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A Racy 46-er

A Racy 46-er image
Parent Issue
Day
6
Month
July
Year
1887
Copyright
Public Domain
OCR Text

The following is ttie response civen by Sam Duvis, a noted Nevada editor, to a ton! of " The Pres," at a recent meeting of the Pioneer Society at Virgin 11 City .- The Press - Responded to by S:im Davi nitor liis usual chnructeristlc style. He said : I hui son y lint you torced me up on thia platform. Ia the lint place, I don't like to be so infernally conspicuous, and the last time I spoke liere it coat twenty dollars; the occasion beiiijf, as some of you may remember, perliaps as sadly as inyself, the Republienn State üonvention. The party is slill holding on to iny iuoney and another man is holding the office. [Laughter.] There are other tbings abou; thls utl'air to-night much more pleasant to me. I don't know wliether to take this as a compliment or not, but the thing stares me in the face, nevertheless, tliat this is the anniversary of iny first stttiujr foot on the soil of the sagebrueb State, justfortysix yers ago. [ A voice - "What's that ?""] Juitjforty-six years ago, Mr. Chairman, I carne to this State. [Sliouts of " Sit down!" and derisive laughter.] I know that nobody in this hall believesmy statement, hutl don't propose to besnowballed out of ringing in on the old Pioneer Society simply because a lot of lunatics ilim't believe niy statements. I am not here. Mr. Chairman, to substantiate statements, but to make tlu-in. [A voice - "Don't take back a year."] I won't. Wliy, gentlemen, when I first carne to tbis conntry forty-six years ago, dldn't I say, this broad and luagniticeut Canon Valley was merely an insigniticant ravine and the Sierra Nevada range wuí tlien In tslnfancy. Why, sir, Mr. Chairraan, and I state it as a cold fuct, that these snow-capped domes which now gaze the eenturies in the face and whose hoary heads pierce the azure sky were so .mail that by climbing an old Democratie flag-pole tlien on C street you could look right over into California and see the f)ld washers in the Sacramento Valley. don't teil you these things, Mr. Chairman, to show whut an early pioneer I was, but to show how this country has grown. [Laughter.] When I left Branford, Connectiout, I found that there was a general unanimity of feeling about iny golng qujek. Kverybody seemed impres6ed with the idc thut I was just the mau to build up a new country and everybody that knew me insisted that achange of clhnate was what I nceded. [Laughter.] Mr. Williamson, in hls own pleusant wiiy, has told you of "the girl he left behind hiin." I know what that experience is. When I started to go, and everybody was anxious to eet rid of me, there was one golden-haired, blue-eyed woman at the gate who stood there witli her tearful eycs lookintr pleadingly into mine. I never knew before what it was to part from such a woman, and I know by the sympathy on your upturned faces as I teil this that your minds wander back with me to the violet studded meadow of old New England where the air carries the scent of the falling apple blosoms and the sad sea waves beats upon your memories vaguely. We have all seen the tearful woman At the gate who would hold U8 back. This one held me back about an hour, but I paid half my board bill and agreed to send the balance from Chicago, and she letmy trunk go down to the stugu and me along with it too quick. [Applause and laughter.j I left Omaha with a fine team and Studebaker wngon. 1 won't say now how I got the horses, but I got 'em. A. C. Cleveland, Jim Townsend and old Deacon Adkison were in Omaha playing hookey in tho streets and I took tuern ilonir with me. Cleve. owned a yellow dog. By the time we struck where Denver now stands Cleve. owned the horses, Adkison owned the wagon and I owned the dog, until Townsend beat me out of it. [Laughter]. Wc had a hard time getting Cleve. and Adkison past Salt l.iike. At Omnha we bad purchased a newspaper, and the man who sold us the outlit tied up the type in columns just as it lay in the foroi. We paid so rauch a column for the type so as to have it airead y set up when we wanted it. Cleve. paid for the outfit by giviug the man bis note for tliirty days. "Look here boy," said the man, " this won't