The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

THE MYSTERIES AND MISERIES OF SAN FRANCISCO.

THE

MYSTERIES AND MISERIES

OF

SAN FRANCISCO.

BY A CALIFORNIAN.

SHOWING UP ALL THE VARIOUS CHARACTERS AND NOTABILITIES, (BOTH IN HIGH

AND LOW LIFE) THAT HAVE FIGURED IN SAN FRANCISCO

SINCE ITS SETTLEMENT.

NEW-YORK:

GARRETT & CO., PUBLISHERS,

No. 18 Ann-Street.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by

GARRETT & CO.,

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern

District of New-York.

THE

MYSTERIES AND MISERIES

OF

SAN FRANCISCO.

CHAPTER I
The Alarm—The Flames—The Ladder.

San Francisco, on the marge of the sea, with towering hills behind her, lay basking in the sun like a serpent by the side of a rock.

The dwellings of the more fortunate classes loomed pleasantly on the side of the large round hills in the distance, and might with the aid of a little fancy, have been metamorphosed into the castellated domains of the feudal barons whose reign succeeded that of absolute barbarism in Europe. Those quiet dwellings amid the solitude of nature, present a vivid contrast to the stirring scenes of the town below, and accordingly all who possess taste and the means of gratifying it, rear a building among the hills to which they can retire, after the fatigues of the day, and solace themselves with the comforts of domestic retiracy, and the grand simplicity of nature.

In giving a coup d’œil at the scene, from the city itself, one is struck by the pointed roof rising above a range of hills which lie to the south west of the noble harbor, and which crowns a dark pile that, on a nearer approach, seems to lean against the side of a mountain upon whose peak linger the last beams of the setting sun. This extensive edifice is the dwelling or homestead of the wealthy and far-famed Senor de Castro, an old resident of the country, and one of the proudest of the ancient lords of the soil. His horses are the best, his table the most sumptuous, and his servants the most numerous of any ranchero in the regions round about California.

It was early on one afternoon in June, 18—, that several young men, mostly Americans, were conversing around a table in one of the principle Cafes in the young city of San Francisco; a stout robust man nearly forty years of age, and dressed partly in the English style and partly in that of the country, with leggings and heavy blunt spurs, and a red sash about his middle, was discussing the merit of the auguadent sold in Santiago, a city of Chile, and having become very eloquent on this important topic, he set down his glass upon the table so violently as to shatter it to atoms.

‘Give me your good old-fashioned horn tumbler,’ cried he, with an oath, ‘and leave these baby-toys to the women and children!’

‘You like to take your liquor in a horn?’ said a young American clerk to a provision dealer, ‘now I prefer a glass, if it were only for the cleanliness of the thing,

Yes, by the mass!

Give me a glass

To toast a lass,

In horns should never be,

Remembered when

We married men

Quaff denty or chee chee.’

‘You married men!’ exclaimed the stouter disputant, laughing.

‘A marriage extempore,’ muttered a saturnine young American, with an enormous head of black hair. ‘When are you going to send that little girl back to her mother?’

‘Silence, Pothook!’ cried the other, ‘you know that you would have given all the old shoes in your locker to have got one smile from her, yourself—’

‘Yes, envious Pothook,’ cried another youth, whose accent betrayed the Cockney, ‘if Cardwell has a notion to settle down in the calm of domestic life, and—’

‘Settle! Ten thousand blunderbusses!’ laughed the stout man, ‘When did you ever know Cardwell to settle anything but his grog bills—them’s the settlements he is most accustomed to.’

‘But I mean,’ added the Cockney; ‘that he is not running around after every pretty face like—like some people, always excepting the present honorable company, as a matter of course.’

‘Oh! of course!’ said Pothook feelingly.

‘Yet,’ remarked a tall, pale young man, who seemed to have recovered from some dangerous illness—‘Yet, let me tell you that Cardwell is not so innocent after all, as he seems to be. I saw him, the other day, stand for half an hour, looking up at a certain house in Clay street with all the eyes in his head, and meaning no offence to the gentleman, I don’t by any manner of means dispute his taste.’

‘Oh! the young villain!’ cried the stout man, roaring with laughter.

In the midst of his jollity and noisy vociferations, a young fellow from ‘the States’ who had been silent until then, demurely asked—‘Do any of you know what is good for rats?’

This made the stout man laugh still louder—‘You had better inquire what is bad for rats,’ said he at length; ‘for to judge by their sleek hides and plump bellies, I should think they had already had enough that was good and wholesome—perdition catch the born devils! Last night, about an hour before morning—’ the speaker stopped, as the sound of a bell rang violently, and the cry of ‘fire’ at once arose in the streets.

‘Never mind, go on!’ said the Cockney.

‘Never mind the bell,’ said Cardwell. ‘We can’t be disturbed in our pleasures by these domestic affairs.’

‘Why, by the noise,’ said the stout man, ‘it would appear that there was a polite invitation given to all citizens that their presence might be required in the adjoining streets, and as the wind is coming up fresh—’

‘There is no time to be lost, my good fellows!’ cried a tall, elegantly formed youth, rushing into the apartment from an adjoining room. ‘Half the city is in flames!’

So saying, the youth hastened away, followed by the revellers.

The whole town was in an uproar. As they gained the street, they were met by the strong sea breeze that filled the air with dust, and betokened no good to those whose property was at that moment encircled by the flames.

The Sansome Truck Company, with their hooks and ladders, were rushing by, their scarlet coats powdered with dust, and making the welkin ring with their shouts. The elegant youth of whom we have spoken was one of the first that reached the fire. Already was the house of Senor del Castro completely enveloped by sheets of flame, and from the windows of some of the adjoining buildings the streams of fire darted forth, and moved swiftly off toward the South on the wings of the gale.

Several persons, among whom were Cardwell, and the stout man of the cafe, busied themselves in tearing up the planks in the immediate vicinity of the conflagration, for the streets being laid down with plank, instead of stones, aid greatly in the spread of the flames. The firemen had brought streams of water to bear on the principal building, when suddenly there appeared at an upper window, a fair and youthful female form, evidently belonging to one of the higher classes of the country, whose dark hair fell in rich masses about her shoulders, and partly concealed a face in which the snow and the rose contended for mastery.

For an instant every one paused in astonishment, nor was her overmastering beauty unheeded in that moment of fearful excitement; for the cry that a woman was in the house now rose shrilly on the air, and was echoed in every street in the city. The ladders were hurried to the spot by men frantic in their haste to save so fair a specimen of mortality from a dreadful death, while the object of all this interest, the lovely cause of the wild confusion that pervaded the masses below, simply placed one little white hand to her eyes as if to shut out the sight of the surrounding horrors, and steadied herself with the other by placing it on the sill of the window.

In the moment that the ladder was placed against the side of the house, a shrill cry was heard in the rear of the firemen, and a stately form was seen forcing itself through the throng with giant strides, and thrusting aside everybody and everything which opposed its progress. One glance was sufficient to convince the spectators that the father of the imperilled girl was rushing to her rescue. His hat was gone, and his dark but silvered locks floated on the breeze, the sweat stood in beads upon his broad forehead, and his face, though bearded and mustachioed according to the custom of the country, was pale with anxiety and horror.

‘Oh, for the love of God!’ cried he, ‘my daughter! my daughter!’

As he reached the front of the building, the flames gushing from the lower windows drove back the brave men who had charge of the ladder. The Senor del Castro clasped his hands, and uttering a cry of despair, would have rushed into the house, the lower part of which was completely filled with flames. The stout man of the cafe threw himself upon the distracted father, and by the timely aid of Cardwell and the Cockney, succeeded in dragging him out of the reach of danger. But the fire companies had not been idle while these events were transpiring. They had brought the ladder to the building at another place. They had placed it firmly against the side of the house, when a man, addressing an officer of the Fire Department, exclaimed in a tone of despair, ‘Oh, my God! Charley, the ladder is too short. It don’t reach anywhere near the window!’

Quicker than thought, Charley placed himself in front of the window at which the girl stood, and bade them place the feet of the ladder on his shoulders. In an instant, this was done, one foot of the ladder resting on each of his shoulders. The elegant youth of the cafe then sprang forward—

‘That’s right, Monteagle,’ cried Charley, ‘climb right up by me and then on the ladder; bring down the young lady or never live to tell of your failure.’

