St Ignatius College - Ignatian Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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E. I. Fitzpatrick W. T. Sweigert J. C. Hughes I. H. Born F. A. Hughes N. B. Maroevich T. I. Ilnlpin

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The Pessimist of Gold-Bug b ltlayo J, llrolan N OLD-BVG GULCH was a bad place, goodness knows, yet it was neither better nor worse than the ordinary run of early mining camps. lt had its half dozen sa- loons for every five hundred inhabitants, but the climate was dry and the inhabitants drier. lt had its wide open gamb- ling-hells, the shrines of miscellaneous wickedness, but it made no apology for itself, offered no invitation to the straight-laced and virtuousg it simply said, l am what l am. lf you woo me you must. take me for better or for worse . The ordinary inhabitant never bothered his brains to see on which side the balance lay. This call of the wild had filled his ears and the glitter of gold had dazzled his eyes. There was but one exception, Seb Steffins, the man of the cool gray eyes and stubborn chin, rugged of form and the best pistol-shot among them. He had made up his mind on the first day of his advent, Gold-Bug lied if it spoke of The better 5 and yet it seemed paradoxical that it couldn't be Worse . Taeiturn on other subjects, he was eloquent on the short- comings of Gold-Bug. ln the beginning, local pride was sensitive, quite a number loudly protested their anxiety to champion its nameg some few were rash enough to make the attempt. Then Gold-Bug awoke to the fact that it was prouder of its new citizen than of its good. reputation. At least it was willing to concede him privileges that it was still shy in granting to others. Besides, it was no little dis- tinction to be considered the worst place in the world by a man whose pistol-finger was so highly respected. But if Seb Steffins found Gold-ling so bad, he was far from' being a severe moralist. The whole world was blaelt to him, what else was to be expected of Gold-ling. The town sometimes wondered, but never he. Every new facc

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TUE PESSIJIIST OI GOLD-BFG ZS confirmed his theory that the world and its institutions were sunk in perdition. When Harry Hoefler, the piano-player at the Argonaut, eloped with the widow Zander, and left his wife and three small children to fight life 's battle alone, he discoursed long and eloquently on marriage as a moek- ery. NVhen John Trueman, the cashier of the Gold-ling National Bank, absconded with the funds, he recalled to his hearers' minds his pet theory that ni one eould be trusted. NVhen Andy Jones, the postmaster, was short in l1is aeeounts. Heb showed that Government of the people, by the people and for the people was a fizzle. And when it was reported that the clergyman at Sheba Junction had repudiated an unsecured loan from a parishioner, he huddled the elergy of all times and placed into a common group and drove them through the gate that leaves all hope behind. What had soured this man was one mystery. Wlltll kept him in Gold-Bug was another. A man lineage in a mining Camp began and ended with himself. There was nothing to inquire as to that. His history began with the last plaee he came from. lt was dangerous to pry further unless by Hspeeial request. Seb had come from 'Frisco with plenty of moneyg had casually inquired about Bert Handley. a gambler. whom. he said. he had known as a boy and whom relatives in the East were desirous of communicating with: and had manifested little emotion when a deserted hut was shown him in a redwood thicket with a narrow mound a short way off. He had expected sueh an end, he said. t'Gamblers were fated to it. and it was to be by one hand or another. But it seemed as if his own hand moved instinc- tively to his pistol though he quickly suppressed the mo- tion, and turning away asked if Bert had been alone. He was answered that he left a wife and a boy of fifteellz llllf as the tragedy had taken plaee a short time after the gam- bler's arrival, and mother and son had kept to themselves, little was known about them. Their only request was to be left undisturbed with the deadg to have the burial strictly