The Old Colony Memorial.
THURSDAY, JAN. 11, 1877.
Miss Sarah Bradford attained her ninety-fourth birthday last Monday, and at her age is a remarkably well preserved old lady, being in posession of all her faculties, able to sew and read without glasses, and go about as she pleases out of doors, in spite of ice and snow. She is a direct descendant of Gov. Bradford, the old Pilgrim ruler, in the seventh generation, and is the last survivor of a large family, of which the late Mr. John Bradford, for so many years the keeper of the old Bradford Tavern in this town, was a member. Miss Bradford has her home with her neice, Mrs. S. M. Burbank, Jr., on South Green street, and on Monday received calls from several of our first families as well as from immediate relatives. The Bradfords of New York city, also kindly remembered her with substantial tokens of regard.
THE EVENING NEWS
ALF. DOTEN, Managing Editor.
GOLD HILL, WEDNESDAY, MAY 30, 1877
Its Observance on the Comstock– Strewing Flowers over the Graves of Union and Confederate Heroes–Oration by Judge E. W. Hillyer–Hon. H. M. Daggett's Poem–The Procession– Other Items–The Day in Gold Hill.
The usual ceremonies of Memorial Day were observed in Virginia City to-day. The arrangements were under charge of the Order of Union and Confederate Veterans, who extended invitations to different civic and military organizations to join in the procession, which upon this particular occasion was an unusually large one.
At an early hour this morning the Stars and Stripes at half-mast became apparent all over the city, and the regular amount of enthusiasm over a reunited country was manifested by the people. It was the talk upon the street corners, and the good folk of Gold Hill and Virginia turned out in their holiday attire. The military companies were seen marching and counter-marching, and the sound of martial music was heard in the streets. These warlike sights and sounds were but as a slight reminder of the days when the opposing hosts of the North and South met in hostile array, and the joining of those strong hands is an earnest of the peace which has been sealed by the blood of myriads of brave men. l CONTRIBUTIONS.
Following is a list of donations of flowers, with the names of parties presenting the same: Mrs. R. Rising, one box of flowers; Mrs. J. C. Lewis, one box of flowers; Mrs. M. C. Hillyer, three packages of flowers; Mrs. E. B. Stonehill, one box of flowers; Mrs. J. C. Currie, one box of flowers; Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Lon. Hamilton, two boxes of flowers; Mrs. A. L. Meekins, one box of bouquets; Mrs. Thomas Buckner, crown of immortelles; Mrs. Gilbert Ross, one box of flowers; Mrs. Charles H. Osborne, one box of flowers; Mrs. Alice Nye, bouquets; Mrs. French, one basked of flowers; Mrs. S. J. Cooper and Miss Carrie Clark, bouquets; Mr. and Mrs. Alex G. McKinzie, one box of bouquets and wreath of flowers; Mrs. W. H. Smith, one box of flowers; Mrs. F. A. Tritle, one box of flowers; Mrs. J. C. Yong, one basked of flowers; Hon. Jonas Seely, one box of flowers.
Shortly after 10 o'clock the procession formed on C street, near the Odd Fellows' building, with Captain F. C. Lord as Grand Marshal and Comrade Ogden Hiles, U. S. A.., and Comrade Guy Thorpe, C. S. A., as Aids. At 11 o'clock the line moved in the following order:
Band. Order Union and Confederate Veterans. Surviving Mexican Veterans. Exempt Firemen. Pacific Coast Pioneers, Fire Departments of Virginia and Gold Hill, Virginia Turn-Verein. Carriages, containing the Chaplain, Orator, Poet and Reader. The Choral Society. Carriages containing Teachers of the Public Schools. Children of the Public Schools. Federal, State, County and City officials. Citizens in Carriages.
The line of march was crowded with interested spectators and the general appearance indicated that the people of Nevada, at least, have accepted Memorial Day as an occasion second only to the glorious Fourth of July.
AT THE CEMETERY.
The programme marked out by the Committee of Arrangements was carried out.
Music by the Band. Decoration. Music–Choral Society. Prayer–Comrade Rev. W. R. Jenvey. Oration–Comrade E. W. Hillyer. Music–Choral Society Poem, Hon. R. M. Daggett; Reader, R. H. Lindsay. Music by the Band. Benediction.
The music by the Choral Societdy was excellent, and Judge Hillyer's oration was listened to with interest, the speaker being frequently interrupted by bursts of enthusiastic applause. The Choral Society was composed of Mrs. Layton, Mrs. Eels, Mrs. Foster, Miss Jennie Galt, Geo H. Eels, Mr. Hull and C. L. Foster
Mr. Lindsay read the poem in fine style, adding all his power of elocution to Mr. Daggett's superb production.
ASRIK-OBEN. All beauty-strewn, with willows bending o'er, Where timid streams in lonesome monotone, Low crouching under shelving banks of green, Wind slowly past the places of the dead, Repose the ashes of eventless lives. They lived in peace, and so in silence rest. No storm e'er rent the sunshine of their days, The songs of birds, the distant plowman's voice, The bleating herds, the mellow call of kine, The zephyrs freight around the tombs of men Who filled the level ranks of noiseless years, And went to sleep worn with aching toil That finds reward and ample recompense In stinted comforts (asking nothing more), And changeless faith and hope beyond the grave.
Not so the warrior lives, nor so he dies, The griefs of others grasping as his own, His soul attuned to music of the storm, The silent sobs of anguish, and the tears Of nations and of men, are by his arm Translated into vengeance, and his sword, A tongue of fire with eloquence of might, Speaks peace through blood and joy through prostrate wrong. If 'mid the clash of steel in fearless charge, With awful voice of carnage urging on, His dauntless soul goes out unawed, and winged With the black breath of battle, where he falls– His hand still clenching in its rigid clasp The shattered standard or the broken blade– Are laid away, trenched in the wounded earth, His stiffened limbs, ranked with a ghastly line Of blood stained heroes marshaled for the skies, In rocky fastness and on mountain peak, In forest dim with age and gloomy gorge, Where'er the chance of battle hews him down, There sleeps the soldier. 'Tis a fitting place. His dust should mingle with the grand of earth, And part become of mountain and of stream, As was entombed the greatest of the Huns.