But before these words had been fairly uttered, the daring youth was half way up the ladder. All eyes were now fixed on the adventurer. For a moment all seemed silent except the hysteric wailings of the anguished father, and the awful roaring of the flames, as the wind swept through every aperture of the building, and added ten-fold to the fury of the conflagration.

Before Monteagle had reached the lower sill of the window, he was discovered to be on fire; but at almost the same instant, a stream of water from the pipe of an engine drenched him to the skin. Then both the youth and the girl were entirely hidden from view by the rolling forth of a dense volume of smoke streaked with flame. One cry—one general cry of despair burst from the throng below, and the Senor, not doubting that both his daughter and her deliverer had perished, gave a deep groan and sunk senseless to the earth. But loud rose the voice of Charley upon the air at the awful crisis—‘They are alive yet! Don’t be frightened, man, I feel the weight of both of them on my shoulders, now—now—the ladder shakes! they are coming down!’

Several men with large ponchos were crowded around the bottom of the ladder to smother the flames, in case the young lady should be on fire, by wrapping her tightly in these ample garments, and they looked up on hearing the cheerful exclamations of Charley. The feet and legs of a man were discerned below the smoke that had enveloped the upper part of the ladder, then the bottom of a lady’s robe, and finally the face of Monteagle begrimed and blistered looked down upon the trembling expectants. The head of the girl reclined on the shoulder of the gallant youth, her black hair flowing down his back, while her arms hung listless by his sides—she was in a state of insensibility.

As soon as Monteagle and his lovely burthen were within reach of the multitude a dozen hands grasped them, and while the friends of the youth bore him off on their shoulders to administer such healing remedies as his case required, for a part of his hair—his heavy brown locks—was burnt off, and a blister on his forehead showed too plainly that a moment longer would have consigned both the young lady and her deliverer to the realm from which no returning spirit has come back to describe the final parting of the soul from its material envelope.

The girl herself was carried to the arms of her father, who, just awaking from his swoon, cried in a gasping voice ‘Inez! Inez! where is my Inez?’ and plucking a sharp-pointed dagger from his breast, he was about to end his agony by thrusting it to the hilt in his heart. Quicker than lightning, the man who was called Charley grasped the wrist of the desperate man, and holding it like a vice in his stalwart grasp, pointed with the other hand to the girl, and said in his rough masculine voice:

‘None of that! If I’d thought you would take it so hard that we had saved your daughter’s life, but we would have—no, not that exactly, for she’s worth saving on her own account!’

While Charley was delivering this speech, the cinders were raining down on his head, and he shook them off as a lion would have shaken great flies from his forehead, but others were not so insensible to a shower of fire-brands, and the Senor was dragged farther from the scene of ruin.

When the Senor perceived that his Inez was really by his side, he gave vent to the most extravagant exclamations of joy. Rushing to the Chief Engineer, whom he supposed to be the savior of his child, he clasped the sturdy fireman in his arms, called him every name that is flattering to the pride of man, emptied his pockets of all his gold, and tried to force into his hands a precious ring that he wore on his finger, and which was said to contain a diamond of great value. Charley said that his duty called him elsewhere, and we next saw him plunging into the thickest of the throng to bring up his forces to the principal point of attack, and to expedite the tearing up of the planks on the street, for they had become thoroughly ignited in some places, and the flames were marching through the slight wooden buildings of the town with the imperious step of a conqueror.

No sooner had the young lady recovered consciousness, than she raised herself to her feet, and looked anxiously on every side as if in search of some object which she could not find.

‘Here comes your father,’ said Cardwell, who had been the most officious in bearing off the girl to a place of safety, and applying cold water and other restoratives to her face and temples.

Inez took the hand of her father, but still her eyes wandered through the throng as if seeking another, and while she was led away by the old Senor, she walked listlessly and thoughtfully, as if something pressed heavily upon her mind.

By this time every gambling-house, every drinking shop, every pulperie, and every thieving den had poured out its crowds upon the streets of San Francisco, and a vast proportion of the inhabitants of the city were thronging around the scene of conflagration. Here was a gang of thieves, pretending to be very officious in removing the goods from a store-house that had just kindled, while the eager glancing of their eyes, and the half-shy, half-brazen way they shouted to each other, by way of encouragement to preserve and to hasten the work, sufficiently denoted that they had come to purloin whenever an opportunity offered, and that their zeal was merely intended to blind the eyes of others, and lull suspicion in regard to their ulterior purposes; and it would seem that no lack of opportunity was here, for such was the excitement, such was the confusion, the tumbling of men upon others, the running hither and thither, the cries of alarm and distress, the shriek of the wind, and the roaring of the flames as they went leaping, darting, and whirling from house to house, from corner to corner, and from street to street, that the cautious thief whose heart was marbled against human sufferings, and thought only of turning the disasters of others to his own advantage, might carry on his nefarious trade with almost as much impunity as that of the burrowing mole, who treasures his stolen grain under the earth while the plain above is rent by the tempest’s fury.

Yet, even in the general whirl of reason and reflection attendant upon these rapid conflagrations, there sometimes chances to be an eye unengaged for a moment which may light upon the plunderer in the very nick of time, and when least expected by himself. Such was the case now, just as the flames had reached Montgomery street, and were reaching forth their long red tongues towards the pile of stores on Jackson street, the Cockney mentioned at the commencement of this narrative saw a fellow hugging to his bosom a little iron safe, and stealthily escaping under cover of the smoke, along the street towards the harbor.

He raised the cry of ‘Stop thief! Picaroon! Coquin!’ and in as many other languages as he could bring to his aid, he gave the alarm to such individuals as were within the reach of his voice. The merchants themselves who were near the spot, joined in the chase, and in less than two minutes more than a hundred persons were at the heels of the man with the safe. He headed directly for the water, and had nearly reached it, when a couple of Chinamen in blue nankeens threw themselves across his path. The desperate wretch dashed the iron safe into the face of one of them, still retaining hold of it, however, and he fell covered with blood, and then, with one hand, the thief grasped the long cue of the other and jerked him to the ground. He then darted forward again, leaving the two disastered Fee-fo-fums sitting upright in the middle of the street, and uttering the most doleful lamentations. Amain the crowd came sweeping down to the water’s edge, tumbling the two Chinamen over and over, who cried out most piteously while rolling in the dust under the feet of the pursuers. The thief perceiving no way of escape on the land, sprang into a skiff and pushed off from the shore. For a moment, his foes stood panting on the shore like baffled tigers, eyeing the man as with two small oars he ploughed through the waves and receded farther and farther from the strand. At length a loud hail was heard from a point farther down, some three hundred yards from the spot where the pursuers were clustered, and on turning their eyes in that direction, the crowd beheld a slender but well-formed youth tugging at a heavy boat, which lay partly on the shore and partly in the water, and vainly endeavoring to get it afloat.

With a yell that rang on the air like the onset cry of a troop of wild Indians, the whole body of pursuers ran towards the boat.

‘Hah! Monteagle, is that you?’ cried our Cockney, who arrived first at the spot—‘It was I who gave the alarm! How much is there in the safe?’ ‘That is best known to my employers,’ returned Monteagle evasively, ‘enough, you may be sure, to warrant the most vigorous endeavors in getting it into our hands. Those who take the thief will be well rewarded.’

‘Come then! heave O! heave, ahoi!’ cried three or four lusty fellows who had now come up, and applied their shoulders to the boat in good earnest. It began to move, and as it finally slid roaring into the waves, Monteagle, and a dozen others leaped on board. A few strokes of their long oars cleared them from the beach and gave free play to their motions as they sunk the blades of their oars deep into the brine, and threw themselves far back at every stroke; a movement which to the practised eye of the mariner at once announced that whatever experience they might previously have had in this line, was not in the service of the nation, but had been acquired in the pursuit of that marvellous fish which swallowed Jonah.

The winds were unusually violent that afternoon, and the water was very rough. This circumstance was much in favor of the large boat, and although the robber was a powerful man, and exerted his utmost, yet his pursuers continually gained upon him. He was obliged to stop a few moments to bail out his skiff, using one of his boots for that purpose; and this fact at once convinced Monteagle and his men that he labored under great disadvantages in a sharp, combing sea such as was then driving into the harbor before the screaming gale. The thief himself seemed to give up all hope of escape and relaxed his efforts, no doubt husbanding his strength for exertions of a different character.

