"Moreover," suggested Mr. Podgers, "it is required, and becomes the duty of all good citizens, in the absence of the Sheriff, Deputy Sheriff, or other legally constituted officer of the law, to seize and hold in custody the guilty or accused party until he can be delivered over to the proper authorities for trial. For my own part," added Mr. Podgers, "I have very little doubt that in the present case a plea of self-defense can be maintained; yet in the absence of proof, and under the peculiar circumstances, where there is a strong probability of a fatal issue, it appears to me that our duty is plain. It is certainly a very unpleasant one to seize and confine a fellowmember of this Association, but the authorities are imperative on the subject."

"Besides," suggested Mr. Tompkins, "as the unfortunate gentleman in question is satisfied, through his peculiar system of reasoning, that he is composed chiefly of cows, sheep, chickens, snipe, rabbits, bucks, quails, and grizzly bears, not to mention hen-eggs and the larvæ of fish-I quote his own words-no possible injury can result to him if we secure him to a tree, pending the issue of this sad affair. And, moreover, should it be his misfortune to expiate his offense according to the extreme penalty of the law, it will doubtless be a subject of consolation to him to know that the contact of Material Substances produces no radical change."

Mr. Wilkins, already confused by the conflicting emotions of grief and anxiety that filled his breast, was so completely overcome by this adroit application of his own theory, that he was incapable of uttering a single word in his own defense. He merely expressed his willingness to abide by the law, whatever it might be.

The Judge, whose sympathies were deeply moved by the unfortunate position of his adversary, expressed the hope that it would not be necessary to proceed to such extreme measures. He had entire confidence in the honor of the accused. "If he [Mr. Wilkins] would at once retract his dangerous doctrine of Material Substances during the existence of which there could be no safety in camp-and pledge his word as a gentleman not to run away-"

"Never!" cried Mr. Wilkins, firmly; "never, Sir! The truth is dearer to me than life itself. Bind me hand and foot, gentlemen. I am ready to abide by the law."

"In that case," said the Judge, gloomily, "I can interpose no obstacle. The gentleman may at any moment kill half a dozen of us, to prove that there is no such thing as death. He had better be securely bound."

Messrs. Tompkins and Podgers immediately volunteered to perform this unpleasant duty, but as no resistance was made it was not difficult.

FAST BIND, FAST FIND.

In the mean time Captain Toby was actively employed in administering copious doses of "nourishment" to his patient, the beneficial effects of which soon became manifest.

I must here digress a moment to speak of the peculiar kind of nourishment which the climate of California seems to demand. Every body is aware that the climate of California is peculiarly dry; but it is not generally known that the effect of this exceeding drought is to evaporate all the juices out of the physical system. Hence it becomes necessary constantly to renew the supply, in order to keep from withering up. Water is not always to be had; and, consequently, many very temperate people are obliged to drink whisky, of which there is never any scarcity. I am acquainted with several excellent stage-driv. ers on the Sacramento, Mud Springs, Hangtown, Murderer's Bar, Grizzly Flat, and Devil's Gulch routes, who, by reason of constantly riding in the sun, evaporate so rapidly that they are compelled to stop for a drink every half hour. During the intervals they become highly irritated

lest any unforeseen circumstance should have occurred to cut off the supply at the next tavern, and begin to swear horribly in about ten minutes after the last drink, and keep on swearing at a frightful rate of progression till it becomes absolutely shocking to hear them. Stages filled with passengers are often turned over during these intervals of raging thirst, and legs and arms broken without regard to the owners. These drivers are very clever sort of fellows in their way, but not proverbial for their civility, unless you furnish them with an extra treat, which immediately operates on their organs of benevolence, and, in extreme cases, secures a top-seat, when they will be pleased to entertain you for many hours during the day with an elaborate account of each team, and of every other driver, and every pretty girl, and every fight, and every frolic, that ever was seen or heard of on the

route.

But this process of evaporation is by no means confined to stage-drivers. The climate of Sacramento during the sessions of the Legislature is wonderfully calculated to absorb all the moisture in the legislative body. No measure of any importance can be passed without a large expenditure of whisky; and the election of a Senator is so thirsty a business that I have never known one to be elected until a majority of both houses had inquired into the true merits of the case under the table.

Nor is San Francisco exempt from this prevailing epidemic. I do not pretend to say that people are any more thirsty there than they are in New York, Boston, New Orleans, or any other

great city in the Union; but I think the water is not usually considered so wholesome as it is elsewhere, and consequently a smaller amount of it is mixed with the whisky. Indeed I am acquainted with many competent judges who say that it weakens good liquor to put any water at all in it.

