Morse Coffin Reminisces

Mr. M. H. Coffin, whose recent death was mourned by all Boulder County, prepared the Christmas story and a series of reminisces of early days in Colorado, to be published after his death. They were to begin with the Christmas story at this time and the Miner is pleased to be able to offer its readers and the friends of the grand old pioneer, these interesting articles.

My principle excuse for writing this uneventful story of a day's tramp fifty-odd years ago, is for the purpose of illustrating a sample of hospitality when "grub" was rather more of an item to be considered, than it is today.

The winter of 1859 and 60 Jim Robinson and I passed in camp and in a shack on a spur or high tableland jutting out from the high mountain some three miles south of Boulder, and likely one and one-half miles north of South Boulder Canyon, where now is the attractive resort called Eldorado Springs. Our cabin was located in the scattered young timber and close beside a rock larger than the shack.

Here we were engaged in running a whip-saw mill with which to furnish the "400" of that day with floors for their log palaces, for be it known that a whole lot of those people, regular pioneer nabobs, had actually become too proud and aristocratic to longer live in houses with dirt floors only. But our object was, by means of this arm-strong mill, to make grub for winter. (My wife chides me for using the term "grub" but it was almost universally used fifty years ago, was expressive, and I prefer to use it in describing those times.)

So much for preliminary; now my story proper.

A few days before this Jim had taken all the little gold dust we had been able to accumulate by sale of lumber and gone to Denver to invest in some provisions. (In my next chapter of Reminiscences I may tell what he purchased.) So on Christmas morning, being alone, the ground mostly bare so tramping was easy and weather fine, I decided to take a hunt and try for some meat. Leaving at an early hour, with two small biscuit in pocket also matches and a trifle of salt - which I always carried when we had them - I started to climb the highest mountain directly to the west. Far up the mountain I found where some of the "Lo" family had cut and removed a lot of lodge poles from a thicket of spruce. Of course it was the squaws who did this hard climbing and such laborious work. The mountain was high and the climb hard so I was glad to turn to the right around its side before reaching the top.

Made a long hard tramp over a good game country but found neither sheep nor elk, as expected. Saw some deer and took a running shot. No meat. Ate my scanty lunch near mid-day and toward night struck the old Gregory canyon road leading to Boulder. As this promised easier tramping than in the direction of the cabin, I took the trail for Boulder hoping to find Jim returned from Denver. Arrived in town near dusk a little tired but more hungry. Called at the cabin of Mr. P-- and chatted with him for a little and while I warmed at his fire place he looked after a nice loaf of bread baking in the Dutch oven. It looked good to me and while we visited he took the loaf from the skillet and sat at his little table and ate it without one word of invitation to me, though he knew I had been tramping in the hills all day. I think I took my departure before he finished his meal. To say I was disgusted, hurt and angry is putting it mildly. We had traveled several hundred miles in company, and dealt fairly and honestly with them all so far as I could recall. Grub was grub at that time, but I was mad clear through.

Of course there was no place at that time where meals were sold, and if there had been I had no gold dust or its equivalent as it had all gone to Denver with Jim. There were two or three places where I was sure I might go and get a chunk of bread by asking for it, but I was proud and would go hungry first.

Then I went to a cabin - one of the best in town at that time - where I had left my gun and where there was a bag of mine containing an overcoat as well as some other surplus articles. This cabin was built and owned by a small company of men, one of whom was George F. Chase, still living in Boulder. This cabin had been used, either with or without consent of the owners, as a sort of storage place for those having no other home in town where they might leave guns, baggage, etc. I had lived there for a time or two with others for brief periods. This cabin was occupied by three bachelors with whom I was acquainted - at least to some extent - I planned to spend the night there. Got down my bag containing my overcoat, found an old piece of oil cloth to spread on the ground floor, using my boots and sack for a pillow, pulled my overcoat over me and slept until daylight. But, about the time I was fixing my bed my three friends took their nice brown biscuits from the skillet and seated themselves to an appetizing evening meal. Like the loaf at the other place, the biscuits looked good to me, but I was to have ne'er a one of them for not a word was said to me about joining in the game. I did not think this quite as flagrant a case, however, as the one an hour earlier, tho it was bad enough.

A few words as to the other case before leaving this part of the story. I casually met my old friend, Mr. P-- in Denver years later and after he had served two or three years in the 2nd Colorado Regiment as a soldier for Uncle Sam during the Civil War, and years later when he lived in Boulder county and only a few miles away, I met him several times in Longmont. At these times he was very cordial and invited me to visit him at his home and I promised and expected to do so but somehow failed to find a favorable opportunity when Mrs. Coffin could accompany me. At these meeting he gave me a splendid chance to invite him to my home - inquiring just where I lived, about my family, etc. - but I never invited him as I had neither forgotten nor forgiven that incident of many years ago, as possibly I should have done. He has now long since passed on from this stage of existence and so far as this particular sample of mortal clay is concerned, he has been forgiven and the slate wiped clean.

Possibly I should also speak of my other friends before resuming my story. Of my three friends, one of them soon thereafter removed to the far west, while the other two I was very intimately associated, batching with them for months in some cabin as well as living as neighbors for several years. During all this time, that Christmas day experience has never been mentioned between us. Either the incident was purely thoughtlessness on their part (which I cannot readily believe) or they were profoundly ashamed of it and so preferred never to mention it in hope of forgetting the same. At any rate, I am inclined to favor them by being as generous as possible and giving them the benefit of all doubts. But, being too much human by nature to overlook entirely or to obliterate from memory that ancient, I never was quite as cordial and failed to think as highly of these two friends as otherwise would have been the case.

I will say in closing this explanation that I visited both of them during their late illness and also saw them in their caskets.

To return to said Christmas day- At daybreak I took up my bed, shouldered my 16 pound rifle and took the trail for the cabin. I think it was Sunday. I recall that I halted at a small clear rivulet by the roadside and drank, rested and reflected on my experiences, and made up my mind that, hereafter, I would camp nearer my base of supplies, even though said supplies were ever so small a store. I recall distinctly that during said rest and reflection I determined that never hereafter (even if ever before) on "That Great Day" (or on any other day) should anyone have just cause to accuse me by saying "I was hungered and ye gave me no meat, I was thirsty and ye gave me no drink, I was a stranger and ye took me not in" etc.

My experience detailed above was something entirely new to me. I was confounded, even if grub was hard to get that winter. At our old home on the Illinois prairie we always had before us living examples of hospitality in the lives and practices of our parents who freely shared their little store with anyone in need, even though they were themselves poor, their cabin small and family large, and it has ever been my inclination and ambition to simulate them in this respect, tho' possibly falling short at times.

I also remembered with pleasure that some bread and a small pail of buttermilk were left at the cabin and an hour later I sat down and ate it at my leisure.

With next to nothing to read, the day was a rather lonely one. Late in the evening, as I supposed, I heard the long drawn dismal howl of a great wolf quite near, and taking down the gun stepped outside to look and listen, but soon detected Jim's familiar tramp. He had learned to imitate our wild gray neighbors quite well indeed.

So closed the day; and if, during the lapse of years, I have involved into a sort of mild crank on this subject of hospitality, at least one of the contributing causes for same may be named my experiences this Christmas day period fifty-four years ago, the memory of which will likely be with me so long as life shall last.