of day before
yesterday in Italy, where the earnest Austrian duel is in vogue. I
knew Cavalotti slightly, and this gives me a sort of personal
interest in his duel. I first saw him in Rome several years ago. He
was sitting on a block of stone in the Forum, and was writing
something in his note-book--a poem or a challenge, or something
like that--and the friend who pointed him out to me said, "That is
Cavalotti--he has fought thirty duels; do not disturb him." I did
not disturb him.

[_May 13, 1907._] It is a long time ago. Cavalotti--poet, orator,
satirist, statesman, patriot--was a great man, and his death was deeply
lamented by his countrymen: many monuments to his memory testify to
this. In his duels he killed several of his antagonists and disabled the
rest. By nature he was a little irascible. Once when the officials of
the library of Bologna threw out his books the gentle poet went up there
and challenged the whole fifteen! His parliamentary duties were
exacting, but he proposed to keep coming up and fighting duels between
trains until all those officials had been retired from the activities of
life. Although he always chose the sword to fight with, he had never had
a lesson with that weapon. When game was called he waited for nothing,
but always plunged at his opponent and rained such a storm of wild and
original thrusts and whacks upon him that the man was dead or crippled
before he could bring his science to bear. But his latest antagonist
discarded science, and won. He held his sword straight forward like a
lance when Cavalotti made his plunge--with the result that he impaled
himself upon it. It entered his mouth and passed out at the back of his
neck. Death was instantaneous.

[_Dictated December 20, 1906._] Six months ago, when I was recalling
early days in San Francisco, I broke off at a place where I was about
to tell about Captain Osborn's odd adventure at the "What Cheer," or
perhaps it was at another cheap feeding-place--the "Miners' Restaurant."
It was a place where one could get good food on the cheapest possible
terms, and its popularity was great among the multitudes whose purses
were light It was a good place to go to, to observe mixed humanity.
Captain Osborn and Bret Harte went there one day and took a meal, and in
the course of it Osborn fished up an interesting reminiscence of a dozen
years before and told about it. It was to this effect:

He was a