"'I think,' said the Judge, 'I have heard the story before; but, excuse me, I do not see exactly what relation it bears to these gentlemen and your offer to serve them.' 'That,' said the major, 'if you will give me time, is exactly what I am coming to.—Nigger, bring me a dozen cigars.—The sequel is soon told. Considering my duty as an officer, a friend, and a gentleman, I cut my friend, and shot my partner for insulting him; and if, you observe, these gentlemen shall honour me with their friendship, I will be most happy to do the same by them.'"
Whilst deprecating the good offices of this Yankee O'Trigger in the shooting or cutting line, Mr Coke and his companion availed of him as a guide to an adjacent faro table, where the gallant Major lost eight hundred dollars with infinite coolness, drank a cocktail, buttoned his coat, and walked away.
As matter of mere amusement, Mr Coke's last chapter is his best. It is crammed with diverting stories of "smart" Yankees and other originals whom he encountered in California. The whole book, although in parts a little drawn out, does him credit, and will doubtless be extensively read and well liked. For various classes it has features of attractive interest. The emigrant, the gold-seeker, the sportsman, the mining speculator, the lover of adventure for mere adventure's sake, will all derive pleasure from its pages, and occasionally glean from them a hint worth remembering.
[STRUGGLES FOR FAME AND FORTUNE.]
PART II.
CHAPTER VI.
When the curtain drew up, the stage was occupied by the two heroes of the establishment, who said not a word, but rushed at each other with prodigious swords, and hacked and hewed with the most amazing vigour. The fight had a running accompaniment from the partisans of the two belligerents. "Go it, Fitz-Neddie!" (this was familiar for Fitz-Edward) was answered with outcries of "At him, Martingale!" And, inspired by these demonstrations, the battle was prolonged till the combatants were fairly out of breath. While they were resting on their swords, and grinning horribly at each other, Miss de la Rose rushed upon the stage, with dishevelled locks and white satin shoes, and explained, in a very long soliloquy, the state of affairs. Baron Fitz-Edward had made various attempts to storm Baron Martingdale's castle, in search of his runaway ward—who, of course, was Miss de la Rose herself; and, on the present occasion, he had been surprised by the watchful Martingdale in the very act of applying a ladder to the donjon wall. But virtue such as Miss de la Rose's has surer guards than even the courage of Martingdale; for when that noble warrior is likely to be overcome, there uniformly appears the "sylvan demon, or the blood-red knight," whose strokes it is impossible to resist. When this exposition of the state of affairs had given breath enough to the still panting enemies to enter into conversation, Fitz-Edward sneered, and scorned, and threatened, and walked up the stage, and across it, and stamped with his feet, and clenched his hands, in a way that brought down thunders of applause, which, from another part of the house, were answered by rival peals, when Martingdale gave full career to the rage that was in his heart, and roared to an extent that shook the scene on which his baronial castle was painted, "as if a storm passed by." If it had not been of very strong canvass, it must have burst. While this dialogue was going on, it was painful to observe that some duplicity was at work, for several bearded fellows slipt across the stage in a mysterious manner, and were evidently posted between Adelgiza—Miss de la Rose—and the castle. The discovery of this stratagem was made too late, and Fitz-Edward grasped the arm of Adelgiza in triumph, and was about to lead her out for the purpose of being married to her on the spot by a convenient old priest, who accompanied all his expeditions with a special license, when suddenly a dead silence fell upon the stage, and, with noiseless steps, a tall knight, with visor closed, and a whole bush of red feathers growing luxuriantly out of his helmet, marched towards Fitz-Edward, touched his arm with his sword, and motioned majestically for Adelgiza to retire in safety to her home. At this point of the story I was summoned to go behind the scenes, where Mr Montalban wished to have a few minutes' conversation.
"Difficulties have arisen, my dear sir," said the manager, "about your very excellent play. Mr Martingdale says he is willing to be quiet and subdued in presence of Fitz-Edward; but, to make up for it, he must have one or two 'bits' entirely to himself. He doesn't care whether it be as part of a scene with others or a soliloquy. He suggests a description of a shipwreck, though he thinks his powers of voice would qualify him more for a bull-fight. Perhaps you can put him asleep for a few minutes, and then he can give us his dream."