
 
 I knew not its depth, though I felt all its charm : 
 
 But, O, in one rueful, most hateful hour, 
 
 I spurned this love, while dreading its power, 
 
 And then my lover was maddened and wild, 
 
 Unmanned by the blow — by passion beguiled — 
 
 He became reckless ; hated his kind ; — 
 
 Allowed the worst passions to poison his mind. 
 
 Before I so wronged him he was noble and true. 
 
 Generous, trusting — his faults were but few. 
 
 Two years passed away ; I did not recall 
 
 My lover, though dearly I loved him through all, 
 
 And his life course was downward, downward until 
 
 I learned he was nearing the loot of the hill 
 
 Whose base is a region dark as despair, 
 
 Never entered by aught that is worthy or fair; 
 
 And then in my soul I knew I must strive 
 
 (And felt if the old love for me was alive 
 
 The task would be easy) to save him before 
 
 He entered that region, — was lost evermore. 
 
 I had never lost sight of him, and so I knew 
 
 He came to these gold mines, and so I came, too, 
 
 To save him ; to love him — to cancel my wrong. 
 
 This may not be maidenly, but I love, and am strong 
 
 To battle the world ; with duty and love 
 
 As my aids, I fear only the powers above. 
 
48 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 But you tell me my lover — 'tis he — must die, 
 That he shot a man dead, but you don't tell why 
 This shooting was done — what tempted the deed? 
 His hand would never the deadly ball speed 
 Unless for just cause, — a quarrel! a fight! 
 He must have been wronged so, the killing was 
 
 right ! 
 But, be this as it may, spare him, I pray, — 
 If a life must be forfeit let mine pass away ; 
 If crime has been done, the criminal am 1 1 
 You will not allow the innocent die ? — 
 But give me his life ? give it, I pray? 
 You are men and you feel ; — there must be a way 
 To pardon this crime, if crime there may be; — 
 I beg on my knees, let him go free !" 
 
 No mistake now 'bout the tears in the eyes 
 Of the judge, though he strove to look steady 
 
 and wise. 
 And the jury (these thousand rough, stern men,) 
 Was strangely moved, and restless ; but when 
 The judge arose and said he had found 
 "An error in the indictment," — the most trifling 
 
 sound 
 Startled the air, all was so still — 
 ''Against the prisoner, 'Dare Devil Bill,' 
 And as the Court was in session it would be right 
 For the jury to try him again this night; 
 You have all the facts in the case in your minds, 
 And many of these the Court now finds 
 Show that ' Nevada Jack ' would have shot 
 'Dare Devil Bill' if the latter had not 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 49 
 
 Fired too quick for him; so it may be 
 About as well to let Bill go free ; 
 This is my charge, so now vote again." 
 The wildest of hopes, the keenest of pain. 
 Tortured the prisoner while voting went on. 
 It is over! — "Not guilty!" — fair Portia has won 
 The life of her lover ! Now helpless she fell. 
 In a swoon, on his bosom ; — her task was done well. 
 
 There was joy o'er Quartz Hill and Spring Gulch 
 that night ; 
 All said that the judge and the jury did right 
 In pardoning Bill, but just how the judge saw 
 In the criminal indictment that wonderful flaw, 
 Not a man of the jury ever could tell, 
 For each could swear that blinding tears fell 
 From his stern gray eyes while the lady plead law, 
 And mercy, but mainly woman's true love — 
 A plea always legal e'en in high courts above/ 
 
 Of course, to conclude comjne il faiit,^ 
 This tale of Quartz Hill, of love and of law, 
 A wedding must make all happy and bright, 
 And, to shorten the tale, we will have it to-night 
 As we have on the spot a man and a maid, 
 The wooing all done, all sweet trifles said. 
 And a parson quite willing to handle the fee, 
 Kiss the bride and tie the knot up solemnly ; 
 And a knot, it seems, must tie up the fate 
 Of " Dare Devil Bill ", and 'tis quite safe to state 
 One tied by the parson will suit him as well 
 As the one made to tie him to the ''short road to 
 hell"; 
 
50 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 Besides, if the knot of the parson don't lead 
 To a heaven of joy, with surety and speed, 
 That noble, brave girl will not be to blame. 
 For we know she brought heaven to the hill when 
 she came. 
 
 AN EASTERN WESTERN TALE. 
 
 i^A Stage Driver'' s Story.) 
 
 The Old Bay State in the summer time 
 Enjoys a pleasant, genial clime ; 
 
 And wealth, and art, and taste 
 Combined with patient toil and skill. 
 Controlled by men of iron will. 
 
 Have made the sterile waste 
 Of the olden time, along this bay 
 And the shores of the ocean cold and gray 
 
 And inland to the hills, 
 A pleasure ground wonderous fair — 
 Fertile and rich beyond compare. 
 
 Ornate with towns and mills. 
 
 In the summer of eighteen seventy-four, 
 111 and weary, I wandered o'er 
 
 The good old State awhile, 
 Rested at heart by the pleasing scenes — 
 The finished beauty culture gleans 
 
 From forms of rudest style, — 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 51 
 
 My patient guide these rambling days — 
 A fair young niece with winsome ways, 
 
 Full round cheeks, and eyes 
 Purple blue, like our mountains west, 
 That tint the lover loves the best. 
 
 And artists highly prize. 
 
 I and my winsome guide, one day, 
 Rambled along the shore of the bay 
 
 Not far from Hingham town; — 
 The winds of summer breathed a charm 
 Which filled the breast with feelings warm, 
 
 And banished every frown ; 
 And sunshine tints of rarest hue — 
 Gold and azure blent in dew — 
 
 Strangely soft and bright. 
 Touched the crests of every wave. 
 And to the shore a radiance gave 
 
 That charmed admiring sight. 
 
 And I was charmed with all around — 
 The wealth of beauty, charm of sound 
 
 Of shore and rippling sea ; 
 The waves which broke on pebbly beach. 
 The winds that gently sighed, had speech 
 
 Which formed sweet melody ; 
 And I was charmed, too, with my guide, 
 Who stood enraptured by my side 
 
 Spell-bound by beauty's charm. 
 Ah, youth has strange and wondrous power; 
 The gods' best, brightest, purest dower — 
 
 A sky without a storm. 
 
 (4) 
 
52 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 Inland from where we musing stood 
 Spread a verdant lawn and peaceful wood, 
 
 Near by a stately hall, 
 Each speaking wealth and tasteful care, 
 And thrift, which makes a home so fair 
 
 When comfort smiles o'er all. 
 Wooed by the shade of the pleasant wood. 
 That seemed in rhythm with my mood. 
 
 We wandered 'neath its trees 
 And found at length a rustic seat 
 And a spring of water cool and sweet, 
 
 And there reclined at ease. 
 
 We sat, mayhap, an hour there. 
 
 Our reveries free from gloom or care, 
 
 Each thought a pleasant dream. 
 When a man approached our fair retreat ; 
 With welcome mien and cheerful greet 
 
 He said, "you strangers seem. 
 And you're a western man, I see. 
 So I, in western style, make free 
 
 To bid you welcome here 
 And to my home, the hall near by ; 
 The hour for lunch, I think, is nigh. 
 
 So come and test my cheer. 
 
 This man, with quite unusual ways 
 For eastern folks, these modern days. 
 
 Stood quite six feet in height ; 
 His form, replete with manly grace — 
 The model for a growing race; — 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 53 
 
 His features bold and bright ; — 
 But sad an empty sleeve proclaimed 
 That he had been severely maimed; 
 
 Besides, a bullet scar 
 Across his forehead, broad and white, 
 Bespake an accident, or fight 
 
 In some foregoing war. 
 
 Here was a border man, I knew; 
 And honest, stout and brave one, too. 
 
 And much I longed to hear 
 The story of his scars and life; 
 I felt that some most desperate strife 
 
 Had caused his wounds so drear; 
 And so I cheerfully complied 
 With his welcome bid, and with my guide — 
 
 Who deepest interest felt — 
 Passed through sylvan glades, the way 
 To the hall — a pile of granite, gray, — 
 
 In which the stranger dwelt. 
 
 A matron, fair of form and face. 
 Received us with becoming grace, 
 
 And with most friendly mien ; 
 Kissed welcome on the rosy cheek 
 Of my maiden guide, — this did bespeak 
 
 Much more than words, I ween. — 
 Liberal wealth, artistic taste. 
 And classic art, had grandly graced 
 
 This hospitable home; 
 And eastern culture, western ease, 
 
54 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 Hearts to feel and wills to please, 
 Reposed beneath its dome. 
 
 E're long, a bounteous board was spread; 
 We all partook; the host then led 
 
 Back to the rustic bower; 
 When seated there, my western mien, 
 He said, recalled a border scene, 
 
 And if we'd spare the hour 
 He would in simple style relate 
 The events of this, which shaped the fate 
 
 Of Friends he loved full well; 
 Of course we freely spared the hour, 
 When he, with crude, artistic power, 
 
 The following tale did tell: 
 
 THE TALE. 
 
 Some years before a railway train 
 Had crossed the w^estern plains 
 
 Or Rocky Mountains, bold and high,- 
 Grandeur's wild domains! 
 
 Before the bands of iron rails 
 Had bound two oceans' shores 
 
 Together in progression's league — 
 A union trade adores — 
 
 Travelers, o'er the plains and hills. 
 
 Toward the setting sun 
 And land of gold, or dreams of this, 
 
 When treasures are not won ; 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 55 
 
 Journeyed in the good old way, 
 
 By stage coach, stout and slow 
 But sure, lest stopped by accident, 
 
 Indians, or snow. 
 
 The border men beyond the plains. 
 
 Knew the danger great, 
 Awaiting all who journeyed thus 
 
 And bravely met the fate; 
 
 But eastern travelers, I know. 
 
 When crossing first the plains, 
 Were often troubled horribly 
 
 By fear's distressing pains. 
 
 A case in point: — On Holladay's line. 
 
 Mail, overland, you know; 
 The best across the continent, 
 
 And never woeful slow; 
 
 It was in "sixty four," I think; 
 
 A genial, summer day; 
 The "mail" moved out from Atchison 
 
 For Denver far away, 
 With four through passengers that trip: — 
 
 A lady young and fair, 
 With graceful form and cheerful face. 
 
 And gold and sunshine hair; 
 
 A fat old gent, her father ; and 
 
 A sturdy border man ; 
 And then, an eastern gentleman 
 
 With features grave and wan. 
 
56 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 This traveler was youthful still 
 
 In years, but not in mien, — 
 Youth cannot dwell her mete of years 
 
 In craven souls, I ween. 
 
 The stout, huge coach, with ponderous boot, 
 
 And seats inside for nine. 
 Drawn by six horses — often changed 
 
 At stations 'long the line, — 
 
 Was placed in charge, the fifth day out, 
 
 Of a driver who had learned 
 That Cheyenne Indians lurked about; 
 
 He feared the fiends had burned 
 The station next upon the route; 
 
 But still he must proceed ; — 
 Meantime he armed the passengers, 
 
 And drove along with speed. 
 
 This driver was a youthful man — 
 Broad shouldered, firm and tall, — 
 
 The " border " shown in mien and garb, 
 Manners and speech, and all. 
 
 The drivers of the "overland" 
 
 Across the plains these days. 
 Must all be men of nerve and skill, 
 
 Familiar with the ways 
 Of hostile Indian tribes who roamed 
 
 These wilds in search of prey, — 
 Treacherous, cruel, murderous fiends — 
 
 To rob and kill, their play. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 57 
 
 This summer day was very mild 
 
 With that shimmering air 
 Which forms the mirage of the plains — 
 
 Visions wonderous fair. 
 
