New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1873-12-07
DAISY'S MISSION.


DAIsY'S MISSION.
| From the Overland Monthly for Decembers
He'll Roaring Bar was neither pretty
nor euphonlous name nor reverential one
but, considering the character of its dwell.
ers, 1t was an exceedingly fitting one foI
the locality that bore it. A six months
residence there convinced me SO thoroughly
of this fact that l could not conscientiously
| have changed single letter of the name,
even had l the power to Go so. Not that
it savOred OF sulphurous odors; not that the
roarings u its apparent patron saint were
| ever heard echolng among the canons that
| encompassed it; but for sinfuness and for
! wckedness and riotous debauchery it was
peerless among all the mining camps had
ever visited in California.
was sent there III the summer of 1853,
by San Francisco firm, to close out a
business that was drifting into Involuntary
bankruptcy, and a long, dusty ride found
| me there early IL June of that year. A
view OF the camp from the mountain had
| not impressed me favorably with it, and a
nearer acquaintance only confirmed that
| impression; but. like half reluctant bride
! groom, l had resolved to take it for .'berter
! or worse" with but slight hope, however,
| that 1t would prove any better than it
| looked.
Hello deacon. What do you want in
! Hell-Roarin! Preachers don't stand much
show III these diggins. You amt wanted
better git!'
This was my greeting. l had Just alght-
ed from my mule, tired and out of humor
and felt half inclined to resent the brusque
unmannerly salutation, but did not. 1t was
not consciousness OF the truth that Guieted
me. for my appearance was slightly ceri-
cal. True, had perfect right TO differ in
opinion with the speaker, for of verify
this was just the place where preachers
were wanted. and just the place where
they should stay; but. making no profes
sions Of godliness, l held my tongue for
moment looked up; brawny and pow
erful figure confrented me, and prudently
held my temper. | replied blandly that /
expected to remain there awhile, and sug-
gested. with all meekness, that appearances
were sometimes deceitful. Soon the bar
was agog with curiosity, and a crowd gath
cred. And such a crowd. Great broad
shouldered fellows, dirty and unshaven,
deeply marked with chronic dissipation,
whose every second word was an oath;
striplings whose tongues were yolubly in
pudAnt and early trained to blashemy in
imitation of their elders, gathered around.
while unsaddled my mule in so awkw ard
manner as to excite derision.
These people weighed everything, like
their gold dust, in their own scales. and
measured by their standard, was regarded
as worthless impostor. l had .'store
clothes on, and this fact alone was too
much Tor the fixed conventlonalism of the
bar. Buckskin aud gray flannel assumed
dignity IN early times among the honest
miners more unyielding, more exacting,
than purple and fine linen. My "boiled
shirt was considered an infraction, and
therefore the bar was atfroRted" Deacon
was echoed from mouth to mouth. Bets
were offered and freely taken that was
psalm singer; gambler, with a dead
thing or "waxed keerds;' lawyer, a
doctor, anything but horse jockey or
gentleman Although nettled with the I'm
corteous reception, 1 could not afford to
fall out with my new neighbors. Beating
my dusty hat against lay knee with a we'll
assumed swagger, | turned quietly and
asked Il the Bar was dry. And the Bar c0s
dry!
With a whoop the crowd adjourned to
the saloon-a rickety, clap-board institu-
tlon furnished with a few stools and rough
tables the Bar drank-frst with my
self, then with Joe Miles. the proprietor /:
then with the bluff individual who had first
accosted me. Pressing through the crowd. |
he held ont his big. rough hand, and, taking
mine, he led me forward with something OF |
a triumphant air.
Bows" he said, Il take it all back. |
This is my old skipper; came out with him |
from Boston in 10. He amt no preacher
he spends his money like man, and don't |
whine. ANY one that don't like him can |
call on Bill ThOrp. That's me, boys Let's |
take suthin'.'
Finding that things had taken an unsus-
pected turn, | Immediately took advantage
Of the new situation. Thorp stood sponsor
for me, and his emphatic assurance of my
unpIe acter-hke character and proper disre-
gard OF the value of money put the Bar in
good humor; so l explained my business,
and hoped to deserve well of the bows. And
won the friendship of those people; not by
pandering to their tastes or falling into
their practices, but by mindins my own
business. While ahstaining from rubbing
against their prejudices, and scrupulously
avoiding all interference with their plea
sures, | sympathized with them in all their
little troubles, and they respected me.
The Bar, by day, did not seem to be
very bad or bOisterous place: in working
hours it INDUCED in kind of teverish rest
But it was by night that it shone in the full
glory of it's appropriate name. Then it was
hat the vampires that sucked the blood of
honest labor came forth. Short card men,
,oker sharps, monte dealers, and others of
he fraternity, sneaked out to prey on the
arnings Of the day, and the Bar ran riot.
{ was then that great strong fellows, who
we're wearing out their lives in a daily con-
iict with Misunderstanding open the noun
aims and wrestling with the streams-that
thers might wear the gold they won,
would gather round the gambling tables to
try their luck and this thing called |
luck" in the early days was a strange
hing
Existing OF the superstition that is found
D the composition of every man in a greater |
r less degree, it was a phantom that
aunted all classes and entered into all |
uman calculations. Luck shamed reason ,
nd set at nau ght all mathematical certain
les, and forgetting that mans luck was
luch of his own making it followed with a {
existent faulty that led the feet of too i
lany into bad and dangerous places. 1t
Tas the scapegoat for all sins and short
omings. 1t was the rock upon which were |
uiit the golden castles of the hopeful fu- t
IRE; the shifting sand that carried away !
18th it the unfruitful and disastrous past: !
be harvest whose sheaves of promise often T
ielded only bitterness and disappointment
q these tits with fortune the Bar drank @
eep. 1t was dry by day, it was unquench- \
BILE by night. If luck was with the bows d
ley drank and dallied with it: if against |
lem they drank still deeper and cursed it. il
Altogether the Bar was wild and aban- r
oned place, but attrition with these people | q
Iught me that there are solvents for even
ystalized wickedness-that there is no b
oud so dark as to be without single a
reak OF silver, no nature go rugged "a to | n