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lament over the blasting of their prospects at their leisure. It was as much as a man's life was worth to go within reach of his heels; and it was necessary to muzzle him to keep him from eating everybody who came within reach of his jaws. One day a remarkably green specimen of the veritable "down-east Yank" came into Hangtown from the plains, and inquired for the nearest and best place to make a fortune in the diggings. He was kindly directed to a promising gulch, and, as he was hard up, the use of the champion mule to pack his grub, tools, blankets and traps was generously tendered him. He proposed to start at eight o'clock next morning, and all the jokers in town, comprising the larger share of the male population of the place, were on hand at the appointed time to see him off. Promptly at the time, the greenhorn from the land of steady habits made his appearance, and commenced to pack the mule. The heavy aparejo was placed on his back and securely cinched; flour, beef, bacon, etc., etc., strapped on that, and then a miscellaneous collection of pans, kettles, shovels, picks, etc., etc., corded on top of all, and the load was completed. Up to this time the mule had stood there as quiet as a lamb, but the fun, as all save the greenhorn in that goodly company well knew, was about to commence. The owner of the mule invited all hands to take a drink, at two bits a glass, and the invitation was cheerfully accepted. They all shook hands with the victim, and bid him God speed on his journey as he came out of the saloon and made ready to start. The piazza and sidewalk were crowded, and