 The lady craved a seat. outside, 
 
 And would not be denied ; — 
 The driver scanned her carefully 
 
 Then placed her by his side. 
 
 Well armed was he— two "Winchesters" 
 
 And two revolvers large, 
 Besides, a ponderous hunting knife, — 
 
 Useful in a charge. 
 
 The border man, the fat old gent, 
 
 And gentleman inside 
 Were all well armed, and notified 
 
 That danger might betide. 
 
 And on they sped — the team, this "stage" 
 Had spirit, strength and speed ; 
 
 The driver knew it would not fail 
 In case of pressing need. 
 
 The fair young girl enraptured sat 
 Midst scenes so wild and new — 
 
 Her cheeks aglow, her eyes aflame — 
 Emotions burning through. 
 
 But she sat silent ; words are dull 
 
 When feelings are acute; 
 The sweetest tone can ne'er be wooed 
 
 From earthly harp or lute. 
 
58 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 But, hark! a whistling, keen report 
 
 Cuts the glimmering air! 
 A yell ! the dreaded savage whoop ! — 
 
 A key-note of despair 
 Is shrieked with weird, savage strength 
 
 From out the fiendish throat 
 Of a stout Cheyenne, approaching near,— 
 
 It was his wild death-note ! 
 
 A revolver in the driver's hand 
 
 Had sped the fatal lead 
 With such unerring purpose, that 
 
 The savage dropped stone dead. 
 
 Meantime, he bade the lady down 
 
 At once beneath the seat, 
 Where, sheltered by the heavy boot 
 
 And baggage at his feet, 
 
 She would be safe from threat'ning harm- 
 
 From arrow, ball or spear; — 
 He was amazed when she refused 
 
 And said she felt no fear, — 
 But must stay out just where she sat — 
 
 She could be useful there ! 
 In vain he urged; her will was stout; 
 
 Ah, she was brave as fair. 
 
 And now a mounted band appeared — 
 
 A hundred fiends of hell — 
 Athirst for blood — the white man's gore ; 
 
 His gold and goods as well; 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 59 
 
 And hellish lust, too, fired their hearts — 
 
 The sight of maiden fair 
 Boiled their lecherous demon blood, — 
 
 Foul beyond compare. 
 
 The driver urged the willing steeds 
 
 With greatest speed ahead, 
 Guiding all with stout left hand, — 
 
 With the right he sped 
 From "Winchester" and pistol true 
 
 The cold, avenging lead. 
 With deadly, steady, skillful aim, 
 
 Striking demons dead. 
 
 The men inside the coach saw all. 
 And two of them fought well — 
 
 The stout old gent and border man, 
 Who made each bullet tell. 
 
 The GENTLEMAN — the grave young man — 
 
 (The lover of the maid) 
 Crouched at the bottom of the coach, 
 
 So scared, he cried and prayed. 
 
 The driver knowing safety lay 
 
 (A chance for this, at least,) 
 In reaching the next "post" unharmed, 
 
 With lash the speed increased. 
 
 Meantime, the brave young lady sat 
 
 Silent, firm and calm ; 
 The danger seemed a 'wildering spell, 
 
 For fear, a sovereign balm. 
 
6o TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 The savages fought desperately, — 
 
 Their yelling crazed the air, 
 Their arrows, balls and spears fell 'round,- 
 
 A storm of wild despair. 
 
 At length, the border man sunk down 
 
 Pierced by bullets three; 
 The father, too, had dangerous wounds, — 
 
 Their blood was flowing free. 
 
 And still the lover of the maid 
 
 Crouched down, — a helpless thing, 
 
 A craven, hopeless, useless man, — 
 A snake without a sting. 
 
 Each charge from arms the driver plied 
 
 Was used with skill at last ; 
 He feared, too, that the fiendish foe 
 
 Were gaining on him fast, 
 But stiU was firm, and showed the girl 
 
 The ammunition chest, 
 And pointed out the charges used. 
 
 With cool and calm request 
 That she would load the deadly arms : — 
 
 The task she undertook 
 Without a word ; her nerves were firm, 
 
 Not e'en a finger shook. 
 
 And still the fearful race and fight 
 
 Across the dreary plains 
 Waxed fiercer, wilder and more drear; — 
 
 A fiend of murder reigns — 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 6i 
 
 And now the driver's stout right arm 
 
 Falls helpless by his side, 
 Shattered by a crashing ball ; 
 
 And then, the crimson tide 
 Flows o'er his sunburnt, stubborn cheek — 
 
 A cruel rifle ball 
 Has gashed his forehead, dark and broad — 
 
 But still he did not fall, 
 But firmly sat, his left hand still 
 
 Guiding the foamy steeds. 
 Unharmed, thank God! hope is not dead, 
 
 If naught their course impedes. 
 
 The maid had dainty, jeweled hands, 
 
 But firm and true were they, 
 'Though handling arms for the first time; — 
 
 This fearful, desperate day 
 The weapons seemed to fit her grasp, 
 
 And when the driver failed, 
 She used these with unfaltering aim. 
 
 Though deadly missiles hailed; 
 She was not harmed, the cruel balls 
 
 Shunned this mark so fair, 
 And piercing arrows, murderous darts. 
 
 Passed harmless in the air. 
 
 It was a wild and thrilling scene, 
 
 This desperate race for life; — 
 This horrid, fiendish dire assault, — 
 
 This most unequal strife; 
 For now a fair and polished girl 
 
 (Wealth and culture's child,) 
 
62 . TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 Battled alone with savage hordes, — 
 With passions fierce and wild. 
 
 But joy and thanks! the station house 
 
 Stands but a mile ahead, 
 A welcome sight ; safety at last ! 
 
 The savage fiends have fled ! 
 
 At last the sheltering post was reached, 
 Stout armed men stood there, 
 
 Who helped the wounded fi-om the coach 
 With skillful, tender care. 
 
 And then there crawled out from beneath 
 
 The coach's hindmost seat 
 The lover of the gallant maid ; 
 
 He stood on trembling feet 
 And gazed around, still sore afraid; 
 
 And there was danger still, 
 For hearing all, the border men 
 
 Could hang him with good will. 
 
 And now the father, bleeding free 
 
 From wounds uncared for yet. 
 Enraged, but courteous, said to him : 
 
 " I trust you will forget 
 You ever knew my family ; 
 
 My daughter will, I know, 
 All further claims upon your hand, 
 
 With pleasure here forego." 
 
 And then the old gent, scornful grew : 
 " 'Twould be a cursed shame," 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 63 
 
 He said, " to give this noble girl 
 A coward's hateful name." 
 
 And all around, — the driver, too — 
 
 Cried out aloud, "Amen ; " 
 The brave girl's bright and soulful eyes 
 
 Reflected this again. 
 
 •¥ ^ if- ^ -^ i(i 
 
 Well, Denver town was reached in time, 
 
 And surgeon's skill and care 
 Healed the wounds of all, apace ; 
 
 But skill and purest air 
 Saved not the driver's stout right arm ; — 
 
 This was swept away, — 
 And still the driver did not curse 
 
 That fearful, desperate fray ; 
 He lost by it, he says, an arm. 
 
 Stout, and firm, and true. 
 But found a pair, supremely fair. 
 
 And heart and body too; 
 And mind and soul, all wondrous good 
 
 And womanly, beside : 
 There she stands, my noble wife. 
 
 Close by the driver's side. 
 
64 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 A LECiEND OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 
 
 LOVE AND THE PRECIOUS METALS, 
 
 In olden times the gods, with taste 
 Quite true, and with becoming grace, 
 
 Could not resist a charming waist 
 Or youthful, lovely female face. 
 
 It mattered not if maid of earth 
 Possessed these winsome charms ; 
 
 So, often maids of worldly birth 
 Reposed in godlike arms. 
 
 We learn this fact from ancient lore — 
 From legend, tale and song; — 
 
 E'en the Good Book has truths in store 
 Which swell the proofs along. 
 
 It has been said there's nothing new 
 
 Under the glowing sun; 
 So, gods, no doubt, do still pursue 
 
 The course they first begun. 
 
 But in these latter days, we know, 
 
 The title, god, is dropped 
 And spirit used, instead ; also, 
 
 The good old style is stopped 
 Of wooing maids in sylvan bowers, 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 65 
 
 When softly zephyrs breathe, 
 And while the balmy, 'witching hours 
 
 Love's sweetest garlands wreathe; 
 And spirit wooing now is done 
 
 In cabinet or room, 
 From which is shut the glorious sun, 
 
 While all around is gloom. 
 
 And, too, of old, none but a maid 
 
 Of rare and radiant charms 
 Was e're by pleasure's lure betrayed 
 
 To gods' luxurious arms ; 
 But modern spirits often woo 
 
 Ill-favored, ancient jades. 
 Whose charms are stale and slim and few — 
 
 Grass widows and old maids. 
 
 But to my legendary song : 
 
 'Twas many a year ago — 
 (When gods had passions warm and strong. 
 
 And wandered to and fro 
 Amidst the fairest earthly scenes. 
 
 In search of maidens fair 
 Whom they might crown the mystic queens 
 
 Of earth and sea, and air.) 
 
 Though not in fabled ancient times, 
 
 But in these later years ; 
 And not in Eastern classic climes. 
 
 But where "Out West" appears. 
 The ardent gods have often strayed 
 
66 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 Through all the groves of earth, 
 And haunted many a vale and glade ^ 
 Since the present century's birth. 
 
 Midway between two oceans grand — 
 
 The Atlantics of this sphere — 
 Great oceans broad of plains expand, 
 
 Now fruitful and then drear ; 
 Beyond the western bounds of these 
 
 Are towering mountain chains, — 
 Within their coils, bright inland seas. 
 
 Rivers, peaks and plains, 
 And fertile vales, and purple hills, 
 
 And sparkling, laughing streams, 
 And pools whose waters cure all ills 
 
 And wreathe the sweetest dreams. 
 
 Vast forests climb the mountains bold 
 
 Far up to "timber line;" 
 Silvery fir-trees, cedars old, 
 
 And stately, classic pine ; 
 And verdant grasses clothe the plains, 
 
 The parks and valleys sweet. 
 And Ceres smiles and Flora reigns 
 
 O'er all, with sway complete. 
 
 High up the mountain's rugged side 
 
 And down in canon deep 
 Stand granite crags, which have defied 
 
 The fiercest tempests' sweep ; 
 In grotto, cavern, glen and dell. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 67 
 
 The rarest crystals lie, 
 And fossils strange, which surely tell 
 Of ages long gone by. 
 
 And beasts and birds and fishes rare, 
 Which form the choicest game, 
 
 Abound in forest, stream, and air; — - 
 Diana here has fame. 
 
 And in these years — this legend sings — 
 
 There dwelt within this land 
 A famous race, 'round which still clings 
 
 A glamour strange and grand. 
 
 Before the Aztec nations claimed 
 
 All inland south and west 
 Of this half sphere, so widely famed, 
 
 And so divinely blest, — 
 This race built cities on the plains. 
 
 And towns on mount and hill, 
 Of which there still exist remains 
 
 That show the builder's skill. 
 And wealth, and culture in the art 
 
 Of architecture old ; 
 There yet stands, well preserved, the part 
 
 Of many a castle bold. 
 
 The women of this race were fair, 
 
 With forms of amorous mould 
 Full and ripe, beyond compare. 
 
 And tempting as bright gold; 
 
 (5) 
 
68 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 With full red lips, moist with dew 
 Distilled from breath imbued 
 
 With love's elixir, pure and true, 
 Formed when an angel wooed. 
 
 With teeth of rare amphritic form, 
 
 Eyes of melting brown. 
 And olive cheeks, full, round and warm 
 
 And soft as eider down. 
 And flowing locks of golden brown. 
 
