Regularly Sold

REGULARLY SOLD—During the month of January, 1850, two gentlemen from New York, one of whom had been in California nearly a year, and the other just arrived, were accidentally overheard in the following conversation at the Sutter House, Sacramento. The new comer was lamenting his condition, and his folly in leaving an abundance at home, and especially two beautiful daughters, who were just budding into womanhood—when he asked the other if he had a family.

“Yes, sir; I have a wife and six children in New York—and I never saw one of them.”

After this reply the couple sat a few moments in silence, and then the interrogator again commenced:

“Were you ever blind, sir?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you marry a widow, sir?”

“No, sir.”

Another lapse of silence.

“Did I understand you to say, sir, that you had a wife and six children living in New York, and had never seen one of them?”

“Yes sir—I so stated it.”

Another and longer pause of silence. Then the interrogator again inquired:

“How can it be, sir, that you never saw one of them?”

“Why,” was the response, “one of them was born after I left.”

“Oh! ah!” and a general laugh followed.

After that the first New Yorker was especially distinguished as “the man who has six children and never saw one of them.”