THURSDAY, OCT. 19. All the gold-diggers through the entire encampment, were shaken out of their slumbers this morning by a report that a solid pocket of gold had been discovered in a bend of the Stanislaus. In half an hour a motley multitude, covered with crowbars, pickaxes, spades, rifles, and wash-bowls, went streaming over the hills in the direction of the new deposits. You would have thought some fortress was to be stormed, or some citadel sapped. I had seen too much of these rumored banks of gold to be moved from my propriety, and remained under my old camping-tree. Near this I pecked out from a small crevice of slate rock, a piece weighing about half an ounce. It had evidently travelled some distance, and taken refuge from the propulsive storms of ages in this little hiding-place, as a good man from the persecutions of the world glides down at last to his sainted repose. But I have no compunction for having disturbed this piece of gold; it may yet be shaped into an ear-drop, and kiss the envied cheek of beauty; or it may be studded with diamonds, and swell on a billow that seems to blush at the flash of its ray; or it may be shaped into the marriage-ring, and set its seal on the purest bliss that greets the visits of angels; or it may be stamped into a coin, and as it drops into the hands of the widow or orphan, prove that— “The secret pleasure of a generous act Is the great mind’s great bribe.” But evening is returning, and with it the gold-diggers from their pursuit of the new deposit. Their jokes, as they clatter down the slopes of the ravine, are sufficient evidence that they have been on a wild-goose chase. Disappointment will make a single man sober, but when it falls on a multitude, is often converted into a source of railery and fun. There is something extremely consoling in having the company of others, when we have been duped through our vanity or exaggerated hopes. This comfort was deeply felt by the diggers this evening. All had lost a day, and with it the most enchanting visions of wealth. All had returned hungry as a wolf on a desert; or a recluse listening in his last penance to the sound of his cross-bones, shaken by the wind. CHAPTER XXII. VISIT TO THE SONORANIAN CAMP.—FESTIVITIES AND GAMBLING.—THE DOCTOR AND TEAMSTER.—AN ALCALDE TURNED COOK.—THE MINER’S TATTOO.—THE LITTLE DUTCHMAN.—NEW DEPOSITS DISCOVERED.—A WOMAN KEEPING A MONTÉ TABLE.—UP TO THE KNEE AND NINE-PENCE.—THE VOLCANOES AND GOLD.—ARRIVAL OF A BARREL OF RUM.