o be comforted.

All this was very beautiful--a touch of tenderness in it all; but it was
spoiled by the reflection that she had allured and almost forced the
fellow into the fight, in hopes of revenging herself on the man whom she
hated, and by whose hand he had to fall.

There was another woman there who was very benevolent--in fact, they all
were liberal with their money, and were the first and freest to bestow
upon the needy. This woman was a Mexican--from Durango, I think; and her
name was Dolores. Gentle in her manner, patient, sad; not often in the
difficulties that distinguished the others; but generally alone, and by
far the best liked of all these poor Magdalens. This good nature of hers
made her most accessible, and so she was most sought for deeds of
charity. Toward Spring it was said she was ill; but no one seemed to
know, or maybe no one cared.

If you will stop here to consider, it will occur to you that it is a
man's disposition to avoid a sick woman; but a woman's disposition to
seek out a sick man and nurse him back to health. This being true, here
is a text for the Sorosis.

A bank had caved on a man--only a prospecter, a German, who lived away
in a little cabin on the hill-side--and crushed him frightfully. The man
was penniless and alone, and help had to come from the camp.

Some one went to Dolores. She was in her room or cabin, out a little way
from any one, alone and ill, sitting up in bed, looking "wild enough,"
as the man afterwards stated. He told her what had happened. She leaned
her head on her hand a moment, and then lifted it, looked up, and drew a
costly ring from her finger, the only one on her pale, thin hand, and
gave it to the man, who hurried away to get other aid elsewhere.

Now there was nothing very odd or unusual in a woman giving a ring. That
was often done. In fact, there was scarcely any coin on the Creek. In
cases of this kind a man generally gave the biggest nugget or specimen
he had in his pocket, a ring if he could not do better, sometimes a
six-shooter, and so on, and let them make the best of it, but always
something, if that something was possible. Let this be said and
remembered of these brave old men of the mountains.

A few days after this, it came out that Dolores was dead. Then it was
whispered that she had starved to death. This last was said with a sort
of a shudder. It came out with a struggle between the teeth, as if the
men were afraid to say it.

On