I do not wish it to be understood that Joe was a common village
lounger, or loafer.

When Joe entered the store he found the usual company present, but
with one addition.

This was Seth Larkin, who had just returned from California, whither
he had gone eighteen months before, and was, of course, an object of
great attention, and plied with numerous questions by his old
acquaintances in regard to the land of promise in the far West, of
which all had heard so much.

It was in the fall of the year 1851, and so in the early days of
California.

Seth was speaking as Joe entered.

"Is there gold in California?" repeated Seth, apparently in answer to
a question. "I should say there was. Why, it's chock full of it.
People haven't begun to find out the richness of the country. It's
the place for a poor man to go if he wants to become rich. What's
the prospects here? I ask any one of you. A man may go working and
plodding from one year's end to another and not have ten dollars at
the end of it. There's some here that know that I speak the truth."

"How much better can a man do in California?" asked Daniel Tompkins.

"Well, Dan," said Seth, "it depends on the kind of man he is. If
he's a man like you, that spends his money for rum as fast as he gets
it, I should say it's just as well to stay here. But if he's willing