 Profuse and rippling wild 
 O'er matchless shoulders, and adown 
 
 To hips, by Venus piled. 
 
 It is not strange to win their love 
 The amorous gods would steal 
 
 From nuptial arms, in realms above. 
 And woo with warmth and zeal. 
 
 Now Pan, who loves the groves and dells 
 
 And forests vast, of earth, 
 And rustic music, as it swells 
 
 Replete with glee and mirth. 
 And sylvan nymphs with winsome charms. 
 
 Who join him in the dance, 
 And nestle in his loving arms, 
 
 His pleasures to enhance ; 
 
 Loved too, this fair arcadian land 
 
 And often wandered here, — 
 His cheeks by softest zephyrs fanned. 
 
 Sweet music in his ear; 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 69 
 
 And here, one day, he met a maid 
 Supremely fair and sweet, 
 And wooed her in the sylvan shade 
 
 And gained her love complete. 
 
 Full many a year he loved Zobel, 
 
 No longer virgin maid — 
 But mother — on whose bosom's swell, 
 
 Three baby maids had laid. 
 Pan loved Zobel, and she was true, — 
 
 Not quite the general style — 
 And so their joys were ever new; 
 
 They basked in Pleasure's smile. 
 
 Now, far beyond this land of song. 
 
 Toward the setting sun, 
 Roamed savages so fierce and strong. 
 
 They many treasures won 
 From parties of this milder race 
 
 Who shunned the shock of war, 
 And seldom dared to boldly face 
 
 These robbers from afar. 
 
 The fair Zobel strayed forth one day. 
 
 Her daughters by her side. 
 Full grown and beauteous as a fay 
 
 Decked for Apollo's bride, 
 And met a monster of this tribe, — 
 
 A giant, bold and vile — 
 Who taunted her with lecherous gibe 
 
 And hateful, lustful smile. 
 
70 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 This monster was by Pluto sired; — 
 
 His dam, a hideous jade 
 Of this vile tribe, by lust inspired 
 
 Until a wanton made. 
 Zobel knew well the demon's will; — 
 
 He would the maidens seize 
 And a most hellish plot fulfill, — 
 
 So, out upon the breeze 
 She screams forth loudest calls for aid ! 
 
 But Pan was far away, 
 And no stout mortal help obeyed; — 
 
 Hope sent no cheering ray. 
 
 The giant seized the shrieking maids, — 
 
 The mother plead in vain; 
 Her cries came back from open glades 
 
 With wild and sad refrain; — 
 "Hello! what's up! hold on, old Buck! 
 
 Just drop the gals a spell ! 
 ^ I say it, and my name's 'Kentuck;' 
 
 At stand up fight as well ; — 
 I'm trapping 'round with Georgia Bill, 
 
 A 'good 'un,' you may sware, — 
 But just hold on, my beauty, 'till 
 
 I see if all is fair." 
 
 Zobel had ne'er seen mortal man 
 Of such uncommon mould, 
 
 But still at once to him she ran. 
 And kneeling, wildly told 
 
 Her tale of horrid, fearful dread, 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 71 
 
 In sweet, beseeching tones; — 
 " Hold up, old Buck, you're good as dead ; 
 I feel it in my bones." 
 
 The giant scorned the man who dared 
 
 To rob him of his prize, 
 Then seized the maids and fiercely glared 
 
 With murder in his eyes;— 
 "What, don't you mean to drop the girls? 
 
 Then come, my lovely ' Pet,' 
 Here's bigger game than mountain squirrels — 
 
 There's music in you yet. 
 
 "They say, to kill a fiend, the ball 
 
 Should be of silver, pure; 
 But that's old woman's talk, that's all; 
 
 I think the lead is sure, 
 So I'll try this with a buckskin patch 
 
 When rammed completely 'hum;' 
 If it don't kill, it'ill make a scratch 
 
 That'll hurt the varmint some." 
 
 The giant poised his mighty spear; 
 
 Strung up his wondrous bow, 
 Then neared "Kentuck" with pitying leer. 
 
 And movement bold but slow. 
 A shrill report! a puff of flame! 
 
 The giant bleeding fell ! 
 "I think this spiles the varmint's game; 
 
 'Pet' does her work up well. 
 
72 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 " I hope the gals are not scared bad — 
 Don't hug and kiss me so — 
 
 It was no trick to kill that scad, 
 So now trot home, you know." 
 
 The smiles and tears on beauty's cheek, — 
 
 The sunshine and the dew 
 Of raptuous joy, — full clearly speak 
 
 Emotions warm and true. 
 
 And Zobel and her daughters bright. 
 
 Had greatful joy at heart, 
 And vowed the champion of the fight 
 
 Must not from them depart. 
 Until some just reward was paid 
 
 For services so rare; 
 So brave "Kentuck" was soon conveyed 
 
 Within a grotto fair. 
 
 Good Pan appeared within the dell, — 
 
 A god of goodly mien — 
 He quickly learned what had befell 
 
 Out on the neighboring green; 
 ' Then called the hero to his side, 
 
 Likewise his fairest child, 
 And told "Kentuck" she was his bride, — 
 
 The beauteous maiden smiled. 
 
 " Ho ! spread a marriage feast," he cried, 
 "And bid the sylvan nymphs appear ! 
 
 Proclaim to-day, so far and wide, 
 I've found a son, so dear." 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 73 
 
 "Not quite so fast, my friend — hold on — 
 
 'Takes two to make a trade, you know, — 
 I'd kinder like to be your son. 
 
 But this must be *no go' ; — 
 'Way back in old Kentucky State 
 
 There lives a winsome maid 
 Who vowed she'd be my loving mate, 
 
 In sunshine and in shade. 
 Unless cold death forbade the bands, — 
 
 And I know she's firm and true ; 
 So this is how the matter stands, 
 
 And no offense to you. 
 
 "I have no snobbish ways, you see, 
 
 No learning of the schools; 
 But sense and honor some, may be. 
 
 Besides, some simple rules 
 By which I guide my humble way, — 
 
 'Act fair and square' is one; 
 Another, 'Stick to what you say', / 
 
 And this I've always done. 
 I like these pretty gals, my man. 
 
 They're very sweet, I'll sware, — 
 But, to be false I never can, 
 
 'Kentuck' is *on the square'." 
 
 Pan gazed at this strange mortal (who 
 
 Had shown himself so true) 
 Amazed ; for well on earth he knew 
 
 Such loyal men were few ; 
 Then summoned Plutus to his aid, 
 
74 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 Who came borne down with gold, 
 Which, by a sign from Pan, he laid 
 Before the hunter bold. 
 
 "Take golden treasures, mortal brave, 
 
 Since you decline a bride — 
 I must reward you, — take, I crave, 
 
 I will not be denied." 
 "Wall, now, that's handsome, I declare, — 
 
 These 'shiners' are all rieht ; — 
 I'll take some gold, — I think that's fair — 
 
 And you have lots in sight ; 
 But do not take it as mere pay 
 
 For killing that great brute ; 
 I never see right-out foul play 
 
 But 'I am on the shoot' ; — 
 And when these lovely gals were seized 
 
 By that cantankerous beast, 
 ril sware that I was mighty pleased 
 
 To shoot the whelp, at least. 
 
 "And if to you it's all the same, 
 
 I'll share with Bill the stuff,— 
 We're partners since out here we came, 
 
 And here's for both, enough ; — 
 But you don't know old Georgia Bill — 
 
 Well, take my word for it, 
 He's stout and square and free from ill, 
 
 And brave as ever fit." 
 
 "Take, mortal, all the gold you may, 
 I'll be your debtor still ; 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 75 
 
 And so, good Plutus will, to-day, 
 
 Conceal in every hill 
 And range, and mountain steep and bold. 
 
 Of this delightful land. 
 The ores of silver and of gold, 
 
 In fissures true and grand, — 
 In such vast measures that old Time 
 
 Will fail 'neath weight of years 
 Before this treasure vast, sublime, 
 
 Forever disappears. 
 
 No race must share this wealth but thine. 
 
 So, Plutus will bestow it deep 
 In fissure vein, and rocky mine 
 
 Of mountains wild and steep ; 
 And patient toil and prudent skill 
 
 Will guide your people to 
 These treasures, and good fortune will 
 
 Favor the brave and true." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Pan, you're mighty kind, 
 
 And very fair and wise, 
 And great and powerful, I find ; 
 
 But if you'll not despise 
 Me for this 'talk', nor think me bold, 
 
 I'll merely just suggest 
 That you should scatter some 'coarse gold' 
 
 Or 'dust', if you think best. 
 Along the streams, in sand and ground. 
 
 Above the "bed-rock" deep. 
 So by the "boys" it may be found — 
 
76 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 It'll help them 'long a heap 
 When starting in to open out 
 
 The quartz mines in the "range", 
 And furnish all the folks about 
 
 With plenty of loose change." 
 
 "This shall be done as you suggest, — 
 
 Good Plutus will attend ; 
 So mortal, have your mind at rest, — 
 
 Your cares are at an end." 
 
 Then Zobel said: she "would request 
 
 That gallant, comely men. 
 Who loved the gentler sex the best, — 
 
 Was loyal to it when 
 E'er bound by Hymen's silver chain. 
 
 Or Cupid's golden thread — 
 Not false for pleasure or for gain. 
 
 But ever true instead, — 
 Should be endowed with magic sight, 
 
 Or touched by potent spell 
 Which would direct them true and right- 
 
 And speedily as well — 
 To where the richest treasures lie 
 
 In gold and silver veins ; 
 In rugged rocks of mountains high, 
 
 Or sands of lowest plains." 
 
 "Thy wish is law, my fair Zobel ; — 
 
 Mercur}' shall devise 
 The magic sight and potent spell 
 
 For all your favorites' eyes ; 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 77 
 
 And now let all enjoy the feast 
 
 Which Bacchus here has spread ; — 
 
 The joy of each must be increased 
 Now that our cares have fled. 
 
 "I would have rarest joy to-night, — ' 
 
 I feast a noble guest 
 Who will depart, with morrow's light, 
 
 Forever from the West." 
 
 And all in Colorado know 
 
 That Plutus had obeyed 
 Old Pan's command, long years ago. 
 
 Because our mines have paid. 
 
 And most know well that Mercury's task 
 
 Has been performed complete : — 
 Go to the mining camps and ask 
 
 The wisest man you meet 
 Who finds the richest lodes or "claims", 
 
 And he will answer quick 
 By giving several famous names. 
 
 Among these, "youthful Dick" 
 And "Sulphurets old" of Clear Creek fame,- 
 
 But I must here withhold 
 The task of giving place or name 
 
 To these prospectors bold. 
 
 Suffice to say, that young or old. 
 They're famed for gallantry, — 
 
78 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 They love the fair sex well as gold, 
 And woo each valiantly. 
 
 And thus the gold and silver ores 
 Were treasured in this range 
 
 In vast and never-ending stores, — 
 So says this legend strange. 
 
 THE FIRST BABY BORN ON THE "BAR. 
 
 A BRECKENRIDGE TALE OF "FIFTY-NINE." 
 
 " A newspaper man taking items, aye, 
 'Bout the olden times and the present day, 
 And learn I've been longer on the 'Blue' 
 Than any miner alive now — true: 
 I came with a party in * fifty-nine ', 
 And the first gulch claim on the *Bar' was mine; 
 And have 'gulched' here every summer since then, 
 And have seen on the 'Blue' ten thousand men 
 Where now but a score or two find 'pay'. 
 There were lively times in the earlier day; 
 But you want items, well, let's see, 
 Shall I tell how we hung, on yonder tree. 
 The thief who stole 'Red Shockey's' gold? 
 Well, no, that tale has been often told ; 
 Or shall I tell of Brown's young wife, 
 Or the fearful feud, and mortal strife. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 79 
 
 'Tween 'Georgia Bill' and Joe of Maine? 
 
