No More Learning

We are ruined by Chinese cheap labor- »
And he went for that heathen Chinee.
In the scene that ensued
I did not take a hand,
But the floor it was strewed
Like the leaves on the strand
With the cards that Ah Sin had been hiding,
In the game "he did not understand. ”
B
In his sleeves, which were long,
He had twenty-four packs,—
Which was coming it strong,
Yet I state but the facts;
And we found on his nails, which were taper,
What is frequent in tapers- that's wax.
Which is why I remark,
And my language is plain,
That for ways that are dark
And for tricks that are vain,
The heathen Chinee is peculiar -
Which the same I am free to maintain.
From the Atlantic Monthly.
ON A CONE OF THE BIG TREES
(SEQUOIA GIGANTEA)
ROWN foundling of the Western wood,
Babe of primeval wildernesses!
Long on my table thou hast stood
Encounters strange and rude caresses;
Perchance contented with thy lot,
Surroundings new and curious faces,
As though ten centuries were not
Imprisoned in thy shining cases.
Thou bring'st me back the halcyon days
Of grateful rest, the week of leisure,


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BRET HARTE
The journey lapped in autumn haze,
The sweet fatigue that seemed a pleasure,
The morning ride, the noonday halt,
The blazing slopes, the red dust rising,
And then the dim, brown, columned vault,
With its cool, damp, sepulchral spicing.
Once more I see the rocking masts
That scrape the sky, their only tenant
The jay-bird, that in frolic casts
From some high yard his broad blue pennant.
I see the Indian files that keep
Their places in the dusty heather,
Their red trunks standing ankle-deep
In moccasins of rusty leather.
I see all this, and marvel much
That thou, sweet woodland waif, art able
To keep the company of such
As throng thy friend's the poet's table:
The latest spawn the press hath cast,-
The "modern Popes," "the later Byrons,"
Why, e'en the best may not outlast
Thy poor relation Sempervirens !
Thy sire saw the light that shone
On Mohammed's uplifted crescent,
On many a royal gilded throne
And deed forgotten in the present;
He saw the age of sacred trees
And Druid groves and mystic larches;
And saw from forest domes like these
The builder bring his Gothic arches.
And must thou, foundling, still forego
Thy heritage and high ambition,
To lie full lowly and full low,
Adjusted to thy new condition?
Not hidden in the drifted snows,
But under ink-drops idly spattered,
And leaves ephemeral as those
That on thy woodland tomb were scattered?


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6999
DICKENS IN CAMP
BOVE the pines the moon was slowly drifting,
A The river sang below;
The dim Sierras, far beyond, uplifting
Their minarets of snow.
The roaring camp-fire, with rude humor, painted
The ruddy tints of health
On haggard face and form that drooped and fainted
In the fierce race for wealth;
Till one arose, and from his pack's scant treasure
A hoarded volume drew,
And cards were dropped from hands of listless leisure
To hear the tale anew.
And then, while round them shadows gathered faster,
And as the firelight fell,
He read aloud the book wherein the Master
Had writ of "Little Nell. "
Perhaps 'twas boyish fancy,- for the reader
Was youngest of them all,-
But, as he read, from clustering pine and cedar
A silence seemed to fall;
The fir-trees, gathering closer in the shadows,
Listened in every spray,
While the whole camp, with "Nell" on English meadows
Wandered and lost their way.
And so in mountain solitudes, o'ertaken
As by some spell divine,
Their cares dropped from them like the needles shaken
From out the gusty pine.
Lost is that camp and wasted all its fire:
And he who wrought that spell?
Ah! towering pine and stately Kentish spire,
Ye have one tale to tell!
Lost is that camp; but let its fragrant story
Blend with the breath that thrills
With hop-vine's incense all the pensive glory
That fills the Kentish hills.


