after a while, the phases of the great event which is destined to have such a vast influence on the future of the whole civilized world-for good, if education progress, and the gentler arts advance with increased wealth-for evil, if the mad hunt for mere lucre check the advance of enlightenment, the only thing which enables us rightly to use temporal advantages. For some time, however, my attention was only attracted like that of all men who watch the history of their own time. It is only within a very short time that the affair has taken a more personal and immediate interest.

My head-quarters in Europe have for some time been Paris, a city for which I have a weakness. During the autumn of last year, I received a ticket for a ball to which no persons were admitted except in naval uniform. It was for a charitable purpose, and I originally declined going; a party of English ladies, however, whom I knew, wished to attend and requested me to escort them. I resolved magnanimously to change my previous resolution and be present. My first difficulty was a uniform. I had no inclination to have a suit made for the occasion, and I had a decided objection to hiring one from a masquerade shop. Suddenly I recollected that I had a relic of my erratic life in Texas, in the shape of a lieutenant's suit of blue. It was old and the worse for wear, but it was genuine, and could, on a pinch, be furbished up to pass muster for a night. Accordingly, on the evening in question I found myself under the covered way leading to the Jardin d'Hiver, a party of ladies under my guidance, waiting for a crowd of persons before me to pass ere I braved the crush. My friends had just announced to me that the moment was opportune, when I noticed a dashing equipage draw up. I was about to turn away when my eye was arrested by the sight of a young man wearing precisely the same dress as myself, only perfectly new, who, leaping out of the dashing coupé, gave his arm to a young lady of great beauty, and followed in my track. I had scarcely time to notice his own start of unfeigned astonishment at the sight of a Texas navy coat, and then I was compelled to enter the precincts of the gay and brilliant scene.

But already had I forgotten this ball; my mind was carried back several years, to

another ball given in Galveston harbor, on board the dismasted brig, by a set of joyous, thoughtless young officers, whose doubtful prospect of a next day's dinner rendered them not a whit less merry. For my own part I had long ceased to think of my privations and sufferings in Texas, to remember only its bright side, and I answered the admiring remarks of my companions but carelessly, as I lived over once more in memory, days which are always pleasant when past, especially when belonging to our first essays in manhood. My friends sat down in a convenient spot, and I left them awhile to look after my strange sosia. In an instant we were face to face. He, too, was alone; he also had left his female companion, and was evidently in search of me. "Impossible!" cried he; no, it cannot

be."

"Walter Bruce," exclaimed I, as I recognized a quondam lieutenant of the San Bernard schooner.

"Well," said he, "I expect this is extraordinary and pleasant too. We parted on the deck of the New York steamer, bound from Galveston to New Orleans, and here we meet in Paris, to all appearance, in the identical clothes we wore on that day."

I passed my arm through his, scarcely able to speak, and we moved along a few yards in silence.

"What are you doing here," he said, after a short pause, " quill driving, I suppose? I have been told you have written considerable yarns about Texas since you returned to Europe."

"Yes, my dear fellow," replied I, "I am now an author. That is my business, profession, or calling; and you?"

"Oh, I Why I've been to California since I saw you, and I'm now on the look out for a place in old Europe, where to pitch my tent. But come along, I must introduce you to my wife. I have often talked of you to her. You recollect that MS. volume of tales of mine, which I scribbled on board the Jim Bowie, and which you corrected and revised for me? She has them. But here she is."

I was then hastily introduced to a very lovely young woman, about twenty years of age, whose peculiar complexion and hair at once pronounced her to be a Mexican, of the mixed race of Spaniards and Indians. She

received me with the frank heartiness of her nation, and when I alluded to my not being alone, proposed to join my party. This was readily agreed upon, and as my adventures in Texas have always, I fear, to the sorrow of some of my patient friends, formed an endless topic of conversation, the union proved interesting and agreeable. The fairhaired and blue-eyed English girls, who composed the juvenile section of my companions, formed a pleasing contrast to the Mexican beauty, and the rest of the evening was spent in company.

