hotel. The urchin looked with contempt at the coin, fished out two
fifty-cent pieces, handed them to the owner of the valise, saying
"Here's a dollar; carry it yourself."

One John A. McGlynn arrived without assets. He appreciated the
opportunity for ordinary teaming, and hitching California mules to the
only and exceedingly decrepit wagon to be found he started in business.
Possessing a monopoly, he charged what he pleased, so that within a
short time he had driving for him a New York lawyer, whom he paid a
hundred and seventy-five dollars a month. His outfit was magnificent.
When somebody joked with him about his legal talent, he replied, "The
whole business of a lawyer is to know how to manage mules and asses so
as to make them pay." When within a month plenty of wagons were
imported, McGlynn had so well established himself and possessed so much
character that he became _ex officio_ the head of the industry. He was
evidently a man of great and solid sense and was looked up to as one of
the leading citizens.

Every human necessity was crying out for its ordinary conveniences.
There were no streets, there were no hotels, there were no
lodging-houses, there were no warehouses, there were no stores, there
was no water, there was no fuel. Any one who could improvise anything,
even a bare substitute, to satisfy any of these needs, was sure of
immense returns. In addition, the populace was so busy--so
overwhelmingly busy--with its own affairs that it literally could not
spare a moment to govern itself. The professional and daring politicians
never had a clearer field. They went to extraordinary lengths in all
sorts of grafting, in the sale of public real estate, in every
"shenanigan" known to skillful low-grade politicians. Only occasionally
did they go too far, as when, in addition to voting themselves salaries