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7000
BRET HARTE
And on that grave where English oak and holly
And laurel wreaths entwine,
Deem it not all a too presumptuous folly,—
This spray of Western pine!
AN HEIRESS OF RED DOG
From The Twins of Table Mountain, and Other Stories. Copyright 1879, by
Houghton, Osgood & Co. , Boston. Reprinted by special arrangement
with the publishers.
THE
HE first intimation given of the eccentricity of the testator
was, I think, in the spring of 1854. He was at that time.
in possession of a considerable property, heavily mortgaged
to one friend, and a wife of some attraction, on whose affections
another friend held an incumbering lien. One day it was found
that he had secretly dug, or caused to be dug, a deep trap before
the front door of his dwelling, into which a few friends in the
course of the evening casually and familiarly dropped. This cir-
cumstance, slight in itself, seemed to point to the existence of a
certain humor in the man, which might eventually get into liter-
ature; although his wife's lover-a man of quick discernment,
whose leg was broken by the fall-took other views. It was
some weeks later that while dining with certain other friends of
his wife, he excused himself from the table, to quietly reappear
at the front window with a three-quarter-inch hydraulic pipe,
and a stream of water projected at the assembled company. An
attempt was made to take public cognizance of this; but a major-
ity of the citizens of Red Dog who were not at dinner decided
that a man had a right to choose his own methods of diverting
his company. Nevertheless, there were some hints of his insan-
ity: his wife recalled other acts clearly attributable to dementia;
the crippled lover argued from his own experience that the integ-
rity of her limbs could only be secured by leaving her husband's
house; and the mortgagee, fearing a further damage to his prop
erty, foreclosed. But here the cause of all this anxiety took
matters into his own hands and disappeared.
When we next heard from him, he had in some mysterious
way been relieved alike of his wife and property and was living
alone at Rockville, fifty miles away, and editing a newspaper.
But that originality he had displayed when dealing with the


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BRET HARTE
7001
problems of his own private life, when applied to politics in the
columns of The Rockville Vanguard was singularly unsuccessful.
An amusing exaggeration, purporting to be an exact account of
the manner in which the opposing candidate had murdered his
Chinese laundryman, was, I regret to say, answered only by
assault and battery. A gratuitous and purely imaginative de-
scription of a great religious revival in Calaveras, in which the
sheriff of the county-a notoriously profane skeptic-was alleged
to have been the chief exhorter, resulted only in the withdrawal
of the county advertising from the paper. In the midst of this
practical confusion he suddenly died. It was then discovered, as
a crowning proof of his absurdity, that he had left a will, be-
queathing his entire effects to a freckle-faced maid-servant at the
Rockville Hotel. But that absurdity became serious when it was
also discovered that among these effects were a thousand shares
in the Rising Sun Mining Company, which a day or two after
his demise, and while people were still laughing at his grotesque
benefaction, suddenly sprang into opulence and celebrity. Three
millions of dollars was roughly estimated as the value of the
estate thus wantonly sacrificed. For it is only fair to state, as a
just tribute to the enterprise and energy of that young and thriv
ing settlement, that there was not probably a single citizen who
did not feel himself better able to control the deceased humor-
ist's property. Some had expressed a doubt of their ability to
support a family; others had felt perhaps too keenly the deep
responsibility resting upon them when chosen from the panel as
jurors, and had evaded their public duties; a few had declined
office and a low salary: but no one shrank from the possibility
of having been called upon to assume the functions of Peggy
Moffat the heiress.
The will was contested,- first by the widow, who it now
appeared had never been legally divorced from the deceased;
next by four of his cousins, who awoke, only too late, to a con-
sciousness of his moral and pecuniary worth. But the humble
legatee a singularly plain, unpretending, uneducated Western.
girl-exhibited a dogged pertinacity in claiming her rights. She
rejected all compromises. A rough sense of justice in the com-
munity, while doubting her ability to take care of the whole
fortune, suggested that she ought to be content with three hun-
dred thousand dollars. "She's bound to throw even that away on
some derned skunk of a man, natoorally; but three millions is
――


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7002
<<
too much to give a chap for makin' her onhappy. It's offerin' a
temptation to cussedness. " The only opposing voice to this coun-
sel came from the sardonic lips of Mr. Jack Hamlin. Suppose,"
suggested that gentleman, turning abruptly on the speaker,
<< suppose, when you won twenty thousand dollars of me last Fri-
day night—suppose that instead of handing you over the money
as I did.
suppose I'd got up on my hind legs and said, 'Look
yer, Bill Wethersbee, you're a d-d fool. If I give ye that
twenty thousand you'll throw it away in the first skin game in
'Frisco, and hand it over to the first short card-sharp you'll meet.
There's a thousand,- enough for you to fling away,- take it and
get! Suppose what I'd said to you was the frozen truth, and
you knowed it, would that have been the square thing to play on
you? " But here Wethersbee quickly pointed out the inefficiency
of the comparison by stating that he had won the money fairly
with a stake. "And how do you know," demanded Hamlin
savagely, bending his black eyes on the astonished casuist, "how
do you know that the gal hezn't put down a stake? " The man
stammered an unintelligible reply. The gambler laid his white
hand on Wetherbee's shoulder. "Look yer, old man," he said,
"every gal stakes her whole pile,- you can bet your life on
that, whatever's her little game. If she took to keerds in-
stead of her feelings, if she'd put up chips instead o' body
and soul, she'd burst every bank 'twixt this and 'Frisco!
hear me? "
You
-
―――――
Somewhat of this idea was conveyed, I fear not quite as sen-
timentally, to Peggy Moffat herself. The best legal wisdom of
San Francisco, retained by the widow and relatives, took occas-
ion, in a private interview with Peggy, to point out that she
stood in the quasi-criminal attitude of having unlawfully practiced
upon the affections of an insane elderly gentleman, with a view
of getting possession of his property; and suggested to her that
no vestige of her moral character would remain after the trial, if
she persisted in forcing her claims to that issue. It is said that
Peggy, on hearing this, stopped washing the plate she had in her
hands, and twisting the towel around her fingers, fixed her small
pale blue eyes at the lawyer.
"And ez that the kind o' chirpin' these critters keep up? "
"I regret to say, my dear young lady," responded the lawyer,
"that the world is censorious. I must add," he continued, with
engaging frankness, "that we professional lawyers are apt to


