"'No,' said Dennison. The truth is--' He hesitated a moment and then the words came in a volley:

"'He's deformed with speed.'

"There is a lawyer down town, you all know him. He has a head as big as the old croppings of the Gould and Curry, but like some other lawyers that practice at the Virginia City bar (here he glanced significantly at the Colonel), he is not an exceedingly bright or profound man. He was pa.s.sing a downtown office yesterday when a man, who chanced to be standing in the office, said to the bookkeeper of the establishment:

"'Look at Judge ----. His head is bigger than Mount Davidson, but I am told that where his brains ought to be there is a howling wilderness.'

"The bookkeeper stopped his writing, carefully wiped his pen, laid it down, came out from behind his desk, came close up to the man who had spoken to him, and said:

"'Howling wilderness? I tell you, sir, that man's head is an unexplored mental Death Valley.'"

"Yes," said the Colonel, "his is a queer family. He has a brother who is a journalist; he has made a fortune in the business. His great theme is sketching the lives and characters of people."

"But has he made a fortune publishing sketches of that description?"

asked Miller.

"Oh, no," replied the Colonel; "he has made his money by refraining from publishing them. People have paid him to suppress them."

"Colonel," asked Strong, "did it never occur to you that other fortunes might be made the same way by people just exactly adapted to that style of writing?"

"If it had," was the reply. "I should have considered that the field here was fully occupied."

"You might write a sketch of your own career," suggested the Professor.

"Don't do it, Colonel," said Alex.

"Why not?" asked Ashley.

"There is a law which sadly interferes with the circulation of a certain character of literature," said Alex.

"Alex," said the Colonel, "what a painstaking and delicate task it will be, under that law, to write your obituary."

"There will be great risk in writing yours, Colonel," said Alex; "but it will be a labor of love, nevertheless; a labor of love, Colonel."

"If you have it to do, Alex, don't forget my strongest characteristic,"

said the Colonel; "that lofty generosity, blended with a self-contained dignity, which made me indifferent always to the slanders of bad men."

It was always a delight to the Club to get these two to bantering each other.

Ashley here interposed and said: "You all know Professor ----. One night in Elko, last summer, he was conversing with Judge F---- of Elko. Both had been indulging a little too much; the Professor was growing talkative and the Judge morose.

"The Professor was telling about the battle of Buena Vista, in which he, a boy at the time, partic.i.p.ated. In the midst of the description the Judge interrupted him with some remark which the Professor construed into an impeachment of his bravery.

"He leaned back in his chair and sat looking at the Judge for a full minute, as if in an astonished study, and then in a tone most dangerous, said:

"'I do not know how to cla.s.sify you, sir. I do not know, sir, whether you are a wholly irresponsible idiot, or an unmitigated and infamous scoundrel, sir.'

"He was conscientious and methodical even in his wrath. He would not pa.s.s upon the specimen of natural history before him until certain to what species it belonged."

Said Miller: "Did you ever hear how Judge T---- of this city met a man who had been saying disrespectful things about him, but who came up to the Judge in a crowd and, with a smile, extended his hand? The Judge drew back quickly, thrust both hands in his side pockets and said:

"'Excuse me, sir; I have just washed my hands.'"

"I heard something yesterday of a rough man whom you all know, Zince Barnes," said the Professor, "which seemed to me as full of bitter humor as anything I have heard on this mountain side. You know that politics are running pretty high.

"Well, an impecunious man--so the story goes--called upon a certain gentleman who is reported to be rich and to have political aspirations, and tried to convince him that the expenditure of a certain sum of money in a certain way would redound amazingly to the credit, political, of the millionaire. The man of dollars could not see the proposition through the poor man's magnifying gla.s.ses, and the patriot retired baffled.

"A few minutes later, and while yet warm in his disappointment, he met Zince Barnes, told him of the interview and closed by expressing the belief that the millionaire was a tough, hard formation.

"'Hard!' said Zince. 'I should think so. The tears of widows and orphans are water on his wheel.'"

At this Corrigan 'roused up and said: "Speakin' of figures of s.p.a.che, I heard some from a countrywoman of mine one bitter cowld mornin' last March. It was early; hardly light. John Mackay was comin' down from the Curry office on his way to the Con. Virginia office, and whin just opposite the Curry works, he met ould mother McGarrigle, who lives down by the freight depot. I was in the machane shop of the Curry works; they were just outside, and there being only an inch boord and about ten feet of s.p.a.ce between us, I could hear ivery word plain, or rather I could not help but hear. The conversation ran about after this style:

"'Mornin', Meester Mackay, and may the Lord love yees.'

"'Good morning, madam.'

"'How's the beautiful wife and the charmin' childers over the big wathers, Mr. Mackay?'

"'They are all right.'

"'G.o.d be thanked intirely. Does yees know, Mr. Mackay, that in the hull course of me life I niver laid eyes upon childer so beautiful loike yees. Often and often I've tould the ould man that same. And they're will, are they?'

"'Yes, they are first-rate. I had a cable from them yesterday.'

"'A tilligram, was it? Oh, but is not that wonderful, though! A missige under the say and over the land to this barbarous place. It must have come like the smile of the Good G.o.d to yees.'

"'Oh, I get them every day.'

"'Ivery day! And phat do they cost?'

"'Oh, seven or eight dollars; sometimes more. It depends upon their length.'

"'Sivin or eight dollars! Oh, murther! But yees desarve it, Mr. Mackay.

What would the poor do without yees in this town, Mr. Mackay? Only yisterday I was sayin' to the ould man, says I: "Mike, it shows the mercy of G.o.d whin money is given to a mon like Mr. John Mackay. It's a Providence he is to the city. G.o.d bless him." I did, indade.'

"By this time Mackay began to grow very ristless.

"'What can I do for you this morning, Mrs. McGarrigle?'

"'It's the ould mon, Lord love yees, Mr. Mackay. It's no work he's had for five wakes, and it's mighty little we have aither to ait or to wear.

It's work I want for him.'

"'I am sorry, but our mines are full. Indeed, we are employing more men than we are justified in doing.'

"'But Mr. Mackay, it's so poor we are, and so hard it is getting along at all; put him on for a month and may all the saints bless yees.'

"'The city is full of poor people, madam. To determine what to do to mitigate the distress here occupies half our time.'