Here, too, were congregated those human vultures that feed and fatten upon the frailties and follies of their fellowmen.  The town proper numbered about six saloons to every legitimate business house.  Of evenings the gambling hells were a glare of light, and music, both vocal and instrumental, floated out upon the streets to tempt the miners to enter, while away an hour, and incidentally part with their well-earned dust.  Some of these hells had “lady waitresses,” poor, faded, blear-eyed creatures, in gaudy finery, and upon whose features was stamped the everlasting brand of God’s outlawry.  These dens of iniquity were only too frequently the scene of awful tragedies, and the sawdust floors drank up the blood of many a poor unfortunate.  If the encounter was between two gamblers the miners paid little attention.  But if, as was often the case, some miner, crazed with an overdose of “double-distilled damnation,” fell a victim to the revolver or knife of a gambler, there was sure to be “something doing.”  Among these restless, adventurous men there was a semblance of law, but its administration was too often a mockery and a farce.  This, however, only applies to the early days of the camp.

One of the saddest of life’s tragedies is associated in my mind with an employee of one of these places.  His name was Brown, and he was a musician of some merit.  He had with him a young and beautiful wife and infant daughter.  He played the violin at night and received $10 for each of the seven nights of the week.  He was a man of good morals as far as could be observed, and sober withal.  One morning he left the saloon at 2 o’clock, as was his custom.  From the moment he passed out of the door he disappeared from the sight of men as effectually as the light of an extinguished candle.  He was popular and had not a known enemy in the world.  But whether he was murdered and his body concealed, or whether he left the country, remained an unsolved mystery.  The latter theory had few or no adherents, as he was tenderly attached to his wife and child.  Be that as it may.  Soon after the disappearance of the musician, a young physician, who was handsome, accomplished, and talented, made his advent into Canyon City.  In due time he became interested in the comely widow, and when sufficient time had elapsed, and no tidings came back of the missing husband and father, legal steps were taken, a divorce secured and the young physician made the widow his wife.  As years rolled away and the mines “played out,” the Doctor and his wife and little girl moved to a town in the Willamette valley.  There he prospered, gaining not only gold but that which is far more precious the love and respect of his fellow-man, and, being a public-spirited man, he took an active interest in political and other public matters.  In the campaign of 1874 he received the nomination from his party for State Senator.  His election was a foregone conclusion, as his party had not only a majority of