been resorted to had not the prisoner been secretly removed from the city and taken to Sacramento.  The exasperation of a large number, at this escape of their intended victim, vented itself on me, and cost me at least a hundred votes in the city.  I would not have acted otherwise had I known beforehand that such would be the result of my conduct.  When the civil tribunals are open and in the undisturbed exercise of their jurisdiction, a resort to violence can never be approved or excused.

I witnessed some strange scenes during the campaign, which well illustrated the anomalous condition of society in the county.  I will mention one of them.  As I approached Grass Valley, then a beautiful spot among the hills, occupied principally by Mr. Walsh, a name since become familiar to Californians, I came to a building by the wayside, a small lodging-house and drinking-saloon, opposite to which a Lynch jury were sitting, trying a man upon a charge of stealing gold dust.  I stopped and watched for awhile the progress of the trial.  On an occasion of some little delay in the proceedings, I mentioned to those present, the jury included, that I was a candidate for the Legislature, and that I would be glad if they would join me in a glass in the saloon, an invitation which was seldom declined in those days.  It was at once accepted, and leaving the accused in the hands of an improvised constable, the jury entered the house and partook of the drinks which its bar afforded.  I had discovered, or imagined from the appearance of the prisoner, that he had been familiar in other days with a very different life from that of California, and my sympathies were moved towards him.  So, after the jurors had taken their drinks and were talking pleasantly together, I slipped out of the building and approaching the man, said to him, “What is the case against you?  Can I help you?” The poor fellow looked up to me and his eyes filled with great globules of tears as he replied.  “I am innocent of all I am charged with.  I have never stolen anything nor cheated any one; but I have no one here to befriend me.”  That was enough for me.  Those eyes, filled as they were, touched my heart.  I hurried back to the saloon; and as the jurors were standing about chatting with each other I exclaimed, “How is this? you have not had your cigars?  Mr. bar-keeper, please give the gentlemen the best you have; and, besides, I added, let us have another ’smile’—­it is not often you have a candidate for the Legislature among you.”  A laugh followed, and a ready acceptance was given to the invitation.  In the meantime my eyes rested upon a benevolent-looking man among the jury, and I singled him out for conversation.  I managed to draw him aside and inquired what State he came from.  He replied, from Connecticut.  I then asked if his parents lived there.  He answered, with a faltering voice, “My father is dead; my mother and sister are there.”  I then said, “Your thoughts, I dare say, go out constantly