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+<title>The Silverado Squatters</title>
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+<h2>
+<a href="#startoftext">The Silverado Squatters, by Robert Louis Stevenson</a>
+</h2>
+<pre>
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Silverado Squatters, by Robert Louis Stevenson
+(#23 in our series by Robert Louis Stevenson)
+
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+**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
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+**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
+
+Title: The Silverado Squatters
+
+Author: Robert Louis Stevenson
+
+Release Date: May, 1996 [EBook #516]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on March 12, 1996]
+[Most recently updated: August 27, 2002]
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+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+</pre>
+<p>
+<a name="startoftext"></a>
+Transcribed from the 1906 Chatto &amp; Windus edition by David Price,
+email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+THE SILVERADO SQUATTERS<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+The scene of this little book is on a high mountain.&nbsp; There are,
+indeed, many higher; there are many of a nobler outline.&nbsp; It is
+no place of pilgrimage for the summary globe-trotter; but to one who
+lives upon its sides, Mount Saint Helena soon becomes a centre of interest.&nbsp;
+It is the Mont Blanc of one section of the Californian Coast Range,
+none of its near neighbours rising to one-half its altitude.&nbsp; It
+looks down on much green, intricate country.&nbsp; It feeds in the spring-time
+many splashing brooks.&nbsp; From its summit you must have an excellent
+lesson of geography: seeing, to the south, San Francisco Bay, with Tamalpais
+on the one hand and Monte Diablo on the other; to the west and thirty
+miles away, the open ocean; eastward, across the corn-lands and thick
+tule swamps of Sacramento Valley, to where the Central Pacific railroad
+begins to climb the sides of the Sierras; and northward, for what I
+know, the white head of Shasta looking down on Oregon.&nbsp; Three counties,
+Napa County, Lake County, and Sonoma County, march across its cliffy
+shoulders.&nbsp; Its naked peak stands nearly four thousand five hundred
+feet above the sea; its sides are fringed with forest; and the soil,
+where it is bare, glows warm with cinnabar.<br>
+<br>
+Life in its shadow goes rustically forward.&nbsp; Bucks, and bears,
+and rattle-snakes, and former mining operations, are the staple of men&rsquo;s
+talk.&nbsp; Agriculture has only begun to mount above the valley.&nbsp;
+And though in a few years from now the whole district may be smiling
+with farms, passing trains shaking the mountain to the heart, many-windowed
+hotels lighting up the night like factories, and a prosperous city occupying
+the site of sleepy Calistoga; yet in the mean time, around the foot
+of that mountain the silence of nature reigns in a great measure unbroken,
+and the people of hill and valley go sauntering about their business
+as in the days before the flood.<br>
+<br>
+To reach Mount Saint Helena from San Francisco, the traveller has twice
+to cross the bay: once by the busy Oakland Ferry, and again, after an
+hour or so of the railway, from Vallejo junction to Vallejo.&nbsp; Thence
+he takes rail once more to mount the long green strath of Napa Valley.<br>
+<br>
+In all the contractions and expansions of that inland sea, the Bay of
+San Francisco, there can be few drearier scenes than the Vallejo Ferry.&nbsp;
+Bald shores and a low, bald islet inclose the sea; through the narrows
+the tide bubbles, muddy like a river.&nbsp; When we made the passage
+(bound, although yet we knew it not, for Silverado) the steamer jumped,
+and the black buoys were dancing in the jabble; the ocean breeze blew
+killing chill; and, although the upper sky was still unflecked with
+vapour, the sea fogs were pouring in from seaward, over the hilltops
+of Marin county, in one great, shapeless, silver cloud.<br>
+<br>
+South Vallejo is typical of many Californian towns.&nbsp; It was a blunder;
+the site has proved untenable; and, although it is still such a young
+place by the scale of Europe, it has already begun to be deserted for
+its neighbour and namesake, North Vallejo.&nbsp; A long pier, a number
+of drinking saloons, a hotel of a great size, marshy pools where the
+frogs keep up their croaking, and even at high noon the entire absence
+of any human face or voice - these are the marks of South Vallejo.&nbsp;
+Yet there was a tall building beside the pier, labelled the <i>Star</i>
+<i>Flour</i> <i>Mills</i>; and sea-going, full-rigged ships lay close
+along shore, waiting for their cargo.&nbsp; Soon these would be plunging
+round the Horn, soon the flour from the <i>Star Flour Mills</i> would
+be landed on the wharves of Liverpool.&nbsp; For that, too, is one of
+England&rsquo;s outposts; thither, to this gaunt mill, across the Atlantic
+and Pacific deeps and round about the icy Horn, this crowd of great,
+three-masted, deep-sea ships come, bringing nothing, and return with
+bread.<br>
+<br>
+The Frisby House, for that was the name of the hotel, was a place of
+fallen fortunes, like the town.&nbsp; It was now given up to labourers,
+and partly ruinous.&nbsp; At dinner there was the ordinary display of
+what is called in the west a <i>two-bit house</i>: the tablecloth checked
+red and white, the plague of flies, the wire hencoops over the dishes,
+the great variety and invariable vileness of the food and the rough
+coatless men devoting it in silence.&nbsp; In our bedroom, the stove
+would not burn, though it would smoke; and while one window would not
+open, the other would not shut.&nbsp; There was a view on a bit of empty
+road, a few dark houses, a donkey wandering with its shadow on a slope,
+and a blink of sea, with a tall ship lying anchored in the moonlight.&nbsp;
+All about that dreary inn frogs sang their ungainly chorus.<br>
+<br>
+Early the next morning we mounted the hill along a wooden footway, bridging
+one marish spot after another.&nbsp; Here and there, as we ascended,
+we passed a house embowered in white roses.&nbsp; More of the bay became
+apparent, and soon the blue peak of Tamalpais rose above the green level