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BRET HARTE
7003
study the opinion of the world, and that such will be the theory
of our side. "
-
"Then," said Peggy stoutly, "ez I allow I've got to go into
court to defend my character, I might as well pack in them three.
millions too. "
There is hearsay evidence that Peg added to this speech a
wish and desire to "bust the crust" of her traducers, and re-
marking that "that was the kind of hair-pin" she was, closed
the conversation with an unfortunate accident to the plate, that
left a severe contusion on the legal brow of her companion. But
this story, popular in the bar-rooms and gulches, lacked con-
firmation in higher circles. Better authenticated was the legend
related of an interview with her own lawyer. That gentleman
had pointed out to her the advantage of being able to show
some reasonable cause for the singular generosity of the testator.
"Although," he continued, "the law does not go back of the
will for reason or cause for its provisions, it would be a strong
point with the judge and jury, particularly if the theory of
insanity were set up, for us to show that the act was logical
and natural. Of course you have-I speak confidently, Miss
Moffat — certain ideas of your own why the late Mr. Byways was
so singularly generous to you? "
-
"No, I haven't," said Peg decidedly.
"Think again. Had he not expressed to you—you under-
stand that this is confidential between us, although I protest, my
dear young lady, that I see no reason why it should not be
made public-had he not given utterance to sentiments of a
nature consistent with some future matrimonial relations? " But
here Miss Peg's large mouth, which had been slowly relaxing
over her irregular teeth, stopped him.
1
"If you mean he wanted to marry me - no! "
<< I see.
But were there any conditions- of course you know
the law takes no cognizance of any not expressed in the will;
but still, for the sake of mere corroboration of the bequest, do
you know of any conditions on which he gave you the prop-
erty? »
"You mean did he want anything in return ? »
"Exactly, my dear young lady. "
Peg's face on one side turned a deep magenta color, on the
other a lighter cherry, while her nose was purple and her fore-
head an Indian red. To add to the effect of this awkward and


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BRET HARTE
7004
discomposing dramatic exhibition of embarrassment, she began to
wipe her hands on her dress, and sat silent.
"I understand," said the lawyer hastily. "No matter; the
conditions were fulfilled — »
"How could they be until he was
"No! " said Peg amazedly.
dead? »
It was the lawyer's turn to color and grow embarrassed.
"He did say something, and make some conditions," continued
Peg, with a certain firmness through her awkwardness; "but
that's nobody's business but mine and his'n. And it's no call o'
yours or theirs. »
"But, my dear Miss Moffat, if these very conditions were
proofs of his right mind, you surely would not object to make
them known, if only to enable you to put yourself in a condition
to carry them out. "
"But," said Peg cunningly, "s'pose you and the court didn't
think 'em satisfactory? S'pose you thought 'em queer? Eh? "
With this helpless limitation on the part of the defense, the
case came to trial. Everybody remembers it,-how for six weeks
it was the daily food of Calaveras County; how for six weeks the
intellectual and moral and spiritual competency of Mr. James
Byways to dispose of his property was discussed with learned
and formal obscurity in the court, and with unlettered and inde-
pendent prejudice by camp-fires and in bar-rooms. At the end
of that time, when it was logically established that at least nine-
tenths of the population of Calaveras were harmless lunatics, and
everybody else's reason seemed to totter on its throne, an ex-
hausted jury succumbed one day to the presence of Peg in the
court-room. It was not a prepossessing presence at any time;
but the excitement, and an injudicious attempt to ornament her-
self, brought her defects into a glaring relief that was almost
unreal. Every freckle on her face stood out and asserted itself
singly; her pale blue eyes, that gave no indication of her force
of character, were weak and wandering, or stared blankly at the
judge; her over-sized head, broad at the base, terminating in the
scantiest possible light-colored braid in the middle of her narrow
shoulders, was as hard and uninteresting as the wooden spheres
that topped the railing against which she sat. The jury, who for
six weeks had had her described to them by the plaintiffs as an
arch, wily enchantress, who had sapped the failing reason of Jim
Byways, revolted to a man. There was something so appallingly