‘Now, my brave fellows,’ cried Monteagle, ‘lay back and give it to her! do your prettiest and you can make the old barge hum, and we’ll soon come up with that picaroon yonder; and understand that I am authorized to promise a high reward.’

‘Oh, never mind the reward,’ interrupted a stout Irishman, magnanimously. ‘It’s for the pure honor of the thing that we are working, sure, and to support the laws.’

‘Yes, to support the laws!’ cried a short, stout, red-faced fellow, of such equivocal appearance, that one might have taken him for a beardless youth or a man of sixty years, for a native or a foreigner, a cunning knave or a natural fool. He carried an enormous head on his broad round shoulders, upon which were only a few scattering hemp-like hairs, but his cheeks were fat and smooth, and his eyes always seemed ready to roll out of their sockets.

‘Yes, to support the laws!’ said the strange being, in a smothered tone that seemed to proceed from the bottom of the abdomen, while his heavy goggle eyes seemed to be thinking of something altogether foreign from the subject, and the continual working of his enormous mouth led Monteagle to say to himself that the fellow was ‘chewing the cud of sweet and bitter fancy.’

But now they were within two oars’ length of the villain in the skiff, when the latter ceased rowing, and starting upon his feet, brandished one of his oars in the air as if it had been the mace of an ancient knight, and shrieked out in a tone of fury, that he ‘would dash in the skull of any man that laid a flipper on him!’

As Monteagle stood up in the head of the boat, this threat might be considered a matter more directly appertaining to himself than to any other person present. Yet, every one uttered a shout of defiance, and half a dozen strokes brought the barge up to the skiff. The head of the large boat struck the skiff a-midships, square off and on, and for an instant it seemed as if the latter would have turned bottom up. The thief, however, balanced his boat well, at the same instant that he struck a terrible blow with his oar at the head of Monteagle. The youth evaded the falling oar, by jumping dexterously aside and, at the same moment, drew a pistol from his breast. Before he could fire, he was surprised by a powerful blow on the side of his head which came from behind. Turning his head, he saw the big Irishman who had so gallantly disclaimed all interested motives, with both fists double and ready to repeat the blow which had nearly deprived him of recollection. This, however, lasted but an instant, for all was confusion now. The Irishman was choked down by an English cooper; the man with the big head and wide mouth came to the aid of the Irishman, while the robber in the skiff dashed his oar into the faces and brought it down lustily on the heads and backs of his adversaries in the barge.

The diversion which had been made in favor of the robber, plainly announced that the Irishman and the big head were accomplices of the former, and had entered the barge and joined the pursuit in order to render him efficient aid in time of need.

The fight became general. Big Head and the Irishman fully engaged the attention of Monteagle and two men of the barge’s crew, while the robber, determined not to be taken alive, fought with a desperation not to be imagined by any who have never seen a man resolved upon death or escape.

‘Blast me!’ cried the Cockney, ‘but these Sydney ducks are hatched out in the wrong nest,’ as he received a kick in the face from Big Head while the latter was struggling under a thwart and using both hands and feet to defend himself against the loyal portion of the barge’s crew. This melee had lasted some time, during which the pistol of Monteagle had passed into the hands of the big Irishman, who falling a second time from the effects of a chance blow dealt by his accomplice in the skiff, pointed the weapon at Monteagle as he fell, and pulled the trigger. The charge took effect on the youth; everything grew suddenly dark around him, and he fell senseless into the bottom of the boat. The battle, however, was still waged with relentless fury on both sides. The robber, cheered by the hope of final victory, now sprang from his skiff into the barge, and stamping on the head of Monteagle as he lay insensible under the thwarts, he used his oar, now broken into a convenient shape and size, about the heads of his enemies. To say that blood flowed, would be nothing new, as there was scarcely a man in the boat who had not received a wound already; but now heads and arms were broken; sometimes Big Head and the Irishman were both down at a time, and then victory seemed certain to the loyal party; then the former would be up again and fighting desperately. But three men against eight or nine could not hold out forever, and the big Irishman, at length, reeled and sank, overcome by fatigue and loss of blood. Big Head was then silenced by a rap on the skull with a tiller, and after a most desperate resistance, the robber himself was bound hand and foot.

The crew then sat down to take breath, and next proceeded to wash the blood from their faces. On their way to the shore they were met by another boat that had put off to their assistance, and in her was recognized Mr. Vandewater, one of the firm that had been robbed.

‘Where’s Monteagle?’ was the first inquiry of this gentleman as the two boats met.

The boat’s crew started and looked about them, discovered the youth lying senseless in the bottom of the boat. Smarting under their own wounds, and hot with the late contest, they had entirely forgotten the lad who led the charge. ‘Oh!’ said the Cockney, binding a handkerchief about his scarred head, ‘I had like to have forgotten him, sir. It was he that first got hold of the barge—I was the one that saw the thief take the safe—I gave the first alarm, sir.’

Mr. Vandewater by this time held the head of young Monteagle on his knee, and was examining into his condition, but, looking up a moment, he replied to the Cockney,

‘And the safe, where is it?’

‘There, now,’ ejaculated the robber as he wiped the bloody foam from his mouth against his shoulder, ‘what a fool I was that I didn’t cast the d— thing into the drink, God! they’ll get it.’

Mr. Vandewater assisted in removing Monteagle to the other boat, and telling the men in the barge to call in the morning at his house, he told the rowers in his own yawl to pull for the skiff. The little bark was soon reached, and the safe was found in its bottom. Mr. Vandewater took possession of his property, and returned speedily to the shore with Monteagle, whose situation, if he were indeed alive, required immediate attention.

When the barge reached the landing, there was no lack of welcomers on the beach, for the latter part of the battle in the boat had been observed by many spectators. The robber, who had escaped injury better than could have been expected, was handed out of the barge amid the shouts of the populace, and taken possession of by the police; but, strange as it may seem, the Irishman and Big Head were suffered to go among their friends; perhaps it was judged by their appearance that they had suffered punishment enough already.

The devastations of the fire had been wide and fearful. In an incredible short time, a large portion of the city had been laid in ruins.—Houses and streets had suffered alike, the planking of the thoroughfares rendering them equally combustible with the buildings.

On the day succeeding these events, a pale youth, with a bandage about his temples, lay in a darkened room some two miles from the town of San Francisco, seeming to be asleep; and yet the almost marble whiteness of the features might have led a casual spectator to suppose that the coroner was required in his case, rather than the surgeon. The bed upon which he lay, as well as the chaste elegance of the furniture about the apartment, betokened that the master of the mansion had eminently been successful in the general struggle for wealth, and also that he possessed a liberal taste which enabled him to employ his means for the embellishment as well as for the support of life. The windows of the chamber looked out upon an extensive garden, nicely arranged and kept, and romantically varied with rocks and underwood of natural growth. The house itself was an elegant edifice standing on a hill-side, and commanding a fine view of the surrounding country.

CHAPTER II
The Breaking Heart—A Scene of Tenderness and Despair.

The pale slumberer lay perfectly still, and a close observer could scarcely have perceived that he breathed. Thus had he lain a few moments, when a side door slowly opened, and a fair feminine countenance, a perfect blonde, surmounted with a profusion of flaxen ringlets, was thrust gently into the apartment. Then the door opened wider, and the symmetrical form of a young girl of seventeen years stood in the aperture. She listened a moment, and then advanced one tiny foot into the chamber; then the other; and finally she stood within the apartment, but with the door left open behind her. There stood the beautiful sylph trembling and pale, and sometimes looking back, as if hesitating whether to proceed or return. At length she stept lightly forward and fixed her eyes upon the countenance of the slumberer. She instantly clasped her hands across her bosom, raised her large blue eyes to heaven, and an expression of deep agony rested on those sunny features, like a heavy thunder cloud passing over a beauteous landscape in midsummer.

Her timidity seemed to have fled with the first glance that she had bestowed upon the invalid. Turning her back towards him, she even murmured aloud, ‘And all this he has suffered for the preservation of my uncle’s property. Oh! why could he not have delegated that duty to others more fitted for such rude work? Already had he performed a deed sufficient to gild his name with perpetual glory—in saving an accomplished—an—an—in saving human life; for it matters not who she was. To save a life is enough, and at the risk of his own.’