do." " Look here," said Cleve , " we've agreed to take your paper, now can you congigteiuly refuse mine?" [Liiughter.] Wliilo the poor man was ïijjuriu out the point of the joke we passed out of the city limits, and with llght bearts and brnvc resolves sel our faces toward the setting sun, ready at a moment's notice to dodge the Omaha detectives or blaze the path of empire. One Chrlstmas night we were roused from our slumbers by an Indian yull. We had boughtanold brass howitzcr at Salt Lnke and a keg of powto lire salutes. Our idea in Uring our own salutes was not to saddlc the expense of welcoinlng us on other people who inijrht perliaps not bc in the circumstance to afford it. We loaded up the old howitzer with powder, and not knowIng what clsc to do crainmed in a column of old type. It was leaded brevier, an Old Whig platfurm, I believe, and when wc lielclied our typographioul complimeuts to the ludiansthey sat down on almost any convenient spot and howled dUmally. I did'nt blame 'cm. (Lnughter.) When they caine ou again we let 'em have a couplc of coluiuiis of Prohibition articles, and followed up our advautagv with tome of Alt. Doten's original poetry. (Lnughter and applnuse.) It was a sick Chriütums for those unlettered - I beg pardon- those unmltigated red devils wtio tried to spoil our mistletoe and holy anniversary. Whenever I meet an Indhtn with nonparell or minlon lower case stlcking out of li is hide 1 grab him by the hand and wlih liini a merry ChrisUinis. We rcached (old Hill in due time, and started in. Cleveland and Adkin set up a faro game where the Presbyterian cliurch now stands nd I started a Sunday chool where the old brewery now is. This was in '3H, and 1 remember it juat as if it were yesterdnv. ("harlie De Long, Bob Patterson and John Mackay Ufed to go lo school to me tlien [laiightetl and other men who have muco made tin ir mark. But these old days are passing away, and even now as I look bnek they seem veiled In the mistó of forgetfulness. We old ploneers have traveled cross the deserts of life, we have frollckcd In the springtime of youth, we have gambled and fought and raised the devll here and there and drank forbidden wine, which l believe was about the only style of refreshment along the dusty road we toiled. Let not the Recording Angel set down aught in malice for that. We never cheated anybody, nor stole tliiiijr, nor drove bargains tbat uonest men objected to. [Applause.l Theclaim jumping and such tliinjrs caune with the tenderfeet. We were not inercenary or else we would have been ric!i. We founded this empire nd let others rule it. But the Hoe of march stretchea toward the horizon, tlio sliadows of uifrht steal over the landscape and the glories of the depiit tiiiíí sunset fade from tlie western sky. We Ulied the air with laughter and wet the sod with tean", but we sliall soon reach that land where the flow of tears shall cease and the sound of laughtcr be hushed forever. Last fall I stood in the cemetery ut Virginia City and saw the iwalling inounds that marked the resting places of tliose dead Pioneers that had passed to tlieir everlasting home. I saw the names ou the hcadboard.-, and as I read tlumi in the deepeninff twilight the tears stole down my cljeeks. It WB1 a .-ml sight, Mr. Chairman, but not half so melancholy as next day when I saw every last one of tliose names being voted at the Democratie primaries. (Applause and Laughter.) Yes, Mr. Speaker, I uw Mr. Joggles Vright, who had been 'a staunch, consistent and live Kepublican for years, beinp; voted twiee In tlie second ward and tliree times in the tirst. I bowed my head and wept. The old Lrave-yard is still therc and cach year ailds to its citizenship. Lylng tbere the bruvest auti the best Whlch rrum ita vlubige rolllug time has pressed Have drank thelr cup a mum! or two lefore And one by one crept sllently to nat, The time approaches when the rising mfwn will vainly look for the laRt Pioneer. It was only yestorday that wp came upon the scène and lo-morrow we die. A moment halt a mnmentarv lastp Ofbelng from the well amlil the waste Andlo! tlie phantom caravan hits reached The notliliiK lt set on froni, Oh, inake baste !

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Subjects
Ann Arbor Courier
Old News