from his immaculate linen. Yet in his lonely disposition he is not quarrelsome, and never murders except professionally. He is a man to be feared, and in early times he was highly respected. He is all nerve, electrical in his organization, and depends wholly upon his own resources for justice and protection. He knows not fear; life to him is but a shuffle and a deal, in which the chances have already been calculated, and death at most is but the losing of the game—all matters of indifferent moment. In his disposition he is magnanimous; in his bearing noble; in his actions chivalrous. He will not do a mean thing; he discharges his pecuniary obligations with scrupulous exactitude, thus putting to shame the socalled English gentleman, and never disputes a bill. Desperate in an emergency, he is the foremost to brave peril; the most unselfish in suffering, and endures misfortune with heroic fortitude. He will ^<yht for a friend as quickly as for himself, and share his last ounce with an unfortunate comrade. He will take every dollar from his victim should chance so order it, but he will as often give him back a portion should he stand in need of it. He has even been known to hand back money won from a simple-minded youth, with the advice not to indulge in play until he understands it better. Should a secret committee of some mining camp, seized with a spasm of moral reform, order him to leave the town, he receives the sentence with calm equinimity; should death be his portion he meets it with barbaric stoicism.
His pockets are always open, but his philanthropy knows no formula; he will contribute to establish a -church or a brothel, to support a Sunday-school or a swindle. He has his code of honor; but such things as orthodox conscience or conventional morality—he knows not and cares not what they are. In matters of justice he will act the unpopular part of advocate for a penniless horse thief, or falsely swear an alibi to save a friend. Over and over are told of them tales