She turned and looked once more at the sleeping youth; again she pressed her hands against her heart, and, this time, she sighed deeply. A footstep was heard in the passage way, approaching the door that opened into the hall, and gliding through the one at which she had entered, the young girl had retired, just as two other individuals entered the sick chamber. One of those who now approached the couch of the invalid was a tall, slender, middle-aged man, elegantly attired, and yet with a sort of graceful negligence which drew the attention of the observer rather to the manners and bearing of the gentleman himself, than to the garb in which he was arrayed.

The other gentleman wore a plain suit of black, was of middling height, with light hair and eyes, and probably thirty years of age.

‘Yes, doctor,’ said the latter gentleman, as they entered the room. ‘It is as I tell you.’

‘But, sir,’ returned the other, ‘recollect the acquaintantship—female timidity and the gentleness of the sex’s nature. To see one whom she had so long known dangerously wounded, brought suddenly into the house, with a mind unprepared; remember all the attendant circumstances, Mr. Vandewater, and you will not be astonished that the poor girl exhibited symptoms of agitation.’

‘Oh, yes, yes, my dear sir. Otherwise she would not be woman,’ replied the merchant. ‘Agitation, sympathy, pity, all these were to be expected. But, sir, she would have been frank in the expression of her sympathy if all had been well. Instead of that, she strove to hide her concern. She became as pale as chalk—as white as milk, sir; and moved off without uttering a syllable, or making the least inquiry, and if my wife had not followed her and supported her to her chamber, she would have fell lifeless to the floor.’

‘His pulse is better,’ said the doctor, whose thoughts now ran in the line of his profession, and who had taken the youth by the wrist. ‘He will escape a fever—it was that I dreaded.’

‘And then her aunt has remarked her deportment while in the presence of the young man.’

‘A fine constitution, sir. You must not throw him away—don’t give him up yet. I think he will be restored to you, after all.’

‘She is the daughter of a beloved brother, whose death, some ten years ago, occasioned me the most poignant distress, and I shall take care of her as if she was my own child.’

‘You must not let him be disturbed, sir, and I will leave something to be administered to him as soon as he wakes.’

‘I don’t think you heard my last observation, sir.’

‘Oh, yes—I heard, sir. You remarked that she was the daughter of your esteemed brother: but, pray, sir, if the young people love one another?—’

‘You don’t understand me, sir,’ was the quick coup de parole of the merchant. ‘I did not say that the young people loved each other.’

‘Ah! now I understand,’ said the surgeon, looking really concerned. ‘I see—you wish to preserve your niece’s happiness, not to prevent it!’

‘Exactly, sir. There is not a man in the world to whom I would sooner marry my niece, than to him who lies before you. Of unquestioned integrity, candid, honorable, devoted to my interests, of elegant manners, without being effeminate, humane as he is brave, well educated, and of respectable parentage. I find no fault in Lorenzo Monteagle—none at all, sir. But my niece shall be forced upon no man, sir. The king’s son is not good enough for her, when it comes to that.’

‘But will he not, in time, admire Miss Julia, sir. It appears to me, that if I were a bachelor—’

‘You shouldn’t have her if you were, sir—‘interrupted Vandewater with a burst of laughter that made the wounded man start in his sleep, ‘would I have a son-in-law or a nephew-in-law, think you, that carries about with him such awful weapons—those horrible saws, gimlets, I know not what you call them, I should never feel sure of my legs and arms one moment, while he was in the house—ha! ha! ha!’

‘However that may be,’ said the other, ‘if I were a young swain like your paragon here, I should deem my self but too happy to try to win a smile from that fair niece of yours, and if you are really willing that the match should take place—’

‘It will never be,’ returned the merchant, gravely interrupting the surgeon—‘Monteagle is very fastidious, even in his friendship. He is a singular young man. It must be a particular woman that strikes his fancy, possessed of decided qualities; none of your pretty faces and piano songs will steal away his heart. Of that I am too well assured. More than one young lady has tried her utmost skill—’

‘But has the man no heart?’

‘So decidedly one that it must have a decided choice,’ cried the merchant, ‘before it can consent to own itself the property of another. He likes the society of ladies; but he does not prefer one to another. I am persuaded that he has never seen the woman he can love. He has known Julia more than two years, and has never treated her differently from other women. But it matters not. So you think the young man is fairly out of danger?’

‘It might be going too far to say so, sir—but I think he will recover. I would not be afraid to stake a hundred ounces on the event.’

‘Glad to hear that. I don’t doubt your skill, Doctor, so let us walk below and finish that old Madeira before it gets any sourer.’

After another brief examination of his patient, the surgeon followed Mr. Vandewater down stairs; and in half an hour afterwards might have been seen mounting his horse and winding over the hills and through the valleys towards the town of San Francisco.

Several days had passed since the occurrence of the events mentioned above, when on a fair morning, a pale youth sat in a recess at the bottom of the merchant’s garden. A staff stood by his side, an evidence that he was not yet able to walk without support, and his white attenuated hands were pressed together in his lap, while his large blue eyes, which looked nearly black when contrasted with his white brow, were fixed upon some object in the distance. His gaze rested on the dwelling place of Senor del Castro; but what were his reflections, we cannot pretend to divine; nor was he long permitted to indulge them without interruption.

From behind a cluster of bushes near, sailed out a figure in a white dress, which floating gently towards the invalid, placed one hand upon his arm, and caused him to turn suddenly towards her.

‘Mr. Monteagle, I’m glad to see you abroad once more. Oh! it looks so much more natural to see you up and stirring, that it really reminds me of old times.’

With a smile slightly sarcastic, the youth replied—‘I am but too happy to be the cause of reviving pleasant reminiscences in the mind of Miss Vandewater.’

A deep blush passed over the cheek and brow of the fair girl as she replied: ‘You are very severe, sir. I will say then, in downright English, since I must, that I am rejoiced to see you improved in health, with a fair chance of recovery. Now, Mr. Critic, are you satisfied?’

‘Oh! no doubt I ought to be, since Miss Vandewater has used the commonly approved phrase which custom has made necessary for all like occasions.’

‘Nay, then I will send Inez del Castro to you: no doubt she will do the honors of the occasion better—at least her mode will be more original than mine.’

Miss Vandewater uttered the latter part of the sentence in a quick, hurried manner, and in spite of herself, delivered the word ‘original’ in a tone of considerable bitterness. The tears rose to her eyes, and she blushed deeper than ever. It was plain that she would have given much to recall her words and manner; but it was too late. The youth looked down and sighed.

The young lady heard that sigh, and it seemed to restore her to all her dignity. She lifted her head and shook back the flaxen curls from her snowy brow. ‘I know that you are not acquainted with Inez, though she—fainted in your arms! It was very romantic.’

Monteagle had great self-possession; but he was obliged to turn his face partly aside to conceal an expression of surprise and sorrow at the broad raillery into which the young lady suffered herself to be betrayed by feelings too palpable to be mistaken. The many instances in which she had evinced jealousy of any attention showed by Monteagle to other ladies, had long since let him into the secret—if secret it could be called.

‘Miss Vandewater,’ said he, at length, ‘I have seen the daughter of Senor del Castro but twice in my life, and have spoken to her, but on one occasion. When I stood at the top of the ladder enveloped in flame, I asked her to trust herself in my arms, and without betraying any affected delicacy, yet with great feminine dignity she placed her foot on the ladder and reclined upon my shoulder.’

‘And did she say nothing?’

“She said, ‘thanks, thanks, generous American—my father will bless your name at the altar of his God!’ It was all she said, and the next moment the smoke stifled her, and she became insensible on my bosom.”

‘And, oh! Monteagle!’ cried Miss Vandewater, clasping her hands and looking upwards, ‘we heard that you were nearly perishing in the flames!’

As she uttered these words, the tears gushed from her eyes, and throwing herself upon a rock near the feet of the invalid, she covered her face with her hands and wept aloud at the recollection of that bitter moment.

‘Ungrateful wretch that I am, how unworthy of this more than sisterly interest which she takes in my welfare!’ said Monteagle to himself, and placing one of his hands upon the head of the unhappy girl, he said—‘Oh! it was not so bad as that a stream of water soon removed all inconveniences, and a very trifling burn was all that I suffered.’

The girl looked up, seized the hand that had been extended to her, kissed it vehemently, and fled, blushing, to the house of her uncle.

‘If the sacrifice of my life could make her happy!’ ejaculated Monteagle, brushing the tears from his eyes which he could no longer restrain.

CHAPTER III
The Dance House—The Bella Union—The Last Stake!

