Last Words And Wishes

Death on the Trail

Death on the Trail

By William Daugherty in 1891

“Let us cross over the river and rest under the trees,” the last words of the rebel general expresses a pathetic wistfulness for the final rest we all must take. But the resignation indicated in words belongs only to the old and weary and not to those of youthful grit like the one who taught Gyp, the rook of Burnaby Rudge, to croak defiance in the words “never say die.” Of the latter class were most of the pioneers on this coast, as pioneers usually are in all countries, for they embrace the rugged and strong, who illustrated Darwin’s theory of the survival of the fittest, for the weak ones fall by the wayside ere the goal is reached.

These reflections lead to a recall of a few of our pioneers’ last words, who signaled the grim ferryman with perfect resignation when assured that they must cross the dark river. The ruling passion strong in death has been illustrated repeatedly by the dying sport when his last request has been to “pull off his boots.” The retention of this faculty to the last moment cannot be assigned wholly to braggadocio. Whatever it may be attributed to, it is unnecessary to conjecture, for illustrations are plentiful that it does exist. Every pioneer can recall some instance where last words have been impressive, and no matter how rugged they were expressed, carried a gentle pathos and marked the man’s character.

Virginia City, Nevada today by Kathy Alexander.

Virginia City, Nevada by Kathy Alexander

Joggles Wright was one of the happy-go-lucky mining operators of the early days, who was always at home where ever night overtook him, and always ready for fun, no matter how pressing work was. He liked a toddy but was never quarrelsome. On his death bed in Virginia City, Nevada, some friends standing at his bedside were looking sad when Joggles gave a last look of recognition and said, “Don’t look so solemn boys; the doctors have got a corner on me, but let’s take a drink.” Ready hands held his head to the glass he sipped, and settling back was dead.

Red Frank Wheeler, during the latter years of his life, never drank anything but brandy, and his last words were “Boys, let’s take a nightcap,” and expired as they laid his head on the pillow.

Man drinking

Man drinking

Patsey Duffy, the prizefighter, received his death-wound from a pistol shot. It occurred in Hamilton, and as he doubled over and fell to the floor, his last words were, “My goose is cooked.” The boys picked him up, laid him on a table, and pulled off his boots as life fluttered away.

But why multiply the illustrations when they all point to the ruling passion and generally mark the leading characteristic of the man.

 

By William Daugherty, for the Reno Evening Gazette, March 12, 1891. Compiled and edited by Kathy Alexander/Legends of America, updated March 2022.

About the Author: Written by William Daugherty wrote for the Reno Evening Gazette in 1891. The Gazette was first published on October 12, 1876, and continued for the next 107 years. In 1977, it was merged with the Nevada State Journal and continues to exist today as the Reno Gazette-Journal.

Note: The article is not verbatim as spelling errors, minor grammatical changes, and editing have occurred for the ease of the modern reader.

Also See:

Pioneers on the Nevada Frontier (Reno Evening Gazette)

Tales of the Overland Stage (Reno Evening Gazette)

Nevada Mining Tales (Reno Evening Gazette)

Nevada – The Silver State