 | The fiend's delight |  |
7. “ITEMS”
FROM THE
PRESS OF INTERIOR CALIFORNIA.
.... A little bit of romance has
just transpired to relieve the monotony of our
metropolitan life. Old Sam Choggins, whom the
editor of this paper has so often publicly thrashed,
has returned from Mud Springs with a young wife.
He is said to be very fond of her, and the way he
came to get her was this:
Some time ago we courted her, but finding she
was “on the make,” threw her off, after shooting
her brother and two cousins. She vowed revenge,
and promised to marry any man who would horsewhip
us. This Sam agreed to undertake, and she
married him on that promise.
We shall call on Sam to-morrow with our new
shot-gun, and present our congratulations in the
usual form.—Hangtown “Gibbet.”
.... The purposeless old party
with the boiled shirt, who has for some days been
merely nominal prices (a clear proof that he stole
them), has been disposed of in a cheap and satisfactory
manner. His lode petered out about six
o'clock yesterday afternoon; our evening edition
being delayed until that time, by request. The
cause of his death, as nearly as could be ascertained
by a single physician—Dr. Duffer being too drunk
to attend—was Whisky Sam, who, it will be remembered,
delivered a lecture some weeks ago entitled
“Dan'l in the Lion's Den; and How They'd
aEt 'Im ef He'd Ever ben Ther”—in which he
triumphantly overthrew revealed religion.
His course yesterday proves that he can act as
well as talk.—Devil Gully “Expositor.”
.... There was considerable ex
citement in the street yesterday, owing to the
arrival of Bust-Head Dave, formerly of this place,
who came over on the stage from Pudding Springs.
He was met at the hotel by Sheriff Knogg, who
leaves a large family, and whose loss will be universally
deplored. Dave walked down the street to
the bridge, and it reminded one of old times to see
the people go away as he heaved in view. It was
not through any fear of the man, but from the
knowledge that he had made a threat (first published
in this paper) to clean out the town. Before
settle for a year's subscription (invariably in advance)
and was informed, through a chink in the
logs, that he might leave his dust in the tin cup
at the well.
Dave is looking very much larger than at his
last visit just previous to the funeral of Judge
Dawson. He left for Injun Hill at five o'clock,
amidst a good deal of shooting at rather long
range, and there will be an election for Sheriff as
soon as a stranger can be found who will accept
the honour.—Yankee Flat “Advertiser.”
.... It is to be hoped the people
will all turn out to-morrow, according to advertisement
in another column. The men deserve hanging,
no end, but at the same time they are human,
and entitled to some respect; and we shall print
the name of every adult male who does not grace
the occasion with his presence. We make this
threat simply because there have been some indications
of apathy; and any man who will stay away
when Bob Bolton and Sam Buxter are to be
hanged, is probably either an accomplice or a relation.
Old Blanket-Mouth Dick was not the only
blood relation these fellows have in this vicinity;
and the fate that befell him when they could not be
found ought to be a warning to the rest.
We hope to see a full attendance. The bar is
just in rear of the gibbet, and will be run by a
brother of ours. Gentlemen who shrink from
publicity will patronize that bar.—San Louis Jones “Gazette.”
.... A painful accident occurred
in Frog Gulch yesterday which has cast a good
deal of gloom over a hitherto joyous and whisky
loving community. Dan Spigger—or as he was
familiarly called, Murderer Dan—got drunk at his
usual hour yesterday, and as is his custom took
down his gun, and started after the fellow who
went home with his girl the night before. He
found him at breakfast with his wife and thirteen
children. After killing them he started out to return,
but being weary, stumbled and broke his leg.
Dr. Bill found him in that condition, and having no
waggon at hand to convey him to town, shot him
to put him out of his misery.
Dan was dearly loved by all who knew him, and
his loss is a Democratic gain. He seldom disagreed
with any but Democrats, and would have materially
reduced the vote of that party had he not been so
untimely cut off.—Jackass Gap “Bulletin.”
.... The dance-house at the cor
ner of Moll Duncan Street and Fish-trap Avenue
Jamboree, succeeded in getting his cock-eyed sister
in there as a beer-slinger, and the hurdy-gurdy girls
all swore they would not stand her society; and
they got up and got. The light fantastic is not
tripped there any more, except when the Jamboree
man sneaks in and dances a jig for his morning
pizen.—Murderburg “Herald.”
.... The Superintendent of the
Mag Davis Mine requests us to state that the custom
of pitching Chinamen and Injins down the
shaft will have to be stopped, as he has resumed work
in the mine. The old well, back of Jo Bowman's
is just as good, and is more centrally located.—
New Jerusalem “Courier.”
.... Three women while amusing
themselves in Calaveras county met with a serious
accident. They were jumping across a hole eight
hundred feet deep and ten wide. One of them
couldn't quite make it, succeeding only in grasping
a sage-bush on the opposite edge, where she
hung suspended. Her companions, who had just
stepped into an adjacent saloon, saw her peril,
and as soon as they had finished drinking went to
her assistance. Previously to liberating her, one of
them by way of a joke uprooted the bush. This
half-way across the shaft. She then attempted
to cross over to the other side in two jumps.
The affair has made considerable talk.—Red
Head “Tribune.”