 No, I'll not fight battles o'er again ; 
 
 And Brown's young wife, and Brown as well, 
 
 Have been written up, and may rest a spell. 
 
 By the way, in Breckenridge town you'll find 
 
 A Mister Pollock, who can, if he's a mind. 
 
 Tell many a tale of the olden days — 
 
 He's a 'fifty-niner', with bookish ways, 
 
 And stores of good old border tales, 
 
 In which the interest never fails; 
 
 But you say you want some notes from me. 
 
 About the earlier time, so it may be 
 
 Well that I tell, for the first time here, 
 
 'Bout the first baby born on the 'Bar', or near. 
 
 Well, a day in the summer of 'fifty-nine', 
 The air inspired, like stout old wine. 
 And the peaks of the 'Ten Mile' mountains wore 
 Turban'd crowns of clouds which bore. 
 Enwrapped in frowning folds of mists, 
 The direful storm, whose force resists 
 These stern old giant towers, reared 
 On high, before the plains appeared 
 From 'neath the mighty icen flow, 
 That deluged this sphere eons ago. 
 These crowns, like many kingly crowns, 
 When the people's freedom darkly frowns. 
 Trembled awhile, and then were dashed 
 'Gainst the granite towers, with force that crashed 
 The rocks as fragile shells are broke 
 By the ponderous hammer's heavy stroke, 
 By the storm, the wild, dread mountain storm, 
 
8o TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 Destruction's minion, bearing a form 
 
 More terrible, more dreaded, far, 
 
 Than the fiercest, deadliest fiend of war ! 
 
 From 'Ten Mile's' brow the storm swept down 
 
 To the vale of the 'Blue', and Breckenridge town 
 
 Felt the monster's fearful breath. 
 
 Fierce as hell and drear as death ; 
 
 The secret streams of the skies on high 
 
 Were loosed, and their waters driven by 
 
 The force of the tempest, filled the air 
 
 Till a raging sea flowed everywhere ; 
 
 And the mountain streams despised their shores 
 
 And raged abroad. The demon roars 
 
 Of bursting thunders swelled the sound 
 
 Of storm and torrent yelling round. 
 
 With wild, wild shrieks and horrid screams. 
 
 More dire than haunt the drunkard's dreams. 
 
 Just as night was closing in 
 This thrilling scene, this horrid din, 
 With a mantle darker than the storm, 
 By my cabin door, appeared a form, 
 Drenched and tattered, haggard — wild, 
 By tempest shattered, rains defiled, 
 But comely still — a woman's form 
 Pleading for help from impending harm ; 
 My cabin door soon opened wide. 
 Then closed in the face of the wrath outside! 
 There were shelter and warmth beneath its roof, 
 But a lady's bower 'twas not, forsooth ; 
 And here was a woman, young and fair, 
 And lovely, too, beyond compare. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 8i 
 
 With a beauty not to be concealed 
 
 By the fearful blows the storm had dealed, 
 
 And garb and jewels which betrayed 
 
 Social rank of the highest grade, 
 
 My guest for the dreadful night, at least. 
 
 Or till the tempest's rage had ceased. 
 
 The miner's homes of the early day 
 Were built for comfort, not display, 
 For parlor, kitchen, bedroom, hall, 
 We made one room comprise them all ; 
 This saved the labor that the care 
 Of many rooms imposed, and there 
 Was work for all in gulch and mine. 
 At digging 'dust' in 'fifty-nine' ; 
 But soon my cabin's room was made 
 A chamber for this wandering maid ; 
 What comforts I could here command, 
 Prepared by miner's skillful hand, 
 Were placed about my lady guest, 
 To spare her pain I did my best ; 
 But she was ill, the fearful gale 
 And travel o'er the mountain trail, 
 And terrors of the dreadful day 
 Had taken all her strength away ; 
 And she sank down a helpless child. 
 Her cheeks were flushed her speech was wild, 
 And much I feared her youthful life 
 Would not survive the fearful strife 
 Of toil, fatigue, exposure — fear. 
 Encountered 'fore she reached me here. 
 She must have crossed the range that day, 
 
82 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 From Tarryall or from Fairplay, 
 Through either 'pass' a desperate tramp 
 For maiden of this gentle stamp ; 
 And what could bring her to the 'Bar'. 
 Was much beyond conjecture, far. 
 
 But now her illness grew apace, 
 A fearful dread showed in her face, 
 Her cries for help were wild and shrill ; — 
 Pains so intense must surely kill, 
 I felt — and still could find no aid ; 
 Doctors had found no paying trade 
 Upon the 'Blue', and none were here, 
 Or in the camps around us near. 
 
 I never was a married man, 
 I never liked the mating plan, 
 Which doubles up the ills ol life. 
 Makes a happy maid a wretched wife. 
 Or I might, sooner quite, have learned 
 The cause of piercing pains that burned 
 Like flames, the nerves and throbbing brain 
 Of this poor girl — not maid again — 
 But mother soon, 'less death appears 
 And takes away all pains and tears ! 
 
 What must be done ? Where succor find ?- 
 In vain I racked my troubled mind, — 
 No woman, good or bad, not one. 
 Was on the 'Bar'; — What's to be done 
 I knew must be accomplished now^ 
 If precious lives be saved, but how 
 To do it f — The girl was wild. 
 And still unconscious bore a child. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. ZT) 
 
 Well, I and mate did all we could 
 At such a time, our will was good, 
 We'd little else; but willing hands 
 And feeling hearts suggested plans, 
 Which robbed this dreadful lying-in 
 Oi many ills, but failed to win 
 The mother's hopeless, wandering mind 
 Back from the regions undefined, 
 Where it had sought the lethean spring 
 Which dulls emotion's fiercest sting, — 
 That pool insanity, whose flow 
 Drowns out a world of human woe ! 
 
 A gentle, harmless, hopeless waif, 
 She always kept her secret safe, 
 What'ere it was ; the troubled past 
 Before but one strange shadow^ cast, 
 The birth, out in this distant wild. 
 In a miner's cabin of a child — 
 A boy, a stout limbed, robust chap, 
 Who may be president, some day, may-hap. 
 
 Before the winter's storms set in, 
 The mother left this world of sin ; 
 We sturdy, rough, tough miners here 
 Shed many a sad and sorrowing tear 
 The day we laid her in the ground; 
 Come with me, I will show the mound 
 We raised above her simple clay. 
 Which love, no doubt, had led astray. 
 
 You'd like to know about the child? 
 My claim to him was duly filed, 
 (6) 
 
84 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 The discoverer's right was mine, you see, 
 
 As such I hold the property; — 
 
 And he has grown a noble boy, 
 
 The discoverer's greatest hope and joy. 
 
 A LOVER'S LEAP. 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE CUCHARAS VALLEY AND SANGRE 
 DE CHRISTO RANGE. 
 
 The Cucharas Valley is very fair — 
 Fragrance and beauty linger there, 
 And Ceres smiles o'er golden fields 
 And tempts therefrom most bounteous yields ; 
 And flocks with fleeces white and fine 
 Bask in the genial, rare sunshine, 
 And graze on grasses rich and sweet, 
 Which clothe the vale in garb replete 
 With verdure, and the thousand tints 
 Which Flora tastefully imprints 
 On myriad flowrets, fragrant, rare. 
 Her children sweet beyond compare. 
 
 Rustic ease and true content 
 Are in this valley sweetly blent — 
 And comfort smiles, and plenty reigns. 
 Here peace has undisturbed domains; 
 And here a rural, peaceful race 
 Has found a fair abiding place; 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 85 
 
 Its homes and plazas simple, rude, 
 The walls of stately pine trees hewed, 
 Or rough adobes, crudely piled, 
 The roofs with 'dirt' securely tiled. 
 Are primitive, and cool and warm, 
 Secure against the winter's storm, 
 And 'gainst the sun's devouring rays 
 When with the summer's heat ablaze. 
 
 Well, many a year ago, a maid. 
 Of this mild race, whose beauty played 
 Strange freaks with tender rustic swains, 
 With glowing blood and slender brains. 
 Inspired the master passion deep 
 In the breast of a Georgia man, whose sheep, 
 A goodly flock, grazed not so far 
 From the ranch, where shone this radiant star; 
 And she was very fair, not fair 
 In hue, but that tint so rare, 
 A glowing olive— -"Spanish brown" — 
 Tinted her cheeks of fleecy down ; 
 Her hair was dark as "Arabian Night", 
 In which a black cat looks quite white. 
 And her form, ah, this was round and plump 
 As an autumn wether's shapely rump. 
 
 Now this Georgia man "sheep's eyes" threw 
 At the maid, which looked her heart straight 
 
 through. 
 And saw that love was nestling there, 
 'Neath bosoms very ripe and fair. 
 This Georgia man was tall and lank. 
 But fearless quite, and free and frank. 
 
86 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 And lithe of limb and agile quite, — 
 
 Good for a race or for a fight. 
 
 And his love for the maid was true and warm, 
 
 Still as a calm and wild as a storm — 
 
 Still when its course run smooth as cream,— 
 
 Wild when it run like a raging stream. 
 
 For months the cream was on the rise, 
 
 And they loved at will, 'neath moonlit skies ; 
 
 And 'neath the pinon's welcome shade, 
 
 Which never once their love betrayed. 
 
 They made ten thousand vows of truth — 
 
 And basked in pleasures true to youth. 
 
 But soon the raging stream was loosed,^ — 
 
 The dark old father quite refused 
 
 To yield the maid to the Georgia man. 
 
 And dashed to earth the wedding plan ; 
 
 But still their love burned on like flame 
 
 Of seasoned pifion, he was game 
 
 And she was constant, both red-hot, 
 
 And so they planned a famous plot 
 
 Which would defeat the father's will, 
 
 And all their ardent hopes fulfill : 
 
 At dead of night they'd steal away. 
 
 And steal two burros swift and gay 
 
 From the old man, and mount on these 
 
 And swift as winter's northern breeze 
 
 Cross the Sangre de Christo chain 
 
 Of mountains to the San Luis plain, 
 
 And there enjoy the glowing joys 
 
 Of love, where no stern parent cloys. 
 
 With skill experience bestows. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 87 
 
 Perhaps, but then who really knows ? 
 
 ** Georgia " " cribbed " the burros gay, 
 
 By the light of the stars' uncertain ray. 
 
 The maid stole out of the plaza gray. 
 
 And they mounted the steeds and sped away, 
 
 Up the vale by the Spanish Peaks, 
 
 And on o'er mesas, bluffs and creeks — 
 
 So when the sun shone in the sky 
 
 Next morn the "range", so bold and high. 
 
 Stood in their way, a mighty wall, 
 
 Around its top a mystic pall ; 
 
 And now their hearts were wondrous light, 
 
 Assured were they their sudden flight 
 
 Had not been noticed in the night 
 
 By cruel parent ; so, in case 
 
 He should pursue, this start in the race 
 
 Would keep them safe, with steady pace. 
 
 From chance of capture on the way 
 
 To the park they hoped to reach this day. 
 
 When far up on the mountain trail 
 Behind them lay the beauteous vale, 
 So fair in glorious summer guise. 
 It won the gaze of the maiden's eyes ; 
 And gazing back she there beheld 
 A sight that all bright feelings quelled: — 
 Her wrathful father and a band 
 Of friends, well armed, at his command, 
 With head-long speed were on their track. 
 To die or bring the maiden back, 
 While yet a maiden she might be. 
 And hang her " Georgia " on a tree. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 Now safety lay in flight alone, 
 Naught but his life would quite atone 
 For the theft of burros, naught to say 
 About stealing maiden fair away ; 
 And so the spur and lash were plied 
 With vigor to the burros' hide, 
 And on they sped up mountain side. 
 But not with speed, the rocks impede 
 The pace of stoutest, swiftest steed. 
 And granite crags, and canons deep, 
 In which the direst horrors sleep, 
 'Tween them and safety intervene ; — 
 Besides, one yawning, wild ravine. 
 The stream of death its sides atween. 
 