+of the island opposite.&nbsp; It told us we were still but a little
+way from the city of the Golden Gates, already, at that hour, beginning
+to awake among the sand-hills.&nbsp; It called to us over the waters
+as with the voice of a bird.&nbsp; Its stately head, blue as a sapphire
+on the paler azure of the sky, spoke to us of wider outlooks and the
+bright Pacific.&nbsp; For Tamalpais stands sentry, like a lighthouse,
+over the Golden Gates, between the bay and the open ocean, and looks
+down indifferently on both.&nbsp; Even as we saw and hailed it from
+Vallejo, seamen, far out at sea, were scanning it with shaded eyes;
+and, as if to answer to the thought, one of the great ships below began
+silently to clothe herself with white sails, homeward bound for England.<br>
+<br>
+For some way beyond Vallejo the railway led us through bald green pastures.&nbsp;
+On the west the rough highlands of Marin shut off the ocean; in the
+midst, in long, straggling, gleaming arms, the bay died out among the
+grass; there were few trees and few enclosures; the sun shone wide over
+open uplands, the displumed hills stood clear against the sky.&nbsp;
+But by-and-by these hills began to draw nearer on either hand, and first
+thicket and then wood began to clothe their sides; and soon we were
+away from all signs of the sea&rsquo;s neighbourhood, mounting an inland,
+irrigated valley.&nbsp; A great variety of oaks stood, now severally,
+now in a becoming grove, among the fields and vineyards.&nbsp; The towns
+were compact, in about equal proportions, of bright, new wooden houses
+and great and growing forest trees; and the chapel bell on the engine
+sounded most festally that sunny Sunday, as we drew up at one green
+town after another, with the townsfolk trooping in their Sunday&rsquo;s
+best to see the strangers, with the sun sparkling on the clean houses,
+and great domes of foliage humming overhead in the breeze.<br>
+<br>
+This pleasant Napa Valley is, at its north end, blockaded by our mountain.&nbsp;
+There, at Calistoga, the railroad ceases, and the traveller who intends
+faring farther, to the Geysers or to the springs in Lake County, must
+cross the spurs of the mountain by stage.&nbsp; Thus, Mount Saint Helena
+is not only a summit, but a frontier; and, up to the time of writing,
+it has stayed the progress of the iron horse.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+PART I - IN THE VALLEY<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+CHAPTER I - CALISTOGA<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+It is difficult for a European to imagine Calistoga, the whole place
+is so new, and of such an accidental pattern; the very name, I hear,
+was invented at a supper-party by the man who found the springs.<br>
+<br>
+The railroad and the highway come up the valley about parallel to one
+another.&nbsp; The street of Calistoga joins the perpendicular to both
+- a wide street, with bright, clean, low houses, here and there a verandah
+over the sidewalk, here and there a horse-post, here and there lounging
+townsfolk.&nbsp; Other streets are marked out, and most likely named;
+for these towns in the New World begin with a firm resolve to grow larger,
+Washington and Broadway, and then First and Second, and so forth, being
+boldly plotted out as soon as the community indulges in a plan.&nbsp;
+But, in the meanwhile, all the life and most of the houses of Calistoga
+are concentrated upon that street between the railway station and the
+road.&nbsp; I never heard it called by any name, but I will hazard a
+guess that it is either Washington or Broadway.&nbsp; Here are the blacksmith&rsquo;s,
+the chemist&rsquo;s, the general merchant&rsquo;s, and Kong Sam Kee,
+the Chinese laundryman&rsquo;s; here, probably, is the office of the
+local paper (for the place has a paper - they all have papers); and
+here certainly is one of the hotels, Cheeseborough&rsquo;s, whence the
+daring Foss, a man dear to legend, starts his horses for the Geysers.<br>
+<br>
+It must be remembered that we are here in a land of stage-drivers and
+highwaymen: a land, in that sense, like England a hundred years ago.&nbsp;
+The highway robber - road-agent, he is quaintly called - is still busy
+in these parts.&nbsp; The fame of Vasquez is still young.&nbsp; Only
+a few years go, the Lakeport stage was robbed a mile or two from Calistoga.&nbsp;
+In 1879, the dentist of Mendocino City, fifty miles away upon the coast,
+suddenly threw off the garments of his trade, like Grindoff, in <i>The
+Miller and his Men</i>, and flamed forth in his second dress as a captain
+of banditti.&nbsp; A great robbery was followed by a long chase, a chase
+of days if not of weeks, among the intricate hill-country; and the chase
+was followed by much desultory fighting, in which several - and the
+dentist, I believe, amongst the number - bit the dust.&nbsp; The grass
+was springing for the first time, nourished upon their blood, when I
+arrived in Calistoga.&nbsp; I am reminded of another highwayman of that
+same year.&nbsp; &ldquo;He had been unwell,&rdquo; so ran his humorous
+defence, &ldquo;and the doctor told him to take something, so he took
+the express-box.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+The cultus of the stage-coachman always flourishes highest where there
+are thieves on the road, and where the guard travels armed, and the
+stage is not only a link between country and city, and the vehicle of
+news, but has a faint warfaring aroma, like a man who should be brother
+to a soldier.&nbsp; California boasts her famous stage-drivers, and
+among the famous Foss is not forgotten.&nbsp; Along the unfenced, abominable
+mountain roads, he launches his team with small regard to human life
+or the doctrine of probabilities.&nbsp; Flinching travellers, who behold
+themselves coasting eternity at every corner, look with natural admiration
+at their driver&rsquo;s huge, impassive, fleshy countenance.&nbsp; He
+has the very face for the driver in Sam Weller&rsquo;s anecdote, who
+upset the election party at the required point.&nbsp; Wonderful tales
+are current of his readiness and skill.&nbsp; One in particular, of
+how one of his horses fell at a ticklish passage of the road, and how
+Foss let slip the reins, and, driving over the fallen animal, arrived
+at the next stage with only three.&nbsp; This I relate as I heard it,
+without guarantee.<br>
+<br>
