At this moment a feigned snore broke on my ear from a bed in the corner of the apartment.—“Ha! Dutre, is that you? Come, tumble up, and aid me in stirring out the rest.” He pointed under the bed, where I discovered, just within the drop of the valance a multitude of feet and legs radiating as from a common centre. “Hallo there, friends—turn out!” and out came some half-dozen or more, covered with dust and feathers, and odorous as the nameless furniture left behind. Their plight and discovery threw them into a laugh at each other. From this apartment, accompanied by my secretary, I proceeded to others, where I found the slopers stowed away in every imaginable position—some in the beds, some under them, several in closets, two in a hogshead, and one up a chimney. Mr. R——, from Missouri—known here under the soubriquet of “the prairie-wolf”—I found between two bed-ticks, with his coat and boots on, and half smothered with the feathers. He was the ringleader, and raises a monté table wherever he goes as regularly as a whale comes to the surface to blow. All shouted as he tumbled out from his ticks. Among the rest I found the alcalde of San Francisco, a gentleman of education and refinement, who never plays himself, but who, on this occasion, had come to witness the excitement. I gathered them all, some fifty in number, into the large saloon, and told them the only speech I had to make was in the shape of a fine of twenty dollars each. The more astute began to demur on the plea of not guilty, as no cards and no money had been discovered; and as for the beds, a man had as good a right to sleep under one as in it. I told them that was a matter of taste, misfortune often made strange bedfellows, and the only way to get out of the scrape was to pay up. Dr. S—— was the first to plank down. “Come, my good fellows,” said the doctor, “pay up, and no grumbling; this money goes to build a school-house, where I hope our children will be taught better principles than they gather from the example of their fathers.” The “prairie-wolf” planked down next, and in ten minutes the whole, Chillanos, Sonoranians, Oregonians, Californians, Englices, Americanos, delivered in their fines. These, with the hundred dollar fine of the keeper of the hotel, filled quite a bag. With this I bade them good night, and took my departure. I hope the doctor’s prediction will prove true; certainly it shall not be my fault if it turns out a failure. In all this there was not an angry look or petulant remark; they knew I was doing my duty, and they felt that they atoned in part for a violation of theirs through their fines. If you must hold office be an alcalde, be absolute, but be upright, impartial, and humane.