Neither Were There Salt-Spoons, So Everybody Dipped
His Greasy Knife Into The Little Pewter Pot Containing Salt.
Dinner began,
and after satisfying my own hunger with the least objectionable dish,
namely "pork with onion fixings," I had leisure to look round me.
Every quarter of the globe had contributed to swell that motley array,
even China. Motives of interest or adventure had drawn them all together
to this extraordinary outpost of civilisation, and soon would disperse
them among lands where civilisation is unknown.
As far as I could judge, we were the only representatives of England.
There were Scots, for Scots are always to be found where there is any hope
of honest gain - there were Irish emigrants, speaking with a rich brogue -
French traders from St. Louis - Mexicans from Santa Fe - Californians
fitting out, and Californians coming home with fortunes made - keen-eyed
speculators from New England - packmen from Canada - "Prairie-men,"
trappers, hunters, and adventurers of all descriptions. Many of these wore
bowie-knives or pistols in their belts. The costumes were very varied and
picturesque. Two Bloomers in very poor green habiliments sat opposite to
me, and did not appear to attract any attention, though Bloomerism is
happily defunct in the States.
There had been three duels at Chicago in the morning, and one of the
duellists, a swarthy, dark-browed villain, sat next but one to me. The
quarrel originated in a gambling-house, and this Mexican's opponent was
mortally wounded, and there he sat, with the guilt of human blood upon his
hands, describing to his vis-à-vis the way in which he had taken aim at
his adversary, and no one seemed to think anything about it.
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