Not in the hell of battle sank the few Whose mounds we come to strew with flowers to-day, With hand impartial and with heart in tears. By Death unchallenged passing through the gates Of war, in peace they met the valiant shades Of sturdy comrades stricken down n Arms By the fierce lightning of the thund'ring charge; And here, like warriors battle-cloaked, they rest, Inurned upon the burnt and rocky crests Of mountains by the first of Pluto rent, And from the breasts of angry deserts raised, The shimmering sands stretch eastward in the sun, While mountain westward on the rocky steps Of billowy peaks and canyons dark in depth, The whitened hights, enthroned against the clouds, Look down with changeless face on treeless plains, Voiceless in song and smileless everywhere.
So from the ashes of the warring sons Of stormy Huga, sepulchered in peace, Was born the union of the Allack bands, And brotherhood that gave them lasting strength. Long ere the fair-haired Harold, great in arms, (So runs the saga of a Northern scald), Subdued the tribes of Norway and the Finns; Before the Sea Kings and united hordes Of sturdy Norsemen, clad in furs and steel, Followed the sail of Rollo o'er the seam And tribute laid on Holland and the French; Before the son of Eric, westward bound In search of unknown lands and fairer climes, The sunset saw from distant Helluland;– aye, long before, there dwelt a warlike tribe Beside the Otra, where its widening banks Shape through the vale a long and narrow lake. Fair are its valleys yet, and clear and cool Its waters, as in swift descent and wild It pours its volume into Skager Rack, Its current mingling with the Northern Sea. Along the sunny borders of the lake The Allacks lived, a brave and blue eyed tribe, In numbers few, but with the sword and spear, and bow and battle-ax, a fearless host. They knew the arts as others knew them then Their herds were many and their fields were broad. Abundance waited on their spreading nets, And rich in spoil the hunter homeward came. They sought not conquest, but their rufgged arms And ready blades defended all their own.
Their chief was Huga, grand and strong of limb, Whose battle-ax was of the anvil's weight. In council wise, in arms a moving tower, He claimed descent through loins of heroes down From god-like Sœming, and to Odin thence. Beside a cliff, walled in with massive stone, Were altars reared to Odin and to Thor, And Tyr and other of the Norseman's gods; And when in childless wedlock Huga prayed, The answering thunders spake a dread assent, And to his hopes and home two sons were born. The first was Asrik; Oben next and both To mighty manhood grew. Then Huga died, And Oben seized the scepter and the sword. The Allacks were divided. Asrik, right, Had followers, and so had Oben, wrong. Across the lake the elder eastward went, Bearing the battle-ax of Ezron, Which down to Huga came through a might of arm. There, with herdsmen of the Ogran plains And hunters from the woody hills beyond, He raised the standard of the Allack jarls, And builded temples to his fathers' gods Of thunder and of war. Then Oben armed, And up and down the Ogra bearded men, War-visaged, sprang to arms; and sword and pike Of fathers rent the helmets of their sons, and sons their fathers slew. Red-banded war Brought brothers face to face in deadly strife, Until the fields of Oben grew to thorns, And Asrik's herds were scattered to the winds. At last, in fierce encounter foot to foot, The chieftains met. With one tremendous blow Brave Asrik, with the Allack battle-ax, The strong right arm from Oben's shoulder hewed; But not before the point of Oben's pike Down-guided by the stubborn shield it smote, Drove through the knee of Asrik, Falling both. As swoops the eagle in its circling flight Down on the tender suckling of the fold, So swept the lines of watching warriors on, To rescue with the sword their fallen chiefs. And so the battle ended. Losing each A limb, the warlike chieftain's chafed in wrath Like lions chained. Worn down the years of war, The people slept, when from the plains of Dru A bugle-blast swept o'er the Western hills Of fearless menace to the Allack bands, And challenge to old Huga's daring sons.
Then Asrik's weathered herdsmen seized their arms, And so the sturdy warriors of the field. Each armed in doubt, for each a leader lacked, Shorn of their strength, the wounded chieftains lay Like Samson in Delilah's faithless arms, While down the Ogra, like a seething flood, Poured the grim warriors of the hordes of Drn, Destruction breathing on the lands of both. Then to the temples of their gods they went, And making sacrifice to Odin, prayed That he would heal their hurts, their limbs restore, And place them, armed, where Allack needed strength. Great Odin listened, and a message sent, And this the purport of the words to both: "War-shattered limbs can never be restored "To warriors battling in fraternal strive, "Lest such dread discord, hated of the gods, "Be made eternal. Bring the buried limbs "Of Asrik and of Oden; then beside "The altar raised by Huga, heaven-loved, "Together reinurn the bones in peace; "Then when the vanguard of the men of Dru "Their war-steeds pasture in the vale beyond "The cliffs of Illa, in the early dawn "Let long divided Allack kneel in arms "Around the altar, while the wounded chiefs, "With clasping hands above the sepulcher– "The resting place of their dismembered limbs– "With smoke of incense offer up their souls, "The scepter yielding to great Odin's choice." Each knew what Odin to the other spoke, And each with solemn purpose bowed assent.
The steeds of Dru grazed on the Illac plains, And all night long the sullen tramp of men, The dipping oar, the clang of pike and shield, Went up from out the darkness of the lake, And echoed 'round the temples and the tombs Of Oben's gods and Allack's sleeping jarls. Across the lake and from the western vales The shadowy columns of the herdsmen came, And stood in line unchallenged. Ere the dawn, Close on the right the troops of Oben formed; And when the coming sun behind the hills First pierced the darkness with his spears of light, The wounded chiefs before the altar stood. Against his brother leaning, Asrik bent, His hand in only hand of Oben clasped, While from the altar, circling through the air, The smoking incense clouded all the host And covered with it pall great Huga's sons. Then broke in awful thunder's deaf'ning roar The voice of Thor. As with a whirlwind strewn, The Allacks fell upon their armored knees. Now groaned the trembling earth, and in the air Above the murky canopy of smoke, Voices were heard, deep-toned and terrible; Then all was silence. With the rising sun The cloud uplifted, and the Allacks saw Where stood the brothers but a single man. In stature grand as god-like Ezeron, His shapely limbs strong as the mountain ash, All clad in mail of steel, and in his hand Grasping the Allack battle-ax, he stood Before the wond'ring multitude a god. Between the armies striding forth, he said: "Asrik no more; no longer Oben lives. "The shattered forms of both, by Odin's hand "Shaped into one, our swords and service claim, "The son of Huga, Asrik-Oben speaks!" Then from the united Allack rose a shout That echoed up the vale beyond the cliffs; And battle-scarred battalions, long estranged, Formed into line and up the valley swept, With mighty Asrik-Oben leading on. Before the god made chieftain's battle-ax, And strength in union of the Allack arms, Went down the bold invaders from the Dru. Thousands were slain; as many thousands fled. O'erwhelmed and scattered like November leaves. Peace rested then in Allack. Discord ceased. The ripened corn was gathered in its time; The herdsman's cattle fattened in the vale; The roses blossomed where the warrior trod, And smiling plenty poured its bounty out Where sad-eyed want for years had made its home.