Next morning I found myself at the breakfast-table of Walter Bruce, who occupied splendid apartments looking out on a fashionable boulevard. All around him bespoke opulence and wealth; his servants, his residence, his equipages were in a style of almost oriental splendor, and I could not refrain from remarking on the wonderful change in his fortunes which had taken place since the day when we lived in a state of semi-starvation on board the old guard-ship in the port of Galveston.

He smiled, and promised to explain the whole affair to me, even at the risk of appearing in print. "For," said he, "if I do narrate my adventures, you will not be able to resist the temptation."

After breakfast we drew our chairs near the fire, smoked the pipe of peace, which more than any thing else carried me back to my old life, and while Mrs. Bruce went out to make some calls, frankly did my excomrade in danger and difficulty relate his adventures and history.

I.

When Walter Bruce left me, he was on his way to join two vessels of the Texan republic, lying in New Orleans harbor, which had been ordered down to Sisal, to assist the republic of Yucatan against the parent state of Mexico. It would require more space than I can here devote to the subject, to narrate all my friend's adventures until he found himself one fine morning transferred from the deck of a man-of-war to the counting-house of a merchant in Vera Cruz, a change which, however inglorious it may sound, was really very advantageous. Bruce had originally been educated for the bar, as had I, and like myself abandoned quiet and settled life to wander in Texas, carried

away by the details of her heroic struggle with Mexico. But an American is generally fit for any thing, and Walter Bruce soon captivated the confidence of Messrs. Morris and Franklin his employers. They had counters in the city of Mexico, at Mazatlan, and traded with California, whence they drew hides and tallow, the very humble but useful product of that now gold-exporting region.

One day, about three months after the entrance of Bruce into the service of Messrs. Morris and Franklin, the resident partner of Vera Cruz called the young man into his private office. Walter Bruce presented himself, and was requested to sit down.

"Mr. Bruce," said the merchant, opening a letter which lay before him, “I am in a slight difficulty, to get out of which I require the assistance of one in whom not only we have confidence, but who is disposed to undertake for the house a task of some delicacy and nicety."

"I am completely at your service," replied the young man.

"Our counter in California is managed by an old Mexican, about whom we know very little, but who has always been very honest and correct in his dealings. He resided much in the United States when young, but for the last twenty years has inhabited California. In this letter he expresses a wish to retire from business. He even hints at approaching death, and strongly urges us to send some one to him in whom we have confidence, to wind up his accounts, and to receive from him some deposit of which he speaks in terms of considerable ambiguity. I have determined to acquiesce in his wishes, and if you have no objection, I should desire you, Mr. Bruce, to be the agent for this purpose."

"You wish me to go to California?" said Bruce, quietly.

Three days later, Walter Bruce, furnished with credentials, with money, and accompanied by Jacob Willis, took his place in the stage bound for Mexico city. The journey was interesting and delightful, and the young man began his progress with feelings of extreme delight. He was of a romantic and impressionable nature; travelling was with him a passion, and the ground over which he had to travel, though now well known to the reading public, was to him new and full of charms. The splendor of Orizaba peak, the delights of Jalapa, the plains of Perote, Popocatapeti, the grand and sublime scenery of the country in general, its varied phases of wild and soft and fertile nature filled him with satisfaction, and created a source of endless reflection for the future. And then Mexico city and its wondrous and vast valley, its lakes and hills, its curious manners and primitive people, were all ever-renewing subjects of observation. But he stayed not by the way. His orders were to proceed with the utmost rapidity. His companion and himself were well armed, for they had to go through the robber region, itself a fertile source of excitement; but at last dangers and difficulties were past and they arrived at Mazatlan, glad to rest their weary limbs in the hospitable house of Mr. Riley, the agent at that port, one of the most picturesque on the Pacific, and reminding one of the East and of Spain, with its cream-colored houses, its heavyarched entrances and cool court-yards within, its massive cornices and large-balconied windows.

Walter Bruce took a few days to rest and refresh himself after his journey, the more readily that the schooner which was to convey him to San Francisco Bay was not yet quite loaded with its varied freight. Besides, it was necessary that Jacob Willis should receive some insight into the nature of the constant transactions which took place between Mazatlan and the agent in California. At length, however, all was ready, and the young man and his old associate went on board the scudder, bound for California. The journey presented the usual

notice; and at the end of a somewhat wearisome voyage, during which the young man rather astonished the skipper and crew by his nautical experience, they entered the magnificent bay of California, and anchored a short distance from the land.

