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“ Yes.”
“Then introduce me.”
“ Hum!”
says my friend, an Oxford man, “ it is a little awkward.
We have not seen each other lately; not that we have quarrelled; but the last time we met he fired in my face.”
“Fired in your face?”
“Well, we exchanged shots.
No harm was done.
So long as we avoid each other, things are smooth; but if we spoke, blood might be shed.”
Men and women in California are hearty and open in the highest sense.
You are at home in every house, in every club, in every public place.
Your face is an introduction, your colour a credential.
California is a land of treats and drives, of drinks and dinners.
What a host of clubs we have in every town, and what excellent suppers they provide!
Here hospitality is king.
Shall we forget our forenoons at a country house, our afternoons on a race-course, our evenings at a club?
Never, till we have ceased to claim our share in the untameable vitality of our common race.
These jovial denizens must have their moral as they have their physical stimulants.
One day they
1875.
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