New York Dispatch

NELLIE WILDLOVE
A ROMANCE OF CALIFORNIA.
THE STORY TOLD BY AN OUTSIDE
PASSENGER.

The Stockton stage coach, drawn by four-in-
hand, was slowly wending its way through one
of the canons of the Sierras in the Southern
Mines one beautiful May afternoon, loaded
down with a party of Eastern tourists, on their
way to the Big Trees and the Yosemite, by way
of Sonora, which has been appropriately named
"the gem of the Southern Mines." The de-
clining sun threw a golden haze over the eastern
slopes of the scarred hills and bluffs that rose
sternly from the darkening ravines. A rabbit
frightened from his supper by the roadside
sprang nimbly away in front of the horses, and
the quail whistled merrily in the undergrowth
all of which combined with the solitude and
loneliness of the spot, had a drowsy effect upon
the travelers, and many were nodding in their
seats. The driver, a genial, communicative
individual, who had driven on that line for
years, glanced around upon the passengers
who sat upon the top of the coach, and speak-
ing to one of them, who, although not one of
the tourists, had made himself very agreeable
by his chatty, anecdotal style of conversation,
asked if he remembered the locality through
which they were passing.

"I should say I did, Sam, for I mined on this
bar three years during the big excitement in
these diggings," replied the individual ad-
dressed,

"Hudson's Bar was before my time," said the
driver, as he threw his long lash over the back
of the near wheel-horse.

"Yes, you commenced mining in '57, and the
bar's palmy days were in '54," returned the
other.

"Perhaps the gentlemen wouldn't mind list-
ening to that Wildlove yarn, Bill, and as we've
got an hour or so before sundown, it will help
to pass the time," insinuated the driver, who
hoped to draw his friend out and keep his pas-
sengers awake, as well as relieve himself of the
sometimes senseless questions propounded by
his "outsiders."

"Sam, you know I very seldom touch on that
subject; you never heard me tell the story but
once, and that was on a journey similar to the
present; but for the benefit of these gentle-
men, who are strangers here, I will relate it.
It will serve to illustrate the passions that
swayed men in those days."

The passengers, who had become weary of
the drowsy monotony of the ride, listening to
the creaking wheels and rattling harness,
roused themselves to listen to the stranger's
narrative.

"If you have no objection, sir, we would like
to hear the story," said a Boston merchant who
occupied a seat next to the Californian.

"Well " commenced the passenger ad
dressed. "you probably noticed, a short dis-
tance back, a collection of ruined adobes situ-
ated near the creek that runs along here. That
collection of deserted huts was once a thriving
mining camp, filled with men of every charac-
ter from all parts of the world, seeking that
all-absorbing object of the day—gold. The
town—for it boasted a 'Bella Union' Hotel,
post office, and a score of saloons, beside the
houses, cabins, and places of business of the
inhabitants —was called Hudson's Bar, and did
not enjoy the most enviable reputation for law
and order. During the Spring of '53 there
came to Hudson's Bar two persons, from no
one knew where, who exerted a great influence
upon the community almost as soon as they
alighted in front of the hotel. One of them
was a woman, and such a woman! Beauty is
no name for the charms she possessed. A deep
blue eye that sparkled like a snake's, and
seemed to look you through and through; a
face which was that of a child's in appearance,
surrounded by waving yellow hair that hung
like a cascade of amber over her shoulders,
which, like the rest of her form, were beauti-
fully rounded and of delicate mold. Her com-
panion was a man whose manner indicated the
man of the world, and withal a sharper, one of
those men who in cities have the prefix of
'confidence' to their names. His general ap-
pearance was not at all prepossessing to the
reader of human nature, although he was well
calculated to operate successfully in his pro-
fession. The residents of the Bar discovered
shortly after their arrival that the names of
the two travelers as written upon the hotel
register were 'George Wildlove and lady,' but
as women were seldom designated 'ladies' in
those days, the hotel keeper said he guessed
he meant she was his wife.

"The two new arrivals soon came out in
their true colors. He was a gambler, and she
a flirt and coquette. In the wild, free life of
the mines, such things were taken as a matter
of course, and a hundred rough men would
have given all they possessed for a smile from
Nellie Wildlove. The influence the woman ex-
erted over these men caused many dollars to
flow into her husband's faro bank at the Ar-
cade, for she generally wound up a lively con-
versation with some rich Missourian or South-
erner, who owned a paying claim 'below the
dam,' by telling him that no one knew what
might happen if George's bank was 'broke,'
leaving her victim to infer that if he succeeded
in breaking the financial venture of Wildlove,
an elopement might be in order. Days rolled
on, however, but Wildlove's affairs only grew
more prosperous, although his 'lay-out' was
surrounded night and day by a crowd of men
eager to break that bank, and see what Miss
Yellowhair would do about it; but the crash
never came, coppered Jacks' and
three
time-losers' notwithstanding.

