So argued this Englishman.
On Rich bar of Feather river, a wild rocky region, were gathered in 1852 a community consisting for the most part of experienced miners, old Californians they might almost call themselves, having been in the country during those days of rapid development, many of them for the full period of three years. The houses were mostly of cloth in the spring, but before winter lo? cabins were scattered alonsf the stream, with great gashes cut by the miners in the bank hill-sides at short intervals all the way down to Indian bar.
Among the rest was a young man of fine physique, tall and strong, well built, broad shouldered, muscular and sinewy, with an open, frank, intelligent face, which commanded at once friendship and respect. Duke John was the nickname the miners gave him, so noble was he in mind, and heart, and bearing, and this was all the name he was ever known by there.
He was steady in all his habits; he did not drink, or smoke or gamble; he took care of himself, ate and slept regularly, and rested on Sundays. His mind, which evidently had been cultivated, seemed dwelling on some object or purpose which buoyed up the whole man, for in his daily work, to which he had now become quite accustomed, he was as happy as he was prosperous.
He had some money when he came to the bar; and as he confined himself to coyoting in the banks rather than fluming the river bed, he added to his wealth, until there was of it some $20,000, with which before the snows set in he intended to leave the mountains and return home.
There were gamblers here of course. By this time every prosperous mining camp had its professional gamblers, as surely as its butcher, doctor, or rum-seller. The very fact of the presence of the fraternity, in fat, sleek proportions, was the best proof