So, buried here in grandest sepulture Besides the altars of enduring hills, The severed limbs of fratricidal war, Star-canopied and gold and silver lined, Together rest in peace. And standing here, Above the ashes of the voiceless dead, With greeting hands as stood the Allack chiefs, On bended knees we ask our fathers' God, Whose mercy lifted in their wasted strength, Whose finger guided when their path was dim, To fashion from the wounds and hates of years, From sore and limbless wrong and shattered right, A new-born giant, strong of heart and arm, Firm in his hand the righteous battle ax That strength at Lexington and Moultrie gave; Then, as great Asrik Oben of the past Drove back the spoilers form the plains of Drus, O let this warrior, Freedom, heaven-crowned, With art more potent than is taught in war, Beside the Hudson and the bright Santee Disperse the herds of fractious ignorance, Thoughtless in hate, low-browed and bludgeon-armed. And voice of discord silence with the song, Swelling in mighty anthem o'er the land, The echoing angels sending back the strain, Of "UNITY AND EVERLASTING PEACE!"
THE HONORED DEAD.
Salutes were then fired over the graves of the brave comrades who are buried in the Virginia cemetery. Following is the list:
J. L. Van Bokkelen, Major General and Prov. Marshal N. G., Nevada.
George S. WIlcox, First Michigan Cavalry, Company B, U. S. A.
James King, Kentucky Regiment, C. S. A.
John J. Braum, Second Minnesota Infantry, Company C, U. S. A.
Thomas H. Steen, Company A, first Nevada Infantry.
William Smith, Jr., Company M, Fifth New York Cavalry.
James A. Cooper, Company I, Seventh California Infantry Volunteers.
Lieutenant-Colonel W. C. Jones, Iowa regiment.
Colonel A. M. Edgington, Second Brigade, Nevada Militia.
Colonel J. Prescott Smith, First Division, Nevada Militia.
David Williams, Union Army.
After the ceremonies at this cemetery were concluded the procession reformed and marched back to the Odd Fellow's hall, where they broke ranks, each one returning to his home to assume the duties of a peaceable citizen.
IN GOLD HILL.
Impromptu Ceremonies—Decorating the Graves of Neglected Heroes–Their Names.
Finding that the dead soldiers resting in the Gold Hill cemetery had been neglected by the Virginia people, the residents of this town resolved that their graves should not remain unhonored upon this occasion. Accordingly, W. D. C. Gibson was chosen as Marshal for the day, and Rev. Father McGrath as Chaplain. The services of the Washington Guard Band were secured, and at half-past 3 o'clock the procession formed, as follows:
Band. Sarsfield Guard. Carriages containing Chaplain and Orator. Board of Town Trustees. Members of Order Union and Confederate Veterans. Pacific Coast Pioneers. Citizens.
The procession moved down Main street and out to the cemetery south of town, where the graves of the gallant dead who repose there were decorated. Their names are:
Captain John Y. Paul, Captain in the Army of the Potomac.
John Broadwater, Mexican Veteran and Pioneer.
James Powers, Mexican Veteran and Texas Ranger.
Joseph Griener, United States Army. Served in the late war.
The ceremonies at the cemetery were brief and simple, but they were indicative of the feeling which fills the heart of every true American upon each anniversary of Decoration Day, and as they cast upon the humble graves of these gallant men the fragrant offerings of their hearts and hands, they felt strengthened in the determination that the blessings of freedom secured to us by the sufferings and privations of those dauntless spirits shall never grow less. It shall never grow less. It shall be, and it is, the greatest ambition of every patriot to transmit unimpaired to future generations the glorious magna charta of liberty bequeathed to us by the heroes of the Revolution. Long live their names in our nation's history. May the brightness of their glory never dim. The heroes of our last war also deserve our gratitude. May their rest remain undisturbed by the sounds of civil war or fratricidal strife, and may the sacrifice made by them lead the living to a more perfect reconciliation and harmony. We bring our flowers and forgiveness alike for the North and the South, for friend and foe. "All is quiet along the Potomac."
THE EVENING NEWS
GOLD HILL, : : : MONDAY, JUNE 25, 1877
PIONEER PICNIC EXCURSION,
The Fourth Grand Bean-eating Open Air Festival of the Old Boys–How They Ate Beans and Shot at Targets–Who Helped Them Eat Beans–A Particularly Social and Pleasant Time–A Feast of Beans and Flow of Soul.
The fourth annual Picnic Excursion of the Pacific Coast Pioneers last Saturday was a grand and highly gratifying success. One of the special reporters of the NEWS who was present sent a brief telegraphic account of the target shooting, etc., and now gives a few details of the affair.