+I only saw Foss once, though, strange as it may sound, I have twice
+talked with him.&nbsp; He lives out of Calistoga, at a ranche called
+Fossville.&nbsp; One evening, after he was long gone home, I dropped
+into Cheeseborough&rsquo;s, and was asked if I should like to speak
+with Mr. Foss.&nbsp; Supposing that the interview was impossible, and
+that I was merely called upon to subscribe the general sentiment, I
+boldly answered &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;&nbsp; Next moment, I had one instrument
+at my ear, another at my mouth and found myself, with nothing in the
+world to say, conversing with a man several miles off among desolate
+hills.&nbsp; Foss rapidly and somewhat plaintively brought the conversation
+to an end; and he returned to his night&rsquo;s grog at Fossville, while
+I strolled forth again on Calistoga high street.&nbsp; But it was an
+odd thing that here, on what we are accustomed to consider the very
+skirts of civilization, I should have used the telephone for the first
+time in my civilized career.&nbsp; So it goes in these young countries;
+telephones, and telegraphs, and newspapers, and advertisements running
+far ahead among the Indians and the grizzly bears.<br>
+<br>
+Alone, on the other side of the railway, stands the Springs Hotel, with
+its attendant cottages.&nbsp; The floor of the valley is extremely level
+to the very roots of the hills; only here and there a hillock, crowned
+with pines, rises like the barrow of some chieftain famed in war; and
+right against one of these hillocks is the Springs Hotel - is or was;
+for since I was there the place has been destroyed by fire, and has
+risen again from its ashes.&nbsp; A lawn runs about the house, and the
+lawn is in its turn surrounded by a system of little five-roomed cottages,
+each with a verandah and a weedy palm before the door.&nbsp; Some of
+the cottages are let to residents, and these are wreathed in flowers.&nbsp;
+The rest are occupied by ordinary visitors to the Hotel; and a very
+pleasant way this is, by which you have a little country cottage of
+your own, without domestic burthens, and by the day or week.<br>
+<br>
+The whole neighbourhood of Mount Saint Helena is full of sulphur and
+of boiling springs.&nbsp; The Geysers are famous; they were the great
+health resort of the Indians before the coming of the whites.&nbsp;
+Lake County is dotted with spas; Hot Springs and White Sulphur Springs
+are the names of two stations on the Napa Valley railroad; and Calistoga
+itself seems to repose on a mere film above a boiling, subterranean
+lake.&nbsp; At one end of the hotel enclosure are the springs from which
+it takes its name, hot enough to scald a child seriously while I was
+there.&nbsp; At the other end, the tenant of a cottage sank a well,
+and there also the water came up boiling.&nbsp; It keeps this end of
+the valley as warm as a toast.&nbsp; I have gone across to the hotel
+a little after five in the morning, when a sea fog from the Pacific
+was hanging thick and gray, and dark and dirty overhead, and found the
+thermometer had been up before me, and had already climbed among the
+nineties; and in the stress of the day it was sometimes too hot to move
+about.<br>
+<br>
+But in spite of this heat from above and below, doing one on both sides,
+Calistoga was a pleasant place to dwell in; beautifully green, for it
+was then that favoured moment in the Californian year, when the rains
+are over and the dusty summer has not yet set in; often visited by fresh
+airs, now from the mountain, now across Sonoma from the sea; very quiet,
+very idle, very silent but for the breezes and the cattle bells afield.&nbsp;
+And there was something satisfactory in the sight of that great mountain
+that enclosed us to the north: whether it stood, robed in sunshine,
+quaking to its topmost pinnacle with the heat and brightness of the
+day; or whether it set itself to weaving vapours, wisp after wisp growing,
+trembling, fleeting, and fading in the blue.<br>
+<br>
+The tangled, woody, and almost trackless foot-hills that enclose the
+valley, shutting it off from Sonoma on the west, and from Yolo on the
+east - rough as they were in outline, dug out by winter streams, crowned
+by cliffy bluffs and nodding pine trees - wore dwarfed into satellites
+by the bulk and bearing of Mount Saint Helena.&nbsp; She over-towered
+them by two-thirds of her own stature.&nbsp; She excelled them by the
+boldness of her profile.&nbsp; Her great bald summit, clear of trees
+and pasture, a cairn of quartz and cinnabar, rejected kinship with the
+dark and shaggy wilderness of lesser hill-tops.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+CHAPTER II - THE PETRIFIED FOREST<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+We drove off from the Springs Hotel about three in the afternoon.&nbsp;
+The sun warmed me to the heart.&nbsp; A broad, cool wind streamed pauselessly
+down the valley, laden with perfume.&nbsp; Up at the top stood Mount
+Saint Helena, a bulk of mountain, bare atop, with tree-fringed spurs,
+and radiating warmth.&nbsp; Once we saw it framed in a grove of tall
+and exquisitely graceful white oaks, in line and colour a finished composition.&nbsp;
+We passed a cow stretched by the roadside, her bell slowly beating time
+to the movement of her ruminating jaws, her big red face crawled over
+by half a dozen flies, a monument of content.<br>
+<br>
+A little farther, and we struck to the left up a mountain road, and
+for two hours threaded one valley after another, green, tangled, full
+of noble timber, giving us every now and again a sight of Mount Saint
+Helena and the blue hilly distance, and crossed by many streams, through
+which we splashed to the carriage-step.&nbsp; To the right or the left,
+there was scarce any trace of man but the road we followed; I think
+we passed but one ranchero&rsquo;s house in the whole distance, and
+that was closed and smokeless.&nbsp; But we had the society of these
+bright streams - dazzlingly clear, as is their wont, splashing from
+the wheels in diamonds, and striking a lively coolness through the sunshine.&nbsp;
+And what with the innumerable variety of greens, the masses of foliage
+tossing in the breeze, the glimpses of distance, the descents into seemingly
+impenetrable thickets, the continual dodging of the road which made
+haste to plunge again into the covert, we had a fine sense of woods,
