The Luck of Roaring Camp and Other Tales
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Bret Harte. The Luck of Roaring Camp and Other Tales
PUBLISHERS’ NOTE
GENERAL INTRODUCTION
THE LUCK OF ROARING CAMP, AND OTHER STORIES AND SKETCHES
THE LUCK OF ROARING CAMP
THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT
MIGGLES
TENNESSEE’S PARTNER
THE IDYL OF BED GULCH
BROWN OF CALAVERAS
CONDENSED NOVELS
MUCK-A-MUCK
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
SELINA SEDILIA
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
THE NINETY-NINE GUARDSMEN
CHAPTER I. SHOWING THE QUALITY OF THE CUSTOMERS OF THE INNKEEPER OF PROVINS
CHAPTER II. THE COMBAT
CHAPTER III. SHOWING HOW THE KING OF FRANCE WENT UP A LADDER
MISS MIX
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
MR. MIDSHIPMAN BEEEZY
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
GUY HEAVYSTONE; OR, “ENTIRE”
CHAPTER I “NEREI REPANDIROSTRUM INCURVICERVICUM PECUS.”
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
JOHN JENKINS
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II. THE DOWNWARD PATH
CHAPTER III AND LAST
FANTINE
PROLOGUE
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
“LA FEMME”
II. THE INFANT
III. THE DOLL
IV. THE MUD PIE
V. THE FIRST LOVE
VI. THE WIFE
VII. HER OLD AGE
THE DWELLER OF THE THRESHOLD
BOOK II. IN THE WORLD
BOOK III. THE DWELLER OF THE THRESHOLD
BOOK IV. MYSELF
N N. BEING A NOVEL IN THE FRENCH PARAGRAPHIC STYLE
NO TITLE
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER I. MARY JONES’S NARRATIVE
CHAPTER II. THE SLIM YOUNG MAN’S STORY
CHAPTER III. NO. 27 LIMEHOUSE ROAD
CHAPTER IV. COUNT MOSCOW’S NARRATIVE
CHAPTER V. DR. DIGGS’S STATEMENT
CHAPTER LAST. STATEMENT OF THE PUBLISHER
HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII3
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
LOTHAW
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
THE HAUNTED MAN
PART I. THE FIRST PHANTOM
PART II. THE SECOND PHANTOM
TERENCE DENVILLE
CHAPTER I. MY HOME
CHAPTER II. THE FIGHTING FIFTY-SIXTH
MARY McGILLUP. A SOUTHERN NOVEL
INTRODUCTION
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
THE HOODLUM BAND
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
EARLIER SKETCHES
M’LISS
CHAPTER I. SMITH’S POCKET
CHAPTER II. WHICH CONTAINS A DREAM OF THE JUST ARISTIDES
CHAPTER III. UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE
CHAPTER IV. WHICH HAS A GOOD MORAL TENDENCY
CHAPTER V “OPEN SESAME”
CHAPTER VI. THE TRIALS OF MRS. MORPHER
CHAPTER VII. THE PEOPLE vs. JOHN DOE WATERS. Before Chief Justice LYNCH
CHAPTER VIII. THE AUTHOR TO THE READER—EXPLANATORY
CHAPTER IX. CLEANING UP
CHAPTER X. THE RED ROCK
HIGH-WATER MARK
A LONELY RIDE
THE MAN OF NO ACCOUNT
NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELD
PART I. IN THE FIELD
PART II. IN THE FLOOD
WAITING FOR THE SHIP. A FORT POINT IDYL
A NIGHT AT WINGDAM
SPANISH AND AMERICAN LEGENDS
THE LEGEND OF MONTE DEL DIABLO
THE RIGHT EYE OF THE COMMANDER
THE LEGEND OF DEVIL’S POINT
THE ADVENTURE OF PADRE VICENTIO. A LEGEND OF SAN FRANCISCO
THE DEVIL AND THE BROKER. A MEDIAEVAL LEGEND
THE OGRESS OF SILVER LAND. OR
THE CHRISTMAS GIFT THAT CAME TO RUPERT. A STORY FOR LITTLE SOLDIERS
Отрывок из книги
The opportunity here offered1 to give some account of the genesis of these Californian sketches, and the conditions under which they were conceived, is peculiarly tempting to an author who has been obliged to retain a decent professional reticence under a cloud of ingenious surmise, theory, and misinterpretation. He very gladly seizes this opportunity to establish the chronology of the sketches, and incidentally to show that what are considered the “happy accidents” of literature are very apt to be the results of quite logical and often prosaic processes.