Thirty-six cars besides the commissary car were engaged for the occasion, but five or six of them were not needed. The weather was a fine and pleasant as could have been desired and everybody started out gay and happy with plenty of lunch, As the big train wound around the turns from Virginia and Gold Hill the whistles of the mining works sent forth their shrill and prolonged blasts of welcome, and the bands mingled their music with the responsive cheers of the joyous excursionists. In coming back, the locomotive Santiago, which was in the lead, did some pretty effectual responding from her powerful whistle. The train sped merrily over the road, stopping at various points to take on passengers and in due time arrived alongside the front fence of
In the suburbs of Carson. The green grass and numerous benches under the shady trees offered plenty of facilities and inducements for the spreading of lunches, and the luscious baked bean, the appetizing sandwich, the good boiled egg, and all that sort of thing found plenty of hungry and appreciative admirers. There were family, social, and other styles of circles, but all were bean-eating circles. Nobody forgot to bring along some beans. Farmer Treadway had also a big public lunch stand where there was plenty of baked beans and other eatables. There were plenty of refreshment stands about the grounds, and nobody had any occasion to suffer. Outside the grounds, along the road in front, were also numerous refreshment stands, and there we found the indefatigable Charley Legate with a full supply of the choicest ice cream in the country. Noon time is good time for lunch, and all seemed to recognize the eternal fitness of things in that respect. How many thousand people there were present could not well be estimated, for hundreds came in all sorts of carriages from all parts of the country. Everybody and his wife was there, and all seemed to have brought their babies along. At any rate there were more little children and babies present than we remember to have seen on any similar occasion. And they were just as happy, playing about on the green grass in the sunshine and shade, as any little ones ever want to be. The Washington guard Band, as well as the other two bands, discoursed some of their choicest music, stationed in different parts of the ground, alternating in furnishing music at the spacious dance hall, where gay youths and lovely maidens together with the festive old Forty-niner and his robust lady mingled in the jolly quadrille, or sweated and fumed in vigorous wrestle with the intricate mazes and collisions of waltz, schottische and mazourka. The National Guard, acting as escort to the Pioneers, together with the various military teams who were present for the target shooting, added considerably to the attractive features of the occasion; and there were more pretty girls there from Carson, or somewhere, than is generally found at anybody's picnic.
THE TARGET SHOOTING
Took place just after lunch and was conducted in the open field west of the picnic ground. There were seven targets of the regulation style, exactly alike and numbered from one to seven. They were stationed at a distance of two hundred yards from the shooting stand, and the seven teams consisted of ten picked me each, from the Pioneer Society, National, Emmet, Washington and Montgomery Guards of Virginia, the Sarsfield Guard, Gold Hill, and the Carson Guard, Carson City. The prize contended for was a beautiful gold medal given by the Pioneer Society, and J. D. Loynachan, ex-Town Marshal of Gold Hill, offered a $20 gold piece to the winner of the medal. Each man had five shots, and 25 was the hight or maximum of the score that could be made by any one man. The preliminaries were soon arranged, and all the teams went to work peppering their respective targets. There being no wind to interfere, some excellent shooting was done, with the following result: National Guard 192, Sarsfield Guard, 189, Emmet Guard 183, Carson Guard 183, Pacific Coast Pioneers 171, Washington Guard 171, Montgomery guard 170.
After the team shooting for the medal, pigeon shooting was declared next in order. A match was made up between Daly, Diamond, Schultz, Jackson and Conroy, on one side, and Gibson, Macauley, Parker, Kaneen and Dormer, each man to have ten birds, and each to put up ten dollars for sweepstakes. The distance was twenty-one yards rise.
The supply of birds being exhausted, and there being a tie between the parties, it was agreed to call the match a draw, each man to pay his proper proportion for the birds that had been used. Several birds were lost by falling out of bounds, but few got away unscathed. The match attracted a large crowd of interested spectators.
THE LITERARY EXERCISED
At the Pavilion followed, and consisted of addresses by Hon. R. H. Taylor, President of the Society, a poem by Hon. C. C. Goodwin, recited by R. H. Lindsay, songs by W. D. C. Gibson and others, and the presentation and acceptance of the medal. The following is the poem:
They turned their steps toward the setting sun, For lo! in the beautiful West, There rose a vision of mountains far, each one with a golden crest; For the story was told that far away, beside the sun-set sea, In marvelous beauty slumbered a land in virgin purity. Where triumphs waited the valiant, where hearts that were leal and true, Could find a field for exertion, in a land that was fair and new.
And the light of the hope within them shone in the eager eyes; There was joy in their hearts and faces, and joy in their gathering cries; The clinging arms of affection they unloosed with a smile; They painted the pictures of their dreams, the hearts of Love to beguile; They dried Love's tears with kisses, and the promise to go back, And with exultant footsteps started on their Western track.
A strong, brave company were they, as strong and brave and fair As ever tracked a fortune to its deep and secret lair; As strong and brave and fair a band as ever, courting fate, Essayed to, in the wild, uprear the framework of a State. Some o'er the widespread, lonely plains pursued their weary path, 'Gainst savage tribes, 'gainst heat and cold and 'gainst the tempest's wrath; Some by the deep sea sought the way, and, as its pulses wild Throbbed 'neath the ships that bore them confidently smiled; And to the sea, the winds, the stars the mighty hope was told That thrilled the hearts which thronged to find the magic land of gold. And the mountains, with the shining crests, shone brighter as they came; By day they were a golden cloud, by night great domes of flame.
Who shall repeat what since has been? Where now is that bright band? Their graves ae scattered far and wide, all over this broad land. Upon the plains; beneath the sea; by hill and stream and vale– How many through the weary years have fainted on the trail! How many hearts have broken here–how many far away Have waited for the coming of the absent, day by day. While youth was dying, and while West no more expectant cast.
Long since the wild flowers faded from the California plains– Long since the dream of triumph in ten thousand hearts grew cold, For Hope forgot her promise in the magic land of gold.
Of that first band a remnant still lingers on this shore; They meet on festive days to tell their stories o'er and o'er. Youth long ago forsook their path, and long ago they learned That all the shining hights to which they had exultant turned Were but a mirage to decoy their youthful feet, to lead Them to a waiting, untried land where strong hearts were the need; That on its soil the temples fair of Mercy might be raised; That trails for Culture and for Peace might through its wilds be blazed.
But they are not a sad-browed race-nay, rather they believe There is no reason why the day should have a gloomy eve. The hands that stretched to them at first no longer are discerned, But since the shadows toward the East–fast lengthening now–have turned, Other dear shadowy hands of those they knew so well of yore Are stretching down in love to them from their bright shining shore; And beckoning them to hights divine, where no mirage is known, To paint illusions for the eyes in that celestial zone.
