The whole place was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Whether it was
primarily a bar, a gambling resort, or a sort of a public club with
trimmings, he could not have determined. Many of those present, perhaps a
majority, were neither gambling, nor drinking; they seemed not to be adding
to the profits of the place in any way, but either wandered about or sat in
the easy chairs, smoking, reading papers, or attending to the occasional
outbreaks of the minstrels. It was most interesting.

They joined a group in the far corner. A white-clad negro instantly brought
them chairs, and hovered discreetly near. Among those sitting about Keith
recognized several he had met in the afternoon; and to several more he was
introduced. Of these the one who most instantly impressed him was called
Morrell. This was evidently a young Englishman, a being of a type raised
quite abundantly in England, but more rarely seen in native Americans--the
lean-faced, rather flat-cheeked, high-cheek-boned, aquiline-nosed, florid-
complexioned, silent, clean-built sort that would seem to represent the
high-bred, finely drawn product of a long social evolution. These traits
when seen in the person of a native-born American generally do represent
this fineness; but the English, having been longer at the production of
their race, can often produce the outward semblance without necessarily the
inner reality. Many of us even now do not quite realize that fact;
certainly in 1852 most of us did not. Morrell was dressed in riding
breeches, carried a short bamboo crop, smiled engagingly to exhibit even,
strong, white teeth, and had little to say.

"A beverage seems called for," remarked Judge Caldwell, a gross, explosive,
tobacco-chewing man, with a merry, reckless eye. The order given, the
conversation swung back to the topic that had occupied it before Keith and
Sansome had arrived.