.... A family who for fifteen years
have lived at the bottom of a mine shaft in Siskiyou
county, were all drowned by a rain-storm last
Wednesday night. They had neglected their usual
precaution of putting an umbrella over the mouth
of the shaft. The man—who had always been
vacillating in politics—was taken out a stiff Radical.—
Dog Valley “Howl.”
.... There is a fellow in town who
claims to be the man that murdered Sheriff White
some months ago. We consider him an impostor,
seeking admission into society above his level, and
hope people will stop inviting him to their houses.—
Nigger Hill “Patriot.”
.... A stranger wearing a stove-
pipe hat arrived in town yesterday, putting up at
the Nugget House. The boys are having a good
time with that hat this morning, and the funeral
will take place at two o'clock.—Spanish Camp
“Flag.”
.... The scoundrel who tipped
over our office last month will be hung to-morrow,
and no paper will be issued next day.—Sierra
“Fire-cracker.”
.... The old grey-headed party
who lost his life last Friday at the jewelled
hands of our wife, deserves more than a passing
notice at ours. He came to this city last summer,
and started a weekly Methodist prayer meeting,
but being warned by the Police, who was formerly
a Presbyterian, gave up the swindle. He afterward
undertook to introduce Bibles and hymn-books,
and, it is said, on one occasion attempted to
preach. This was a little more than an outraged
community could be expected to endure, and at
our suggestion he was tarred and feathered.
For a time this treatment seemed to work a
reform, but the heart of a Methodist is, above all
things, deceitful and desperately wicked, and he
was soon after caught in the very act of
presenting a spelling-book to old Ben Spoffer's
youngest daughter, Ragged Moll, since hung. The
Vigilance Committee pro tem. waited upon him,
when he was decently shot and left for dead, as was
recorded in this paper, with an obituary notice for
which we have never received a cent. Last
Friday, however, he was discovered sneaking into
wife, God bless her, got an axe and finished him
then and there.
His name was John Bucknor, and it is reported
(we do not know with how much truth) that at one
time there was an improper intimacy between him
and the lady who despatched him. If so, we pity
Sal.—Coyote “Trapper.”
.... Our readers may have noticed
in yesterday's issue an editorial article in which we
charged Judge Black with having murdered his
father, beaten his wife, and stolen seven mules from
Jo Gorman. The facts are substantially true,
though somewhat different from what we stated.
The killing was done by a Dutchman named
Moriarty, and the bruises we happened to see on
the face of the Judge's wife were caused by a fall
—she being, doubtless, drunk at the time. The
mules had only strayed into the mountains, and
have returned all right.
We consider the Judge's anger at so trifling an
error very ridiculous and insulting, and shall shoot
him the first time he comes to town. An Independent
Press is not to be muzzled by any absurd
old buffer with a crooked nose, and a sister who is
considerably more mother than wife. Not as
long as we have our usual success in thinning
“Sockdolager.”
.... Yesterday, as Job Wheeler
was returning from a clean-up at the Buttermilk
Flume, he stopped at Hell Tunnel to have a chat
with the boys. John Tooley took a fancy to Job's
watch, and asked for it. Being refused, he slipped
away, and going to Job's shanty, killed his three
half-breed children and a valuable pig. This is the
third time John has played some scurvy trick, and
it is about time the Superintendent discharged
him. There is entirely too much of this practical
joking amongst the boys, and it will lead to trouble
yet.—Nugget Hill “Pickaxe of Freedom.”
.... The stranger from Frisco with
the claw-hammer coat, who put up at the Gag
House last Thursday, and was looking for a chance
to invest, was robbed the other night of three hundred
ounces of clean dust. We know who did it,
but don't be frightened, John Lowry; we'll never
tell, though we are awful hard up, owing to our
subscribers going back on us.—Choketown “Rocker.”
.... Old Mother Gooly, who works
a ranch on shares near Whiskyville, was married
Dogburg. It seems that he laboured more faithfully
to convert her soul than to save the crop, and
the bride protested against his misdirected industry,
with a crowbar. The citizens are very much
grieved to lose one whose abilities they never fairly
appreciated until his brain was scraped off the iron
and weighed. It was found to be considerably
heavier than the average.
But the verdict of the people is unanimously
given. He ought not to have fooled with Mother
Gooly's immortal part, to the neglect of the wheat
crop. That kind of thing is not popular at Whiskyville.
It is not business.—“Bullwhacker's Own.”
.... The railroad from this city
north-west will be commenced as soon as the
citizens get tired of killing the Chinamen brought
up to do the work, which will probably be within
three or four weeks. The carcases are accumulating
about town and begin to become unpleasant.—
Gravel Hill “Thunderbolt.
.... The man who was shot last
week at the Gulch will be buried next Thursday.
He is not yet dead, but his physician wishes to
visit a mother-in-law at Lard Springs, and is therefore
very anxious to get the case off his hands.
cuss in that section.”—Santa Peggie “Times.”
.... There is some dispute about
land titles at Little Bilk Bar. About half a dozen
cases were temporarily decided on Wednesday, but
it is supposed the widows will renew the litigation.
The only proper way to prevent these vexatious
lawsuits is to hang the Judge of the County Court.
—Cow-County “Outcropper.”
| The fiend's delight | |