## p. 7005 (#397) ###########################################

BRET HARTE
7005
gratuitous in her plainness, that it was felt that three millions
was scarcely a compensation for it. "Ef that money was give
to her, she earned it sure, boys; it wasn't no softness of the old
man," said the foreman. When the jury retired, it was felt that
she had cleared her character; when they re-entered the room
with their verdict, it was known that she had been awarded
three millions damages for its defamation.
She got the money. But those who had confidently expected
to see her squander it were disappointed: on the contrary, it was
presently whispered that she was exceeding penurious. That ad-
mirable woman Mrs. Stiver of Red Dog, who accompanied her
to San Francisco to assist her in making purchases, was loud in
her indignation. "She cares more for two bits* than I do for
five dollars. She wouldn't buy anything at the City of Paris'
because it was too expensive,' and at last rigged herself out a
perfect guy at some cheap slop-shops in Market Street. And
after all the care Jane and me took of her, giving up our time
and experience to her, she never so much as made Jane a single
present. " Popular opinion, which regarded Mrs. Stiver's atten-
tion as purely speculative, was not shocked at this unprofitable
denouement; but when Peg refused to give anything to clear the
mortgage off the new Presbyterian church, and even declined to
take shares in the Union Ditch, considered by many as an equally
sacred and safe investment, she began to lose favor. Neverthe-
less, she seemed to be as regardless of public opinion as she had
been before the trial; took a small house, in which she lived
with an old woman who had once been a fellow-servant, on
apparently terms of perfect equality, and looked after her money.
I wish I could say that she did this discreetly; but the fact is,
she blundered. The same dogged persistency she had displayed
in claiming her rights was visible in her unsuccessful ventures.
She sunk two hundred thousand dollars in a worn-out shaft origi-
nally projected by the deceased testator; she prolonged the mis-
erable existence of The Rockville Vanguard long after it had
ceased to interest even its enemies; she kept the doors of the
Rockville Hotel open when its custom had departed; she lost the
co-operation and favor of a fellow capitalist through a trifling
misunderstanding in which she was derelict and impenitent; she
had three lawsuits on her hands that could have been settled for
*Twenty-five cents.


## p. 7006 (#398) ###########################################

7006
BRET HARTE
a trifle. I note these defects to show that she was by no means
a heroine. I quote her affair with Jack Folinsbee to show she
was scarcely the average woman.
That handsome, graceless vagabond had struck the outskirts
of Red Dog in a cyclone of dissipation, which left him a stranded
but still rather interesting wreck in a ruinous cabin not far from
Peg Moffat's virgin bower. Pale, crippled from excesses, with a
voice quite tremulous from sympathetic emotion more or less
developed by stimulants, he lingered languidly, with much time.
on his hands and only a few neighbors. In this fascinating kind
of general déshabille of morals, dress, and the emotions, he ap-
peared before Peg Moffat. More than that, he occasionally limped
with her through the settlement. The critical eye of Red Dog
took in the singular pair,- Jack voluble, suffering, apparently
overcome by remorse, conscience, vituperation, and disease, and
Peg open-mouthed, high-colored, awkward, yet delighted; and
the critical eye of Red Dog, seeing this, winked meaningly at
Rockville. No one knew what passed between them; but all
observed that one summer day Jack drove down the main street
of Red Dog in an open buggy, with the heiress of that town
beside him. Jack, albeit a trifle shaky, held the reins with some-
thing of his old dash; and Mistress Peggy, in an enormous bonnet
with pearl-colored ribbons a shade darker than her hair, holding
in her short, pink-gloved fingers a bouquet of yellow roses, abso-
lutely glowed crimson in distressful gratification over the dash-
board. So these two fared on, out of the busy settlement, into
the woods, against the rosy sunset. Possibly it was not a pretty
picture: nevertheless, as the dim aisles of the solemn pines
opened to receive them, miners leaned upon their spades, and
mechanics stopped in their toil to look after them. The critical
eye of Red Dog, perhaps from the sun, perhaps from the fact
that it had itself once been young and dissipated, took on a
kindly moisture as it gazed.
The moon was high when they returned. Those who had
waited to congratulate Jack on this near prospect of a favorable
change in his fortunes were chagrined to find that having seen
the lady safe home, he had himself departed from Red Dog.
Nothing was to be gained from Peg, who on the next day and
ensuing days kept the even tenor of her way, sunk a thousand
or two more in unsuccessful speculation, and made no change
in her habits of personal economy. Weeks passed without any