 And now the parent gains apace 
 In this exciting, desperate race, — 
 He and his band will win, 'tis plain, 
 Before the lovers gain the plain ; 
 Each party madly drives ahead, — 
 Their burros' wild and crashing tread 
 Tears boulders from the mountain's side, 
 And wakens echos far and wide. 
 And now beside the wild ravine 
 The lovers stand and near is seen 
 The band the father madly leads 
 To where the stream of death impedes ! 
 The parents eyes with passions glare. 
 The winds disturb his thin gray hair. 
 And his oaths distract the mountain air. 
 And still beside the wild ravine 
 The lover's towering form is seen ; 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 89 
 
 He scans with piercing, blazing eyes 
 The horrid gorge, then wildly cries : 
 " Come to my arms and throbbing breast, 
 And let your firm, round bosom rest 
 Against my coat front, while I try 
 A Lover's Leap, which will defy 
 Your damned old dad and all his crew, — 
 Death cannot tear my heart from you, — 
 My darling, loving, sweetest ewe". 
 
 Two thousand feet, at least, below 
 The stream of death doth coldly flow ; 
 Sharp crags stand out on either side 
 Of the fearful gorge, full seven yards wide ; — 
 But now the leap, the lovers' leap, — 
 Prepare, sweet maids, to wail and weep: 
 Sacre f The fellow jumps like hell ! 
 But down the gorge has surely fell. 
 No! Hold! He grasps a pointed crag; 
 Thank Heaven ! He now will surely drag 
 Himself and loving, trusting bride, 
 To safety on the further side 
 Of this wild, deep and dark ravine, 
 Now a barrier sure between 
 These lovers and the band which would 
 Upon their loving joys intrude. 
 His bride ? Ah yes, his bride in truth, 
 This danger shared weds them, forsooth, 
 As squarely, firmly, as the rite 
 Imposed by priests or law, and quit'e 
 As holy is, and just and true, — 
 And good enough, they thought, — don't you ? 
 
90 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 It may not be the proper thing 
 
 For lovers to make such a nimble spring 
 
 In a "lover's leap" — they should leap o'er 
 
 A precipice and live no more, — 
 
 To do the thing up brown I know, — 
 
 But this tall chap would have a show 
 
 For life, and jumped so well and far, 
 
 His leap must pass, at least, at par 
 
 With lovers' leaps, the country through. 
 
 Although the style is something new. 
 
 "FIGHT IT OUT." 
 
 Falter not — no surrender — "fight it out". — 
 
 Down the line send the "onward" shout; — 
 
 The ranks must push forward ; the fight 
 
 Must be won, whether wrong or the right 
 
 Gains victory by the success 
 
 Of the battle ; — the lines can but press 
 
 Forward o'er rampart and wall, — 
 
 "Fight it out" though the last man shall fall. 
 
 The city when won is a loss ; 
 
 The gold of its treasures but dross; — 
 
 Its stored and its beauty have fled, — 
 
 Disease and famine instead 
 
 Of pleasure and profit, are there. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 91 
 
 And want and hopeless despair — 
 
 What of this ? We fought but to win 
 
 The battle, not treasures within 
 
 The walls of the stronghold ; — the prize 
 
 Rich and bright in the warrior's eyes 
 
 Is victory ! victory ! fame ! — 
 
 All else must be worthless, — tame ; 
 
 And these — well these, too, are naught, 
 
 No matter how dearly they're bought. 
 
 Wade in blood of the foe to the knees — - 
 Face horrors that curdle and freeze 
 The blood in the core of the soul ! 
 Withstand the deadliest roll 
 Of the murderous waves of war 
 Whose gentlest ripples will mar 
 The face of the brightest land 
 That eyes of mortal e're scanned ; — 
 Stand firm in the ranks when the shell 
 Are shrieking like demons of hell ; — 
 When the bullets' whistling breath 
 Stings like the keen wounds of death ! 
 Falter not ! though famine invades, 
 Though the dismal, most horrible shades 
 Of disease may envelope all, 
 As a fearful and withering pall. 
 "Fight it out"! "Fight it out"! never yield 
 Though the horrors of hell be revealed, 
 And you know the reward of the battle to be 
 Simply the garland of victory — 
 A chaplet of flowers fragrant and fair, 
 But passing and fitful as empty air ; 
 
92 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 But Still "fight it out"; by yielding you may 
 Gain respite from struggle, mayhap, for a day, 
 But nothing of worth, no lasting prize, — 
 Ease and repose are but ills in disguise. 
 There may (when the campaign is ended entire 
 And the "rank and the file" forever cease fire, 
 And are sheltered in barracks narrow and still) 
 Be rest for the soldier, but never until 
 The "recall" is sounded, tents stowed away. 
 Destroyed every token of battle array. 
 
 And so "fight it out" in the battle of life! 
 Stand firm in the hours of desperate strife ; 
 Falter not ! though the direst ills assail ; 
 Though friends deemed true in friendship fail ; 
 Though loved ones give for love but hate, 
 And friends served well are friends ingrate. 
 And give in turn for help and gain — 
 Neglect, which yields the keenest pain ; 
 Though those most honored, trusted best. 
 Foully betray, and when opprest 
 Join in with foes, in secret strife, 
 To mar the fairest plans of life ; 
 When all mankind, no matter who, 
 Desert, as all will surely do 
 When fortune fails and want intrudes. 
 And misery's minions come in broods ; — 
 Still falter not! still "fight it out! "— 
 Put all these demon ills to rout; 
 A triumph o'er such wretched foes. 
 Though won by giving furious blows, 
 Will be reward of greatest worth — 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 93 
 
 The highest honor gained on earth. 
 
 And "fight it out", though from the heart 
 The warmest, purest feelings part, 
 And from the mind the dreams of youth — 
 Visions filled with hope and truth 
 And glowing with effulgent gems 
 Plucked from Fancy's diadems, 
 Are swept forever quite away 
 By the light of the real of every day ; 
 Though manhood's firmer hopes and dreams — 
 Bright with intellectual gleams 
 Which should illume a pathway through 
 All barriers and all shadows to 
 The summit of the tower of fame, 
 And burn thereon a brilliant name, — 
 Be blasted by that fearful blight — 
 Failure ! the enemy of might ! 
 
 Still ''fight it out" ! fight to the end ! 
 The very latest breath expend 
 In battling with these earthly foes ; 
 A mortal cannot find repose 
 Until the last great fight is o'er, 
 And the soul on its way to the peaceful shore. 
 
 The pride of triumphs stoutly won 
 In many a fight since life begun, 
 Will be reward quite ample, true. 
 For dangers bravely struggled through. 
 
94 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 LOOKING OVER. 
 
 Looking over old letters to-day, 
 
 Looking over the past ; 
 Filing old-time papers away, 
 
 With memories over-cast ; 
 The while my mind, in a musing vein, 
 Lives over some of its past again. 
 
 Looking over the days of youth, — 
 
 The spring-time of the year, — 
 When the air seemed filled with strength and 
 truth, 
 
 And the sky of hope was clear ; 
 Then life was full of dreams so bright 
 They chased the shades from sorrow's night. 
 
 Looking over those days I see 
 
 I then saw through a lens 
 Which pictured scenes deceitful, — 
 
 Showed pleasure's sweetest glens, 
 Where only gloomy caverns lay, — 
 Shut out from the light of pleasure's day. 
 
 These pictured friendship stout and true — , 
 
 Firm when storms assailed ; 
 And I have found, life's journey through. 
 
 That friendship sadly failed 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 95 
 
 In friendly mien, act or thought, 
 
 When clouds appeared misfortune fraught 
 
 And woman's love, this fair lens through 
 
 Appeared a glowing light, 
 With radiance fervent, constant, too, — 
 
 Forever firm and bright — 
 In mother's, sister's, lover's heart. 
 Or wife's, quite free from guile or art. 
 
 But looking o'er, from truthful stand, — 
 
 The present and the past, — 
 This love, 'tis proved, will not withstand 
 
 Misfortune's keenest blast, 
 Unless it shines in a mother's soul. 
 And there it burns beyond control ! 
 
 And still youth's hopes and happy dreams. 
 
 And fancies ever fair. 
 Although but wildering, transient gleams. 
 
 As fitful as the air, 
 Are sure the brightest, truest joys. 
 That life distills, or man enjoys. 
 
 The summer days of life reveal 
 
 Passion's dangerous fires, — 
 Its nights do not with shades conceal 
 
 Man's hateful, base desires ; 
 And these so strangely haunt the brain 
 That the summer of life is an age of pain. 
 
 The Winter, ah ! but frost and chills, 
 And life destroying storms — 
 
96 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 Disease, infirmities, all ills 
 
 And 'pending dark alarms 
 Can e'en be hoped for, when his reign 
 Is held o'er all life's scant domain. 
 
 So, looking over the fitful past, 
 
 I find no constant joy; 
 Its years are mainly over cast 
 
 With clouds, which quite destroy 
 True happiness, and pleasure free 
 From taint or base impurity. 
 
 And looking over at years ahead, 
 
 With most hopeful sight, 
 I cannot see the hours wed 
 
 To joy, or pleasure bright; 
 All life seems one dark mystery, — 
 A page in the soul's strange history! 
 
 And now, my soul is looking o'er 
 
 The river deep, — not wide, — 
 Striving to scan the further shore; 
 
 Trying to measure the tide ; 
 Hoping there's joy and peaceful rest 
 Beyond the river, in the clime of the blest. 
 
 COLORADO STATE. 
 
 In the lookout towers of the nations to-day, 
 Gazers, solemn, and wise, and gray — 
 Searching the fields of their visions keen, 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 97 
 
 Searching If aught that is new may be seen, 
 Suddenly pause, and, with glowing eyes, 
 Carefully scan the Western skies ; 
 They sagely peer through the mystic air 
 That shrouds the ''Plains" so broad and fair; 
 Through purple tints that softly lie 
 On mountain tops sublimely high, — 
 Through the burnished gold and ocean blue- 
 That radiant, wondrous, beauteous hue 
 Which tints far Western skies with light 
 Strangely pure, and heavenly bright. 
 They gaze through these to the brown and gray 
 Of the plains and mesas, and still away 
 To the dark blue shade, and purple deep 
 Of the Rocky Mountains, grand and steep ! 
 And as they gaze, these mountains high. 
 These broad gray plains and mesas nigh, 
 The rivers, streams, and valleys sweet, 
 Together blend and strangely meet 
 And form a grand and radiant State 
 Named Colorado,— bright and great ! 
 
 These gazers, solemn, wise and gray, 
 
 On lookout towers, far away, 
 
 Glady hail this new born son 
 
 Of our great nation, which has won 
 
 The world's best love ; and everywhere 
 
 True, honest men will offer prayer 
 
 That Colorado State may be 
 
 A sovereign always — firm and free! 
 
 This State, with mines of precious gold, 
 
98 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 And silver pure, with wealth untold, 
 With fertile vales and verdant plains. 
 Must never feel a tyrant's chains! 
 Her rulers must be pure and just. 
 And never foster lecherous lust, 
 Or greed for bribery-gotten gold, 
 For which so many souls are sold. 
 All Colorado's sons, to-day. 
 Hail our State with joy, and may 
 She always shine a brilliant star, 
 Honered by nations near and far! 
 
