Now, my principal adviser in this matter was one whom I will call
Kelmar. That was not what he called himself, but as soon as I set
eyes on him, I knew it was or ought to be his name; I am sure it
will be his name among the angels. Kelmar was the store-keeper, a
Russian Jew, good-natured, in a very thriving way of business, and,
on equal terms, one of the most serviceable of men. He also had
something of the expression of a Scotch country elder, who, by some
peculiarity, should chance to be a Hebrew. He had a projecting
under lip, with which he continually smiled, or rather smirked.
Mrs. Kelmar was a singularly kind woman; and the oldest son had
quite a dark and romantic bearing, and might be heard on summer
evenings playing sentimental airs on the violin.
I had no idea, at the time I made his acquaintance, what an
important person Kelmar was. But the Jew store-keepers of
California, profiting at once by the needs and habits of the
people, have made themselves in too many cases the tyrants of the
rural population. Credit is offered, is pressed on the new
customer, and when once he is beyond his depth, the tune changes,
and he is from thenceforth a white slave. I believe, even from the
little I saw, that Kelmar, if he choose to put on the screw, could
send half the settlers packing in a radius of seven or eight miles
round Calistoga.
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