## p. 7007 (#399) ###########################################

BRET HARTE
7007
apparent sequel to this romantic idyl. Nothing was known defi-
nitely until Jack a month later turned up in Sacramento, with a
billiard cue in his hand, and a heart overcharged with indignant
emotion.
"I don't mind saying to you gentlemen in confidence," said
Jack to a circle of sympathizing players,-"I don't mind telling
you regarding this thing, that I was as soft on that freckle-
faced, red-eyed, tallow-haired gal as if she'd been-a-a-
an actress. And I don't mind saying, gentlemen, that as far
as I understand women, she was just as soft on me. You kin
laugh; but it's so. One day I took her out buggy-riding,—
in style too,—and out on the road I offered to do the square
thing, just as if she'd been a lady,— offered to marry her then
and there. And what did she do? " said Jack with a hysterical
laugh. "Why, blank it all! offered me twenty-five dollars a week
allowance-pay to be stopped when I wasn't at home! " The roar
of laughter that greeted this frank confession was broken by
a quiet voice asking, "And what did you say? " "Say? "
screamed Jack, "I just told her to go to with her money.
"They say," continued the quiet voice, "that you asked her
for the loan of two hundred and fifty dollars to get you to Sac-
ramento — and that you got it. " "Who says so? " roared Jack.
"Show me the blank liar. >>> There was a dead silence. Then the
possessor of the quiet voice, Mr. Jack Hamlin, languidly reached.
under the table, took the chalk, and rubbing the end of his
billiard cue began with gentle gravity: "It was an old friend of
mine in Sacramento, a man with a wooden leg, a game eye,
three fingers on his right hand, and a consumptive cough. Being
unable, naturally, to back himself, he leaves things to me. So,
for the sake of argument," continued Hamlin, suddenly laying
down his cue and fixing his wicked black eyes on the speaker,
say it's me! »
«<
>>
I am afraid that this story, whether truthful or not, did not
tend to increase Peg's popularity in a community where reckless-
ness and generosity condoned for the absence of all the other
virtues; and it is possible also that Red Dog was no more free
from prejudice than other more civilized but equally disappointed
match-makers. Likewise, during the following year she made
several more foolish ventures and lost heavily. In fact, a fever-
ish desire to increase her store at almost any risk seemed to pos-
sess her.
At last it was announced that she intended to reopen


## p. 7008 (#400) ###########################################

7008
BRET HARTE
the infelix Rockville Hotel, and keep it herself. Wild as this
scheme appeared in theory, when put into practical operation
there seemed to be some chance of success. Much doubtless
was owing to her practical knowledge of hotel-keeping, but more
to her rigid economy and untiring industry. The mistress of
millions, she cooked, washed, waited on table, made the beds,
and labored like a common menial. Visitors were attracted by
this novel spectacle. The income of the house increased as their
respect for the hostess lessened. No anecdote of her avarice was
too extravagant for current belief. It was even alleged that she
had been known to carry the luggage of guests to their rooms,
that she might anticipate the usual porter's gratuity. She denied
herself the ordinary necessaries of life. She was poorly clad, she
was ill-fed-but the hotel was making money.
A few hinted of insanity; others shook their heads, and said.
a curse was entailed on the property. It was believed also
from her appearance that she could not long survive this tax on
her energies, and already there was discussion as to the probable
final disposition of her property.
It was the particular fortune of Mr. Jack Hamlin to be able
to set the world right on this and other questions regarding her.
A stormy December evening had set in when he chanced to
be a guest of the Rockville Hotel. He had during the past
week been engaged in the prosecution of his noble profession at
Red Dog, and had in the graphic language of a coadjutor
"cleared out the town, except his fare in the pockets of the stage-
driver. " The Red Dog Standard had bewailed his departure in
playful obituary verse, beginning, "Dearest Johnny, thou hast
left us," wherein the rhymes "bereft us" and "deplore" carried
a vague allusion to "a thousand dollars more.
" A quiet content-
ment naturally suffused his personality, and he was more than
usually lazy and deliberate in his speech. At midnight, when he
was about to retire, he was a little surprised however by a tap
on his door, followed by the presence of Mistress Peg Moffat,
heiress, and landlady of Rockville Hotel.
Mr. Hamlin, despite his previous defense of Peg, had no lik-
ing for her. His fastidious taste rejected her uncomeliness; his
habits of thought and life were all antagonistic to what he had
heard of her niggardliness and greed. As she stood there in at
dirty calico wrapper, still redolent with the day's cuisine, crimson
with embarrassment and the recent heat of the kitchen range,


