iners, who, unacquainted with the arts of war and
subjugation, congregate around him by the cold-blooded manner in which
he relates the Indian fights that he has been engaged in.

There is quite a band of this wild people herding a few miles below us,
and soon after my arrival it was confidently affirmed and believed by
many that they were about to make a murderous attack upon the miners.
This man, who can make himself understood in almost any language, and
has a great deal of influence over all Indians, went to see them, and
told them that such an attempt would result in their own certain
destruction. They said that they had never thought of such a thing;
that the Americans were like the grass in the valleys, and the Indians
fewer than the flowers of the Sierra Nevada.

Among other oddities, there is a person here who is a rabid admirer of
Lippard. I have heard him gravely affirm that Lippard was the greatest
author the world ever saw, and that if one of his novels and the most
fascinating work of ancient or modern times lay side by side, he would
choose the former, even though he had already repeatedly perused it. He
_studies_ Lippard just as other folks do Shakespeare, and yet the man
has read and _admires_ the majestic prose of Chilton, and is quite
familiar with the best English classics! He is a Quaker, and his
merciless and unmitigated regard for truth is comically grand, and
nothing amuses me more than to draw out that peculiar characteristic.
For instance, after talking _at_ him the most beautiful and eloquent
things that I can think of, I will pitilessly nail him in this wise:--

"Now, I know that _you_ agree with me, Mr. ----?"

It is the richest and broadest farce in this flattering and deceitful
world to see him look right into my eyes while he answers smilingly,
without the least evasion or reserve, the astounding _truth_,--

"I have not heard a word that you have been saying for the last
half-hour; I have been thinking of something else!"

His dreamland reveries on these occasions are supposed to be a profound
meditation upon the character and writings of his pet author. I am
always glad to have him visit us, as some one of us is sure to be most
unflatteringly electrified by his uncompromising veracity. I am,
myself, generally the victim, as I make it a point to give him every
opportunity for the display of this unusual peculiarity. Not but that I
have had disagreeable truth told me often enough, but