+and spring-time, and the open air.<br>
+<br>
+Our driver gave me a lecture by the way on Californian trees - a thing
+I was much in need of, having fallen among painters who know the name
+of nothing, and Mexicans who know the name of nothing in English.&nbsp;
+He taught me the madrona, the manzanita, the buck-eye, the maple; he
+showed me the crested mountain quail; he showed me where some young
+redwoods were already spiring heavenwards from the ruins of the old;
+for in this district all had already perished: redwoods and redskins,
+the two noblest indigenous living things, alike condemned.<br>
+<br>
+At length, in a lonely dell, we came on a huge wooden gate with a sign
+upon it like an inn.&nbsp; &ldquo;The Petrified Forest.&nbsp; Proprietor:
+C. Evans,&rdquo; ran the legend.&nbsp; Within, on a knoll of sward,
+was the house of the proprietor, and another smaller house hard by to
+serve as a museum, where photographs and petrifactions were retailed.&nbsp;
+It was a pure little isle of touristry among these solitary hills.<br>
+<br>
+The proprietor was a brave old white-faced Swede.&nbsp; He had wandered
+this way, Heaven knows how, and taken up his acres - I forget how many
+years ago - all alone, bent double with sciatica, and with six bits
+in his pocket and an axe upon his shoulder.&nbsp; Long, useless years
+of seafaring had thus discharged him at the end, penniless and sick.&nbsp;
+Without doubt he had tried his luck at the diggings, and got no good
+from that; without doubt he had loved the bottle, and lived the life
+of Jack ashore.&nbsp; But at the end of these adventures, here he came;
+and, the place hitting his fancy, down he sat to make a new life of
+it, far from crimps and the salt sea.&nbsp; And the very sight of his
+ranche had done him good.&nbsp; It was &ldquo;the handsomest spot in
+the Californy mountains.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t it handsome,
+now?&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; Every penny he makes goes into that ranche
+to make it handsomer.&nbsp; Then the climate, with the sea-breeze every
+afternoon in the hottest summer weather, had gradually cured the sciatica;
+and his sister and niece were now domesticated with him for company
+- or, rather, the niece came only once in the two days, teaching music
+the meanwhile in the valley.&nbsp; And then, for a last piece of luck,
+&ldquo;the handsomest spot in the Californy mountains&rdquo; had produced
+a petrified forest, which Mr. Evans now shows at the modest figure of
+half a dollar a head, or two-thirds of his capital when he first came
+there with an axe and a sciatica.<br>
+<br>
+This tardy favourite of fortune - hobbling a little, I think, as if
+in memory of the sciatica, but with not a trace that I can remember
+of the sea - thoroughly ruralized from head to foot, proceeded to escort
+us up the hill behind his house.<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Who first found the forest?&rdquo; asked my wife.<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;The first?&nbsp; I was that man,&rdquo; said he.&nbsp; &ldquo;I
+was cleaning up the pasture for my beasts, when I found <i>this</i>&rdquo;
+- kicking a great redwood seven feet in diameter, that lay there on
+its side, hollow heart, clinging lumps of bark, all changed into gray
+stone, with veins of quartz between what had been the layers of the
+wood.<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Were you surprised?&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Surprised?&nbsp; No!&nbsp; What would I be surprised about?&nbsp;
+What did I know about petrifactions - following the sea?&nbsp; Petrifaction!&nbsp;
+There was no such word in my language!&nbsp; I knew about putrifaction,
+though!&nbsp; I thought it was a stone; so would you, if you was cleaning
+up pasture.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+And now he had a theory of his own, which I did not quite grasp, except
+that the trees had not &ldquo;grewed&rdquo; there.&nbsp; But he mentioned,
+with evident pride, that he differed from all the scientific people
+who had visited the spot; and he flung about such words as &ldquo;tufa&rdquo;
+and &ldquo;scilica&rdquo; with careless freedom.<br>
+<br>
+When I mentioned I was from Scotland, &ldquo;My old country,&rdquo;
+he said; &ldquo;my old country&rdquo; - with a smiling look and a tone
+of real affection in his voice.&nbsp; I was mightily surprised, for
+he was obviously Scandinavian, and begged him to explain.&nbsp; It seemed
+he had learned his English and done nearly all his sailing in Scotch
+ships.&nbsp; &ldquo;Out of Glasgow,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;or Greenock;
+but that&rsquo;s all the same - they all hail from Glasgow.&rdquo; And
+he was so pleased with me for being a Scotsman, and his adopted compatriot,
+that he made me a present of a very beautiful piece of petrifaction
+- I believe the most beautiful and portable he had.<br>
+<br>
+Here was a man, at least, who was a Swede, a Scot, and an American,
+acknowledging some kind allegiance to three lands.&nbsp; Mr. Wallace&rsquo;s
+Scoto-Circassian will not fail to come before the reader.&nbsp; I have
+myself met and spoken with a Fifeshire German, whose combination of
+abominable accents struck me dumb.&nbsp; But, indeed, I think we all
+belong to many countries.&nbsp; And perhaps this habit of much travel,
+and the engendering of scattered friendships, may prepare the euthanasia
+of ancient nations.<br>
+<br>
+And the forest itself?&nbsp; Well, on a tangled, briery hillside - for
+the pasture would bear a little further cleaning up, to my eyes - there
+lie scattered thickly various lengths of petrified trunk, such as the
+one already mentioned.&nbsp; It is very curious, of course, and ancient
+enough, if that were all.&nbsp; Doubtless, the heart of the geologist
+beats quicker at the sight; but, for my part, I was mightily unmoved.&nbsp;
+Sight-seeing is the art of disappointment.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s nothing under heaven so blue,<br>
+That&rsquo;s fairly worth the travelling to.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+But, fortunately, Heaven rewards us with many agreeable prospects and
+adventures by the way; and sometimes, when we go out to see a petrified
+forest, prepares a far more delightful curiosity, in the form of Mr.