This is not the place to enter into any minute description of localities. My friend, Walter Bruce, had little to do on the coast. The counter managed by the old Mexican was up the country, and thither he immediately prepared to journey. The distance was not great, but it had to be performed on horseback, with an Indian for a guide, while a train of mules were to take up the supply of goods which were to replenish the store. Bruce made his preparations with the utmost rapidity. During his long journey his curiosity had become much excited, and he was anxious to see the man about whom Mr. Morris had told him enough to let him see that he was an original and singular character.

It was a fine morning in autumn when Walter Bruce and his little caravan started towards the foot hills of the Sierra Nevada, where was situated the little settlement of Pablo Rittera, the name of the Mexican in question. The weather without being very warm was dry and pleasant; and as the Indian guide knew the road well, the way presented little difficulty. The first night the camp was pitched in a grove of evergreen oaks, which formed an agreeable shelter. Walter Bruce, after supper, got into conversation with the Indian, who was communicative and well-informed. At length he asked him questions about Pablo. The Indian looked uneasily around as if he feared to be overheard, and then muttered a few words scarcely intelligible.

"You know him?" said Walter, with some anxiety.

"Yes; Pablo medicine man-great mystery-not good talk much about him." "Indeed! I am very anxious to know him." "Him Gold-Man; he knows all the secrets of the hill-rich, like ten chiefs"

"Gold-Man !" cried Walter, still more excited, "who gave him that name?"

"Has Pablo found any gold, then ?" "He no want gold. He medicine manlive without work-live without money."

"He seems to be a regular Californian magician," mused Walter, but this idea of the Indians is absurd. A man who had discovered gold would not have remained up here so quiet. I suppose the eccentric old fellow has frightened the Indians for fear of their proving troublesome. "Does he live alone?" asked he, once more addressing the guide.

"He got plenty servants, and one girl bright as sun and moon, two eyes like stars -great beauty!"

"Ah, ah!” cried Walter, warmly, "this, doubtless, is the precious deposit of which he speaks, and which I shall have to escort back to Vera Cruz."

And speculating on the agreeable prospect of charming female society during his journey home, Walter, somewhat fatigued by the day's journey, soon fell asleep.

For several days the march was continued through a country of varied character, until at last, about twelve o'clock one morning, the caravan reached the mouth of a secluded and picturesque valley, through which rushed a small stream, that about a mile off was blended with the waters of a larger river. "Pablo Sancho," said the guide, sententiously-pointing up the valley.

Walter Bruce dashed eagerly forward. A marked trail led in the direction of the settlement, which in a few minutes came in sight. A narrow ledge of land lay between the river and a huge precipitous rock, and on this the house inhabited by Pablo was situated. It was built against the cliff itself, which seemed, indeed, to bear its whole weight. It was of rather large dimensions, but still did not serve all the purposes of the settlement, for about fifty yards distant lay a number of smaller huts. As Walter came in sight, a young girl who had been standing at the threshold of the door of the principal block, hurried in, and very soon returned with a man. By this time the traveller was at the door, and had time to take a hasty survey of his new acquaintance while dismounting.

II.

The man was about sixty, with a thin, hard, wrinkled face, small, gray, piercing

eyes, a heavy white beard growing almost all over his face, and withal a worn and suffering air, which was sufficiently painful. A look of suspicion, too, hung over every feature, but Walter Bruce scarcely noticed him, so taken was he by the charms of the young girl beside him.

She was a dark-eyed Mexican, of about sixteen years of age, with long curling hair, a mouth which would have delighted a Phidias or a Raphael, teeth white as snow, and a graceful, elegant form, which the young man thought he had never seen equalled. She wore the picturesque costume of a Mexican woman of the middle classes, in strong contrast to the coarse, dusky, and common habiliments of the man who stood beside her.

"Welcome, stranger," said the man, in a feeble voice. "What brings you into these remote parts ?"

"I come from Messrs. Morris and Franklin, of Vera Cruz," replied Walter Bruce, "and but precede my caravan by a few hundred yards."

