Nothing more easy.—
[He comes nearer; a look of strangeness comes over him.
I was gold-digging once in San Francisco.
There were mountebanks swarming all over the town.
One with his toes could perform on the fiddle;
Another could dance a Spanish halling[[123]] on his knees;
A third, I was told, kept on making verses
While his brain-pan was having a hole bored right through it.
To the mountebank-meeting came also the devil;—
Thought he’d try his luck with the rest of them.