But after his lonesome walk over the mountains something he
saw here appealed to his imagination. It was a human skull, which had
belonged to a murderer. The murdered man was a Frenchman, killed for his
money. This was Keeler's first visit to Downieville since the crime, and
as he had known the Frenchman he determined to visit his grave.
The cemetery is up the river beyond the edge of the town; and here, in
more senses than one, a traveler finds the end of the trail. Men and
women whose life journey had begun in New England, Old England, Wales,
Ireland, France, Denmark, or Russia, had here come to their journey's
end.
At the cemetery gate, fastened by a wire, was the quaint sign:
"NOTICE
PLEASE PUT THIS WIRE ON AGIN
TO KEEP IT SHUT."
A beautiful clear mountain stream flows along one side of the ground and
pours into the river below. A lone pine chants requiems over the dead;
and yellow poppies with red hearts spring out of the graves. Many of the
headstones are boards, naturally; and one poor fellow, whose estate at
death was probably a minus quantity, is commemorated by a strip of tin
with his name pricked into it.
Pages:
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120