"Enter" said the old man, with considerable animation, a ray of pleasure illumining his features, "Guadalupe, go bid Maria prepare a repast."

The young girl moved towards the distant huts, and Walter Bruce followed Pablo into the outer apartment of the house. It was a large and almost naked room, which usually contained the goods that formed the matter of barter with the traders of the district. The two men sat down by a huge German stove, that served to diffuse warmth through the warehouse, and Walter at once handed his letters to the agent. The old man took them, put on his spectacles, and read them carefully. Every now and then he raised his looks from the papers, as if to muse on their contents, but in reality to scrutinize with a curious eye their bearer.

"Don't be hasty, young man," said Pablo, gravely, "I doubt not you are deserving of their regard; but I have been used to the world, and have been made perhaps over suspicious by circumstances."

"From the moment, that in any transaction, I have the full approval of my employers, I suppose that relieves you from all responsibility."

"Certainly certainly-as far as their business is concerned-but here comes the caravan, and breakfast. We can resume our conversation in the evening." When breakfast was over, Pablo retired to an inner room to study his letters, and to prepare instructions for Jacob Willis, his successor. He left Walter to the care of Guadalupe. The young people were at an age when acquaintances are rapidly made. The girl had never before been thrown into the society of an educated man, while Walter had rarely been placed in a position since the commencement of his adventurous career, to study so closely the female character. Influenced by the excitement of the journey, by the romantic circumstances of his position, Walter Bruce was before evening deeply in love, while had the young girl questioned her own heart it is probable she might have made a similar discovery.

After dinner Pablo expressed a wish to be alone with his daughter and Walter. He was very pale and excited, and when he took them into an inner apartment sunk on a chair under the excess of his emotion.

"Mr. Bruce," said he gravely, after a short pause, "I am compelled to be abrupt and brief. My daughter has been kept hitherto in the dark as to the cause of my sending to Messrs. Morris and Franklin. I am devoured by an internal disease and have not many days to live."

"Father!" cried the girl.

Silence, child, and listen. Remain up here you cannot, and this is why I begged my employers to send a trusty person to me. Mr. Bruce, I have examined carefully the letters sent me, and they satisfy me completely. I begged them to send a young man, if possible, free from all ties of affection. There is no time for delicacy of feel ing or hesitation. Do you think it proba ble, after one day's acquaintance that you could be happy with my daughter for your wife ?"

66

Sir," cried Walter Bruce warmly, "I have this day learned to believe in those sudden passions which carry us away in an instant beyond all the calculations of reason. I love your daughter."

"This is better than I expected. And now, young man, close that door, and listen to me. Are you willing to take her portion

less and without fortune?"

"I am young, in health, and able to work," said Walter, who was vainly endeavoring to catch the eyes of the blushing and puzzled beauty.

"Enough. Walter Bruce, you see before you the richest heiress in America. Surrounded by her children, I had hoped myself to enjoy fortune and its favors. But I have waited too long and I shall never leave this place. Young man, in this country you tread on gold as you walk. The whole land is one mass of mineral riches. But I alone know it. For twenty years I have toiled in secret, at first for myself, then for my child. The knowledge of what lay around me made me greedy, and the more I collected the more I wanted! Come."

The old man, whose eyes flashed with an unearthly glare, seized the lamp off the table, took a key from his breast, and bade them follow. He went a few yards down a passage, and then opened a thick door. He entered with the young couple, who had, by one stealthy pressure of the hand, ratified mutually the contract. There were in a vast natural cavity. The chamber in which they stood was twenty feet high, and as many wide, while across its centre ran a little stream, which fell into a hole, ran under the house, and joined the stream before alluded to.

"Son and daughter," said the old man, holding up his lamp, "you are in a gold mine. Above, below, around, every where is gold. It is the same all over the country, but in no place is the mineral more abundant than in the chambers of this vast cave. For twenty years have I ventured alone here, during the long hours of the night, and behold the produce of my toil."

He pointed towards a pile of small barrels occupying one corner of the cave. "And is all that gold?" cried Walter, almost breathless.

"All gold! Truly, the Indians are right, though they never suspected the truth, I