## p. 7009 (#401) ###########################################

BRET HARTE
7009
she certainly was not an alluring apparition. Happily for the
lateness of the hour, her loneliness, and the infelix reputation of
the man before her, she was at least a safe one. And I fear the
very consciousness of this scarcely relieved her embarrassment.
"I wanted to say a few words to ye alone, Mr. Hamlin," she
began, taking an unoffered seat on the end of his portmanteau,
"or I shouldn't hev intruded. But it's the only time I can ketch
you, or you me; for I'm down in the kitchen from sun-up till
now. "
She stopped awkwardly, as if to listen to the wind, which was
rattling the windows and spreading a film of rain against the
opaque darkness without. Then, smoothing her wrapper over
her knees she remarked, as if opening a desultory conversation,
"Thar's a power of rain outside. "
Mr. Hamlin's only response to this meteorological observation
was a yawn, and a preliminary tug at his coat as he began to
remove it.
"I thought ye couldn't mind doin' me a favor," continued
Peg, with a hard, awkward laugh, "partik'ly seein' ez folks
allowed you'd sorter bin a friend o' mine, and hed stood up for
me at times when you hedn't any partikler call to do it. I
hevn't," she continued, looking down at her lap and following
with her finger and thumb a seam of her gown,-"I hevn't so
many friends ez slings a kind word for me these times that I
disremember them. " Her under lip quivered a little here; and
after vainly hunting for a forgotten handkerchief, she finally
lifted the hem of her gown, wiped her snub nose upon it, but
left the tears still in her eyes as she raised them to the man.
Mr. Hamlin, who had by this time divested himself of his
coat, stopped unbuttoning his waistcoat and looked at her.
"Like ez not thar'll be high water on the North Fork, ef
this rain keeps on," said Peg, as if apologetically, looking toward
the window.
The other rain having ceased, Mr. Hamlin began to unbutton
his waistcoat again.
"I wanted to ask ye a favor about Mr. -about - Jack Folins-
bee," began Peg again hurriedly. "He's ailin' agin, and is
mighty low. And he's losin' a heap o' money here and thar,
and mostly to you. You cleaned him out of two thousand dol-
lars last night—all he had. "
"Well? " said the gambler coldly.
XII-439


## p. 7010 (#402) ###########################################

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7010
"Well, I thought as you woz a friend o' mine, I'd ask ye to
let up a little on him," said Peg with an affected laugh.
kin do it. Don't let him play with ye. "
« You
"Mistress Margaret Moffat," said Jack with lazy deliberation,
taking off his watch and beginning to wind it up, "ef you're
that much stuck after Jack Folinsbee, you kin keep him off of
me much easier than I kin. You're a rich woman. Give him
enough money to break my bank, or break himself for good and
all; but don't keep him forlin' round me in hopes to make a
raise. It don't pay, Mistress Moffat it don't pay! "
A finer nature than Peg's would have misunderstood or re-
sented the gambler's slang, and the miserable truths that under-
lay it.
But she comprehended him instantly, and sat hopelessly
silent.
-
"Ef you'll take my advice," continued Jack, placing his watch
and chain under his pillow and quietly unloosing his cravat,
"you'll quit this yer forlin', marry that chap, and hand over to
him the money and the money-makin' that's killin' you. He'll
get rid of it soon enough. I don't say this because I expect
to git it; for when he's got that much of a raise, he'll make a
break for 'Frisco, and lose it to some first-class sport there. I
don't say, neither, that you mayn't be in luck enough to reform
him. I don't say neither-and it's a derned sight more likely!
- that you mayn't be luckier yet, and he'll up and die afore he
gits rid of your money. But I do say you'll make him happy
now; and ez I reckon you're about ez badly stuck after that
chap ez I ever saw any woman, you won't be hurtin' your own
feelin's either. "
"No. "
The blood left Peg's face as she looked up. "But that's why
I can't give him the money; and he won't marry me with-
out it. "
Mr. Hamlin's hand dropped from the last button of his waist-
coat. "Can't
him-the-money? " he repeated slowly.
give
Why? "
"Because
- because I love him. "
Mr. Hamlin rebuttoned his waistcoat, and sat down patiently
on the bed. Peg arose, and awkwardly drew the portmanteau a
little nearer to him.
"When Jim Byways left me this yer property," she began,
looking cautiously around, "he left it to me on conditions; not


