As the miners gathered round a blazing log-fire built out of doors, which the cool air of evening made welcome, it was proposed that those who had any vocal gifts should exert them for the benefit of the company.

 

Three or four of those present had good voices, and sang such songs as they knew.

 

Finally, one of the miners turned to Bradley. "Can't you sing us something, friend?" he asked.

 

"You don't know what you're asking," said Bradley. "My voice sounds like a rusty saw. If you enjoy the howlin' of wolves, mayhap you might like my singin'."

 

"I reckon you're excused," said the questioner.

 

"My friend Dick Dewey will favor you, perhaps. I never heard him sing, but I reckon he might if he tried."

 

"Won't you sing?" was asked of Dewey.

 

Richard Dewey would have preferred to remain silent, but his life had been spared, and the men around him, though rough in manner, seemed to mean kindly. He conquered his reluctance, therefore, and sang a couple of ballads in a clear, musical voice with good effect.

 

"Now it's the boy's turn," said one.

 

Ben, was in fact, a good singer. He had attended a country singing-school for two terms, and he was gifted with a strong and melodious voice. Bradley had expected that he would decline bashfully, but Ben had a fair share of self-possession, and felt there was no good reason to decline.

 

"I don't know many songs," he said, "but I am ready to do my share."

 

The first song which occurred to him was "Annie Laurie," and he sang it through with taste and effect. As his sweet, boyish notes fell on the ears of the crowd they listened as if spellbound, and at the end gave him a round of applause.

 

I don't wish to represent that Ben was a remarkable singer. His knowledge of music was only moderate, but his voice was unusually strong and sweet, and his audience were not disposed to be critical.

 

He sang one song after another, until at last he declared that he was tired and would sing but one more. "What shall it be?" he asked.

 

"'Sweet Home,'" suggested one; and the rest took it up in chorus.

 

That is a song that appeals to the heart at all times and in all places, but it may well be understood that among the California mountains, before an audience every man of whom was far from home, it would have a peculiar and striking effect. The singer, too, as he sang, had his thoughts carried back to the home three thousand miles away where lived all who were near and dear to him, and the thought lent new tenderness and pathos to his song.

 

Tears came to the eyes of more than one rough miner as he listened to the sweet strains, and there were few in whom home-memories were not excited.

 

There was a moment's hush, and then a great roar of applause. Ben had made a popular success of which a prima donna might have been proud.

 

One enthusiastic listener wanted to take up a contribution for the singer, but Ben steadily declined it. "I am glad if I have given any one pleasure," h............