"Two young men had been working together
for some time on the Bar in a good claim about
one mile from the town, and had of course
heard of the sensation of the town. They had
seen Nellie Wildlove, and wondered. From
wondering they had begun to talk with each
other about her, for they proved no exception
to the general rule, and admired the fascinat-
ing little beauty. Then, both being men of
superior sense and education, they began to in-
vestigate—for neither of them believed that
she was the wife of George Wildlove. When
Henry Clamor and Will Nevers commenced
anything, they generally carried it through:
and, working together, they became certain in
their own minds that the object of their admir-
ation was unmarried. Nevers finally asked her
point-blank, one night at a ball, whether he
was not right, and she frankly replied that he
was, at the same time giving him such a glance
that left no doubt of the truth of that reply
Nevers repeated the conversation to Clamor,
who was a wild, harum-scarum fellow, full of
animal spirits, and who immediately com-
menced laughing at the idea, and praising Nev-
ers for his shrewdness. Nevers, who was of a
steadier disposition, thought he could read his
friend's inmost thoughts, and, as he left, mut-
tered:

"He has no designs."

"These two men became almost constant vis-
itors at the hotel, coming when others were
away, and Nellie was alone. Clamor enlivened
the conversation with his wit, while Nevers
handled the weightier and more sober subjects
that might arise. Both soon became favorites
of Nellie, and she never hinted a word to them
either about George Wildlove or his faro bank
at the Arcade. Walks in the soft twilight down
to the creek or up the road became frequent,
and as time passed, she began to show a pref-
erence, first for one and then for the other,
which engendered hard feelings in the breasts
of the two friends, for both had already began
secretly to love this beautiful creature. Out-
siders had watched this growing intimacy be-
tween the three, and although a few sought to
stir up feelings of jealousy in George Wildlove,
they had not as yet succeeded, for although
Clamor and Nevers seldom visited his game,
he was made to understand by Nellie that it
was all right. The little spark of pique in the
hearts of the two friends, caused by Nellie's
changing preferences, was gradually fanned
into something stronger, and from visiting her
at different hours they at last dissolved part-
nership in the claim, Nevers buying Clamor
out. One evening, Clamor, while walking list-
lessly along the road, observed Nellie leaning
very lovingly upon Nevers' shoulder, talking to
him very earnestly, and next day Nevers came
suddenly upon the fickle girl and Clamor, just
as he kissed her lips, without the least resist-
ance on her part.

From that moment a deadly animosity
sprang up between the two, each thinking that
the other held the affections of a changeable
girl. This part of my story, gentlemen, may
seem strange to you, but it is nevertheless
true, and you must take into consideration the
times in which these events occurred. Men
were simply human beings at most, and the
generality of them possessed the qualities as
well as instincts of something lower, and the
rougher portion of a community, as a matter
of course, corrupted the finer bred and better
educated classes. This was the case with
Nevers and Clamor; they had imbibed the
principle, if I may call it such, of conforming
to the customs of Rome while dwelling in
Rome. A collision between these two men
could not be avoided, and one night they met
The Arcade was crowded. George Wildlove's
game being in full blast while the balls were
rolling for "rondo" on another table. Nevers,
while watching the latter game, was accosted
by a friend, who informed him that Clamor
was looking for him. He asked his informant
where Clamor was, and learned that he was
betting heavily at Wildlove's table.

"Wishing to avoid any trouble that might
arise by seeming to seek a meeting between
himself and Clamor, whom he knew was intox-
icated, he attempted to leave the place by a
rear door, when he was confronted by the very
person he wished to avoid. Clamor presented
a pistol and told him to stop or he would fire,
adding that he wished to talk to him. The
manner of Clamor was so insolent and the
danger so imminent, that Nevers could not do
otherwise than dash the pistol from the in-
sulter's hands. Clamor made a motion as if to
draw another, when Nevers struck him full in
the face, felling him to the floor. He then
made his escape, being unarmed and unwilling
to risk an affray in that place. Next morning
he received a formal challenge from his for-
mer friend, which he accepted, and chose com-
mon dueling pistols, to be used at fifteen
paces. The seconds named six o'clock that
evening as the time, and a tall, square rock
which you may have noticed a short distance
back, as the place.

"It was a day similar to this; the locality
was the same, and all you have to do is to im-
agine a large dam on the creek, and you have
the exact situation. At half-past five o'clock,
both parties wishing to be in time, were upon
the ground, and after conferring with their
seconds, prepared for the fight without speak-
ing a word to each other. Both were compar-
atively calm, although a scarcely distinct pal-
lor upon Clamor's face showed the agitation of
his mind

