with Chilians — men, women, and children. The place
was called Little Chile. The women appeared to be
always washing, but the vocation of the men was a
puzzle to the passers-by. Neither the scenery of the
place nor its surroundings were very pleasant, particu-
larly in hot weather. On one side was a slnny bog,
and on the other rubbish heaps and sinks of offal.
Notwithstanding, it was home to them, and from their
filthy quarters they might be seen emerging on Sun-
days, the men washed and clean-shirted, and the
women arrayed in smiling faces and bright-colored
apparel. They could work and wallow patiently
through the week provided they could enjoy a little
recreation and fresh air on Sunday. Whenever a
vessel arrived from a home port, the camping ground
presented a lively appearance. Round the chief hut
or tienda lounged dirty men in parti-colored serapes
and round-crowned straw hats, smoking, drinking, and
betting at monte. Most of these were either on their
way to, or had lately returned from, the mines.
Walk Kearney street at night from California street to the Plaza. The shops are all closed, all but the saloons, mostly attended by a French or Spanish woman, and Cheap John auction stores, whose cries in husky voice and bad breath strive to roar above the jingling bells, before each door, where every one tries to ring down his neighbor. Passing along you step aside to avoid some reeling drunkard running into you, and as you approach the plaza, the blazing light from the thickly planted saloons glows in the thick, murky air without, and strains of mingled music from different bands fall upon the ear. Pouring in and out of temples dedicated to Bacchus and to For- tuna, are crowds of people of every hue, and tongue, and character under heaven.
Building in the autumn of 1853 was active, and the structures were of a much more durable character than was the custom to rear hitherto. Most of the
