Farrell's philosophical resolve--to trouble the delinquents no more--
formed the subject of my reflections, as I walked towards my tent. It
was an illustration of the power which circumstances may have, in
allaying even the strongest passion: for I knew that, when first made
acquainted with his dishonour, the man had felt both deeply and
resentfully.
I could not help applying the lesson to myself. "Is it possible,"
thought I, "that any circumstances can ever arise to allay my longings
for Lenore? Is there in time a power that will yet appease them?"
My sentimental reflections were interrupted, by a scene that was of a
different character--altogether comical. Not far from the place where I
had parted with Farrell, I saw a crowd collected around a tent. Two
miners, who had been "regular mates," were quarrelling; and their
neighbours had gathered upon the ground, to be edified by an abundance
of vituperative eloquence.
After the two men had, for a considerable time, amused the bystanders
with their dispute, there appeared to be but one point upon which they
could agree. That was that they should remain "mates" no longer.
The tent, some provisions in it, along with their mining tools and
cooking utensils, they owned in common: having shared between them the
expense attending their purchase.
As these things could not be divided to the satisfaction of both
parties, it was proposed that each should remove from the tent, whatever
was fairly entitled to be called his "private property," and that
everything held in common--including the tent itself--should be burnt!
This proposal was at once agreed to.
Each then brought forth from the tent his roll of blankets, and along
with some other purely "personal effects." The ropes, picks, shovels,
and buckets--that chanced to be lying outside the tent--were then
"chucked" inside; after which, a match was applied to the dry canvass,
and the diggers' dwelling was instantly in flames. The two disputants
then walked coolly away from the place--each carrying his bag upon his
back; one going to the east, the other to the west, amidst the cheers of
the spectators--all of whom seemed greatly to admire this original mode
of dissolving a partnership.
Law is so expensive and uncertain in all newly-established communities,
that even sensible people do not like to resort to it, in the settlement
of their disputes. Perhaps in this respect, the citizens of older
communities might imitate the gold-diggers to advantage.
While in California, I was witness to another incident illustrative of
the unwillingness to resort to the judgments of a legal tribunal. It
was a case of two gold-diggers, who had been working together, and were
about to dissolve partnership. Among the property they had owned in
common was a fine mule. Each was desirous of becoming sole possessor of
the animal; but neither would consent to give the other the price
demanded for parting with his share. The difficulty might have been
arranged by arbitration; but, neither desiring to be under any
obligation to a third party, they adopted a more independent plan for
settling the dispute.
"I'll give you fifty dollars for your share of the mule," proposed one,
"or I'll take a hundred for mine? I want the animal."
"And I'll give you fifty for your share, or take a hundred for mine?"
said the other, "I want it too."
"I'll make you another offer," said the first. "We'll play a game of
`Euker,' and whoever wins shall have the mule?"
The third challenge was accepted. The game was played; and the
difficulty settled in five minutes, without any expense or ill-feeling
arising out of it!
A disposition to settle doubts and difficulties by chance--that
"unspiritual god"--is very common, among those who have long followed
the occupation of gold hunting--for the reason, no doubt, that there is
so much chance or uncertainty in the calling itself. Gold-diggers
become familiarised to a sort of fatalism; and, in consequence, allow
many questions to be decided by chance, that should be submitted to the
test of reason.
I have seen a miner after working out a rich claim, toss up a dollar, to
decide whether he should return home or not! The piece of money fell
wrong side down; and the man remained at the diggings; and for aught I
know, may be there still, working for a "pennyweight per diem."
And yet I do not always condemn this mode of relieving the intellect
from the agony of doubt.
I once met two miners in San Francisco--to which place they had come
from different diggings, for the purpose of having a few days' rest
after months of toil. They had been shipmates to California; and now
meeting again, each told the other of the way fortune had served him,
since they had parted.
"I have got together two thousand three hundred dollars," said one. "I
came out here to make up a pile of four thousand. If I had that, I'd go
home."
"I have done nearly as well," said the other; "I have about two
thousand; and if I had what we have both got, I'd go home; and never
touch pick or shovel again."
"Ah! so would I," sighed the first.
"Well, then," challenged his old shipmate, "I'll tell you what we can
do. We both want to go back home, with not less than four thousand
dollars. We need not _both_ be disappointed. One of us can go; and let
the other stay. I'll cut a pack of cards with you; and the one who cuts
highest, shall take four thousand dollars, and go home. The odd two or
three hundred will be enough, to carry the loser back to the diggings.
What say you, old hoss?"
This proposal was instantly accepted. The man, who had made it, lost
his two thousand dollars; and next morning he handed the money over to
his more fortunate friend, shook hands with him, and started back for
the diggings!
This story may seem improbable, to those who have never been in
California in its best days; but I can vouch for its truth.
After parting with Farrell, I seemed destined to witness a variety of
incidents on that same evening; and of both characters--comic and
tragical.
Shortly after passing the crowd, who had assisted at the dispute of the
two miners, I came in sight of another concourse of people--in the
middle of which appeared two or three policemen. They were gathered
around the shaft of an abandoned claim. I went up to see what the
excitement was about; and learnt, that a Chinaman had been found
suspended in the shaft.
The Celestial had committed suicide, by hanging himself; and the plan he
had adopted for terminating his existence, seemed, from its ingenuity,
to have met with as much admiration from this crowd, as had been
bestowed by the other one on the mode of settling their dispute, which
had been adopted by the two diggers.
The Chinaman, knowing that the shaft was a deep one, had placed a large
log of wood across the top of it. To the middle of this he had tied the
end of a rope about fifteen feet long. The other end he had fastened,
loop fashion, around his neck; and then jumped down the shaft. No Jack
Ketch could have performed the operation for him, in a more effectual
manner.
I afterwards learnt that the Chinaman had been an opium eater; and that
he had secretly squandered some gold, in which his mates owned shares.
The crime preying on his conscience--perhaps, when he had no opium to
fortify it--was supposed to be the cause of his committing the act of
self-destruction.
Volume Two, Chapter XXXI.