+Evans, whom may all prosperity attend throughout a long and green old
+age.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+CHAPTER III - NAPA WINE<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+I was interested in Californian wine.&nbsp; Indeed, I am interested
+in all wines, and have been all my life, from the raisin wine that a
+schoolfellow kept secreted in his play-box up to my last discovery,
+those notable Valtellines, that once shone upon the board of Caesar.<br>
+<br>
+Some of us, kind old Pagans, watch with dread the shadows falling on
+the age: how the unconquerable worm invades the sunny terraces of France,
+and Bordeaux is no more, and the Rhone a mere Arabia Petraea.&nbsp;
+Ch&acirc;teau Neuf is dead, and I have never tasted it; Hermitage -
+a hermitage indeed from all life&rsquo;s sorrows - lies expiring by
+the river.&nbsp; And in the place of these imperial elixirs, beautiful
+to every sense, gem-hued, flower-scented, dream-compellers:- behold
+upon the quays at Cette the chemicals arrayed; behold the analyst at
+Marseilles, raising hands in obsecration, attesting god Lyoeus, and
+the vats staved in, and the dishonest wines poured forth among the sea.&nbsp;
+It is not Pan only; Bacchus, too, is dead.<br>
+<br>
+If wine is to withdraw its most poetic countenance, the sun of the white
+dinner-cloth, a deity to be invoked by two or three, all fervent, hushing
+their talk, degusting tenderly, and storing reminiscences - for a bottle
+of good wine, like a good act, shines ever in the retrospect - if wine
+is to desert us, go thy ways, old Jack!&nbsp; Now we begin to have compunctions,
+and look back at the brave bottles squandered upon dinner-parties, where
+the guests drank grossly, discussing politics the while, and even the
+schoolboy &ldquo;took his whack,&rdquo; like liquorice water.&nbsp;
+And at the same time, we look timidly forward, with a spark of hope,
+to where the new lands, already weary of producing gold, begin to green
+with vineyards.&nbsp; A nice point in human history falls to be decided
+by Californian and Australian wines.<br>
+<br>
+Wine in California is still in the experimental stage; and when you
+taste a vintage, grave economical questions are involved.&nbsp; The
+beginning of vine-planting is like the beginning of mining for the precious
+metals: the wine-grower also &ldquo;Prospects.&rdquo; One corner of
+land after another is tried with one kind of grape after another.&nbsp;
+This is a failure; that is better; a third best.&nbsp; So, bit by bit,
+they grope about for their Clos Vougeot and Lafite.&nbsp; Those lodes
+and pockets of earth, more precious than the precious ores, that yield
+inimitable fragrance and soft fire; those virtuous Bonanzas, where the
+soil has sublimated under sun and stars to something finer, and the
+wine is bottled poetry: these still lie undiscovered; chaparral conceals,
+thicket embowers them; the miner chips the rock and wanders farther,
+and the grizzly muses undisturbed.&nbsp; But there they bide their hour,
+awaiting their Columbus; and nature nurses and prepares them.&nbsp;
+The smack of Californian earth shall linger on the palate of your grandson.<br>
+<br>
+Meanwhile the wine is merely a good wine; the best that I have tasted
+better than a Beaujolais, and not unlike.&nbsp; But the trade is poor;
+it lives from hand to mouth, putting its all into experiments, and forced
+to sell its vintages.&nbsp; To find one properly matured, and bearing
+its own name, is to be fortune&rsquo;s favourite.<br>
+<br>
+Bearing its own name, I say, and dwell upon the innuendo.<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;You want to know why California wine is not drunk in the States?&rdquo;
+a San Francisco wine merchant said to me, after he had shown me through
+his premises.&nbsp; &ldquo;Well, here&rsquo;s the reason.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+And opening a large cupboard, fitted with many little drawers, he proceeded
+to shower me all over with a great variety of gorgeously tinted labels,
+blue, red, or yellow, stamped with crown or coronet, and hailing from
+such a profusion of <i>clos</i> and <i>chateaux</i>, that a single department
+could scarce have furnished forth the names.&nbsp; But it was strange
+that all looked unfamiliar.<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Chateau X-?&rdquo; said I.&nbsp; &ldquo;I never heard of that.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;I dare say not,&rdquo; said he.&nbsp; &ldquo;I had been reading
+one of X-&lsquo;s novels.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+They were all castles in Spain!&nbsp; But that sure enough is the reason
+why California wine is not drunk in the States.<br>
+<br>
+Napa valley has been long a seat of the wine-growing industry.&nbsp;
+It did not here begin, as it does too often, in the low valley lands
+along the river, but took at once to the rough foot-hills, where alone
+it can expect to prosper.&nbsp; A basking inclination, and stones, to
+be a reservoir of the day&rsquo;s heat, seem necessary to the soil for
+wine; the grossness of the earth must be evaporated, its marrow daily
+melted and refined for ages; until at length these clods that break
+below our footing, and to the eye appear but common earth, are truly
+and to the perceiving mind, a masterpiece of nature.&nbsp; The dust
+of Richebourg, which the wind carries away, what an apotheosis of the
+dust!&nbsp; Not man himself can seem a stranger child of that brown,
+friable powder, than the blood and sun in that old flask behind the
+faggots.<br>
+<br>
+A Californian vineyard, one of man&rsquo;s outposts in the wilderness,
+has features of its own.&nbsp; There is nothing here to remind you of
+the Rhine or Rhone, of the low <i>c&ocirc;te d&rsquo;or</i>, or the
+infamous and scabby deserts of Champagne; but all is green, solitary,
+covert.&nbsp; We visited two of them, Mr. Schram&rsquo;s and Mr. M&rsquo;Eckron&rsquo;s,
+sharing the same glen.<br>
+<br>
+Some way down the valley below Calistoga, we turned sharply to the south
+and plunged into the thick of the wood.&nbsp; A rude trail rapidly mounting;
+a little stream tinkling by on the one hand, big enough perhaps after
+the rains, but already yielding up its life; overhead and on all sides
+a bower of green and tangled thicket, still fragrant and still flower-bespangled
+by the early season, where thimble-berry played the part of our English
+hawthorn, and the buck-eyes were putting forth their twisted horns of