Nor is the peculiar effect of the climate of the western coast confined to the whites. The Indians are also strongly affected by it. A few years ago, when I had the misfortune to be in public employ (and for no disreputable act that I can now remember), it became my duty to inquire into the condition of the Indians on Puget's Sound. In the course of my travels through that interesting region I visited a little village, not far from the Straits of Fuca, consisting of some half a dozen Indian wigwams and a few rickety frame shanties, in which white people lived. The principal articles of commerce, I soon discovered, were whisky, cotton handkerchiefs, tobacco, and cigars, and the principal shops were devoted to billiards and the sale of grog. This was in 1857. I was introduced by the Indian Agent to the "Duke of York," the chief of the Clallam tribe, who inhabited that region, and still disputed the possession of the place with the white settlers. If the settlers paid him any thing for the land upon which they built their shanties it must have been in whisky, for the Duke was lying drunk in his wigwam at the time of my visit. For the sake of morals, I regret to say that he had two wives, ambitiously named "Queen Victoria" and "Jenny Lind;" and for the good repute of Indian la

The Duke was lying on a rough wooden bedstead, with a bullock's hide stretched over it, enjoying his ease with the ladies of his household. When the Agent informed him that a Hyas Tyee, or Big Chief, had called to see him with a message from the Great Chief of all the Indians, the Duke grunted significantly, as much as to say "that's all right." The Queen, who sat near him in the bed, gave him a few whacks to rouse him up, and by the aid of Jenny Lind succeeded, after a while, in getting him in an upright position. His costume consisted of a red shirt and nothing else, but neither of the royal ladies seemed at all put out by the scantiness of his wardrobe. There was something very amiable and jolly in the face of the old Duke, even stupefied as he was by whisky. He shook me by the hand in a friendly manner, and, patting his stomach, remarked, "Duke York belly good man!"

Of course I complimented him upon his general reputation as a good man, and proceeded to make the usual speech, derived from the official formula, about the Great Chief in Washington, whose children were as numerous as the leaves on the trees and the grass on the plains. "Oh, dam!" said the Duke, impatiently; "him send any whisky?"

No; on the contrary, the Great Chief had heard with profound regret that the Indians of Paget's Sound were addicted to the evil practice of drinking whisky; and it made his heart

idly, and was the principal cause of all their misery. It was very cruel and very wicked for white men to sell whisky to the Indians, and it was his earnest wish that the law against this illicit traffic might be enforced and the offenders punished.

"Ugh!" muttered the Duke of York; "him send any 'backer?"

No; on the contrary, he has also heard with deep regret that the Indians of Puget's Sound were addicted to the use of tobacco, a vile and nauseous weed, affording no nourishment, and highly injurious to health. The bad example of white men in using this noxious stimulant, and teaching Indians how to use it, who perhaps never saw it before, was greatly to be deplored. How much better it would be for the Indians to spend their earnings on wholesome food, which would strengthen their stomachs, and enable them to do a great deal more heavy work.

"Ugh!" grunted the Duke of York; "him send any cigars?"

No; all the objections which applied to the use of tobacco were applicable to the use of cigars, which were frequently manufactured out of tobacco. The Great Chief thought it entirely unnecessary that his red children should make chimneys out of their mouths like foolish white men, and never encouraged the practice by sending them presents of cigars.

"Ugh!" said the Duke of York; "him send any rum ?"

No; rum was worse than tobacco, and very nearly as bad as whisky. It was the policy of

the Great Chief to do all in his power to prevent his red children from drinking rum; hence the Agents appointed to show them a good example were men selected by his subordinate chiefs on account of their temperate habits.

"Ugh!" muttered the Duke of York; "him send any mucka-muck?"

"No; there was a liberal fund appropriated by Congress every year for the purpose of relieving the urgent necessities of the Indians, and it was expected that in seasons of great scarcity, when their own efforts to procure a livelihood failed, and starvation was likely to result, the Agents

"Oh, dam!" said the Duke, turning over on his bed, and contemptuously waving his hand in termination of the interview-"dis Tyee no 'count!"