There is a lovely legend of a knight, who stooped to pay Alms to a leper lank, who bent for charity to pray, And the legend runs that with the gift a light shone round the place, And lo! the couching leper stook upright with radiant face, August, superb and glorified, and tall and fair and straight, As was the sculptured pillar by the temple's beauteous gate. The leper was an angel to the mortal's eye concealed, Until the act of charity his presence real revealed.
So, when this band approached this coast, it was a barbarous shore, Untamed and rude by plain and hill, and o'er this desert hoar; They gave their strength, their toil, their hopes; their lives' best gifts they gave, And Hardship, danger and despair smiled at with faces brave; Till, as the leper, glorified, stood up before the knight, So shines this land redeemed, refined and smiling in their sight. Where all was darkness, all is light; where barbarism sat Loathesome, and lank, and dreadful, like the leper at the gate, Now States are molded into form, now homes smile everywhere, And where the wild beat made his den the school bell thrills the air.
This is the work of Pioneers. Why should they not rejoice– Why should they not on festal day lift up a joyful voice? The youth they lost, reflected is in noble works to-day; Their unrequited toll has come to be to States the stay. Because of them, though childless, do children's voices ring; Because of them, though wifeless, do wives o'er cradles sing; Because of them, the poor find work and the brave a home can gain; Because of them do Peace and Law and Justice hold their reign.
After 5 o'clock P. M., the excursion train was backed up the track and all hands got aboard for home. The train was divided into two sections, and everybody got home safe and sound, with lunch baskets and all. Everybody had a good time and there were no disagreeable incidents or accidents to mar the pleasures of the occasion. Everything passed off smoothly, well and satisfactorily.
VIRGINIA CITY, NEV.
MONDAY..........APRIL 26, 1880
THE DE YOUNG TRAGEDY
Further Particulars of the Assassination.
Descriptions of the Scene by Eye-Witnesses.
The Murderer Lying in Wait for His Victim.
Pitiful Grief of De Young's Aged Mother.
A Plot Between the Kallochs Alleged.
The funeral of the Murdered Man Yesterday
The San Francisco Post of Saturday evening gives the most complete account of the murder of Charles De Young by Rev. I. M. Kalloch yet published. The following is its substance, which differs in several points from the report sent by telegraph:
A few minutes before 8 o'clock Charles de Young entered the business office of the Chronicle and engaged in conversation with Edward Spear and E. B. Read, who had entered the office on business. A few minutes prior to Kalloch's entrance, De Young was standing in front of the counter, near the door leading out into Bush and Kearny streets, leaning on the counter, near the door leading out into Bush and Kearny streets, leaning on the counter, with his face turned in the direction of the Kearny street entrance. Messrs. Spear and Read were within a few feet of him. The trio were engaged in an animated conversation when the Kearny street door was swiftly pushed open and a moment later Kalloch entered, at the same time drawing a Smith & Wesson five shooter and pointing it at De Young. The latter, simultaneously with the entrance of Kalloch and the drawing of the pistol, ran toward the gate at the lower end of the counter, evidently intending to place the counter between himself and his assailant. As he started to run Kalloch fired the first shot, and as he reached the gate the second was fired, neither of which took effect. The first shot went crashing through the plate glass window of the door leading into the entrance of the editorial rooms, the second was imbedded in the wall near the window sill. As De Young passed the gate to the left, closely pursued all the while, Kalloch fired the third shot, which passed through De Young's hat, close to his head. De Young dropped behind the counter and was creeping along close to it, at the same time making an effort to draw his pistol, which his overcoat rendered difficult. He was in the act of glancing upward to ascertain where Kalloch was when the latter reached over the counter, and holding his pistol within a foot of De Young's face, fired the fourth and fatal shot. It struck De Young in the mouth. De Young rose to his feet, staggered to the desk two or three feet distant, managed to draw his pistol, and as he did so Kalloch fired the fifth shot. This last shot went through the window of the private office of M. H. De Young, through a six-inch wall and lodged in the staircase. De Young, bleeding at the mouth and nose, staggered over to the cashier's desk, his pistol fell from his nerveless grasp, and, with his arms resting upon the desk, he sank, and was caught in the arms of an eye-witness to the shooting before falling to the floor. his half-brother, Elias De Young, who was in the office, ran to him and asked him if he was shot, but the dying man returned no answer. The blood gushed in a torrent from the wound in his mouth. Medical assistance was summoned promptly but it was of no avail, and in a few minutes, De Young was dead. The whole affair occurred so quickly that those in the office scarcely comprehended what was going on until it was all over. After the shooting Kalloch went rapidly towards the door, and he was about to escape, when he encountered officers Peckinpah and Ward, who had been attracted to the spot by the shots, and taken into custody. He held the pistol, still smoking, in his hand.
Had De Young not raised his head behind the counter to discern the location of Kalloch, he would probably have escaped serious injury, as Kalloch would not have been able to get aim at a vital part. It was the merest chance that De Young should have put his face right in front of the muzzle of his opponent's deadly weapon.
KALLOCH LYING IN WAIT,
Detective Officer Leonard W. Noyes states that he was in the Chronicle business office on Friday evening before the shooting engaged in conversation with one of the clerks in charge. Happening to glance through the first window from Kearny street, on Bush, he saw a man, who was then a stranger to him, crouching down close to the window-sill and peering furtively through, as though endeavoring to catch a glimpse of some one in the office. Noyes was about to call the clerk's attention to the fact, when the entrance of some person prevented it. A few minutes afterwards Noyes left and slowly wended his way towards the Central Station. He had gone but a few blocks when his attention was drawn to crowds of people running in the direction of the Chronicle office. Retracing his steps he met Officers Peckinpah and Walsh, having in custody the murderer, whom he (Noyes) at once recognized as the person he had previously seen looking through the window.
MR. READ'S ACCOUNT,
Mr. Read says he had been talking in the office with De Young but a few moments when the door was opened and I. M. Kalloch walked, or rather rushed, in. He apparently took but a stride when he was abreast of De Young, the pistol gleaming in his hand, and placing the weapon within two feet of his face, fired. De Young at once sprang behind Mr. Read, and grasping him by the arm endeavored to use him as a shield. At this point Kallach reached over Mr. Read's right shoulder and fired the second shot. SO close was the fire that Mr. Read's eye was bloodshot, the side of his face begrimed with powder, and the hair on that side of his head badly singed. After the discharge of a second shot De Young released his hold upon Read and made a dash for the further end of the room.
