limpidly from the cigaretted lips of the ten-year-old lad than from those of his mother, who taught it to him. One may notice that the husband and wife who smile the sweetest at each other in the sight of the multitudes are they whose countenances bear various scars and scratches commemorating late evening orgies at home; that the peculiar solid, block-shaped appearance of some of the miners' wives is due quite as much to the quantity of beer they drink as to their annual maternity; that the one grand ruling passion of some men's lives is curiosity;—that the entire herd is warped, distorted, barren, having lived its life in smoke-cured Butte.
A single street in Butte contains people in nearly every walk of life—living side by side resignedly, if not in peace.
In a row of five or six houses there will be living miners and their families, the children of which prevent life