+blossom: through all this, we struggled toughly upwards, canted to and
+fro by the roughness of the trail, and continually switched across the
+face by sprays of leaf or blossom.&nbsp; The last is no great inconvenience
+at home; but here in California it is a matter of some moment.&nbsp;
+For in all woods and by every wayside there prospers an abominable shrub
+or weed, called poison-oak, whose very neighbourhood is venomous to
+some, and whose actual touch is avoided by the most impervious.<br>
+<br>
+The two houses, with their vineyards, stood each in a green niche of
+its own in this steep and narrow forest dell.&nbsp; Though they were
+so near, there was already a good difference in level; and Mr. M&rsquo;Eckron&rsquo;s
+head must be a long way under the feet of Mr. Schram.&nbsp; No more
+had been cleared than was necessary for cultivation; close around each
+oasis ran the tangled wood; the glen enfolds them; there they lie basking
+in sun and silence, concealed from all but the clouds and the mountain
+birds.<br>
+<br>
+Mr. M&rsquo;Eckron&rsquo;s is a bachelor establishment; a little bit
+of a wooden house, a small cellar hard by in the hillside, and a patch
+of vines planted and tended single-handed by himself.&nbsp; He had but
+recently began; his vines were young, his business young also; but I
+thought he had the look of the man who succeeds.&nbsp; He hailed from
+Greenock: he remembered his father putting him inside Mons Meg, and
+that touched me home; and we exchanged a word or two of Scotch, which
+pleased me more than you would fancy.<br>
+<br>
+Mr. Schram&rsquo;s, on the other hand, is the oldest vineyard in the
+valley, eighteen years old, I think; yet he began a penniless barber,
+and even after he had broken ground up here with his black malvoisies,
+continued for long to tramp the valley with his razor.&nbsp; Now, his
+place is the picture of prosperity: stuffed birds in the verandah, cellars
+far dug into the hillside, and resting on pillars like a bandit&rsquo;s
+cave:- all trimness, varnish, flowers, and sunshine, among the tangled
+wildwood.&nbsp; Stout, smiling Mrs. Schram, who has been to Europe and
+apparently all about the States for pleasure, entertained Fanny in the
+verandah, while I was tasting wines in the cellar.&nbsp; To Mr. Schram
+this was a solemn office; his serious gusto warmed my heart; prosperity
+had not yet wholly banished a certain neophite and girlish trepidation,
+and he followed every sip and read my face with proud anxiety.&nbsp;
+I tasted all.&nbsp; I tasted every variety and shade of Schramberger,
+red and white Schramberger, Burgundy Schramberger, Schramberger Hock,
+Schramberger Golden Chasselas, the latter with a notable bouquet, and
+I fear to think how many more.&nbsp; Much of it goes to London - most,
+I think; and Mr. Schram has a great notion of the English taste.<br>
+<br>
+In this wild spot, I did not feel the sacredness of ancient cultivation.&nbsp;
+It was still raw, it was no Marathon, and no Johannisberg; yet the stirring
+sunlight, and the growing vines, and the vats and bottles in the cavern,
+made a pleasant music for the mind.&nbsp; Here, also, earth&rsquo;s
+cream was being skimmed and garnered; and the London customers can taste,
+such as it is, the tang of the earth in this green valley.&nbsp; So
+local, so quintessential is a wine, that it seems the very birds in
+the verandah might communicate a flavour, and that romantic cellar influence
+the bottle next to be uncorked in Pimlico, and the smile of jolly Mr.
+Schram might mantle in the glass.<br>
+<br>
+But these are but experiments.&nbsp; All things in this new land are
+moving farther on: the wine-vats and the miner&rsquo;s blasting tools
+but picket for a night, like Bedouin pavillions; and to-morrow, to fresh
+woods!&nbsp; This stir of change and these perpetual echoes of the moving
+footfall, haunt the land.&nbsp; Men move eternally, still chasing Fortune;
+and, fortune found, still wander.&nbsp; As we drove back to Calistoga,
+the road lay empty of mere passengers, but its green side was dotted
+with the camps of travelling families: one cumbered with a great waggonful
+of household stuff, settlers going to occupy a ranche they had taken
+up in Mendocino, or perhaps Tehama County; another, a party in dust
+coats, men and women, whom we found camped in a grove on the roadside,
+all on pleasure bent, with a Chinaman to cook for them, and who waved
+their hands to us as we drove by.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+CHAPTER IV - THE SCOT ABROAD<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+A few pages back, I wrote that a man belonged, in these days, to a variety
+of countries; but the old land is still the true love, the others are
+but pleasant infidelities.&nbsp; Scotland is indefinable; it has no
+unity except upon the map.&nbsp; Two languages, many dialects, innumerable
+forms of piety, and countless local patriotisms and prejudices, part
+us among ourselves more widely than the extreme east and west of that
+great continent of America.&nbsp; When I am at home, I feel a man from
+Glasgow to be something like a rival, a man from Barra to be more than
+half a foreigner.&nbsp; Yet let us meet in some far country, and, whether
+we hail from the braes of Manor or the braes of Mar, some ready-made
+affection joins us on the instant.&nbsp; It is not race.&nbsp; Look
+at us.&nbsp; One is Norse, one Celtic, and another Saxon.&nbsp; It is
+not community of tongue.&nbsp; We have it not among ourselves; and we
+have it almost to perfection, with English, or Irish, or American.&nbsp;
+It is no tie of faith, for we detest each other&rsquo;s errors.&nbsp;
+And yet somewhere, deep down in the heart of each one of us, something
+yearns for the old land, and the old kindly people.<br>
+<br>
+Of all mysteries of the human heart, this is perhaps the most inscrutable.&nbsp;
+There is no special loveliness in that gray country, with its rainy,
+sea-beat archipelago; its fields of dark mountains; its unsightly places,
+black with coal; its treeless, sour, unfriendly looking corn-lands;
+its quaint, gray, castled city, where the bells clash of a Sunday, and
+the wind squalls, and the salt showers fly and beat.&nbsp; I do not
+even know if I desire to live there; but let me hear, in some far land,
+a kindred voice sing out, &ldquo;Oh, why left I my hame?&rdquo; and
+it seems at once as if no beauty under the kind heavens, and no society