Most of the eye-witnesses say that Kalloch fled toward the door when he saw the pistol in De Young's hand.
An autopsy was held at the Morgue on Saturday morning. It was discovered that the fatal bullet had entered the mouth, carrying away to teeth, and passed down on the left side of the mouth, finally embedding itself in the jugular vein. The brain weighed 44 ounces. Over half a gallon of blood was found in the stomach. The face of the deceased was stained with powder marks, showing how close the pistol must have been held to his head. The wound is a very small one, scarcely the size of a pea, and hardly discernible, except on close examination. Two bullets pierced De Young's hat. The inquest will be held on Tuesday.
The shooting attracted a tremendous crowd to the neighborhood of the Chronicle office. The Coroner was notified and took charge of the remains, which were escorted in the dead wagon to the Morgue by a dozen policemen. The body was taken out of the Chronicle office at 9 o'clock. It was met at the door and followed all the way to the Morgue by a crowd of about 1,000 people, principally half-grown men, who cheered and hooted and yelled. It was one of the most extraordinary spectacles ever witnessed in an American city, and it is doubtful if in any other civilized community in the world such a disgraceful scene could have occurred. The crowd around the Morgue was so great that the police found it necessary to station a squad across O'Farrell street to keep the surging crowd from forcing its way into the Morgue.
During a performance at Mayberry's Hall on Friday night, while the act of The Little Treasure was being performed by the Local Dramatic Club of the Mission, Professor Ebenezer Knowlton sprang upon the stage and announced that Charles De Young had just been shot by a son of Mayor Kalioch, and added, in a sort of stage side whispered that he "guessed he had fixed him this time." A breeze of indignation rippled over the hall, whereupon one Major Bartling, who holds some subordinate office in the City Hall, under the patronage of Kalloch, jumped to his feet and shouted: "I am glad of it. He deserved shooting, and I hope he has killed him!" A gentleman then arose and declared it in bad taste make such an announcement in an audience mostly composed of peaceable citizens, and a large majority ladies and children. Great excitement prevailed, and Major Bartling declared he would take his wife and childen from the hall, which he did, evidently fearing the storm which he himself had raised. After quiet was restored Professor Knowlton made an apology to the audience.
Dr. George Reich, a Workingman's Ward President, cheered for Kalloch last night on Kearny street and was arrested on a charge of drunkenness.
Thomas Duggan harangued a crowd in front of the Morgue, and wanted the shooting applauded, when he was arrested on charges of disturbing the peace and using vulgar and profane language.
The five men who were arrested on Friday night while hurrahing in front of the Chronicle building were dealt with as follows in the Police Court on Saturday, viz: Dr. George A. Reich, 178 Post street, Thomas Jones and Henry Woods were fined $5 each for drunkenness. Thomas Duggan was convicted of disturbing the peace and using vulgar language while Charles Smith was found guilty of disturbing the peace.
There is sentiment of horror expressed everywhere on the streets over the insults offered by remains of De Young by the hooting, yelling mob that followed the hearse and lingered around the Morgue.
THE SUPPOSED CAUSE OF THE MURDER.
A Post reporter had an interview on Saturday with M.H. De Young, brother of the deceased. He denied emphatically that Charles or himself had anything to do with the pamphlet giving a report of Kalloch's trial in Boston on the charge of adultery, the circulation of which in San Francisco is generally believed to have been the immediate inspiration of young Kalloch's murderous deed.
Another theory of the motive for the murder is that Charles De Young had collected a life history of Kalloch to offer in evidence as justification at his trial, set for May 3d, and young Kalloch, to defend the family name, took it upon himself to put De Young out of the way, as, by so doing, the trial of De Young would not take place, and damaging evidence against his father would not come out. There is also a report that De Young brought a woman from the East here to testify at the Trial, paying her expenses. M.H. De Young declares that there is not a word of truth in this report. He said to the Post reporter: "There is no necessity for us to publish pamphlets or expose Kalloch's life to defend my brother's attempt to kill the elder Kalloch. We intended to conduct this defense on the grounds of justifiable assault based on moral law only. Neither my brother, our lawyers nor myself ever even intimated that we intended to rake up Kalloch's record. We considered that the defense would be an easy one. Moral law permits a man whose gray-haired mother has been dragged into a political harangue to avenge the insult, and my brother only did what any other man who had a spark of filial affection about him would have done. My mother has been here too long to be so basely maligned. Her pure and good life should be above reproach. She thought all the world of her children, and my brother fairly worshipped her. He was the most unselfish man I ever knew. He worked day and night to surround his family with comforts and to make them happy. He had no other pleasures, and expended no money on himself.
THE POOR OLD MOTHER.
As Mr. De Young spoke of his brother and of his mother the first visible sign of strong emotion became apparent. Continuing the conversation, the reporter asked the extent of the family's knowledge of the affair.
"All of the family, with the exception of my mother, know the facts of the matter. She does not know of his death; we tried to keep everything from her but could not."
Mr. De Young then related the heart-rending manner in which his mother received the first intimation that some harm had befallen the deceased. "She came down to the dining room this morning," said Mr. De Young, "and after glancing around the room and noticing some strangers present, asked for the Chronicle. She was told that it had not come. A mother's instincts are strong and acute, and from the sad faces before her and the absence of the accustomed paper, she instantly divined that something had befallen Charlie, for she threw up her hands and screamed, 'Oh, my God! my Charlie! my son!' and sank into a chair. We did all that was possible to comfort her, but on her demanding in heart-broken accents to be told the truth, we had to say that Charlie had been shot in the shoulder and was at a hotel. She is now upstairs completely prostrated with grief."
"How and when will you break the truth to her?"
"Well, it must be broken very gradually, and with the utmost caution; we must now save the living if possible, so that two lives will not be taken from us."
THE "CHRONICLE'S" FUTURE.