## p. 7011 (#403) ###########################################

BRET HARTE
7011
conditions ez waz in his written will, but conditions ez waz
spoken. A promise I made him in this very room, Mr. Hamlin,
this very room, and on that very bed you're sittin' on, in
which he died. "
Like most gamblers, Mr. Hamlin was superstitious. He rose
hastily from the bed, and took a chair beside the window. The
wind shook it as if the discontented spirit of Mr. Byways were
without, reinforcing his last injunction.
"I don't know if you remember him," said Peg feverishly.
"He was a man ez hed suffered. All that he loved-wife, fam-
merly, friends - had gone back on him. He tried to make light
of it afore folks; but with me, being a poor gal, he let himself
out. I never told anybody this. I don't know why he told me;
I don't know," continued Peg with a sniffle, "why he wanted to
make me unhappy too. But he made me promise that if he left
me his fortune, I'd never, never,- so help me God! -never share
it with any man or woman that I loved. I didn't think it would
be hard to keep that promise then, Mr. Hamlin, for I was very
poor, and hedn't a friend nor a living bein' that was kind to me
but him. "
xxx
"But you've as good as broken your promise already," said
Hamlin. "You've given Jack money, as I know. "
"Only what I made myself. Listen to me, Mr. Hamlin.
When Jack proposed to me, I offered him about what I kalki-
lated I could earn myself. When he went away, and was sick
and in trouble, I came here and took this hotel. I knew that
by hard work I could make it pay. Don't laugh at me, please.
I did work hard, and did make it pay—without takin' one cent
of the fortin'. And all I made, workin' by night and day, I
gave to him; I did, Mr. Hamlin. I ain't so hard to him as you
think, though I might be kinder, I know. "
Mr. Hamlin rose, deliberately resumed his coat, watch, hat,
and overcoat. When he was completely dressed again, he turned
to Peg.
"Do you mean to say that you've been givin' all the money
you made here to this A first-class cherubim ? »
"Yes; but he didn't know where I got it. O Mr. Hamlin! he
didn't know that. "
"Do I understand you, that he's been bucking agin faro
with the money that you raised on hash? and you makin' the
hash? "


## p. 7012 (#404) ###########################################

7012
BRET HARTE
"But he didn't know that. He wouldn't hev took it if I'd
told him. "
"No, he'd hev died fust! " said Mr. Hamlin gravely. "Why,
he's that sensitive, is Jack Folinsbee, that it nearly kills him
to take money even of me. But where does this angel reside
when he isn't fightin' the tiger, and is, so to speak, visible to the
naked eye? "
"He he stops here," said Peg, with an awkward blush.
"I see. Might I ask the number of his room; or should I
be a disturbing him in his meditations? " continued Jack Ham-
-
lin, with grave politeness.
"Oh! then you'll promise? And you'll talk to him, and make
him promise? »
―
-
"Of course," said Hamlin quietly.
"And you'll remember he's sick
very sick? His room's No.
44, at the end of the hall. Perhaps I'd better go with you? "
"I'll find it. "
-
"And you won't be too hard on him? "
"I'll be a father to him," said Hamlin demurely, as he opened
the door, and stepped into the hall. But he hesitated a moment,
and then turned, and gravely held out his hand. Peg took it
timidly. He did not seem quite in earnest; and his black eyes,
vainly questioned, indicated nothing. But he shook her hand
warmly, and the next moment was gone.
He found the room with no difficulty. A faint cough from
within, and a querulous protest, answered his knock. Mr. Ham-
lin entered without further ceremony. A sickening smell of
drugs, a palpable flavor of stale dissipation, and the wasted figure
of Jack Folinsbee, half dressed, extended upon the bed, greeted
him. Mr. Hamlin was for an instant startled. There were hol-
low circles round the sick man's eyes; there was palsy in his
trembling limbs; there was dissolution in his feverish breath.
"What's up? " he asked huskily and nervously.
"I am, and I want you to get up too. "
"I can't, Jack. I'm regularly done up. " He reached his shak-
ing hand towards a glass half filled with suspicious pungent-
smelling liquid; but Mr. Hamlin stayed it.
"Do you want to get back that two thousand dollars you
lost? »
"Yes. "
"Well, get up, and marry that woman down-stairs. "


## p. 7013 (#405) ###########################################

BRET HARTE
Folinsbee laughed, half hysterically, half sardonically.
"She won't give it to me. "
"No; but I will. "
"You? »
"Yes. "
7013
Folinsbee, with an attempt at a reckless laugh, rose, trembling
and with difficulty, to his swollen feet. Hamlin eyed him nar-
rowly, and then bade him lie down again. «To-morrow will
do," he said, and then ".
«<
"If I don't — "
"If you don't," responded Hamlin, "why, I'll just wade in
and cut you out! »
But on the morrow Mr. Hamlin was spared that possible act
of disloyalty; for in the night, the already hesitating spirit of
Mr. Jack Folinsbee took flight on the wings of the southeast
storm. When or how it happened nobody knew. Whether this
last excitement, and the near prospect of matrimony, or whether
an overdose of anodyne, had hastened his end, was never known.
I only know that when they came to awaken him the next
morning, the best that was left of him -a face still beautiful
and boy-like-looked up coldly at the tearful eyes of Peg Mof-
fat. "It serves me right,-it's a judgment," she said in a low
whisper to Jack Hamlin; "for God knew that I'd broken my
word, and willed all my property to him. "
She did not long survive him. Whether Mr. Hamlin ever
clothed with action the suggestion indicated in his speech to the
lamented Jack that night, is not of record. He was always her
friend, and on her demise became her executor. But the bulk of
her property was left to a distant relation of handsome Jack
Folinsbee, and so passed out of the control of Red Dog forever.