"The principals took their places opposite
each other; the pistols were examined by the
seconds, and handed to the two men who were
about to attempt each other's lives, and as the
sun disappeared behind Table Mountain the
word was given to fire. Two shots rang out
on the cool evening breeze, and reverberated
among the pines on the hillside. The echoes
had not ceased as Clamor staggered and fell
to the ground, the blood rushing in a stream
from his left breast. Nevers had remained
erect, with the smoking pistol in his hand, but
a moment afterward his face assumed a deadly
pallor, and he, too, sank down, his shirt satur-
ated with blood, showing that he had been
fearfully, if not mortally wounded. Both of
the seconds, who were the only persons present
except the principals, had hurried to the side
of Clamor, and did not see Nevers fall. Clamor
moved his lips, and, bending nearer, the two
men caught the words, 'Tell Will to come.'
He then became insensible, but the seconds
understood that he wished to speak to Nevers
before he died, for they saw that the wound
was mortal, and looked around for Will, whom
they had left standing. They were horror-
stricken to see that he was stretched upon the
grass, with the blood gushing from his mouth
and nostrils. They brought him to where
Clamor was lying, and by the aid of a stimu-
lant brought him to. Harry had recovered
sufficiently to speak to his former friend in
broken sentences, the substance of which was
a plea for forgiveness, to which Nevers feebly
nodded assent, for he could not as yet speak.
"Will, she said she'd be a sister to me, and
kissed me because I asked her, were the words
that followed.

"Great God!" exclaimed Nevers, summon-
ing up strength with a superhuman effort; 'I
have shot you, Harry, and caused my own
death, for a girl that could not love either of
us, and is already married.'

"I didn't know that, Will; and I am to
blame for forcing you to fight me,' answered
the dying man.

"Never mind, Harry, we are both going."
and with these words upon his lips, Nevers
raised himself and fell across his friend's body,
for Clamor was dead.

The seconds looked at each other in dis-
may.

What shall we do?' asked one

"Are they both dead?' was the other's
question.

"I don't know.
Clamor can't live long,
anyhow; and I guess Nevers ain't much better
off,' said the first.

"An examination proved that life had de-
parted from Clamor, but that Nevers' heart
still beat. Binding Nevers' wound, which was
about two inches below the right shoulder, the
two men went in search of assistance, for the
place was extremely lonely at night, being out
of the path of the miners in the vicinity; and
as the people of Hudson's Bar had been in-
formed that the duel would not take place un-
til the next morning, no one had visited Square
Rock that evening. Two men returning from
their labor on the creek were met by the
seconds, and, having the necessary imple-
ments, were conducted to the scene of the
duel, where the body of poor Clamor was soon
placed under the ground, no coffin being
desemed necessary.

"Nevers was carried to the camp in an in-
sensible condition, and being placed in a room
at the hotel, was attended by two physicians
practicing in the camp. The news of the duel
spread throughout the community, and created
more chagrin among the rough inhabitants
than sorrow or excitement, for many had re-
solved to be present the next morning, and
designated the ruse of the duelists as 'a mean,
dirty trick, unworthy of gentlemen.' Nellie
Wildlove, who was really a woman of fine sen-
sibilities, grew sick at heart when she heard of
the tragedy, and visited the room where Nevers
was lying between life and death. Her lover
did not recognize her, and she left, filled with
strange thoughts for a woman of her class.

"As she passed along the hall, George Wild-
love, who had at that moment ascended the
stairs, stopped her, asking in a rough voice
where she had been. Nellie was not in the
mood to submit to insolence at that moment,
and replied that it was none of his business;
whereupon Wildlove, who was intoxicated
made a motion as if to strike her, and would
probably have done so had he not received a
blow himself, which sent him
reeling against the wall,

A tall, well-dressed man had delivered the
blow, and disdaining all notice of the miscre-
ant whom he had struck, stood gazing for a
moment at the frightened woman who stood
before him. The only words the stranger was
heard to utter were, 'Mrs. Jones, you will
please to follow your husband; he has followed
you and your paramour long enough.' Mrs.
Jones, as the man had called her, did not re-
ply; but with a faltering step followed her hus-
band from the hotel, while Wildlove stood
trembling against the wooden partition.

"A wagon drawn by two mustangs, contain-
ing a man and woman, was seen by a crowd of
miners and gamblers assembled in front of the
Arcade Saloon, as it rattled out of the camp on
the road to Chinese Camp, and they knew that
Nellie Wildlove would never again return to
Hudson's Bar.

"There is Sonora, gentlemen, and as I shall
remain there and you will stop at Columbia,
we shall part in a few moments."

The narrator passed his hand across his
brow as he concluded, and leaned back in his
seat as if he had told all that was necessary;
but the tourists commenced a series of ques-
tions in regard to the narration, which drew
out the fact that Wildlove was hanged near
Placerville about a year after the affair at Hud-
son's Bar, for some violation of the laws of
Judge Lynch, and that Nevers recovered en-
tirely from his wound.

"What has become of him?" asked one of
the passengers, as the stage stopped in front
of the City Hotel in Sonora.

"What has become of him?" repeated the
stranger, as he climbed down from the coach;
"well, if you ask Sam, there (pointing to the
driver), he might tell you that my name is Bill
Nevers," and the stranger passed into the
hotel.