y
committee are the ringleaders among the Moguls.

I believe I have related to you everything but the duel, and I will
make the recital of this as short as possible, for I am sick of these
sad subjects, and doubt not but you are the same. It took place on
Tuesday morning, at eight o'clock, on Missouri Bar, when and where that
same Englishman who has figured so largely in my letter shot his best
friend. The duelists were surrounded by a large crowd, I have been
told, foremost among which stood the committee of vigilance! The man
who received his dear friend's fatal shot was one of the most quiet and
peaceable citizens on the Bar. He lived about ten minutes after he was
wounded. He was from Ipswich, England, and only twenty-five years old
when his own high passions snatched him from life. In justice to his
opponent it must be said that he would willingly have retired after the
first shots had been exchanged, but poor Billy Leggett, as he was
familiarly called, insisted upon having the distance between them
shortened, and continuing the duel until one of them had fallen.

There, my dear M., have I not fulfilled my promise of giving you a dish
of horrors? And only think of such a shrinking, timid, frail thing as I
_used_ to be "long time ago" not only living right in the midst of
them, but almost compelled to hear, if not see, the whole. I think I
may without vanity affirm that I have "seen the elephant." "Did you see
his tail?" asks innocent Ada J., in her mother's letter. Yes, sweet
Ada; the entire animal has been exhibited to my view. "But you must
remember that this is California," as the new-comers are so fond of
informing _us!_ who consider ourselves "one of the oldest inhabitants"
of the Golden State.

And now, dear M., adios. Be thankful that you are living in the
beautiful quiet of beautiful A., and give up "hankering arter" (as you
know what dear creature says) California, for, believe me, this coarse,
barbarous life would suit you even less than it does your sister.

LETTER _the_ TWENTIETH

[_The_ PIONEER, _September_, 1855]

MURDER--MINING SCENES--SPANISH BREAKFAST

SYNOPSIS

Ramada, unoccupied, wrecked by log rolling down hill. Was place of
residence of wounded Spaniard, who died but a few days previously.
Murder near Indian Bar. Innocent and harmless person arrested, said to
answer description of murderer. A humorous situation. A "guard of
honor" from the vigilantes while in custody. Upon rel