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the uproar of laughter, flying tumolers, and broken curses which followed.

One night, a Mexican with his face half concealed in an old serape, entered the El Dorado, and edging his way through the crowd stepped before a monte table. After following the game for a short time, he drew forth an old linen bag of coin, supposed of course to be silver dollars, and placing it upon a card leaned over the table, and—apparently forsaken by his usual stoicism—watched the dealer's fingers with breathless anxiety. The Mexican won; the dealer with quiet indifference pulled the bag over to him, untied the string, and emptied out the contents. His face turned white as a sheet, even his customary coolness deserted him; for out of the bag had rolled, not silver dollars as every one supposed, but golden doubloons, more than enough to break the bank. The gambler, however, borrowed sufficient from his neighbors and paid the Mexican who withdrew as quietly as he had entered.

One day a Mexican rode up to a gambling saloon at the Mission Dolores. Dismounting, he tied his horse, entered, and began betting. Soon his money, pistols, and all his belongings were gone. Finally his horse was staked and lost; but this was more than he could endure, and he determined to save it. As he rose from the table he managed to upset it, and while all were engaged in picking up the scattered money, he slipped out, mounted, and galloped away.

There was in San Francisco, about 1855, a speculator whose business consisted in organizing lotteries on a scale hitherto unknown. He went to Europe for the purpose of collecting an interminable assortment of objects of all kinds suited to the American taste, and during several months had a great exposition in one of the principal towns of the Union, used all kinds of wise stratagems to announce it, and ended by realizing a profit of $50,000 or $60,000. The collection which he exhibited at San Francisco was a