through Mill Street, with a lady's delicate riding whip in
one hand and a copy of the _Marysville Herald_ in the other,
vowing vengeance on "that scoundrel of an editor," etc. She
met him at the Golden Gate Saloon, a crowd, on the _qui
vive_, following in her footsteps. Having struck at him with
her whip, she then applied woman's best weapon--her tongue.
Meanwhile, her antagonist kept most insultingly cool. All
her endeavours being powerless, the "Divine Lola" appealed
to the miners, but the only response was a burst of
laughter. Mr. Shipley, the editor, then retired in triumph,
having, by his calmness, completely worn down his fair
enemy.

The immediate cause of the fracas was the appearance of
sundry articles, copied from the _New York Times_, referring
to the "Lola Montez-like insolence, bare-faced hypocrisy,
and effrontery of Queen Christina of Spain." The entire
scene was decidedly rich.

One can well imagine it.

Never prepared to accept hostile criticism without a protest, Lola
sent her own version of the occurrence to a rival organ:

"This morning, November 21," she wrote, "the newspaper was
handed me as usual. I scanned it over with little interest,
saw a couple of abusive articles, not mentioning me by name,
but, as I was afterwards told, had been prepared by the
clever pen of this great statesman of the future, and
present able writer, as a climax and extinguisher to all the
past and future glories of Lola Montez. I wonder if he
thought I should come down with a cool thousand or two, to
stock up his fortune and cry 'Grace, Grace!'

"This is the only attempt at blackmail I have been subjected
to in California, and I hope it will be the last. On I read
the paper till I saw my name in good round English, and the
allusions to my 'bare-faced hypocrisy and insolence.'
Europe, hear this! Has not the 'hypocrisy' been on the
other side? What were you thinking of, Alexandra Dumas,
Beringer, Mery, and all my friends when you told me my fault
lay in my too great kindness? Shipley has judged me at last
to be a hypocrite. To avenge you, I, bonnet on head and whip
in hand--that whip which was never used but on a horse--this
time to be disgraced by falling on the back of an ASS....
The spirit of my Irish ancestors (I being three-q