POETRY.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2017, 11 August 1880, Page 3

POETRY.

IN THE MINES. SUTTER CREEK, CAL., 1853. By Wyoming Kit. (The Settler, Loquitur.) “ As fur as edioation goes, it’s proper, an’ it’s right When conducted in a sort o f temperate way : But it sometimes lays the groundwork for a nasty kind o’ fight; As war fully demonstrated ’tothor day. A fine-haired chicken from the States cum ’yar a spell ago An’ begin to revolutionize the camp By interducin’ Boston ways, an’ all o’ that you know— Tried to ‘ Christianize us’, so remarked the scamp! “ The fust wild break ho made he rented that old hall o’ Snooks, Which he fitted up with tables an’ with shelves; An’ then he tuk collections up, an’ bought a lot o’ books, An’ told us for to oum and help ourselves. He called the place a-readin’ room, or some sich name as that, An’ any time we wanted, day or night, To i loaf an’ hour, an’ meet with friends, an’ have a social chat An’ read the books, 'twar all correct an’ right. “ Thar wasn’t no great harm in that, though faro men complained That it hurt their games—they chattered like baboons— An’ whisky slingers all to once got cross an’ ugly grained. ’Cause it kept the crowd away from the saloons. But he allers war politish like, an’ had a wincin’ way That sort o’ drawd the boys around his place ; You could see him waltzin’ ’round among ’em any time o’ day With a saintish smile a-hanging to his face. “He next got up a jamboree he called a * social club,’ Whar’ the boys could meet on evenin’ an’ set ’round An’ play at checkers, chess, an’ sich, an’ no one get a snub If his clothes war’ old, jist ao his acts war’ sound. About this this time the kick begun, some sayin’ that the cuss War’ killin’ all the business in the camp By keepin’ men from roamin’ nights—l knowed thar’d bo a muss, An’ I told the bloke he’d better take a tramp!

“Then cum a ‘free debatin’ club,’ whar’ any any one could jine, An’ take a hand in argumentivo talk ; You see, they’d put a question up, and each side go to tryin’, To prove that it war right side of the chalk. An’ *twar the same debatin’ club that started up the row— That stopped the hull perceediu’s at a lick! An’ sent the Boston feller on a trip—an’ I’ll allow, A feelin’ purty tolerable sick ! “ The question war about like this : ‘ Resolved, that playin’ cards Are a curse an’ ’bomination in the land ! ’ Bill Weeks tuk the affirmative, with two selected pards, An’ begun to sling his arguments offhand ! I can’t jist quote old Bill’s remarks, but he sort o’ work it in That a gambler war unworthy fur to live! An’ he classed the hull fraternity as monuments of sin— Ho strained ’em through a mighty closewired sieve! “ Poker Benson wan’t a member, but he up an’ claimed the right To remark that thar’ war’ gamblers jist as clean As some that vanished from the States benoatffthe shades o’ night. With a sheriff’s posse playin’ in the scene! He said he thoi%ht it out o’ place fur one that had a charge O’ stealin’ bosses on the books, To rise up in a public crowd an’ brazenly enlarge On genteel gamblers bein’ dirty crooks! “ Weeks made another play, an’ said the recent speaker lied! That his record in the States war’ clean an’ squar’! Then Benson fiercely slapped his fists, an’ angrily replied That he like to pulverize him then an’ thar’! I knowed jist w’at war' cornin’, an’ I made a prudent break Fur a new position jist outside the door— I’m rayther peaceable inclined, an’ never like to take A hand when other parties has the floor, “ I heard the like go back an’ forth, in company with talk That wasn’t complimentary or nice, An’ I knowed that men o’ Weeks' and o’ Benson’s fightin’ stock Would gravitate to business in a trice ! Weeks pulled his gun an’ turned ’er loose, an’ then the other boys Peroeeded fur to take a lively hand. An’ the roar o’ pistols, mingled with the yellin’, made a noise Like a jamboree down in perdition land !

“ The conflict lasted quite a while, an’ when it settled down, From cipherin’ on the row, the figgors stood : Eleven killed too dead to skin ; nine wounded, an’ the town In an uproar of excitement an’ bad blood ! The vigilantes yanked their rope from out its hidin’ place 3Tur to hug the nock o’ him as caused the row ! But the Boston chap had jumped the camp—we haven’t seen his face From the evenin’ o’ the tragedy till now ! * * * * * “ That’s why I told you, stranger, in my openin’ remark That edication’s proper in its place— I never like to see a man agropin’ in the dark Of ignorance ; but like to see his face Lit up withintelleotooal light—but, ’yar’s the pint; the chap Tried to rush the thing too cussed fast, you see ! Ho tried to Bostoniza the camp at one tumultuous clap. An’ sioh a sudden change could never be!”