 LINES 
 
 SUGGESTED BY THE SUDDEN DEATH OF "FREDDIE," 
 A NEPHEW AGED ABOUT FOUR YEARS. 
 
 I do not doubt that beyond the dark river 
 There lies a radiant, glorious land, 
 
 And I feel that the rightous, infinite Giver 
 Of choicest gifts, brightens its strand 
 
 With wondrous beauties, — effulgent rare,— 
 Blessed and perfect beyond compare. 
 
 And I know that Christ, with love unbounded, 
 Reigns supreme in this heavenly clime ; 
 
 And that all with Him are forever surrounded 
 By sweetest pleasures, pure, sublime; 
 
 And I know my heart's true core — my boy — 
 Dwells in that land of eternal joy ! 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 99 
 
 I dare not question the right of the Giver 
 To claim back, while the gift is pure, — 
 
 My precious gem; — I must deliver 
 Back to my God this treasure, sure; 
 
 But all the while my life blood chills; — 
 It is my heart that death now kills ! 
 
 I know that he has ever a right to chasten; 
 
 I dare not doubt his mercy — love — 
 Still I feel if prayer would surely hasten 
 
 My spirit's flight to the world above, 
 I would most deeply, wildly pray 
 
 To meet my boy in heaven, to-day. 
 
 This may be wrong, but my brain is riven; 
 
 Grief hurls fair reason from its throne; 
 But Christ will see this wrong forgiven, — 
 
 He trod the wine press all alone, 
 And knows the piercing, deadly smart 
 
 That burns the sorrow-stricken heart. 
 
 They tell me that I should not sorrow, — 
 Should not mourn, should shed no tear; — 
 
 What if the day is dark ? — the morrow 
 May be cloudless, bright and clear; — 
 
 Not mourn, when death has ta'en my boy? 
 Rob'd life of its brightest hope and joy ! 
 
 As well say to the mighty ocean. 
 
 When the winds are raging wild, 
 "Still your dreadful, fierce commotion, 
 
 (7) 
 
lOO TALES AND LEGENDS, 
 
 Be like lakelets, calm and mild." 
 I must shed tears ! my heart will bleed ! 
 I must bemourn Death's horrid greed ! 
 
 Why this rare child — my heart's best treasure- 
 Flesh of my flesh — life of my life ! — 
 
 Was loved with a love beyond all measure — 
 A love with which my soul is rife ! 
 
 His life made mine one joyous day, — 
 His death, a dismal night, alway. 
 
 But I must pray, and God will hear me ! 
 
 Pray for patience — pray for grace — 
 Pray for heavenly hope to cheer me — 
 
 'Till I shall see his angel face 
 Shining radiant — wondrous bright ; — 
 
 Christ's love the source of this true light. 
 
 THE DEAD-BEAT'S DREAM.* 
 
 A PARODY — ( LOCAL.) 
 
 The "Dead-Beat" slept in a chair 
 
 By "Dexter's" stove, red-hot. 
 
 But his sleep was restless and troubled much, 
 
 For wierd fancies brought 
 
 To his nasal organ the fumes of a drink, 
 
 Of a drink that he had not. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. loi 
 
 At last he started up 
 
 And gazed with a wistful air 
 
 On "Dexter's" pate, that a cruel fate 
 
 Had robbed of half its hair ; 
 
 But read in "Paul's" face — without the stamps 
 
 Nary a "drink" was there. 
 
 His heart was weary and sad, 
 
 His anguish deep and extreme, 
 
 While he anxiously watched "Paul's" gloomy 
 
 face 
 For one relenting gleam ; 
 But he found it not ; then loudly called 
 For "Tholen", in his dream. 
 
 But "Tholen" did not come; 
 
 No office-seekers were round, 
 
 For election day was far away ; 
 
 Nor word, nor sign, nor sound 
 
 That meant, "step up and take a drink", 
 
 Was heard from those around. 
 
 And, oh! you bummers old 
 Who stood in that smoky room, 
 With bloated forms and noses red, — 
 And cheeks with brandy's bloom; 
 Could not you think how a single drink 
 Would cheer the "dead-beat's" gloom. 
 
 But the drink he did not get — 
 
 The drink he madly craves ; 
 
 So he dreamt a horrid dream, at last, 
 
102 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 Of dead men in their graves ; 
 Of bloated corses buried deep 
 •Beneath oblivion's waves. 
 
 And the corses, one by one, 
 
 With foot-steps sad and slow, 
 
 Marched outward from their horrid graves 
 
 And wandered to and fro, — 
 
 A ghastly, grim, and loathsome train — 
 
 A sad and sickening show. 
 
 These marched around the room — 
 • D^ad men, "dead-beats", and all 
 Marshaled by a horrid fiend 
 Clothed in a funeral pall : 
 Disease, and Hunger, and Pain, and Want, 
 Around about them all. 
 
 Then the fiend called on the drinks. 
 And the "Dead-Beat" and the dead 
 Crowded together around the "bar" 
 And not a word was said. 
 But each drank down a fiery draught, 
 As hot as molten lead. 
 
 The fiend had mixed the drinks 
 From murderers' blood, and tears 
 Shed by the murderer's victim's child 
 Through many wretched years, — 
 Neglected by a selfish world. 
 Exposed to a wanton's jeers. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 103 
 
 But this grim and ghastly crew, 
 
 With neither word or cry, 
 
 Drank down the loathsome, burning draught, 
 
 •And still their throats were dry ; 
 
 Then the demon bid them quench their thirst 
 
 In "bust-head" or "red-eye". 
 
 No need of sulphur lake, — 
 
 No need of fiery coal 
 
 To burn the core of the human heart, 
 
 Or sear the sinful soul; — 
 
 The liquid fires men quaft at will 
 
 Burn on beyond control. 
 
 When the "red-eye" draught was drunk 
 The " Dead-Beat's " dream had fled ; 
 Instead of the demon, "Paul" stood there, 
 The bummers instead of the dead ; 
 But his heart was touched by this horrid 
 
 dream. 
 After the phantoms had fled. 
 
 And he thought of year's misspent, — 
 
 The human sorrow and smart 
 
 He caused the friends who loved him well ; 
 
 Of his mother's broken heart, — 
 
 And then resolved all through his life 
 
 To act a nobler part. 
 
 He clasped his fevered hands 
 
 And the the tears began to stream — 
 
I04 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 Large and bitter and fast they fell — 
 Remorse was so extreme ; 
 And yet he thanked his God that he 
 Had dreamed just such a dream. 
 
 *= — First published in the Leavenworth Commercial \n 1869. The names used 
 are genuine. 
 
 OUT IN THE NIGHT. 
 
 It may have been lust and passions vile, 
 
 But I don't believe it quite, 
 That drove that childish — shrinking girl, 
 
 Out in the horrid night ; — 
 That childish girl out in the night — 
 Shunning the street lamps' glaring light, 
 To hide the stain and sickly blight 
 Of youthful charms that must be sold 
 To beastly lust, for lecherous gold. 
 
 It may have been lust and passions vile,. 
 
 That lured her out in the night ; 
 But I watched her careworn, hollow cheek, 
 
 And I can't believe it quite. — 
 Her lips so thin and closely pressed — 
 Her eyes that shone with wild unrest, 
 Her modest, shrunken, covered breast, — 
 Such eyes, or lips, or breast, or cheeks. 
 Not of lustful passion speaks. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 105 
 
 Out in the night she wandered on, 
 
 Out in the horrid night, 
 Trying to sell her blighted charms, — 
 
 It was a saddening sight ; 
 But it was not passion's giddy flaunt ; 
 But wretched, hopeless, meagre want, — 
 Hunger and famine, grim and gaunt. 
 That drove her out in the cruel night, 
 To sell her charms for a wretched mite. ; 
 
 And I wondered if yonder fair, proud girl — 
 
 Gazing out in the night, 
 With radiant eyes and 'witching charms — 
 
 Dazzling, rare and bright — 
 Gazing out from splendor's home. 
 With mirrored walls and frescoed dome. 
 Where only wealth and plenty roam ; — 
 Knew the wanderer of the night, 
 Must sell her charms for a wretched mite. 
 
 And I wondered still, as I wandered by 
 
 A church with stately tower ; 
 Reared on high by pompous wealth — 
 
 More than a prince's dower, 
 And saw within its chancel wide, 
 A strangely fair and youthful bride. 
 With gray-haired bridegroom by her side ; 
 If she had learned the fearful blight. 
 That follows sales of charms by night. 
 
 If you fair girl and fairer bride. 
 Have radiant charms for sale 
 
lo6 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 To lustful wealth through marriage vows, 
 
 Are they much less frail 
 Than she who wanders in the night, 
 Cursed with horrid crime and blight — 
 Shunning e'en the street lamps' light, 
 And sells her charms to bloated lust 
 To buy a shelter and a crust ? 
 
 ^We do not shun the proud and fair, 
 
 Who sell in fashion's mart, 
 Then why despise the wretched girl. 
 
 With broken, bleeding heart; — 
 Houseless, shivering, starving, quite 
 Shrinking — shuddering from affright, 
 At insults shameless, loud and bold. 
 That must be borne, if charms be sold ! 
 
 I tell you, mothers of this land, 
 You must redress the wrong ; 
 Begin by stopping sales at home. 
 Then help the wretched throng 
 Who walk the dreary streets at night. 
 To free their souls from shame and blight, 
 And walk again in virtue's light. 
 Out in the night — be strong to save 
 These wanderers from a hopeless grave ! 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 107 
 
 TO NETTIE. 
 
 I thought I had quite forgotten you, child ! 
 
 A child ten years ago- 
 Pretty, piquant, joyous and wild, 
 
 And loved by all, you know. 
 
 Just WHY we loved you 'twas hard to tell — 
 
 You were not wondrous fair. 
 But you wove 'round all a potent spell, 
 
 With charms both bright and rare. 
 
 We who loved you in those old days — 
 
 The WE I talk of here 
 Were not mere boys, but men whose ways 
 
 Led down through many a year : 
 
 Years of strange, eventful life. 
 
 In foreign lands, I ween, — 
 Fraught with sorrows, joys and strife, 
 
 And many a stirring scene. 
 
 Soldiers were we, too— stern, staunch men — 
 
 Ready to meet the foe ; 
 And we loved the childish "Nettie" then— 
 
 This was ten years ago ! 
 
 I thought I had quite forgotton the child ; 
 
 There's been much to make me forget— 
 Storms of trouble, fierce and wild, 
 
 That surge around me yet ; 
 
io8 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 And death, and sorrow's deepest gloom, 
 
 A wilderness of woe — 
 All gone, love's flowers that used to bloom 
 
 'Round me ten years ago. 
 
 I thought I had forgotten you quite, 
 Till I met you on State street, to-day, 
 
 When I knew your smile, so sweet and bright. 
 And your pretty, piquant way. 
 
 Much the same as they used to be, 
 
 Just ten years ago ; 
 Only saddened, it seemed to me — ■ 
 
 There's grief for all, we know. 
 
 I knew you at once, and walked by your side 
 
 A half a square or so. 
 Thinking of all your beauty's pride, 
 
 But ten years ago. 
 
 And though your face was bright and fair, 
 
 And pure as driven snow, 
 I saw plain marks of sorrow there. 
 
 Made since ten years ago. 
 
 So, you see, I have not forgotten, quite. 
 
 The "Nettie" loved so well, 
 Whose presence brought us joy and light 
 
 And many a pleasing spell, — 
 That made us old men young again. 
 
 Rolled back the years, you know, 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 109 
 
 And freed our lives from grief and pain— 
 This was ten years ago. 
 
