The Hidden Cabin: A Pathetic Story in Condensed Form

Palomar Mountain is one of the grandest natural attractions of Southern California. It is more than a mile in height. From its lofty “look-outs” the beautiful bay of San Diego may be descried, and also the distant islands of Santa Catalina and San Clemente. It abounds with gushing springs, richly timbered table-lands, deep, rocky canyons, and rugged peaks. It is one of the favorite resorts of the writer, who has spent many pleasant hours in camp near the mysterious hidden cabin above the “snow white clouds,” in company with his friend, the Rev. John L. Pitner, D. D., to whom these lines are inscribed.

D. W. E.

BIMINI SPRINGS LOS ANGELES, CAL.

PALOMAR.

A mile above the ocean’s level brim Tow’rs Palomar, the monarch of the range. Along its western base are frostless hills With verdure crowned, and valleys green, where bloom And fruitage fill the air with sweet perfume. Green pastures, rich with herbage and bright flowers, Bedeck the eastern slopes which fall away A lone and weary desert land to meet; To meet a lone and weary desert land-- A rich and rocky land where mines of wealth Have slumbered long beneath its arid wastes. So stands in majesty this mountain grand Between the desert and the western sea. From ocean’s heaving breast, she upward sent A humid vapor, in the skies to meet And woo the softer breezes that ascend From off the heated earth at eventide. A gentle zephyr was at play among The cacti beds and yuccas tall, that lift Their spiny leaves and tufted fronds above The burning sands; she softly breathed a sigh, And floating upward in the milky way She met and wed the vapor from the sea; For each had found a true affinity. The moon withdrew and hid her face behind The distant isles; and from the blushing east A ray of sunlight came and kissed the bride.

Together in the skies, these twain have wrought A mantle, soft as down, of spotless white; And often as the evening twilight falls, Or dewy morning sheds her purple tints, They come and spread it over Palomar. Thus runs the legend which has oft been told; And which the Indian maiden whispers low When snow white clouds hang over Palomar.

THE HIDDEN CABIN.

The rugged sides of Palomar are deep With canyons cleft, where raging floods have made Their downward path and held their course unchained. Beyond the eagle’s nest and rocky crag, Where giant arborvitaes throw their plumes Athwart the sky; and crystal waters cold And pure, come sparkling from a mountain spring; By bending boughs and tangled vines shut out From view, the hidden cabin stood; and there Today it stands, and there has stood unkept, In mystery wrapped, a hundred years or more Since its last tenant left it there alone. It stands where it was builded long ago; Yet not the same as in the days of old, For long disuse and winters’ storms and rain Have left their mark; but still enough remains To show that in the hands of him who built No joiner’s tools were held; divested of All metals with sharp edge save only axe And auger, which he plied with master hand To hew the timbers smooth, and cut and fit The doors and frames; and fitting, through these sent The auger’s teeth to clear the way for pins Of wood with which he made all fast and strong.

A strange, pathetic story centers round This lonely spot; the story of a true And faithful soul who counted life best spent By those who strive to crucify the flesh, And emulate--as best poor mortal may-- The life of Him who lived and died for love; For love of those who loved and hated Him.

CEDRIC VAUGHN.

Classmates were Cedric Vaughn and Homer Lee. Cedric from the southland came, and in his Veins there flowed--tho’ mixed with Anglo-Saxon-- A trace of Montezuma blood, the same As that of those who met with sharpened steel The hosts of Cortez on the bloody plains Of Otumba. In the lightsome morning Of his happy youth, he saw that twain who Gave him life and love, with all his kindred, By savage hands struck down! struck down and flung Amid the blazing ruins of their home. With superhuman strength he stood beside His father ’till he fell; and then fought on Like wounded tiger, grimly courting death.

Filled with pagan superstition, that wild Robber chief--when he saw brave Cedric’s blade Cleave skull and flesh, and break like slender reeds The spears of those who came upon him three To one--thought him protected by the gods And made immune to blows of mortal hands; Stricken with fear lest in revengeful wrath They turn on him, fell on his spear and died. Then the others fled and Cedric’s life was Spared. He, wand’ring aimless o’er the waste Scarce knowing where his footsteps led, came where Terraced hills sloped to a narrow harbor. He knew the place and knew his father had Been well known there and much respected for Fair dealing, when in trade he bought and sold; Not many days before, they together Had come down this dusty trail and returned With family stores. Sadly he walked on, his Poor heart bleeding at remembrance of those Happy hours now gone, when suddenly he Came upon the spot where they had rested By a spring and led their horses down; Here lay the branch his father’s hand had used To urge the horses on; and half trodden In the mold, and scattered round, the paper Which he had seen his mother’s loving hands Wrap ’round the food prepared by her for them. Now, for the first, he realized his loss.

