A RANCHMAN'S RECOLLECTIONS 



Eric Swenson, my beloved young friend, who died 

 in Colorado Springs last February, visited Mr. Grubb 

 at Mt. Sopris many years ago. A story of that visit 

 is another sidelight on the simple traits of fairness 

 and humanity in the lives of these worth-while men. 

 They had been knocking about over the country, and 

 stopped at a little town. A crowd had gathered about 

 a blacksmith shop, and a justice of the peace was try- 

 ing for his life a dog suspected of sheep-killing. Eric 

 and "Gene" were attracted, and found that it was a 

 case of strong circumstantial evidence, and that the 

 dog had neglected to retain an attorney; nor had the 

 judge appointed any one to defend him, and things 

 were going bad. "Gene" asked to be permitted to 

 defend the dog. "Gene" does not know it himself, 

 but those who have heard him lecture or speak know 

 that when he unloosens himself he is eloquent, and 

 Eric said that "he sure unloosened" on this occasion. 

 His plea for humanity, his tribute to the dog in the 

 abstract as man's companion and friend, rivaled the 

 late Senator George G. Vest's classic. He carried the 

 house by storm, obtained another chance for the dog, 

 had a guardian appointed for him, and helped wash 

 up the crowd, which had melted into tears. 



Is it not beautiful that really great men are simple 

 men, with the fear of God and the love of their 

 fellow-men and dogs in their hearts? Which would 

 you prefer, to have your name go down as the owner 

 of great riches, or to be remembered like that of 



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