In response to the inquiry as to the future course of the Chronicle, Mr. De Young said that it would be conducted in the future as in the past, in as bold, fearless and able manner as possible. It would still be run as a great newspaper should be; and while the death of his brother was a loss irreparable to both the paper and his family, no efforts would be spared to obtain the very best possible editorial writers. He (the speaker) would remain the business manager of the paper, and he had no fears but what it would retain its present high position. He intended to conduct the paper and shape its course in accordance with the oft-expressed ideas of his brother.
DE YOUNG'S BIOGRAPHY.
The Chronicle of Saturday, which appeared with turned column rules in sign of mourning, gave the following biographical facts:
Charles De Young was the oldest son of Mr. M. and Mrs. Amelia De Young. He was born at Natchitoches, Louisiana, in 1845, and was in the thirty-fifth year of his age at the time of his death. M. De Young, the father, was a well-known Baltimore merchant in 1847, and director of two leading banks in that city. He was also connected as proprietor with a line of packets plying between Baltimore and the West Indies, known as the "De Young line. Subsequently he removed to New Orleans, where he engaged in business as a cotton merchant, and shortly after the news of the discovery of gold in this State reached that city, he arranged to come to California, but died of apoplexy at Vicksburg about the time he was preparing to start. The mother, Mrs. Amelia De Young, now in the seventy-first year of her age, resided with her children in this city, universally beloved and respected by all who knew her. At the age of eight years Charles accompanied his widowed mother and the family of younger brothers and sisters to California, which was in 1854.Hhe was educated in the public schools of San Francisco, but did not long continue in them, owing to the straitened financial circumstances of the family. A taste for journalism induced him to become a printer. In every department of that business his knowledge was thorough, asit afterwards became in all the varied and complicated details of journalism, from the humblest to the highest. His first newspaper effort was a small paper devoted to the interests of the public schools, which was highly commended by the Board of Education. This paper he sold advantageously, and soon after started the Holiday Advertiser,. Giving this up, he started the Dramatic Chronicle, from which small beginning the San Francisco Daily Chronicle spring, his younger brother, M. H. De Young, being associated with Charles as publisher and proprietor.
The Rev. Isaac M. Kalloch, who did the shooting, came to San Francisco from Healdsburg about the time his father was shot by Charles De Young, on the 23d of August, 1879. He had a church there, of which he was pastor, but came down after the occurrence and became associated with the Fifth Baptist Church as assistant pastor. His private residence was with his father, 2314 Mission street. When the Rev. I. S. Kalloch was elected Mayor of the city, he appointed his son clerk, the salary being $3,000 per annum. He is a young man, of apparently nervous temperament, but great strength of will. In his capacity as mayor's clerk he has been uniformly urbane, quiet and apparently well disposed to everybody. In his daily intercourse with reporters he was always civil and obliging, inclined to joke, but attentive to his duties. In figure he is slighter than his father, though bearing a strong resemblance to him both in feature and voice. He is the last man that one would have supposed capable of committing this act, and those who know him will testify readily that he is apparently an inoffensive, unrevengeful young man. His age is about 26 years. He has light-blue eyes and sandy whiskers and a pleasant manner.
He acted with a cold-blooded composure after the shooting. When taken into the City Prison he submitted to the search of his person without a word, until his tobacco pouch was taken from his pocket, when he asked officer Peckinpah, who was searching his clothing, if he might retain it. The pouch was handed to him and he took out a large quantity of the weed, which he leisurely rolled into a wad and then put in his mouth. His manner was subdued and quiet. At the conclusion of the search he moved away a few steps from those surrounded him and stroked a large cat which lay dozing on the Prisonkeeper's desk, and murmured "Poor pussy!" to it several times. He then sat down until the completion of the entry in the "small book" had been made, when he was taken inside and locked up in cell No. 4 of the new prison. He declined to say anything at all regarding the shooting, and positively refused to make any statement.
THE FATHER AND SON MEET.
Early on Saturday morning Mayor Kalloch visited his son in his cell. The pair shook hands, and neither manifested the slightest emotion, though presumably both men were deeply moved. The son seemed perfectly unconcerned, and smiled and laughed as though the deed he had committed was not of the slightest importance, and one for which he felt no regret. On sending his name, a representative of the Post was at once admitted, but the murderer declined to talk of his crime, but seemed to feel keenly an article in the Alta which spoke of his crime as "a vulgar assassination," and insinuating that the death of De Young probably prevented damaging disclosures concerning the character of Mayor Kalloch, likely to have been brought to light in De Young's trial.
Young Kalloch said to the reporter" "You can state that I protest against the case being tried in the newspapers, as it was in the Alta this morning. Charles De Young was a man to whom nothing was sacred, not even the name of my mother. I protest against any paper rushing to his defense, as the Alta has done. He has reviled everything that is holy; wife, mother and sister–all that we hold dear–were objects of his slander. That is all I have to say at Present. I protest against the matter of this difficulty being prejudged and tried by any newspaper."
A QUEER INCIDENT.
The Mayor asked the Post reporter if he could recommend a good restaurant in the neighborhood, and the two left the prison together. In passing one of the cells where some drunken men were confined, one of them called out: "Mayor, Mayor, we are here for cheering for your son last night for killing De Young." Mr. Kalloch said he was sorry, and with a sad look passed out.
THE FUNERAL. De Young's Aged Mother Broken with Grief–The Services and Cortege,
[Special to the Evening Chronicle]
SAN FRANCISCO, April 26–The funeral of the late Charles De Young took place yesterday afternoon from the family residence. The house was profusely and beautifully decorated with flowers. The mother of the deceased was not present during the funeral services, remaining in her room broken down with grief. She has not looked upon the face of her son since death, saying she wished to preserve her remembrance of him as he last appeared in life.
Rev. Elkan Cohn conducted the services at the house, delivering a brief sermon and offering a prayer, after which the coffin was placed in the hearse and the procession started for the cemetery in the following order: Carriage conveying Mr. Cohen; Odd Fellows and employees of the Chronicle on foot, numbering 200; the hearse, with the following pall-bearers made up from the Odd Fellows and employees of the Chronicle; Alex Campbell, R. H. Lloyd, Raphael Weill, Moses Heller, Dr. G. Holland, A. B. Henderson, Louis R. Lull, John P. Jones, B. A. Wardell, John Timmins, E. J. Andersen, Major O. Livermore, L. N. Jacobs, John McWilliams, John Laws, Henry H. Libbing and Paul Keyser. Other mourners and friends followed in some thirty carriages. On arriving at the cemetery an immense crowd was found awaiting the arrival of the procession, the street-car lines having been taxed to their utmost capacity during the morning. The coffin was placed on stretchers in front of the Odd Fellows' receiving vault, and Past Grand Alexander read the Odd Fellows' ritual, after which the coffin was removed to the vault. The relatives took a last look at the remains, and the procession returned to town and the crowd dispersed.