+of the wise and good, can repay me for my absence from my country.&nbsp;
+And though I think I would rather die elsewhere, yet in my heart of
+hearts I long to be buried among good Scots clods.&nbsp; I will say
+it fairly, it grows on me with every year: there are no stars so lovely
+as Edinburgh street-lamps.&nbsp; When I forget thee, auld Reekie, may
+my right hand forget its cunning!<br>
+<br>
+The happiest lot on earth is to be born a Scotchman.&nbsp; You must
+pay for it in many ways, as for all other advantages on earth.&nbsp;
+You have to learn the paraphrases and the shorter catechism; you generally
+take to drink; your youth, as far as I can find out, is a time of louder
+war against society, of more outcry and tears and turmoil, than if you
+had been born, for instance, in England.&nbsp; But somehow life is warmer
+and closer; the hearth burns more redly; the lights of home shine softer
+on the rainy street; the very names, endeared in verse and music, cling
+nearer round our hearts.&nbsp; An Englishman may meet an Englishman
+to-morrow, upon Chimborazo, and neither of them care; but when the Scotch
+wine-grower told me of Mons Meg, it was like magic.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;From the dim shieling on the misty island<br>
+Mountains divide us, and a world of seas;<br>
+Yet still our hearts are true, our hearts are Highland,<br>
+And we, in dreams, behold the Hebrides.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+And, Highland and Lowland, all our hearts are Scotch.<br>
+<br>
+Only a few days after I had seen M&rsquo;Eckron, a message reached me
+in my cottage.&nbsp; It was a Scotchman who had come down a long way
+from the hills to market.&nbsp; He had heard there was a countryman
+in Calistoga, and came round to the hotel to see him.&nbsp; We said
+a few words to each other; we had not much to say - should never have
+seen each other had we stayed at home, separated alike in space and
+in society; and then we shook hands, and he went his way again to his
+ranche among the hills, and that was all.<br>
+<br>
+Another Scotchman there was, a resident, who for the more love of the
+common country, douce, serious, religious man, drove me all about the
+valley, and took as much interest in me as if I had been his son: more,
+perhaps; for the son has faults too keenly felt, while the abstract
+countryman is perfect - like a whiff of peats.<br>
+<br>
+And there was yet another.&nbsp; Upon him I came suddenly, as he was
+calmly entering my cottage, his mind quite evidently bent on plunder:
+a man of about fifty, filthy, ragged, roguish, with a chimney-pot hat
+and a tail coat, and a pursing of his mouth that might have been envied
+by an elder of the kirk.&nbsp; He had just such a face as I have seen
+a dozen times behind the plate.<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Hullo, sir!&rdquo; I cried.&nbsp; &ldquo;Where are you going?&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+He turned round without a quiver.<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re a Scotchman, sir?&rdquo; he said gravely.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;So am I; I come from Aberdeen.&nbsp; This is my card,&rdquo;
+presenting me with a piece of pasteboard which he had raked out of some
+gutter in the period of the rains.&nbsp; &ldquo;I was just examining
+this palm,&rdquo; he continued, indicating the misbegotten plant before
+our door, &ldquo;which is the largest sp<i>a</i>cimen I have yet observed
+in Califoarnia.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+There were four or five larger within sight.&nbsp; But where was the
+use of argument?&nbsp; He produced a tape-line, made me help him to
+measure the tree at the level of the ground, and entered the figures
+in a large and filthy pocket-book, all with the gravity of Solomon.&nbsp;
+He then thanked me profusely, remarking that such little services were
+due between countrymen; shook hands with me, &ldquo;for add lang syne,&rdquo;
+as he said; and took himself solemnly away, radiating dirt and humbug
+as he went.<br>
+<br>
+A month or two after this encounter of mine, there came a Scot to Sacramento
+- perhaps from Aberdeen.&nbsp; Anyway, there never was any one more
+Scotch in this wide world.&nbsp; He could sing and dance, and drink,
+I presume; and he played the pipes with vigour and success.&nbsp; All
+the Scotch in Sacramento became infatuated with him, and spent their
+spare time and money, driving him about in an open cab, between drinks,
+while he blew himself scarlet at the pipes.&nbsp; This is a very sad
+story.&nbsp; After he had borrowed money from every one, he and his
+pipes suddenly disappeared from Sacramento, and when I last heard, the
+police were looking for him.<br>
+<br>
+I cannot say how this story amused me, when I felt myself so thoroughly
+ripe on both sides to be duped in the same way.<br>
+<br>
+It is at least a curious thing, to conclude, that the races which wander
+widest, Jews and Scotch, should be the most clannish in the world.&nbsp;
+But perhaps these two are cause and effect: &ldquo;For ye were strangers
+in the land of Egypt.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+PART II - WITH THE CHILDREN OF ISRAEL<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+CHAPTER I. - TO INTRODUCE MR. KELMAR<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+One thing in this new country very particularly strikes a stranger,
+and that is the number of antiquities.&nbsp; Already there have been
+many cycles of population succeeding each other, and passing away and
+leaving behind them relics.&nbsp; These, standing on into changed times,
+strike the imagination as forcibly as any pyramid or feudal tower.&nbsp;
+The towns, like the vineyards, are experimentally founded: they grow
+great and prosper by passing occasions; and when the lode comes to an
+end, and the miners move elsewhere, the town remains behind them, like
+Palmyra in the desert.&nbsp; I suppose there are, in no country in the
+world, so many deserted towns as here in California.<br>
+<br>
+The whole neighbourhood of Mount Saint Helena, now so quiet and sylvan,
+was once alive with mining camps and villages.&nbsp; Here there would
+be two thousand souls under canvas; there one thousand or fifteen hundred
+ensconced, as if for ever, in a town of comfortable houses.&nbsp; But
+the luck had failed, the mines petered out; and the army of miners had
+departed, and left this quarter of the world to the rattlesnakes and