 You had forgotten me, 'twas plain — 
 
 This is not strange, I know ; 
 But still it gave a moment's pain, 
 
 To be forgotten so — 
 
 By "Nettie", whom we loved so well 
 
 Just ten years ago ; 
 Whose youth and beauty wove a spell 
 
 Not broken yet, I know. 
 
 AN ACROSTIC. 
 
 Sweet dreams of youth — how beautiful you are, 
 
 And yet how swift you pass for e'er away ! 
 Replete, to-day, with all that's bright and fair, 
 
 And ere the morrow's sun, your beauties all 
 decay. 
 How lovely are the earliest flowers of Spring — 
 
 Fragrance and freshness breathe from every leaf ; 
 E'en these must pass away on "noiseless wing" ! 
 
 Learn, lady, then, that Beauty's life is brief, 
 Lest 'tis that loftier beauty of the mind. 
 
 On which the angels gaze with raptured eye, 
 Which sure is virtue's gift, in heart of hearts 
 enshrined ; — 
 
 Such beauty, friend, is thine, and ne'er can fade 
 or die. 
 
no TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 THE NATAL STAR. 
 
 'Twas night, far away on Eastern plains, 
 
 Many and many a year ago, 
 When a group of sages bivouaced there, 
 
 Watching the wondrous, mystic glow 
 Of a star whose beams shone strangely bright. 
 Refulgent with prophetic light. 
 
 These wise men knew the stars of night. 
 Had mapped the heavens, revealed the laws 
 
 That ruled the shining worlds above ; 
 
 They knew, too, that the " Great First Cause " 
 
 Would send a star, supremely bright. 
 
 To light the heavens Christ's natal night. 
 
 So on the plains they lay, this night, 
 Watching the dark, mysterious skies. 
 
 With holy thoughts within their souls. 
 Prophetic vision in their eyes ; 
 
 And well they knew this star to be 
 
 The sign of Christ's nativity. 
 
 Ah, wondrous light ! grand, glorious gem. 
 Set in the silver crown of night, — 
 
 Thy radiance shed a glow of hope 
 Divinely pure and bright, 
 
 That still illumes each human soul 
 
 Who strives to gain the heavenly goal. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. iii 
 
 The wise men, guided by this star, 
 
 Found where the infant Christ was laid, 
 
 And round the humble couch they stood. 
 And deep obeisance paid ; 
 
 While all the stars in heaven's broad spah 
 
 Sang, "Peace on earth, good will to man". 
 
 This star, the "Star of Bethlehem", 
 Shines bright in heaven to-night, — 
 
 A true and faithful guide 'tis still 
 To all who seek a sight 
 
 Of Christ; — not in the humble natal stall. 
 
 But in high heaven's grandest hall. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 The heart of the nation beats sadly, 
 Columbia's brow is o'ercast, 
 
 And storm-clouds lower darkly, 
 Surcharered with direful blast. 
 
 fc.' 
 
 And patriots shrink at the dangers 
 That threaten the good ship of State - 
 
 As she struggles with terrible tempests. 
 As drear as the caverns of fate. 
 
 And the Captain, to whom is* entrusted 
 The charge of this noble Bark, 
 
 Is not at his post in this hour 
 Of peril, dreadful and dark. 
 
112 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 Nor is he skillful in guiding 
 
 The national ship over seas 
 That are fearful, when ruled by the storm-king, 
 
 But gentle, when kissed by a breeze. 
 
 This Captain is Grant, and his Faction 
 The crew who stand on the deck, 
 
 When the ship is threatened with breakers, 
 That may leave her a hopeless wreck ! 
 
 But the PEOPLE have come to the rescue — 
 They love the Bark, staunch and true ; 
 
 And they'll place on her deck a new Captain, 
 And man her with a brave crew. 
 
 This Captain, — honest old Greeley — 
 
 The NATIONAL PARTY the crew ; 
 The ship then, will surely float always, 
 
 And prove herself gallant and true ! 
 
 Then cheers for the National party ! 
 
 Huzzah for Greeley and Brown ! 
 Who will save the nation from peril. 
 
 And trample the Grant faction down ! 
 
 LITTLE ALLIE. 
 
 It may be rtiefely a fancy. 
 
 She may not be heavenly fair. 
 
 But I always hear when I'm near her 
 Angel-wings rustling the air. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 113 
 
 I may be wrong, but I care not, 
 When I think her pure as a ray 
 
 Of radiant light from the ** glory," 
 
 That shines 'round our Saviour alway. 
 
 I may be thought to be trifling, 
 With sacred themes when I dare, 
 
 Thus to compare little Allie 
 
 With the holiest things that are ; 
 
 But if you knew her as I do. 
 How free her soul is from guile, 
 
 How spotless and pure her life is — 
 Chaste as a vestal's smile; 
 
 You would not blame me for mingling 
 Her name with the holiest themes — 
 
 Comparing her cherub-like beauty 
 With the light of heavenly gleams. 
 
 And sure little Allie, our baby, 
 
 Is a ray from heaven above, 
 God-sent to this world of sorrow, 
 
 To chasten an earthly love. 
 
 Nestle close to my heart little Allie, 
 
 Lay your soft, downy cheek on my breast, 
 
 With you in my arms, life is sacred, 
 And I am wonderfully blest ! 
 
114 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 AMNESTY. 
 
 'Midst the terrible din of battle, 
 'Midst maddening scenes of strife, 
 
 A fallen foe is sacred, — 
 
 No soldier strikes at his life ! 
 
 When the wild, hot blood of passion 
 
 Maddens the warrior's brain. 
 He spares the foe who surrenders. 
 
 Though he tramples on foemen slain. 
 
 No brave man stains his honor 
 
 With the blood of a conquered foe. 
 
 Cowards alone do battle 
 With foeman fallen low. 
 
 Then^why should our brave Northmen 
 Trample the sons of the South, — 
 
 Though they faced them in ranks of battle 
 And fought at their cannon's mouth. 
 
 Now that the battle is over, 
 
 And they have laid down their arms, 
 Conquered, submissive and humble — 
 
 Enduring a thousand harms ! 
 
 The Blue o'er the Gray is triumphant. 
 And the Blue is gallant, I know, — 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 115 
 
 Still it keeps the heel of the tyrant 
 On the neck of this fallen foe. 
 
 But no longer this foul stain will tarnish 
 
 Laurels triumphantly won ; 
 The reign of the tyrant is over, 
 
 The race of oppression is run ! 
 
 For AMNESTY, grand and forgiving, 
 
 Benignant, noble and true, 
 Binds the hearts of the Gray foe forever 
 
 To the noble souls of the Blue. 
 
 AN INDIAN LEGEND OF MIDDLE PARK. 
 
 DEDICATED TO 
 
 WM. N. BYERS, ESQ., A PIONEER EXPLORER OF THE "PARKS." 
 
 The thorax and the pelvic space 
 Of the grand old Rocky range 
 
 Are the vasty, ever-beauteous " parks "- 
 Features fair and strange ; 
 
 Peculiar to this giant "chain" 
 
 Which holds the continent's vast brain ! 
 
 The "parks" are plateaus, resting high 
 
 Above the western plains. 
 Inclosing grassy meads and vales 
 
 And pleasant tree-clad chains 
 
 (8) 
 
ii6 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 Of undulating, graceful hills, — 
 Glad with the melody of rills. 
 
 These rills and mountain brooks form streams 
 Whose waters, sparkling bright, 
 
 United form the rivers great 
 
 Which flow, with grace and might, 
 
 Westward and east across the land. 
 
 And onward to the oceans grand. 
 
 Besides, within these parks so fair 
 
 Are groves and lovely dells, 
 And grottos filled with fossils rare, 
 
 In which the story dwells 
 Of myriad ages e're the sun 
 His fiery race had first begun. 
 
 And rarest birds, with plumage bright, 
 
 Carol amidst the trees 
 Of every grove and forest deep, 
 
 And every sturdy breeze 
 That rustles these, bears health and joy 
 And pleasure, without base alloy. 
 
 The parks are firmly walled about 
 
 By mountains, grand and high. 
 With rugged, cragged granite sides, 
 
 And peaks against the sky ; — 
 The gates in these are canons deep • 
 Through which bold rivers wildly leap. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 117 
 
 The "Middle Park" is the thorax broad 
 
 Of this giant, rocky chain, — 
 The fairest and the richest space 
 
 Within this grand domain ; — 
 Here throbs the giant's mighty heart, 
 Sending life blood to every part. 
 
 This heart is a strange and gracious source 
 
 Of life blood very pure — 
 A living, loving, generous spring, 
 
 Whose waters are a cure 
 For most the painful ills of life 
 Which battle health with fearful strife. 
 
 And the curious legendary lore 
 
 Of a famous Indian tribe 
 Includes a legend, quaint and strange, 
 
 Which I will here transcribe, 
 From which, it seems, fair spells impart 
 Healing gifts to the blood of this heart. 
 
 THE LEGEND. 
 
 Many a thousand moons ago 
 
 The Utes were a mighty race, — 
 Their chiefs the kings of many lands, 
 
 Broad as the bounds of space. 
 The thrones of these, — bold mountain peaks. 
 Round which the wildest tempest shrieks. 
 
 Their warriors — wondrous stout and brave — 
 
 Outnumbered all the stars. 
 And each had won a hundred scalps 
 
ii8 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 In many desperate wars ; 
 Great, and fierce and bold, were these. 
 And tall and grand as stately trees. 
 
 The mightiest chieftain of this tribe 
 
 Was a warrior very old 
 And very wise, and good and true, 
 
 And stout and staunch and bold ; 
 But still, a lover firm of peace, 
 Who prayed all wars and strife would cease. 
 
 But the younger chieftains of the Utes 
 
 Loved the battle's strife, — 
 Their blood was hot with martial flames, 
 
 Their fiery brains were rife 
 With fiercest, bloody, wild desires,— 
 Their passions burned like blasting fires. 
 
 Besides, the boldest of these chiefs — 
 
 A comely, youthful brave, 
 (Famed for mighty deeds in war) 
 
 And passion's fiercest slave, — 
 Hoped to win by fame in strife 
 A much loved princess for his wife. 
 
 So, sore against the old chief's will 
 
 By council fires declared. 
 These younger warriors planned a war 
 
 For which they soon prepared. 
 Against the Indians of the plains — 
 The Arapahoes in their own domains. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 119 
 
 And now, prophetic vision true 
 
 Inspired the old chief's sight ; — 
 The rustling winds and glittering stars, 
 
 And sun-rays, clear and bright. 
 With mystic voices thrilled his ear 
 And bid strange future scenes appear. 
 
 So, he beheld his warriors brave 
 Before the storm of battle driven 
 
 As autum.n leaves before the blast,- — 
 Their ranks of battle riven 
 
 As lightnings pierce the mountain side, 
 
 Opening fissures deep and wide. 
 
 As melted snows by summer sun 
 
 His braves would fade away ; 
 As tempests fierce, and bold, and strong, 
 
 With wild, relentless sway. 
 Fell the mountain pine trees tall. 
 This war would fell his warriors all. 
 
 This vision strange the wise old chief 
 
 Portrayed to all his tribe; 
 With savage eloquence, most grand, 
 
 Their fate he did describe, 
 Should they engage in this wild war 
 With tribes upon the plains afar. 
 
 But all in vain — there must be war, 
 
 And he must lead his braves, 
 Be it to triumphs — as of old — 
 
 Or into bloody graves; — ■ 
 
I20 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 So down there rolled from Middle Park 
 A storm of battle, fierce and dark. 
 
 The Arapahoes, both firm and brave, 
 
 Met this battle-cloud. 
 And soon the thunders drear of war — 
 
 Terrible and loud — 
 Rolled wildly o'er the bloody plain, 
 And carnage ruled with fearful reign. 
 