The night was dark in San Francisco—that city far away on the confines of the Pacific. And far other scenes and other deeds are witnessed there than it ever entered into the imagination of the dwellers on the Atlantic sea-board to conceive of. Description is at fault; words cannot paint the mingled web, and fancy has no colors sufficiently vivid to depict the peculiar state of society in the newly-risen metropolis of California. Naturalists describe the state of the world long before man became a dweller upon the earth, and the fossils which they procure tell of strange animals that once existed here unlike anything which the world now presents.

In Pacific street—named after the ocean that rolls her floods to the very doors of the Californian traders—there are several houses in which congregate the lower class of ruffians and pleasure-seekers, where the tamborene and fiddle are seldom allowed to rest, where the merry dance is kept up the live-long night by men of all nations, all complexions, and all professions. Here may be seen the Lascar, the Mulatto, the Chilean, the Brazilian negro, the Nantucket whaleman, the escaped convict from Botany Bay, the red-faced Englishman, the native of the soil, the Mexican; and every other class and nation is here represented. Men of standing, wealthy people here flock promiscuously with the lowest classes of all countries.

It was in one of these dance halls, where the usual throng was engaged in beating the floor with their feet to the tune of the most simple instruments of music. Now a tall smooth fellow of jet blackness asked a light-haired Yankee to touch glasses with him, while a little infirm man in a blue nankeen jacket, who had once been the mate of a ship, could find nothing better than to explain to a Chinese sailor, in one corner, the way in which a Turk’s head-knot was made upon a rope. But for the most part, boisterous mirth prevailed, some danced as if they had been bitten by a tarantula, while others roared out snatches from such songs as ears polite are not often saluted with.

Whatever was done was thoroughly done, done with a vengeance, without restraint and without fear of disturbing the neighbors.

On the night which we have mentioned, the noise and confusion was unusually great, the throng was more numerous than common from the fact that one watch was on shore from a whaleship in the harbor, and they had all blundered into this hall to drink and be merry.

‘Keep it up!’ cried one long-legged, broad-shouldered fellow, throwing up one of his feet to the very wall and then dancing with a violence that threatened to bring down the roof about his ears.

‘He’s a boatsteerer,’ said one of the ship boys—‘he’s great at striking a whale,’ and he gazed with admiration on this specimen of Nantucket enterprise.

‘Keep it up!’ shouted the boatsteerer making his long legs fly about the room as if he was under the influence of a galvanic battery.

‘Keep it up!’ screamed he again, as he caught a short Englishman by the arm and tried to inspire him with a portion of his own enthusiasm.

‘Yes, yes,’ said the Englishman, biting off the end of a tobacco plug, and walking off to the other side of the room to get out of the wind of those formidable legs.

‘Keep it up!’ bawled the boatsteerer to a couple of Irishmen who happened to enter at the moment; and so it appeared that the sum and substance of all that was in this man’s cranium could be expressed in those simple words ‘Keep it up,’ a phrase that he continued to utter periodically throughout the entire evening.

But neither the Englishman nor the two Irishmen obeyed the summons on this occasion. They had ‘kept it up’ too often and too long to be peculiarly enthusiastic at the sound of a fiddle. The two latter especially seemed to have other matter in hand, and seating themselves upon one corner of a bench near the door, they thus exchanged thoughts in a sotto voice which, in the uproar that prevailed, was completely inaudible to any but themselves.

‘Have you aver seed him since then?’ was the question propounded by the shorter of the two.

‘Faith! and only once, and then I drawed a trigger on him from behind the bush, Patrick, but a lump of a gal com’d out and stood in the way, or I’d kilt him at wunst; but there was no use of getting up a yell from the gal that wud have brought all the payple in the house about my ears.’

‘An’ I b’lieve you are right, Jamie, for them Vigilance Committees is kaping a bright look-out, now, for the like o’that; and I seed one of ’em up in the Boomerang jist when I was cooming down—’

‘Ay, faith, Patrick, and it’s on account of Montgomery that they’re shying around this way, I’m thinking; but they will look a great while before they—’

‘Ah! hush jist now! don’t name it, for yees don’t know what ears is open, if you was only to spake of the sand hills—’

‘Hush, noo, Patrick! would ye be after revaling it all, and we sworn on the howly ’vangellers too?’

‘But as for the Monteagle there, Jamie, there must something be done, for Montgomery swears he’ll have his life, for the taking the safe from him, the bloody robber!’

‘Faith, boy, make yourself parfectly easy, then, for there’s another way to kill a cat besides the putting of a slug into her countenance, sure,’ and Jamie winked sagaciously. ‘You’ll know then that Mister Blodget is going to undertake for him.’

‘Och, thin, don’t you belave the bit of it—one of these gintlemen will never shoot another. Wolf won’t ate wolf—’

‘Niver fear that, boy. It’s not the shooting I’m coming at; but Mr. Blodget is one of ourself, the same as you and I, only it is in a more dacenter way, and didn’t he promise to get him into wosser trouble up at the Bella Union—’

‘Arrah, but when will he cotch him there, think you, and Montgomery all the time perishing, the poor boy, for want of his revinge! And the loss of the safe too that weighs heavy upon his sperrits like a leaden sinker all the time—Och, the bloody robber!’

‘Och! the murtherer,’ cried the other, ‘and didn’t I see the pistol in his hand when he stood up in the barge, and in a minnit Montgomery would have been come to his nat’ril end by foul means, but I jist chucked him under the ear a bit and he lighted down in the bottom of the boat like a breaker full of water.’

‘Bad luck to the likes of him, Jamie, the unspakable murthering scoundrel! It’s the like of him that spoils the counthry entirely, and a poor man like you and me is scragged for trying to get a dacent living in our own way.’

‘Och, botheration! don’t spake to me Patrick, for I’m as mad as my skin can hold now, when I think that I didn’t put the could lead into his bowels, but it was all on account of the slip of a gal that would have given the ala-r-m if I had shot him, jist.’

‘You shot him once, Jamie, and if—’

‘Ah, boy, if I had took a fair aim in the boat, but my head was lower than my heels, as I was tumbling over like a duck wid one wing, and the ball jist touched him in the ribs, like—but no matter, Patrick, Montgomery will come to his revinge through Master Blodget who pretends to be a gentleman like hisself, though he’s one of us sacret like, for the benefit of the society, jist.’

Here the two amiable interlocutors were interrupted by a squabble that had grown up between the long boat steerer and some Chilean new comers whom he had desired to ‘keep it up,’ and not satisfied with applying ‘moral suasion’ to the case, he had taken the liberty to drag one or two of them into the middle of the floor by their long ear locks. Not caring to dance on compulsion, they struck long-legs with their fists, and he gave them battle. He kept them at a distance a few moments with his long arms, but they made up for this by drawing their cochillars. Brandishing their knives they rushed upon him with great fury. The other whalemen interfered in behalf of their shipmate, while all the cholars present took sides with their countrymen. The battle threatened to be serious, and blood had already begun to flow, when the door opened and a stout, broad-shouldered man entered the apartment.

‘Charley, is that you?’ shouted the master of the house.

‘Yes, what is the muss?’ cried the new-comer, whom the reader will recognize as the hero of the fire who took the ladder on his shoulders—‘Hullo! here! knives out! daggers drawn! Down, you rascals!’

Charley then seized two of the most forward of the combatants in his Herculean grasp, and hurled them against the wall, while the rest, recognizing the famous engineer, fell back, breathing heavily and eyeing their adversaries with murderous spite.

Patrick and Jamie, who had thus far taken no part in the affray, felt themselves aggrieved by the presence of an official whom they had no particular reasons for admiring, and whose presence had more than once been a check upon their professional labors. They first began to grumble together in a low voice, and finding that they could do this with impunity, they felt emboldened to proceed still farther.

‘The boys has got to be very civil in these times,’ said Patrick.

‘Oh! it was nothing but a little spree like, they was having—no harm at all, at all, in a free country, just for a lark like,’ returned Jamie carelessly.

‘But the laws is very strict for all that,’ said Patrick, nodding graciously.

‘Oh, murder, yes,’ returned Jamie, ‘its English laws they are like more than like what it used to be, before their—’

‘You mane the Vigilance Committee, Jamie; oh! bad luck to ’em, they is no lawful powers any how. There’s niver been any good in the place since they began to meddle with the payple.’