Upon the cold, damp bosom of the earth He laid his head and wept--alone! Beneath The bending skies and sighing boughs; no loving Hand upon his brow; no ear to hear the Groans that shook his iron frame; nor knew he How near in that dark hour the heart of Him Who suffered in the garden all alone Was bending down to his. The soul may weep And still the flesh demand its own: Too proud To eat the bread of charity, he sought And found employment in the mines. He worked With heavy heart, crushed for a time by dark Despair; and giving way to hunger for Revenge, he well-nigh fell; but when at last A kindly light broke thro’ the gloom of his Black night of grief, and he could say, “Thy will Be done”; in him awoke new life and hope And high resolve to make of his own life A memorial to them; and to strive To reach the measure of their highest hope. To this end he hoarded all his earnings, And with the salvage from the wreck of their Estate, went bravely forth, determined to Fulfill their wish so oft expres’d that he Might go away to school--they named the school-- The greatest in the northland, whence they hoped To see him come one day with cultured mind.

HOMER LEE.

Homer Lee was born and reared upon the Sacred ground where beacon lights were kindl’d On the hills, before the war that broke the Chains of monarchy and set this nation Free. His father owned ships and lands and Merchandise; and the son--the eldest born-- Had never known a wish ungratified. Albeit, he was not puffed up, or vain, Or churlish by over-much indulgence, For he was nurtured in the Quaker faith, And early taught to draw the line ’twixt Right and wrong; and measure men by what They are and not by what they have or say. Unlike in all respects were Cedric Vaughn And Homer Lee, save in those noble traits Of character which make men strong and brave And true. Homer, lighter built and younger, But noted for his prowess--when he met The tall, dark, princely stranger from the south, As by the power of some magnetic chain Was strangely drawn to him. Touched by the kind Demeanor of this fair-haired, happy youth, Cedric’s heart went out to him. So, as the Years went by, between them grew a friendship Strong as that of Pythias and his friend.

DORA LEE.

Homer’s sister, Dora Lee, rejoiced at Their success, or wept when disappointment Crossed their path. Likewise, she shared in all their Happy leisure hours, when sailing on the Bay, or riding horseback o’er the hills. And When their united strength their pennant saved, The campus rang with shouts of victory And plaudits for the heroes of the day, She wept for joy. Dora Lee loved Cedric, But he knew it not nor dreamed that she whose Faithful heart could never love but one, Had consecrated that one love to him.

Their college days were drawing to a close; And nearer came the day when these two friends Must each go out to meet the sterner life-- The one to fill the place prepared for him; The other, empty handed and alone. Their intercourse--to each a priceless boon-- Had ne’er been marred by shadow of distrust. A diamond careless thrown upon the sand, May change the gentle current of a stream. And so it chanced the even current of Their fellowship was broken.

LOLA VAIL.

Lola Vail,-- Her father, a rich planter, owned a vast Estate upon the banks of that great stream Which gathers up the waters of the land And sweeps them onward to the gulf. Half way To that strange southern land whence Cedric came Was Lola born--a schoolmate, friend and guest Of Dora Lee, and much like her; or as she Would appear with three more years of summers’ Sun to paint with ruddier glow the bloom of Health upon her cheek, and tint with deeper Gold her ample braids; in purity of Thought and loyalty, they also were alike.

Lola’s mother died when she was young, and Her father, bringing home a Creole wife, Unwittingly neglected her; and thought His duty done when he provided for The child a nurse--an aged Octoroon-- A pious soul, who gave to Lola all The love she knew in her sweet childhood life; And filled the tender mind with holy thoughts And pure. And Lola daily gathered flowers And, weeping, laid them on her mother’s grave. When she was older grown, her father took Her to the north, she and her faithful nurse, To bide until she grew to womanhood. Her education finished, her father Called her home, but she begged to tarry, yet A few more days and visit with her friend.

Thus it chanced to come about that Cedric Vaughn and Homer Lee met sweet Lola Vail And loved her, each in his own way--Cedric, With all the fervor of his sincere soul-- And Homer worship’d her, forgetting for The time his own betrothed. Cedric told her All, she sitting by his side in shady Bower, upon a wooded isle, their boat drawn Up below upon the pebbly beach. He Told the story of his life, as one a Painful duty would perform. “She must know The truth.” And keeping nothing back, he told Her of his birth and lineage--which was Equal to her own--his loss of home and Wealth; his lofty aspirations; high hopes Now partly realized, though penniless; But he was going back to that same land Where he had delved; and there would he employ The knowledge gained of placer, drift and ledge, And engineering, to locate and bring Forth rich treasure from the earth, and in a Few short years would he return with wealth and Build a costly home for her in some great City,--she might name the place. “Could she love Him? Would she wait for him?” She answered not By spoken word, but when she lifted her Fond eyes to his, he read the sweet response.

By his strong arms encircled tenderly, Her head upon his breast, she wept for joy; And speaking through her tears: “Oh, leave me not, But let me share your lot whate’er it be-- A palace or a cot--I would leave all The world, my Cedric, dear, and go with thee.” But Cedric kindly told her of the place, Its roughness, the peons there; and frankly, But perhaps unwise, he spoke of dangers From the wild bandits. It was no place for One so sweet and gentle as his own dear Lola; it were better she obey her Father’s call. That day, a week, the ship that He expected her to take, would leave that Port. It would not be long; he would stop there On his way and see her father, speak to Him, as man to man should speak, all fair and honorable. The wisdom of his speech She saw and cheerful yielded to his will. With fervid kiss their pledges sealed, they sat In sweet converse till lengthening shadows called; Then spread their sail and shoreward set the prow Of their light craft. With rosy finger tips She swept the strings of her guitar and sang: