Mr R. from Missouri—known here under the soubriquet of the ' prairie-wolf—I found, between two bedticks, with his coat and boots on, and half smothered with the feathers. He was the ringleader, and raises a monte table wherever he goes as regularly as a whale comes to the surface to blow. All shouted as he tumbled out from his ticks. Among the rest I found the alcalde of San Francisco, a gentleman of education and refinement, who never plays himself, but who, on this occasion, had come to witness the excitement. I gathered them all, some fifty in number, into the large saloon, and told them the only speech I had to make was in the shape of a fine of twenty dollars each. The more astute began to demur on the plea of not guilty, as no cards and no money had been discovered; and as for the beds, a man had as good a right to sleep under one as in it. I told them that it was a matter of taste, misfortune often made strange bedfellows, and the only way to get out of the scrape was to pay up. J)v S. was the first to plank down. 'Come, my good fellows,' said the doctor, 'pay up, and no grumbling, this money goes to build a schoolhouse, where I hope our children will be taught better principles than they gather from the example of their fathers.' The 'prairie-wolf,planked down next, and in ten minutes the whole Chillanos, Sonoranians, Oregonians, Californians, Englices, Americanos, delivered in their fines. These, with the hundred dollar fine of the keeper of the hotel, filled quite a bag. With this I bade them goodnight, and took my departure."
The town council of San Francisco, on the 11th day of January, 1848, passed stringent resolutions against gambling which had then been on the increase for four years past. So startling were the proportions it had assumed, and so enraptured were the people by the fascinating vice that it seriously interfered with business; but a great reform was considered out of place in a small town, and therefore at the next
