Bret Harte

Which I wish to remark,— And my language is plain,— That for ways that are dark And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar.

We are ruined by Chinese cheap labor.

With the smile that was childlike and bland.

Ah Sin was his name.

Virtue always meets reward, But quicker when it wears a sword;

But, when the goddess' work is done, The woman's still remains.

There is peace in the swamp, though the quiet is Death,

Don't be too quick To break bad habits: better stick, Like the Mission folk, to your arsenic.

And he says that the mountains are fairer For once being held in your thought;

And then, for an old man like me, it's not exactly right, This kind o' playing soldier with no enemy in sight.

Later, when we were forced to accept the fact that finding gold was really the primary object of a gold-mining company, we still remained there

Howbeit, though no scholar, I am not one of those who misuse the English speech, and, being foolishly led by the hasty custom of scriveners and printers to write the letters "T" and "H" joined together, which resembleth a "Y," do …

Well, no offense: Thar ain't no sense In gittin' riled.