against one of the fluted pillars, and, when I had at last finished, made his way up to the choir and, interpolating himself between two damsels, sang everything and everybody out of tune from a temperance hymn-book. CHAPTER XXX. RUNNING FOR OFFICE. This is the confession of a political villain; not, however, a perjured political villain. I never swore to run for office for my country’s good. I did run once for an office for my own good. I was unsuccessful. Virtue has its own reward; so has vice. The wicked do not always flourish like green bay trees. Indeed, judging from a home experience, I am not prepared to say that they flourish at all. The fall political campaign of 1866-67 came on while I was carrying my comic lecture about the camps of Tuolumne, Stanislaus, and Mariposa. A thought one day took possession of me, “Why not run for the Legislature?” I belonged to a political party. My frozen toes troubled me a good deal and the lecture did not pay much over expenses. I consulted with one of the pillars of our party. He belonged in Oak Flat. I took the pillar behind Dan Munn’s store on Rattlesnake Creek and avowed my intention. The pillar took a big chew of tobacco, stared, grinned, and said: “Why not?” I consulted with another pillar behind Bob Love’s store in Montezuma. He was throwing dirt from a prospect-hole with a long-handled shovel. He leaned on the shovel, blew his nose _au natural_ without artificial aid, grinned, and after some deliberation said: “Why not?” I found another pillar of our party slumming out a reservoir near Jamestown. He was enveloped in yellow mud to his waist, and smaller bodies of mud plastered him upward. A short pipe was in his mouth and a slumgullion shovel in his hand. He said: “Go in for it and win.”