## p. 7014 (#406) ###########################################

7014
WILHELM HAUFF
WILHELM HAUFF
(1802-1827)
W
ILHELM HAUFF was born at Stuttgart, November 29th, 1802.
His brief life was as happy as it was uneventful. He died
at the age of twenty-five, and the period of his literary work
was comprised within his last two years. This short time however
sufficed to express his extraordinary genius, though the loss to litera-
ture by his early death cannot be estimated.
He was the son of August Friedrich Hauff, Government Secretary
of Foreign Affairs. His father died when he was but seven years of
age, and the education of the children de-
volved upon the mother, a woman of great
intelligence, whose influence over her sen-
sitive son was the result of a perfect un-
derstanding of his emotional nature. As a
lad, Wilhelm Hauff showed very little in-
dication of talent. His school career was
far from brilliant, and it was only in the
family circle that he gave evidence of his
real abilities. He had absorbed Goethe and
Schiller into his inmost fibre, and with his
mother and sisters for an indulgent au-
dience, he declaimed long passages from
'Egmont' and 'Wallenstein. ' He roved at
liberty in the library of his grandfather,
which appears to have been a large miscellaneous collection from
various languages and literatures, and the fantastic character of his
imagination was early manifested by his love for weird tales and
stories of adventure. His education was necessarily somewhat des-
ultory, as his constitution was delicate, and periodical attacks of ill-
ness precluded any systematic or rigorous course.
In 1820 he entered the University of Tübingen, where, following
the wishes of his mother rather than his own inclinations, he studied
theology and in 1824 received his degree. In 1826 appeared his first
volume of tales, 'Das Märchen-Almanach' (The Story Almanac). Two
other volumes of the 'Märchen-Almanach' followed. This first little
collection of stories, although overshadowed by his later works, never-
theless strikes the keynote of his peculiar fancy. Nowhere are more
strikingly shown his dramatic power and his delicious humor. The



## p. 7015 (#407) ###########################################

WILHELM HAUFF
7015
success of this first effort encouraged him to devote himself wholly to
literature. The first volume of 'Mittheilungen aus den Memoiren
des Satan' (Communications from the Memoirs of Satan), a fragment-
ary production of much humor, published anonymously, appeared
immediately after (1826), and in the same year followed 'Der Mann
im Mond, von H. Clauren' (The Man in the Moon, by H. Clauren).
This was originally intended as a caricature of the sentimentality of
Clauren; but what was meant as a parody became a distinct imita-
tion. As it was published under the name of Clauren, that aggrieved
author had grounds for legal redress, and won the suit which he
brought against Hauff. To some extent, however, the tables were
turned by the amusing controversy which ensued, and in the lists of
wit and satire Hauff came off victor.
'Lichtenstein: Romantische Sage aus der Württembergischen Ge-
schichte' (Lichtenstein: A Romantic Tale from Würtemberg History:
1826), a so-called historical romance, none the worse from the fact
that its history though always justified was pure fabrication, was
received with great favor; and on the high tide of prosperity the
young author set out for a tour through France, Belgium, and Ger-
In 1827 he undertook the editorship of the Stuttgart Morgen-
blatt; and secure of the future through the powerful patronage of
the publisher Cotta, he married a distant cousin of his own name, to
whom he had long been attached. He spent the summer of 1827 in
the Tyrol, where he was engaged upon another historical novel,
which was to deal with the War of Freedom of 1809.
This was
never finished. In the autumn of the same year his health began to
fail, and on October 18th, 1827, he died at Stuttgart.
Hauff's powers of work were enormous, and he produced his
stories in rapid succession. 'Das Bild des Kaisers' (The Portrait of
the Emperor), a poetic piece of romance, and 'Die Bettlerin vom
Pont des Arts' (The Beggar of the Pont des Arts), are masterpieces
of their kind. Among the best of his productions must be ranked
'Phantasien im Bremer Rathskeller' (Phantasies in the Bremen Raths-
keller: 1827).