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قراءة كتاب The Gringos A Story Of The Old California Days In 1849

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The Gringos
A Story Of The Old California Days In 1849

The Gringos A Story Of The Old California Days In 1849

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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THE GRINGOS

A STORY OF THE OLD CALIFORNIA DAYS IN 1849
BY B.M. BOWER
1913
With Illustrations By Anton Otto Fischer

'Gringos Are Savages and Worse Than Savages.'

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I wish to make public acknowledgment of the assistance I have received from George W. Lee, a "Forty-niner" who has furnished me with data, material, and color which have been invaluable in the writing of this story.


CONTENTS


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

"Gringos Are Savages and Worse Than Savages."

He Twisted in the Saddle and Sent Leaden Answer to The Spiteful Barking of the Guns.

Mrs. Jerry Took the Señorita's Hand and Smiled up At Her.

"An Accident It Must Appear to Those Who Watch"


The Gringos

CHAPTER I

THE BEGINNING OF IT

If you would glimpse the savage which normally lies asleep, thank God, in most of us, you have only to do this thing of which I shall tell you, and from some safe sanctuary where leaden couriers may not bear prematurely the tidings of man's debasement, watch the world below. You may see civilization swing back with a snap to savagery and worse—because savagery enlightened by the civilization of centuries is a deadly thing to let loose among men. Our savage forebears were but superior animals groping laboriously after economic security and a social condition that would yield most prolifically the fruit of all the world's desire, happiness; to-day, when we swing back to something akin to savagery, we do it for lust of gain, like our forebears, but we do it wittingly. So, if you would look upon the unlovely spectacle of civilized men turned savage, and see them toil painfully back to lawful living, you have but to do this:

Seek a spot remote from the great centers of our vaunted civilization, where Nature, in a wanton gold-revel of her own, has sprinkled her river beds with the shining dust, hidden it away under ledges, buried it in deep canyons in playful miserliness and salved with its potent glow the time-scars upon the cheeks of her gaunt mountains. You have but to find a tiny bit of Nature's gold, fling it in the face of civilization and raise the hunting cry.

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