Page:California Inter Pocula.djvu/296

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starvation and  exhaustion,  with  ti|;1ped  horns  and  ter- rified expression, was  goaded  into  the  arena,  while brutal-looking tawdrily-attired  horsemen  on  raw-boned Rosinantes, attended  by  ragged  banderillos  and  chulos pricked courage  with  their  steel  weapons  into  the poor beast — which  had  all  the  sympathy  of  every human witness — and  then  clumsily  butchered  it.

Perambulating the  streets  of  San  Francisco  on  the 23d of  May,  1850,  was  a  tall,  raw  boned  man,  in  black skin and  black  clothes. His wooly  head  was  sur- mounted by a  white  beaver  with  a  broad  blue  band, and in  his  hand  he  carried  a  bell  which  served  to  fill breathing spaces  with  its  parenthetical  ringings. His demeanor was  as  grave  as  Mark  Antony's  when  he mourned  over  Caesar's  body  ;  his  voice  was  as  rich, his gesticulation  as  effective,  though  his  harangue was not  untinctured  with  a  vein  of  burlesque. A dramatic black  man,  in  black  clothes,  with  a  white hat bound  with  blue,  and  carrying  a  bell;  and  these were his  words: — "Look  a-here,  white  folks,  T'se  a- gwine  to  gib  you  all  fair  notice  dat  de  bull- fight  what is  a-gwine  to  be  dis  arternoon,  ain't  a-gwine  to  be  till to-morrow  at  de  same  time,  'coz  dey  can't  come  it. Ting-a-ling-a-ling.  'Coz  dey  ain't  got  de  bull  b}^  de horns.  He  ain't  come  to  town  yet,  but  is  comin'  fas' ever  dey  can  fetch  him  along.  So  de  bull-fight  is  a- gwine  to  come  off  to-morrow  arternoon.  Ting-a-ling- a-lino;.  An'  arter  dat  a  chicken  fisfht.  It's  truth  I'm a-tellin',  gem 'men.  The  bull  what's  agwine  to  fight  s one  of  de  bulls  what  you  read  about.  He's  done  been and  killed  nine  men  already,  but  he  says  he  can't  kill de  tenf  'coz  how  he's  too  much  for  him.  He's  eight feet,  am  dis  bull,  an'  jus'  about  sixteen  feet  long  ef  he knows  hisself. His horns  am  done  been  jus'  about six feet  'tween  de  tips,  and  de  hair  on  his  back  am been  grown  up  to  de  sky,  an'  de  crows  hab  done  gone an' made  nests  into  it. An' I'm  obliged  to  tell  you dat de  bull-fight  is  obliged  to  be  postponded  till  to- morrow arternoon, when  you  mus'  all  come  an'  see