ared, to his own satisfaction, but greatly to the horror of his
wife, to whose sensibilities the performance gave a smart shock.

An exclamation from one of the party gathered them all about an open
grave, at the bottom of which they saw a confused mass of human bones
and the broken remnants of a coffin. Coyotes and buzzards had performed
the last sad rites for pretty much all else. Two skulls were visible and
in order to investigate this somewhat unusual redundancy one of the
younger men had the hardihood to spring into the grave and hand them up
to another before Mrs. Porfer could indicate her marked disapproval of
so shocking an act, which, nevertheless, she did with considerable
feeling and in very choice words. Pursuing his search among the dismal
debris at the bottom of the grave the young man next handed up a rusted
coffin plate, with a rudely cut inscription, which with difficulty Mr.
Porfer deciphered and read aloud with an earnest and not altogether
unsuccessful attempt at the dramatic effect which he deemed befitting to
the occasion and his rhetorical abilities:

MANUELITA MURPHY.
Born at the Mission San Pedro--Died in
Hurdy-Gurdy,
Aged 47.
Hell's full of such.

In deference to the piety of the reader and the nerves of Mrs. Porfer's
fastidious sisterhood of both sexes let us not touch upon the painful
impression produced by this uncommon inscription, further than to say
that the elocutionary powers of Mr. Porfer had never before met with so
spontaneous and overwhelming recognition.

The next morsel that rewarded the ghoul in the grave was a long tangle
of black hair defiled with clay: but this was such an anti-climax that
it received little attention. Suddenly, with a short exclamation and a
gesture of excitement, the young man unearthed a fragment of grayish
rock, and after a hurried inspection handed it up to Mr. Porfer. As the
sunlight fell upon it it glittered with a yellow luster--it was thickly
studded with gleaming points. Mr. Porfer snatched it, bent his head over
it a moment and threw it lightly away with the simple remark:

"Iron pyrites--fool's gold."

The young man in the discovery shaft was a trifle disconcerted,
apparently.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Porfer, unable longer to endure the disagreeable
business, had walked back to the tree and seated herself at its root.
While rearranging a tress of golden hair which had slipped from its
confinement she was attracted by what appeared to be