who was supposed to spend his whole existence in a persistent attempt
to repose, must not be disturbed by noise. The shouting and yelling,
which had gained the camp its infelicitous title, were not permitted
within hearing distance of Stumpy's. The men conversed in whispers or
smoked with Indian gravity. Profanity was tacitly given up in these
sacred precincts, and throughout the camp a popular form of expletive,
known as "D--n the luck!" and "Curse the luck!" was abandoned, as
having a new personal bearing. Vocal music was not interdicted, being
supposed to have a soothing, tranquilizing quality; and one song, sung
by "Man-o'-War Jack," an English sailor from her Majesty's Australian
colonies, was quite popular as a lullaby. It was a lugubrious recital
of the exploits of "the Arethusa, Seventy-four," in a muffled minor,
ending with a prolonged dying fall at the burden of each verse," On b-
oo-o-ard of the Arethusa." It was a fine sight to see Jack holding The
Luck, rocking from side to side as if with the motion of a ship, and
crooning forth this naval ditty. Either through the peculiar rocking
of Jack or the length of his song,--it contained ninety stanzas, and
was continued with conscientious deliberation to the bitter end,--the
lullaby generally had the desired effect. At such times the men would
lie at full length under the trees in the soft summer twilight,
smoking their pipes and drinking in the melodious utterances. An
indistinct idea that this was pastoral happiness pervaded the camp.
"This 'ere kind o' think," said the Cockney Simmons, meditatively
reclining on his elbow, "is 'evingly." It reminded him of Greenwich.

On the long summer days The Luck was usually carried to the gulch from
whence the golden store of Roaring Camp was taken. There, on a blanket
spread over pine boughs, he would lie while the men were working in
the ditches below. Latterly there was a rude attempt to decorate this
bower with flowers and sweet-smelling shrubs, and generally some one