Several of the company drew near the two Irishmen and seemed to be interested in their discourse, while Charley, in conversation with the keeper of the den, eyed them at a distance.

In the mean time, the two orators, believing they were at the head of a considerable party, got on their feet, and began to swagger about the hall and swing their fists in close proximity to such persons present as they supposed to be unfavorable to their views. Jamie was particularly violent until he happened to graze the shoulder of Charley who, shooting out a fist that would have startled an ox, struck the big Irishman under the ear and felled him to the floor.

What would have been the result of this demonstration, if the door had not opened at the moment, we cannot say, but all eyes were turned upon the individual who now made his appearance. This was a man of youthful appearance, some thirty-five years of age, rather tall and well made, with red whiskers and moustaches and a very good set of teeth. He was a little pock-marked though not enough to injure his chance with the ladies, and his manner was both brisk and ostentatious. He was dressed in the extreme of fashion, with a profusion of rings on his fingers, and his entrance filled the dingy apartment with the scent of musk.—Taking out a blue silk handkerchief with which he made as if he would have wiped his face, and which he then flourished about the room a moment, he thrust out a leg as if to exhibit a boot of patent leather, and planting his heel jauntily on the floor, he put the question—

‘Well, boys, has Monteagle called here for me, to-night?’

Without waiting for an answer he clapped his hands familiarly on the shoulder of Charley, saying—‘How about that prisoner of yours? all safe, eh?’

‘Montgomery, do you mean?’ asked Charley in his deep base voice.

‘Ah! that was his name I believe. He’ll be triced up, I take it—scragged, as the Botany boys call it. Ha! ha! ha!’

‘You must have heard that he has escaped, Mr. Blodget?’

‘Escaped! Ah!’ cried Blodget, with a start of real or pretended surprise—‘the devil! Got loose, eh? No man is safe while such fellows are abroad,’ and he placed his hand on the guard of his gold watch—‘but how did it happen, Charley? Come, boy, how did he get away, the villian?’

‘If you haven’t heard,’ returned Charley, looking circumspectly at his interrogator, ‘I’ll enlighten you on that subject.’

‘Do, do, I’m all impatience.’

‘So I per-ceive,’ announced the Engineer. ‘You must know that Montgomery, the thief, was placed in the room of the Vigilance Committee, and Peter was set over him as a guard: that is, the door was locked and Peter was on the outside.’

‘Yes, yes, I understand; and so he jumped out the window.’

‘No, not that exactly, for the windows were barred and fastened; but he made a hole through the plastering above, and getting on a table and some other lumber he climbed up into the room above and so he got clear.’

‘Oh! the villain!’ roared Blodget, at the same time rubbing his hands very unlike a man who was indignant at the escape of a felon.

Charley observed the strange inconsistency of Blodget’s conduct, and when, a moment afterwards, Monteagle thrust his head into the open window and hailed Blodget by name, the Engineer cast a rapid glance first at the latter and then at the former while a cloud came over his brow as if he was sorry to see the youth in such company.

With an almost imperceptible wink to the two Irishmen, Jamie and Patrick, the gay young man rushed out the door and confronted ‘his friend’ Monteagle.—‘Upon my word you look vastly improved,’ said Blodget as he drew Monteagle towards Kearney street, and pressed his arm cordially. ‘I was afraid it was all day with you, one while, and I can assure you that Mr. Vandewater was deeply concerned about you. That man holds you in high esteem, Monteagle; you may depend upon that. He fairly lost flesh when you were considered dubious.’

‘I believe, sir, that my employers place entire confidence in me,’ returned Monteagle, ‘and that is all that I expect of them. But, pray, where are you bound to-night? After my long confinement, I should like to see a little pleasure. I feel a great inclination to wander on the sea shore, or go on a little boating excursion.’

‘Done, sir. I will go with you on Sunday, or whenever you please; but, for the present, suppose we just drop in here at the Belle Union and see some of these enterprising gents lose a few slugs, and the wry faces that they make.’

‘I’ve heard sad stories of that place,’ returned the youth, but suffering himself to be led in the direction of the gambling house. ‘I have heard that more money has been lost there than ever changed hands in the hells of Baden, at the saloons of the Palais Royal, or at Crockford’s. I have a strong dislike to every species of gambling.’

‘So have I. Thunder and Mars: I think it no better than highway robbery,’ cried Blodget with a great show of virtuous indignation—‘that is—except you know—where for mere amusement one takes a cue with a friend. By the bye, are you good at shoving a ball, Monteagle?’

‘Billiards you are speaking of. Oh, I like that game well enough, for exercise. I cannot call myself a proficient, though I can once in a while put something in a pocket.’

‘But you don’t believe in putting something into your own pocket—ha, ha. Nor in taking something out of your neighbor’s. Well it is robbery. It makes me so mad sometimes to see how these things are done: but here we are at the Bella; let’s just in and overlook the game.’

They entered a very large apartment where all the conveniences and implements for gambling were found arrayed according to the most approved style. Nothing was wanted to render this establishment equal to its ‘illustrious predecessors’ in the old world and in the Atlantic cities.

Here were refreshments offered to all comers free of cost. Wines were freely poured out and segars presented, so that ‘good old-fashioned hospitality’ was never displayed in these degenerate days so bountifully as Monteagle saw it exhibited at the famous Bella Union.

A large table devoted to the game of Rouge et Noir invited the attention of our two friends. A Californian of swart countenance and sinister aspect, here deals Monte for the benefit of the greenhorns who throng around the golden piles in momentary expectation of seeing them flit into their own pockets, but though riches have wings, they do not fly in that direction. In lieu of that the few acres which the ‘Squatteroez’ have left them, go rapidly out of their possession. Then the Faro players were thronging around the table, certain of a change of luck next time, and verifying the poet’s declaration that ‘man never is, but always to be blest.’ Each sagacious adventurer fancies himself a perfect La Place or Newton in calculation, and believes that he has, at last, mastered the complex elaboration of chances, and shall eventually ‘bust the bank.’ Unmitigated ass! Even though your power of calculation surpassed that of Zerah Colburn, you would be sure to lose, even admitting that the game was fairly played.

But watch with the eyes of an Argus, and think with the profundity of a Fourier, and that placid, smooth-tongued arbiter of Fortune, will look you in the eyes and cheat you out of every farthing you have got.

On all the tables except the last which we have described, piles of yellow oro, like veritable offerings upon these altars of Mammon, make the heart of avarice ache, ay, and infect those who are not very greedy of lucre with a touch of the yellow fever. Gold in dollars, gold in five dollar pieces, gold in ten dollar coins, gold in twenty dollar pieces, gold in slugs, gold in lumps, gold in bars, gold in dust—gold in every and any shape meets the dazzled eyes of visitors, look where you will; and those bland gentlemen who cry ‘Make de game, gentlemens—No moe, the game is made,’ and who so liberally furnish the sparkling wine gratis, stand ready to hand over to you any or all of those glittering piles as soon as you win them!

During all this time, bursts of delicious music float through the apartment, the harmonies of Bellini and Mendelsohn contrasting strangely with the hoarse oaths of some loser not yet grown sufficiently hardened to stifle his emotions as he thinks of his poor wife and little children whom he has robbed of their support by his last venture.

Monteagle looked with a shudder at the scene presented to his eyes, as he entered this spacious apartment devoted to the goddess of Ruin, and glittering with gilded baits to serve the purposes of those who, in the worst sense of the terms might be called ‘fishers of men.’

An impression far from agreeable was made upon the mind of the youth when he noticed that Blodget who had been recommended to his attention by the junior member of the firm in whose service he was—not only evinced no emotion at the fearful scenes enacted before him, but that he also replied to the familiar addresses of the practical gamblers like one who had long been on terms of intimacy with them. But the impression gradually wore off under the influence of the music, to the soothing effects of which Monteagle was peculiarly susceptible, and a glass of excellent wine tendered him by an attendant contributed to fortify his spirits and prepare him for at least, enduring the strange events that were taking place around him.

One very genteel middle-aged man, apparently a Mexican, passed by them with a smile upon his countenance, on his way to the door. Pride was evidently struggling with despair, for he had just lost his all, and that smile sat upon his cadaverous features like a sunbeam upon a charnel house. Nevertheless, he walked erect, and maintained a certain air of dignity, till he passed the portal, as some men have done while going to the scaffold.

