GOLD-HUNTERS. 37 
poison (miscalled whisky), and purchase trashy 
trumpery, made, like Pindar’s razors, only to sell ; 
and thus fool away his wealth; ‘earned like a 
horse, squandered like an ass!’ Both species were 
well represented, in what could not, in any sense 
of the word, as yet be called a town. 
The old trading-post of the Hudson’s Bay Com- 
pany, the governor’s house, and a few scattered 
residences of the chief traders and other employés 
of the Company, alone represented the per- 
manent dwellings. But in all directions were 
canvas tents, from the white strip stretched 
over a ridge-pole, and: pegged to the ground 
(affording just room enough for two to crawl in 
and sleep), to the great canvas store, a blaze of 
light, redolent of cigars, smashes, cobblers, and 
cocktails. The rattle of the dice-box, the dron- 
Ing invitation of the keepers of the monte-tables, 
the discordant sounds of badly-played instru- 
ments,angr y words, oaths too terrible to name, 
roystering songs with noisy refrains, were all 
sions significant of the golden talisman that 
met me on every side, as I elbowed my way 
amidst the unkempt throng, that were awaiting 
means of conyeyance to take them to the auri- 
ferous bars of the far-famed Fraser river. Along 
the side of the harbour, wherever advantageous 