While this wa-wa, or grand talk, was going on, the Queen put her arms affectionately around the Duke's neck, and giggled with admiration at his eloquence. Jenny sat a little at one side, and seemed to be under the combined influence of whisky, jealousy, and a black eye. I was subsequently informed that the Duke was in the habit of beating both the Queen and Jenny for their repeated quarrels, and when unusually drunk was not particular about either the force or direction of his blows. This accounted for Jenny's black eye and bruised features, and for the alleged absence of two of the Queen's front teeth, which it was said were knocked out in a recent brawl.

As I was saying, when led into the foregoing digression upon the dryness of the climate of California, the effects of the nourishment administered by Captain Toby to Mr. Fry very soon became manifest. He began to grow quite warm and red in the face. Upon being divested of his deer-skin, which in the confusion had hitherto remained on him, he rose up from his blanket, looked around the camp, took another pull at the blue keg, and burst into a wild roar of laughter.

"Look a-here, genlem!" said he, staggering forward a few paces, and endeavoring to balance himself in an oratorical attitude-"my name's Tom Fry! A jolly old oyster is Tom! My sen'ments are in favor of Free trade and Con

Fry, he's on hand! For

'I won't go home till morning!
Oh, I won't go home till morning!

Tol derol deraddy! Ri tol derol deraddy!' Genlem, I propose three cheers for Free trade and Conshooshinal rights-Ri tol derol deraddy! 'No: I won't go home till morning!' Who says I killed a man? Bring him out! Bring him out! I can whip any man of my weight in camp. If he says I killed a man, he says wot ain't true. I can whip him with one hand. Don't care if he is Tom Sayers. I can whip him and Heenan too. For my name's Tom Fry, and I'm in favor of Conshooshinal rights; and

I won't go home till morning!

Ri tol de rol der addy!

No: I won't go home till morning!'" The astonishment caused by this happy turn of affairs may well be conceived but can not be described. Had the dead risen from the grave it could scarcely have been greater. Indeed that such was the case was the momentary impression of many, and the absolute conviction of the old black Doctor, whose eyes seemed ready to start from their sockets.

"How'r, old boy!" cried Tom, staggering toward him; "wha's the latest news from Africa?"

"Gway fum here!" roared the Doctor, retreating-"gway! Gol a mighty, I wish de gemmen ud let me go home! De debbil's in dis camp sure!"

Upon the suggestion of Captain Toby the prisoner, Mr. Phil Wilkins, was now released, to the great disgust of Messrs. Tompkins and Podgers, who contended that the "intent" was just as criminal as if the man had died, and

that such a proceeding was contrary to all the precedents within the range of their legal experience. Mr. Wilkins was also in favor of remaining under arrest, unless every gentleman present would come forward and acknowledge that he (Mr. W.) was perfectly correct in the premises which he had assumed from the beginning. The Judge considered that to indorse such doctrines would be to shatter the very foundations of government; upon which Mr. Wilkins retorted with great severity, and the matter was again assuming a hostile attitude, when Captain Toby suggested that a general pull at the blue keg would do more toward sustaining the great fabric of society than all the law and all the arguments ever devised.

"A little NOURISHMENT, gentlemen, is all we want to enable us to see into the bottom of the whole affair."

It affords me unfeigned pleasure to add that all agreed to this very reasonable proposition. The "nourishment" was produced, and passed around so freely, and with such a good-will, that before two hours had elapsed Captain Toby, the Judge, Mr. Phil Wilkins, Tom Fry, Messrs. Tompkins and Podgers, with the old black Doctor in the rear, were marching around the camp, arm in arm, singing in stentorian voices,

"We won't go home till morning!
Oh, we won't go home till morning!
No: we won't go home till morning!
Hi oh! hi oh! hi oh!"

But in the morning we did start for home, bidding a final farewell to Bear Harbor. Of the adventures by the way, and the cordial reception which we received at San Francisco, the History of the California Coast Rangers will at present be silent.

THERE is something glorious in being mountting, and as suggestive of high deeds of courage and of daring. What horseman but has felt that indescribable thrill which courses like fire through one's veins when mounted upon a spirited charger, and which seems to bid defiancenay, to even court the danger which he otherwise would seek to avoid? Does not a proud independence take possession of the soul; for have we not always found that those nations who are naturally horsemen are ever the most

tenacious of their liberties? Can we wonder, sling

almost idolatry-to his particular corps? Can we wonder that he looks down upon the mere foot-soldier as one who can not comprehend the emotions which sway him; and although we may not agree with him, can we not pardon the feeling which dictates the thought? There is a little corner in every man's heart in which romance and knightly pride have stowed themselves; we can easily, then, understand how popular must be a corps embodying so much of both.