 The Utes fought stoutly, bravely, well, 
 
 But lost the fight at last; 
 Ten thousand of their stoutest braves 
 
 Fell 'neath the deadly blast 
 That raged throughout this dreadful day. 
 While sternest battle held the sway. 
 
 This wise old chieftain did not fall. 
 
 But sadly, bravely led 
 The remnant of his mighty tribe 
 
 (Though many deep wounds bled) 
 Up to the shelter of the hills, 
 Far from further hurts and ills. 
 
 But now his noble heart was sad. 
 
 For still his fiercest chiefs 
 Talked of bloody, fierce revenge ; 
 
 So, burdened with great griefs. 
 He bade farewell to wives and all. 
 And fled away beyond recall. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 121 
 
 His wounds were bleeding when he fled 
 
 Up the mountain bold, 
 His noble, faithful soul, too, bled — 
 
 Sorrows, deep, controlled 
 His generous mind while he sped on, 
 Until a favorite cave was won. 
 
 Within a mountain, stern and high. 
 
 Above the Middle Park, 
 This cave was formed amidst the rocks — 
 
 'Twas lonely, dank and dark ; 
 But here he built his tepee warm, 
 Secure from every blasting storm. 
 
 His tribe had sorely sinned, he knew, 
 
 Had wronged him deeply, too,^ 
 But had been punished for its crimes 
 
 Until its braves were few; — 
 So he forgave each wrong and crime. 
 Though he must leave it for all it time. 
 
 But still he would some precious gift 
 
 Bestow upon the race — 
 Some worthy, useful, perfect boon, 
 
 That time could not efface ; 
 So, there he prayed to Manitou 
 To grant a favor, great and true. 
 
 The mighty spirit — wondrous, grand — 
 
 That rules the earth and air. 
 Heard this prayer, and answered it 
 
 With gift beyond compare, — 
 
122 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 A potent, generous, noble charm 
 To drive from earth the direst harm. 
 
 This harm is dread disease, an ill 
 
 Most dreaded by mankind; 
 A foe that battles manly strength, — 
 
 That filches from the mind 
 Its truest force, its brightest flame, 
 And makes a man a thing of shame. 
 
 This spell the spirit gave the chief; 
 
 He wisely did bestow 
 The potent, mystic, pleasing charm 
 
 Upon the springs which flow 
 Through Middle Park; so their waters bear 
 Healing gifts beyond compare. 
 
 To rob these healing waters pure 
 
 Of chills from frost and snow, 
 The chieftain built his tepee fires 
 
 Above their constant flow; — 
 And now the springs are warm, you see, 
 And from impurities quite free. 
 
 And all the mountain Indians know 
 
 These waters heal disease, 
 And cherish pleasant thoughts, as well, 
 
 And foster dreams which please; 
 And when afflicted seek these springs 
 'Round which such hopeful glamour clings. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 123 
 
 This good old chief still lives, I hear, 
 
 Within his mountain cave, 
 His tepee fires burn on still; 
 
 But not the boldest brave 
 Dare climb the mountain, high and bold. 
 Claimed by this warrior, gray and old. 
 
 All legendary lore may be 
 
 Fabulous, I know, 
 But still the stubborn fact remains 
 
 That healing waters flow 
 Through Middle Park, from Sulphur Springs, 
 And 'round these still this rare charm clings. 
 
 THE CENTENNIAL STATE TO COLUMBIA. 
 
 I come to thee, fair radiant queen 
 Of the greatest realm of earth; 
 
 A nation free and grand, I ween, 
 Of purest, noblest birth ; 
 
 America's most cherished child. 
 
 Ne'er by a tyrant's chain defiled. 
 
 I come this fair centennial year, 
 This epoch wondrous, grand; 
 
 This anniversary most dear 
 To all who love our land; 
 
 To offer homage at thy feet, 
 
 And claim allegiance, true, complete. 
 
124 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 You ask my name, and why I came, 
 
 That offerings I bring; 
 And why I such allegiance claim, 
 
 Why I would fondly cling 
 To thee, through all the coming years. 
 To share thy joys, dispel thy fears? 
 
 And I will answer, beauteous queen 
 
 Of a nation passing fair; 
 My name shines with a golden sheen, 
 
 Wondrous, pure and rare : 
 'Tis Colorado! strange, but great. 
 The latest born. Centennial State! 
 
 I come because I love the free. 
 
 Despise all tyrants' chains. 
 And know that freedom dwells with thee; 
 
 And in thy broad domains 
 Dwell all her noblest, truest sons; 
 Thine is a land oppression shuns. 
 
 From whence I come? What gifts bring I? 
 
 Beyond the western plains 
 Are rocky mountains, bold and high. 
 
 Where grandeur proudly reigns. 
 And beauty lingers, charmed the while, 
 By scenes that woo her sweetest smile. 
 
 Within these fairest valleys rest. 
 And grandest "parks" repose — 
 
 Retreats the gods have strangely blest, 
 In which a radiance glows — 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 125 
 
 Refulgent, pure, a glorious light, 
 Revealing treasures rich and bright. 
 
 Treasures of ores, of glittering gold 
 
 And silver, lustrous, pure — 
 Of soils that yield a thousand fold, 
 
 Of wealth that must endure; 
 Treasures real, vast and grand. 
 Not mythic yields of magic wand. 
 
 Besides these charming parks and vales 
 
 Within the "Rockies" bold. 
 Great rivers flow, swiftly as gales. 
 
 Grandly as ocean old, 
 And rippling brooks and peaceful streams, 
 With waters bright as fair moonbeams. 
 
 Near, ''foot-hills" rise and plains expand, 
 
 And "mesas" stretch away. 
 All forming a most glorious land, — 
 
 I come from this to-day; — 
 This region vast, beyond the "plains," 
 Where health and thrift and plenty reigns. 
 
 The gifts I offer — see how rare. 
 
 How precious, rich and bright. 
 Hoards of golden ore so fair. 
 
 They dazzle eager sight ! 
 Wealth to buy — sad but true — 
 The Cabinet, and Congress too. 
 
 And untold stores of silver ores, 
 Pure as mother's love, 
 
126 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 And precious as a prayer that soars 
 
 Up to the realms above 
 From out a vestal virgin's soul, 
 To sway the gods with sweet control. 
 
 I offer cities, proud and fair, 
 
 And numerous lovely towns, 
 And mining camps, which proudly wear 
 
 Wealth's richest, brightest crowns. 
 And villages, and herds and fields 
 That always grant most bounteous yields. 
 
 More than a hundred thousand souls, 
 
 I offer you to-day; — 
 Generous, noble, trusting souls. 
 
 Not cultured, you may say; 
 But sturdy, brave and mostly true, 
 And honest, too, I promise you. 
 
 And schools and churches, mills and mines, 
 And roads o'er hills and plains, ^ 
 
 And many thriving railway lines 
 Across my broad domains; 
 
 And printing presses, steam impelled. 
 
 By brains inspired, not excelled. 
 
 And over all a beauteous sky, - . 
 
 Wondrous clear and bright. 
 Purple blue, like love-lit eye. 
 
 That tint which yields delight; 
 A sky but seldom cloud o'er cast, 
 Or marred by dark and direful blast. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 127 
 
 And thus I come, most noble queen, 
 
 The new Centennial State, 
 This fair centennial year, I ween. 
 
 An era wondrous great; 
 And trust you will receive me now, 
 A gem, to deck thy radiant brow. 
 
 THE PROSPECTOR'S DREAM. 
 
 In a hut of boughs from the mountain pine, 
 On a lofty range near the "timber line", 
 
 He lay and slept, — a strange old man 
 Whose brow was furrowed deep with scars 
 From desperate strife in life's wild wars, 
 
 His cheeks time-stained and wan. 
 
 His massive, brawny, iron form. 
 Bowed like the oak in mountain storm. 
 
 Shows marks of wondrous power; 
 His bared and sinewy arms reveal 
 Thews, like bands of tempered steel, 
 
 'Neath which the foe must cower. 
 
 His locks, that erst were soft and fair. 
 Now thinned by toil in mountain air 
 
 And greyed by frosts of time. 
 Though all unkempt and scattered o'er 
 His pillow on the cabin floor, 
 
 Speak of some milder clime ; — 
 
128 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 Some far-ofif eastern clime, perchance, 
 With maids whose blue eyes' softest glance 
 
 Still haunt his brig^htest dreams ; 
 'Though years, stern years of toil and change 
 In canon wild, on mountain range. 
 
 Have dimmed soft Fancy's gleams. 
 
 E'en now he dreams ! — A sweet smile steals 
 O'er his stern features, and reveals 
 
 The sleeper's visions bright : — 
 He is a boy again ! and cloys 
 His fancy with the 'wildering joys 
 
 Of youth and love and light. 
 
 He breathes a name — the dear, fond name 
 Of some fair girl. *' I do not blame 
 
 You now, dear, wayward child. 
 That years ago you spurned my love, 
 Though, by the gods that rule above, 
 
 My love was deep, and wild. 
 
 "You could not love me then, you said, — 
 This drove me mad ; I wildly prayed 
 
 For death, but could not find 
 That grand panacea for all ills — 
 That cure for passion's wildest thrills. 
 
 Which leaves no dreams behind. 
 
 "But I have found in years of strife. 
 In foreign climes, with dangers rife, 
 
 Forgetfulness of all but thee, — 
 As thou wert then, a happy girl. 
 
TALES AND LEGENDS. 129 
 
 With laughing eye and golden curl 
 And heart so pure and free. 
 
 *' And my deep love, that still lives on, 
 Though I have falsely wooed and won 
 
 The heart of many a maid : — 
 The first, a dark Italian child, 
 With passions fierce and deep, and wild, 
 
 And dark as mountain's shade. 
 
 " I won, then flung the toy away. 
 Well knowing I might dearly pay 
 
 For handling liquid fire ; — 
 I caught her dagger's point just there, 
 In this right arm- — you see the scar ? 
 
 Then spurned her in my ire. 
 
 "The next", a cloud was on his brow. 
 His sleep disturbed — "I would not now 
 
 Reveal her noble name ; 
 The daughter of an honored race, 
 A noble girl, with beauteous face, — 
 
 Her story : love and shame. 
 
 "The next, ah ! she was wondrous fair — 
 With azure eyes and lustrous hair, , 
 
 And heart so pure and true 
 I might have spared her, but my soul 
 Was drunken from foul passion's bowl. 
 
 And she was ruined, too. 
 
 "She was the last. In wilder scenes 
 Of war and strife I sought the means 
 
I30 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 To cure my maddened brain ! 
 I found the battle-field, and stood 
 Knee-deep in patriot's rich life blood, 
 
 And slept amongst the slain. 
 
 " Such scenes, and years have wrought the charm 
 That stills my passions fiercest storm — 
 
 Makes this wild love a dream ; 
 And I have sought this land of gold, 
 And climb these mountains, rough and bold, 
 To find where treasures gleam. 
 
 " Pure gold and silver — rare and bright — - 
 (Though hidden, far from human sight, 
 
 In crevice close and deep,) 
 Shine 'neath these rocks, and I will find 
 These treasures Nature has confined 
 
 In mountains wild and steep. 
 
 "Then radiant wealth will yield the power 
 To give to thee a princely dower. 
 
 And gems will deck thy hair; 
 Though well I know 'tis greyed with years. 
 In my bright vision it appears 
 Golden and soft and fair." 
 
 Brilliant sunbeams filtered through 
 The cabin's roof of boughs, and threw 
 
 Their radiance on his brow. 
 And scattered gems through his grey hair. 
 Of wondrous lustre, pure and rare ; 
 
 His dream was over now. 
 
 C 32 89 
 
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