At the sand lot yesterday no mention was made of the Kalloch-De Young affair, the speakers, it is understood, acting under instructions from the Ward Presidents.
Mysterious Meetings of the Two Kallochs Before the Murder.
SAN FRANCISCO April 25.–The Chronicle to-day published an account (which it also gave for publication to the Call and Alta) to the following effect: Dr. H. H. Thrall, residing at No. 118 Geary street, and his wife and daughter, have made statements to a Chronicle reporter than on the evenings of last Wednesday and Thursday, two men, believed by them to be Rev I. S. Kalloch and his son, visited a house opposite their residence in a mysterious way, remaining there some time; that on last Friday evening they again went to that house just before the shooting of Charles De Young. Shortly after 8 o'clock Dr. Thrall went to a neighboring drug store and there hears of the murder. Meantime two boys came running up to the opposite house and were admitted and the lights in the house were extinguished. The house soon after was relighted and so remained till a much later hour than usual. During the visit of the men supposed to be Kalloch and his son just before the shooting their motions were partly visible through the window, and they seemed to be conducting themselves in an excited manner. Later a Chronicle reporter passing the house saw Kalloch's colored servant standing on the steps and a few minutes later a cab came up containing City Auditor Dunn, ex-Deputy Sheriff Clayton and Randall Kalloch, the youngest son of Mayor Kalloch. The two latter entered the house and soon after came out, re-entered the cab and drove in the direction of the new City Hall.
The Chronicle people profess to believe that these movements, coupled with sundry minor circumstances, indicate that the killing of De Young was the result of a conspiracy between Kalloch and his son.
To-day a couple of detectives visited a house opposite Dr. Thrall's residence and found Mayor Kalloch's colored servant, who said he was ill with rheumatism. He was occupying a room in the house. He was questioned at length, but nothing of importance was elicited further than that Kalloch and his son had been in the habit of visiting him there during his illness.
KALLOCH'S HOUSE GUARDED.
Last evening a Call reporter drove to Mayor Kalloch's residence. On alighting he was confronted by half a dozen men, who demanded to know his name and business. He informed them, and said;
"What are you doing here? Are you expecting Mike De Young to assassinate Kalloch?" "That's just what we are looking for," replied the men. On effecting communication with those in the house, the reporter was informed that the Mayor was asleep, and they would not [end of clipping]=
THE EVENING NEWS
FRIDAY, : : : JUNE 18, 1880
FIVE MEN KILLED.
THREE OTHERS MORE OR LESS INJURED.
A Truck and Carload of Tools Precipitated 3000 Feet to the Bottom of the Yellow Jacket Shaft.
At 11:30 today occurred at the Yellow Jacket shaft one of those terrible accidents which seem inseparable from deep mining. At that hour Frank Hammond, shift boss, with seven of his men, stood on the skip in the bottom of the shaft. They had just rung five bells, the signal to hoist men, it being their intention to go to the surface and eat their dinners. Just then, with a terrible thunder, and dealing death in all directions, there came down upon the men a carload of tools and the truck of a car. Four of the eight men were instantly killed and all the others wounded.
Following is a list of the dead: Neil Gallagher, Alfred Temby, Tim Wilkins and E. Whitcomb.
The others with Hammond on the cage were John Trezona, who had his thigh broken; H. WIlliams, arm crushed and nearly torn off, and Barney Coyle, who was hurt in the side and shoulder, but was able to climb to the 3000 level.
Hammond received a slight wound in the left jaw, but was otherwise uninjured, while Gallagher, who stood next him on the skip, had his head taken completely off.
The scene at the bottom of the shaft as seen by Hammond ws most fearful, as indeed it must have been, with the dead and mangled lying all about and he alone able to render them any immediate assistance.
Fortunately there were at the 3000 level four men at work who were uninjured, and by their assistance the dead were removed and the living cared for as well as possible till they could be taken to the surface. This was done as soon as possible, and the dead were laid on rude couches temporarily placed in the changing room and the wounded were taken into the bathroom where beds had been placed and where physicians stood ready to attend to their wants.
The cause of the accident was plainly visible from the surface. A cage was coming up the south compartment on which was a car loaded with tools. It had reached within forty feet of the top when the truck of the car escaped from under it, tilting the body and throwing both truck and tools from the cage into the adjoining compartment north and precipitating them all to the sump of the shaft 3000 feet below where the men stood waiting to be raised to the surface. The body of the car was firmly wedged in among the timbers of the shaft and had not the engineer been watchful and instantly stopped the engine when he saw something was wrong, very likely the entire cage, a tank of water under it and another car on it would all have gone to the bottom, killing everybody there.
The news of the accident flew to Gold Hill, and even before the unfortunate men were raised to the surface the works were crowded by men anxious to know the particulars of the accident, who was killed and who hurt. The gathering increased rapidly and strong men stood at the top with bated breath and tear-dimmed eyes waiting for the appearance at the surface of the cage as it came slowly from the depths below. Never moved funeral procession so slowly, so sadly, so solemnly. When at last the cage reached the surface and the agony of suspense was over, tears of rejoicing mingled with those of bitterest grief.
The killed and wounded are all well-known in Gold Hill.
Temby leaves a young wife and two children, his wife having recently given birth to the second.
Neil Gallagher leaves a wife and two children, and his wife is about to be confined. Whitcomb also leaves a wife and family. He has worked in the shaft from the top to the bottom.
Wilkins was the only single man of those killed.
P. S.–Since writing the above Williams has died. His arm was literally torn from his body and he was otherwise badly bruised.
From the breast of Gallagher a piece of iron weighing about six pounds was taken. The bodies of the dead were all very badly mangled.