he plains in the same caravan with
Rufe--housed with them for awhile during our stay; and they had besides
a permanent lodger, in the form of Mrs. Hanson's brother, Irvine
Lovelands. I spell Irvine by guess; for I could get no information on
the subject, just as I could never find out, in spite of many inquiries,
whether or not Rufe was a contraction for Rufus. They were all
cheerfully at sea about their names in that generation. And this is
surely the more notable where the names are all so strange, and even
the family names appear to have been coined. At one time, at least, the
ancestors of all these Alvins and Alvas, Loveinas, Lovelands, and
Breedloves, must have taken serious council and found a certain poetry
in these denominations; that must have been, then, their form of
literature. But still times change; and their next descendants, the
George Washingtons and Daniel Websters, will at least be clear upon the
point. And anyway, and however his name should be spelt, this Irvine
Lovelands was the most unmitigated Caliban I ever knew.

Our very first morning at Silverado, when we were full of business,
patching up doors and windows, making beds and seats, and getting our
rough lodging into shape, Irvine and his sister made their appearance
together, she for neighbourliness and general curiosity; he, because he
was working for me, to my sorrow, cutting firewood at I forget how much
a day. The way that he set about cutting wood was characteristic. We
were at that moment patching up and unpacking in the kitchen. Down he
sat on one side, and down sat his sister on the other. Both were chewing
pine-tree gum, and he, to my annoyance, accompanied that simple pleasure
with profuse expectoration. She rattled away, talking up hill and down
dale, laughing, tossing her head, showing her brilliant teeth. He looked
on in silence, now spitting heavily on the floor, now putting his head
back and uttering a loud, discordant, joyless laugh. He had a tangle of
shock hair, the colour of wool; his mouth was a grin; although as strong
as a horse, he looked neither heavy nor yet adroit, only leggy, coltish,
and in the road. But it was plain he was in high spirits, thoroughly
enjoying his visit; and he laughed frankly whenever we failed to
accomplish what we were about. This was scarcely helpful; it was even,
to amateur carpenters, embarrassing; but it lasted until we knocked off
work and began to get dinner. Then Mrs. Hanson remembered she