not the same kind of men. A brass button will scatter these; those would have set their faces against an army. Above the door hangs the sign-board, upon which has been depicted a vast animal of unfamiliar species. In the act of firing upon this monster, is represented an unobtrusive human levelling an obtrusive gun, once the color of bright gold. Now the legend above the picture is faded beyond conjecture; the gun’s relation to the title is a matter of faith; the menaced animal, wearied of the long aim of the hunter, has resolved itself into a shapeless blot.
The place is known as “Antonio’s,” as the name, white upon the red-lit transparency, and gilt upon the windows, attests. There is a promise in “Antonio”; a justifiable expectancy of savory things in oil and pepper and wine, and, perhaps, an angel’s whisper of garlic. But the rest of the name is “O’Riley.” Antonio O’Riley! The Carabine