That sight would have been sufficient of itself to have inspired Monteagle with a horror of gambling; but he was destined to see other sights than this. The working of the countenances which fell under his eye, the sudden flush of hope, the blood receding from the features and leaving them white as death—all these things the youth saw, and inly cursed the wretches whose bland smiles and tempting wines were leading on the hardworking laborer to deposit the last grain of gold dust in their greedy coffers.

There were some poor gold-diggers, who longed for even a more sudden shower of wealth than the mines afforded them; men from the States who, while losing their gettings at faro as fast as they won them from the soil, were writing home to their wives, that gold was hard to get on account of the drought—more rain was required. Alas! if it had rained gold slugs, they would only have gathered the treasure to dissipate it all in games of chance.—But even of these all were not equally reckless. One unfortunate creature had, by long and arduous labor, secured about five thousand dollars worth of gold dust. He had written to his family in the State of Vermont, in high spirits, assuring them that he should be at home in a short time; should buy some land and stock it, and that their days of poverty were over. But coming to San Francisco in order to embark for home he had been beguiled into the belief that he could double his money at the Bella Union. He was playing when Monteagle entered, and although ignorant of his history, the youth’s attention was, at once, drawn to him by the emotion of his manner, and the intense anxiety which he betrayed as heap after heap of his treasure departed from him. Having lost part of his gold, he seemed desperately bent upon winning it back or losing the whole. He bent over the cards with blood-shot eyes, he scarcely breathed, except when some one spoke to him, and then with a short hysteric laugh and words half uttered, he replied as if not doubting of ultimate success, while his manner and tone gave the lie to his pretended confidence. But his last venture had been made, and with eyes fixed and glassy, he watched the process which ended by rendering him penniless and a beggar. He fell back, gasped for breath, and in the next moment, he lay upon the floor a corpse!

Monteagle flew to the spot, but he stood there alone, as nobody seemed to think the event worthy of their attention. Finally, however, the body was removed. But who shall describe the patient watching and waiting of that poor wife, the anxious inquiries of the little children when their father’s promised coming was delayed week after week, and month after month—or the anguish of the bereaved family when at length they learned the truth, and instead of moving to a snug little farm, in the enjoyment of a comfortable independence, they were carted off to the Alms House friendless and despised?

Blodget was evidently troubled by these practical illustrations of the evils of gambling, which occurred at a very unfortunate time for his purposes. He, however, contrived to make Monteagle swallow several glasses of liquor which was not without its effects, and served in a great measure to deaden his sensibilities. The music, too, floated through the apartment, like a syren beckoning with her white and jewelled hand the thoughtless to their doom.

It was midnight—Monteagle, reclined on a settee, which overlooked the table of rouge et noir, and feeling the soothing effect of music and wine, said to Blodget—

‘After all, Blodget, there is a certain amount of evil in this world, and I do not know that one can make it less. It is like filling up part of a lake—the waters only retire to another part.’

‘Yes,’ interrupted the other carelessly—as he adjusted his cravat—‘and the ministers have been preaching for eighteen centuries, and what have they accomplished? They have only changed the character of sins, occasionally, while the same amount remains.’

‘True,’ said Monteagle, who was in a condition to be pleased with a congenial mind—‘the Puritans, for instance, were too pure to eat mince pies or kiss a child on Sunday; so they made up for that by murdering Quakers and witches.’

‘And what are speculators of all kinds but gamblers?’ continued the tempter; ‘forestalling markets, laying up grain, and other necessaries of life to increase the price and wring the last cent from the hard hands of the laboring poor.’

There was so much truth in all this that Monteagle began to entertain a higher opinion than ever of his companion, without reflecting that the man who spoke thus would not scruple to do these very things himself, and much worse.

‘It is as you say,’ returned Monteagle quite warmly—‘your views coincide with mine exactly. It is singular, but I had supposed you to be a man of less reflection and philosophy. I now perceive that you are a man of thought—a—’

‘Oh! I have my views as well as others, that’s all. You must know that I was intended for a minister, and went to Andover. But come, just for amusement let’s try our luck a little here. You can stop when you please, you know.’

The proposition was rather sudden; Blodget saw the flush that shot into Monteagle’s cheek, and quickly added—‘To be a man of the world it is absolutely necessary to know a little about playing, even if you don’t practice. All the natives play, and let me tell you that a spirited Margaritta regards a young man as a milk-sop who never lost or won a slug.’

Something struck the mind of Monteagle at that moment, and he remained for a couple of minutes in a brown study, and seemed wholly unconscious of the presence of Blodget. The latter turned his face aside and smiled. It was a self-satisfied smile.

At length said Monteagle, looking up, ‘How long have you known Mr. Brown, the partner of Vandewater?’

‘Oh, these dozen years. He and I have met here often.’

‘What! does Mr. Brown play?’

‘He! Bless your soul—’suddenly checking himself—‘he plays the same as you and I might, just a little for sport.—That’s all: he’s not a heavy player; or, I might say it is more for amusement than anything else that he occasionally—very seldom, though—lays down a slug.’

There are two classes of people who are quick at detecting villainy, the accomplished rogue and the honest, simple-hearted man. The sight of the latter is the more clear of the two as far as it goes, while the former measures more correctly the extent of the intended deception. But Monteagle was, at this moment, disposed to interpret every thing in the most favorable manner, and fancied that he saw in Blodget’s hesitation a generous endeavor to conceal the picadilloes of Mr. Brown, his employer. He felt convinced that Blodget knew more than he was willing to tell, and there rushed upon his recollection several little circumstances of a somewhat equivocal character connected with the conduct of Mr. Vandewater’s partner.

Just then, a stout, rude, and hairy man, nearly as broad as he was long, with large goggle eyes, and a low, retreating forehead, came swaggering up to Blodget, followed by a large and very savage-looking dog.

‘Good night—good night—my old boy,’ cried he in a rough and loud tone. ‘Ha! ha! glad to see you.’

Blodget stared at the fellow as if he had some trouble in recognizing him.

‘No savez, eh! No savez!’ cried the man. ‘Oh, well, any other time will do. I understand—a pigeon there—don’t want to be known, ha! ha! I’m just from Sacramento, old boy. Plenty of dust—’

At this moment, the dog, who had been smelling about Monteagle, braced himself opposite the youth and gave a horrible growl, during which he showed his fangs. The youth, believing that the animal was about to spring upon him, drew a small revolver, and prepared to defend himself.

‘Eh—youngster!’ bellowed the brutal owner of the dog. ‘Love me, love my dog, you know. Don’t hurt that dog, sir.’

‘Certainly not, unless he attempts to hurt me,’ returned Monteagle.

‘Afraid of a dog, eh? Ha, ha!’

‘No, not afraid of a dog,’ returned Monteagle, highly incensed, ‘for you may observe that I don’t act as if I was afraid of you, do I?’

‘Seize him, Boatswain!’ shouted the scoundrel, and the dog, nothing loth sprang at the young man, and before he could place himself on his guard, had fastened his teeth in his vest. At the same instant, Monteagle, sparing the brute, aimed his pistol at the owner and snapped the trigger. The ball just grazed one of the fat cheeks of the rascal, who, thereupon, threw himself upon the youth and begun to pummel him with his fists. It must be remembered that Monteagle had not yet recovered from his wound. Nevertheless, he defended himself bravely. But Blodget, as soon as he saw the conduct of the wretch, gave him a blow on the side of his head that felled him like an ox. At the same time, the dog left Monteagle and seized Blodget. Monteagle threw his pistol at the dog, and hit him in the side without doing him much damage; but Blodget turned quickly and drove a short, sharp dagger to the hilt in the animal’s breast. That finished the business for the dog. But his savage owner was about stabbing Blodget in the back with a long, two-edged knife when Monteagle gave him a sudden push, which sent him reeling to the distance of several paces. Blodget and his enemy then encountered each other face to face, and as both were armed with deadly instruments, the issue would have been bloody had not several of the crowd, which had by this time clustered around the combatants, plucked them asunder. The stout man swore and threatened vengeance, and as he struggled hard to get away from those who held him, he was finally thrust out of doors with some violence. He was heard, for some time, prowling outside and threatening all manner of vengeance against Monteagle and Blodget, especially the latter whom he charged with all manner of crimes, and who, he said, would long since have been hanged if half his offences were known to the public.

All this passed for the ravings of baffled rage; and although it seemed to excite anger of Blodget, nobody else seemed to deem it worthy of the least notice.