The author’s first volume was published in 1865 in a thin book of verse, containing, besides the titular poem, “The Lost Galleon,” various patriotic contributions to the lyrics of the Civil War, then raging, and certain better known humorous pieces, which have been hitherto interspersed with his later poems in separate volumes, but are now restored to their former companionship. This was followed in 1867 by “The Condensed Novels,” originally contributed to the “San Francisco Californian,” a journal then edited by the author, and a number of local sketches entitled “Bohemian Papers,” making a single not very plethoric volume, the author’s first book of prose. But he deems it worthy of consideration that during this period, i.e. from 1862 to 1866, he produced “The Society upon the Stanislaus” and “The Story of M’liss,”—the first a dialectical poem, the second a Californian romance,—his first efforts toward indicating a peculiarly characteristic Western American literature. He would like to offer these facts as evidence of his very early, half-boyish but very enthusiastic belief in such a possibility,—a belief which never deserted him, and which, a few years later, from the better-known pages of “The Overland Monthly,” he was able to demonstrate to a larger and more cosmopolitan audience in the story of “The Luck of Roaring Camp” and the poem of the “Heathen Chinee.” But it was one of the anomalies of the very condition of life that he worked amidst, and endeavored to portray, that these first efforts were rewarded by very little success; and, as he will presently show, even “The Luck of Roaring Camp” depended for its recognition in California upon its success elsewhere. Hence the critical reader will observe that the bulk of these earlier efforts, as shown in the first two volumes, were marked by very little flavor of the soil, but were addressed to an audience half foreign in their sympathies, and still imbued with Eastern or New England habits and literary traditions. “Home” was still potent with these voluntary exiles in their moments of relaxation. Eastern magazines and current Eastern literature formed their literary recreation, and the sale of the better class of periodicals was singularly great. Nor was the taste confined to American literature. The illustrated and satirical English journals were as frequently seen in California as in Massachusetts; and the author records that he has experienced more difficulty in procuring a copy of “Punch” in an English provincial town than was his fortune at “Red Dog” or “One-Horse Gulch.” An audience thus liberally equipped and familiar with the best modern writers was naturally critical and exacting, and no one appreciates more than he does the salutary effects of this severe discipline upon his earlier efforts.
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It was a warm night. The cool breeze which usually sprang up with the going down of the sun behind the chaparral-crested mountain was that evening withheld from Sandy Bar. The little canon was stifling with heated resinous odors, and the decaying driftwood on the Bar sent forth faint sickening exhalations. The feverishness of day and its fierce passions still filled the camp. Lights moved restlessly along the bank of the river, striking no answering reflection from its tawny current. Against the blackness of the pines the windows of the old loft above the express-office stood out staringly bright; and through their curtainless panes the loungers below could see the forms of those who were even then deciding the fate of Tennessee. And above all this, etched on the dark firmament, rose the Sierra, remote and passionless, crowned with remoter passionless stars.
The trial of Tennessee was conducted as fairly as was consistent with a judge and jury who felt themselves to some extent obliged to justify, in their verdict, the previous irregularities of arrest and indictment. The law of Sandy Bar was implacable, but not vengeful. The excitement and personal feeling of the chase were over; with Tennessee safe in their hands, they were ready to listen patiently to any defense, which they were already satisfied was insufficient. There being no doubt in their own minds, they were willing to give the prisoner the benefit of any that might exist. Secure in the hypothesis that he ought to be hanged on general principles, they indulged him with more latitude of defense than his reckless hardihood seemed to ask. The Judge appeared to be more anxious than the prisoner, who, otherwise unconcerned, evidently took a grim pleasure in the responsibility he had created. “I don’t take any hand in this yer game,” had been his invariable but good-humored reply to all questions. The Judge—who was also his captor—for a moment vaguely regretted that he had not shot him “on sight” that morning, but presently dismissed this human weakness as unworthy of the judicial mind. Nevertheless, when there was a tap at the door, and it was said that Tennessee’s Partner was there on behalf of the prisoner, he was admitted at once without question. Perhaps the younger members of the jury, to whom the proceedings were becoming irksomely thoughtful, hailed him as a relief.
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