of their fellowmen. The town proper
numbered about six saloons to every legitimate business house. Of
evenings the gambling hells were a glare of light, and music, both vocal
and instrumental, floated out upon the streets to tempt the miners to
enter, while away an hour, and incidentally part with their well-earned
dust. Some of these hells had "lady waitresses," poor, faded, blear-eyed
creatures, in gaudy finery, and upon whose features was stamped the
everlasting brand of God's outlawry. These dens of iniquity were only
too frequently the scene of awful tragedies, and the sawdust floors
drank up the blood of many a poor unfortunate. If the encounter was
between two gamblers the miners paid little attention. But if, as was
often the case, some miner, crazed with an overdose of "double-distilled
damnation," fell a victim to the revolver or knife of a gambler, there
was sure to be "something doing." Among these restless, adventurous men
there was a semblance of law, but its administration was too often a
mockery and a farce. This, however, only applies to the early days of
the camp.

One of the saddest of life's tragedies is associated in my mind with an
employee of one of these places. His name was Brown, and he was a
musician of some merit. He had with him a young and beautiful wife and
infant daughter. He played the violin at night and received $10 for each
of the seven nights of the week. He was a man of good morals as far as
could be observed, and sober withal. One morning he left the saloon at 2
o'clock, as was his custom. From the moment he passed out of the door he
disappeared from the sight of men as effectually as the light of an
extinguished candle. He was popular and had not a known enemy in the
world. But whether he was murdered and his body concealed, or whether he
left the country, remained an unsolved mystery. The latter theory had
few or no adherents, as he was tenderly attached to his wife and child.
Be that as it may. Soon after the disappearance of the musician, a young
physician, who was handsome, accomplished, and talented, made his advent
into Canyon City. In due time he became interested in the comely widow,
and when sufficient time had elapsed, and no tidings came back of the
missing husband and father, legal steps were taken, a divorce secured
and the young physician made the widow his wife. As years rolled away
and the mines "played out," the Doctor and his wife and little girl
moved to a town