The gallant manner in which Blodget had espoused his cause, completely won the confidence of Monteagle, and when he said to the youth, ‘Come, now that rascal of a Sintown has been turned out, we will just amuse ourselves here, if you have no objection.’

‘Sintown, is his name? it seems to me that I have heard that name. Was he not once arrested for robbing a Mexican?’

‘Something of that sort, I believe,’ returned Blodget, glancing stealthily at the youth, ‘but there was no proof of his guilt.’

‘Proof—there is proof enough in the scoundrel’s eye and, indeed, in all the rest of his features, to hang a dozen men.’

Blodget smiled pensively and drew Monteagle to the table. After playing a little while, Monteagle lost a couple of slugs, when Blodget took his arm and said, ‘Come, my good fellow, the luck goes against you to-night. You must wait till Madame Fortune, who, according to Bonaparte, always favors the young, is in a better mood.’

Monteagle had already become fascinated by the game, but he did not care to evince greater devotion to the gambling table than his companion; therefore he announced his readiness to depart.

They had scarcely gone a dozen paces from the door, when a man stepped lightly up to Blodget, and clapping his hand on his shoulder, said, ‘You are my prisoner, sir.’

Monteagle started; but Blodget very coolly turned his face towards the man and let the segar-smoke stream from his mouth directly into the eyes of the officer.

‘You will go with me,’ cried the officer angrily.

‘Will I? In—deed. Something of a prophet too—’

At this the officer began to tug at the coat-collar of his prisoner.

‘Now, Oates, ain’t you ashamed of yourself?’ asked Blodget, loosening the hand of the other from his collar.

‘Why should I be ashamed?’ asked Oates, looking about him, as if to summon aid.

‘Simply, to impose upon my good nature in this way. Don’t you know that with one blow of my fist I could send you reeling, to say nothing of my friend here.’

‘Your friend. What? You threaten me with a rescue, young man?’ to Monteagle.

‘I have said nothing,’ replied the youth.

‘But I don’t like your looks, sir,’ said the officer, trying to put himself in a towering passion.

‘Bah!’ cried Monteagle, ‘Come along, Blodget, before you frighten this poor gentleman to death. You see that he is ready to drop with fear now.’

‘Very well. This is pretty conduct—pretty talk to a police officer,’ was the reply of Oates, ‘but I’ll report you to your betters. I know you both and I’ll report you.’

‘Take something along with you first, or you’ll have nothing to tell,’ cried Blodget, seizing the official by the back of the neck, as he was about to make a hasty retreat, and giving him three or four vigorous kicks.

‘Murder! help!’ cried the police officer. ‘Oh, don’t murder me, and I’ll tell you all about it. It was Sintown who made the complaint. He said that you was—’

Before he could finish the sentence, which, for reasons of his own, Blodget did not care to hear at that moment, he was thrust into the middle of the street, and having picked himself up, the valorous officer ran around the first corner as if a legion of imps were at his heels.

‘Now,’ said Blodget to Monteagle, as they resumed their walk, ‘if the fellow had showed any pluck, I would have given him enough to keep him drunk for a week, in order to have the appearance of buying myself off. As it is, he feels so much disappointment at having received ‘more kicks than coppers’ that he will go home to his masters with a horrible story of an attempt at assassination, of being attacked by forty thieves at once, and the whole town will be at our heels in less than ten minutes. Therefore, here we part. Do you drop in at your friend’s in Montgomery-street, which is but a few steps from this spot, while I will shift for myself as I best may.’

The wisdom of this proposal was evident to Monteagle, who walked straight to a house where he had sometimes lodged when in town, and gaining an entrance after some little trouble, he felt himself safe from pursuit.

Meanwhile Blodget, directing his steps towards the sand hills, was very soon out of sight.

Shortly after the town was in an uproar. The quick tramp of feet was heard in the streets, cries and shouts resounded through the air, and many people threw up their windows to see what was the matter. Finally, nobody could get at the secret; the noise died away, and San Francisco lay silent and dark on the shores of its glorious Bay.

CHAPTER IV
The Footsteps of the Tempter.

He stood in the Plaza, Lorenzo Monteagle, head clerk to the house of Vandewater & Brown. Down into the sparkling waters of the Western main, the king of day was slowly sinking, like the glorious Constantine submitting to Christian baptism at the moment he was bidding the world adieu. Monteagle surveyed the throng that was passing hither and thither on the different streets bordering the neglected public square on which he stood. They were all personable, able-bodied men, who walked and spoke as if there was no enterprise of which they were not capable, no adventure too daring for their powers. The absence of children and the scarcity of women gives a singular aspect to the city of San Francisco, and this was realized by Monteagle, as he now stood gazing upon the hardy representatives of every country on the globe, as they moved before him on the great public square of the city.

As the evening shades began to gather around the black rigging of the vessels in the bay, and gloom upon the distant waters, the youth looked about him as if seeking for some individual whom he expected to meet on that spot. A man passed near him, nearer in the opinion of Monteagle than there was any occasion for. He grazed the youth’s elbow as he went by, and appeared to do it on purpose.

Monteagle turned to look at the man, and the latter turning also, clapped his hands on his hips, and with a swaggering air, looked the former saucily in the face. Monteagle thought he had seen the fellow before; he was dressed much as an ordinary laborer, large in size, with big coarse features that glowed with the effect of frequent potations.

Monteagle was about to turn away from the man in disgust, when he said—‘I think yees will know me when yees sees me again.’

‘Why so?’

‘Bekase yees trying to look off the countenance of me, I believe.’

‘I shall look where I please, and as long as I please,’ returned Monteagle.

‘That’s unfortunit agin,’ said the Irishman, ‘for yees will see nothing but a jintleman, and that’s what yees not used to seeing inside of the looking-glass.’

‘What is the object of these insults, you scoundrel?’ cried Monteagle, still in the belief that he had fallen in with the fellow before, but where he could not recollect.

‘Oh—no object at all, at all. But if I is a scoundrel, there’s more than one on the Plaza jist, and he’s not beyond the raitch of my fist, nythur.’

This was rather too much for Monteagle’s patience, and accordingly he rushed upon the intruder and saluted him with a violent blow in the face. The Irishman staggered backwards a few feet and then recovering himself approached the youth in a boiling rage. As they met and exchanged blows, the people came crowding to the spot, apparently bent only upon seeing the fight, as no one attempted to interfere. Monteagle was a pupil of Frank Wheeler’s and the science he had acquired from the teachings of that accomplished gymnast enabled him to bother his bulky antagonist a good deal. This rendered the latter exceedingly angry, and a cry was raised by the by-standers, as they saw a Spanish knife in the hand of the Irishman, which he had dexterously drawn from some part of his dress, and with which he rushed upon the youth with the evident design of finishing him and the battle together. At that moment, and just as the youth had caught a glimpse of the steel flashing before his eyes, a powerful hand was laid upon the shoulder of the Irishman, and he was drawn violently backwards. Some of the crowd began to murmur, but the Irishman looked into the countenance of the intruder, and both he and Monteagle pronounced the word ‘Blodget!’

‘How now, sir. What are you doing with that knife?’ cried Blodget in a peremptory tone.

‘You see it’s the thafe himself, the bloody robber!’ said the Irishman, passionately, though evidently cowering under the gaze of Blodget.

‘Who told you he was a thief? Begone, sir!’ cried Blodget, ‘Mr. Monteagle, I find you in bad company. Is that an acquaintance of yours?’ continued Blodget, with a gay laugh, as he turned to our youth, and pointed at the retreating form of the Irishman.

‘Not of mine, exactly,’ said the youth placing considerable emphasis on the word.

‘Oh—yes—a-hem. I have known the rascal some two or three months. We had his services in cleaning out a cellar and on several other occasions. Devil take the fellow—did he hurt you much?’

‘Better ask if I hurt him,’ returned the youth, ‘for I think he would have carried away a piece of malleable metal with him, but for your opportune deliverance.’

‘If he had not been too quick for you—he’s dexterous in the use of the knife.’

‘Is he, indeed?’

‘You wonder how I found out that fact. I have heard of his encounters with the natives. His name is James, commonly called Jamie, and there are many stories extant as to his prowess.’

‘Strange he should have taken so much pains to insult me,’ said Monteagle.

‘He seemed to have something against you,’ answered Blodget. ‘Cannot you remember of ever seeing him before?’