“[A Westville miner speaks, discussing the saloon question...] "Tis mighty easy to preach temperance, but it's the only decent place we fellows have to go. We have a newspaper to read, another fellow to argue with, and we can put our feet on the table and eat all the free lunch we want. We have a blooming fine fiddler who plays for us-say, wot's a fellow livin' for-all work? Some of us ain't got no wives, and them that has-oh, say! Story books is all right for love stories, but I've seen enough of that sort o' lousiness among the miners, an' I know better'n blamin' the fellows wot doll's go home."”