+deer and grizzlies, and to the slower but steadier advance of husbandry.<br>
+<br>
+It was with an eye on one of these deserted places, Pine Flat, on the
+Geysers road, that we had come first to Calistoga.&nbsp; There is something
+singularly enticing in the idea of going, rent-free, into a ready-made
+house.&nbsp; And to the British merchant, sitting at home at ease, it
+may appear that, with such a roof over your head and a spring of clear
+water hard by, the whole problem of the squatter&rsquo;s existence would
+be solved.&nbsp; Food, however, has yet to be considered, I will go
+as far as most people on tinned meats; some of the brightest moments
+of my life were passed over tinned mulli-gatawney in the cabin of a
+sixteen-ton schooner, storm-stayed in Portree Bay; but after suitable
+experiments, I pronounce authoritatively that man cannot live by tins
+alone.&nbsp; Fresh meat must be had on an occasion.&nbsp; It is true
+that the great Foss, driving by along the Geysers road, wooden-faced,
+but glorified with legend, might have been induced to bring us meat,
+but the great Foss could hardly bring us milk.&nbsp; To take a cow would
+have involved taking a field of grass and a milkmaid; after which it
+would have been hardly worth while to pause, and we might have added
+to our colony a flock of sheep and an experienced butcher.<br>
+<br>
+It is really very disheartening how we depend on other people in this
+life.&nbsp; &ldquo;Mihi est propositum,&rdquo; as you may see by the
+motto, &ldquo;id quod regibus;&rdquo; and behold it cannot be carried
+out, unless I find a neighbour rolling in cattle.<br>
+<br>
+Now, my principal adviser in this matter was one whom I will call Kelmar.&nbsp;
+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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; He also had something of the
+expression of a Scotch country elder, who, by some peculiarity, should
+chance to be a Hebrew.&nbsp; He had a projecting under lip, with which
+he continually smiled, or rather smirked.&nbsp; 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.<br>
+<br>
+I had no idea, at the time I made his acquaintance, what an important
+person Kelmar was.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp;
+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.&nbsp; These are continually paying
+him, but are never suffered to get out of debt.&nbsp; He palms dull
+goods upon them, for they dare not refuse to buy; he goes and dines
+with them when he is on an outing, and no man is loudlier welcomed;
+he is their family friend, the director of their business, and, to a
+degree elsewhere unknown in modern days, their king.<br>
+<br>
+For some reason, Kelmar always shook his head at the mention of Pine
+Flat, and for some days I thought he disapproved of the whole scheme
+and was proportionately sad.&nbsp; One fine morning, however, he met
+me, wreathed in smiles.&nbsp; He had found the very place for me - Silverado,
+another old mining town, right up the mountain.&nbsp; Rufe Hanson, the
+hunter, could take care of us - fine people the Hansons; we should be
+close to the Toll House, where the Lakeport stage called daily; it was
+the best place for my health, besides.&nbsp; Rufe had been consumptive,
+and was now quite a strong man, ain&rsquo;t it?&nbsp; In short, the
+place and all its accompaniments seemed made for us on purpose.<br>
+<br>
+He took me to his back door, whence, as from every point of Calistoga,
+Mount Saint Helena could be seen towering in the air.&nbsp; There, in
+the nick, just where the eastern foothills joined the mountain, and
+she herself began to rise above the zone of forest - there was Silverado.&nbsp;
+The name had already pleased me; the high station pleased me still more.&nbsp;
+I began to inquire with some eagerness.&nbsp; It was but a little while
+ago that Silverado was a great place.&nbsp; The mine - a silver mine,
+of course - had promised great things.&nbsp; There was quite a lively
+population, with several hotels and boarding-houses; and Kelmar himself
+had opened a branch store, and done extremely well - &ldquo;Ain&rsquo;t
+it?&rdquo; he said, appealing to his wife.&nbsp; And she said, &ldquo;Yes;
+extremely well.&rdquo; Now there was no one living in the town but Rufe
+the hunter; and once more I heard Rufe&rsquo;s praises by the yard,
+and this time sung in chorus.<br>
+<br>
+I could not help perceiving at the time that there was something underneath;
+that no unmixed desire to have us comfortably settled had inspired the
+Kelmars with this flow of words.&nbsp; But I was impatient to be gone,
+to be about my kingly project; and when we were offered seats in Kelmar&rsquo;s
+waggon, I accepted on the spot.&nbsp; The plan of their next Sunday&rsquo;s
+outing took them, by good fortune, over the border into Lake County.&nbsp;
+They would carry us so far, drop us at the Toll House, present us to
+the Hansons, and call for us again on Monday morning early.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+CHAPTER II - FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF SILVERADO<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+We were to leave by six precisely; that was solemnly pledged on both
+sides; and a messenger came to us the last thing at night, to remind
+us of the hour.&nbsp; But it was eight before we got clear of Calistoga:
+Kelmar, Mrs. Kelmar, a friend of theirs whom we named Abramina, her
+little daughter, my wife, myself, and, stowed away behind us, a cluster
+of ship&rsquo;s coffee-kettles.&nbsp; These last were highly ornamental
+in the sheen of their bright tin, but I could invent no reason for their
+presence.&nbsp; Our carriageful reckoned up, as near as we could get
+at it, some three hundred years to the six of us.&nbsp; Four of the
+six, besides, were Hebrews.&nbsp; But I never, in all my life, was conscious
+of so strong an atmosphere of holiday.&nbsp; No word was spoken but
+of pleasure; and even when we drove in silence, nods and smiles went
+round the party like refreshments.<br>
+<br>
+The sun shone out of a cloudless sky.&nbsp; Close at the zenith rode
+the belated moon, still clearly visible, and, along one margin, even
+bright.&nbsp; The wind blew a gale from the north; the trees roared;
+the corn and the deep grass in the valley fled in whitening surges;
+the dust towered into the air along the road and dispersed like the
+smoke of battle.&nbsp; It was clear in our teeth from the first, and
+for all the windings of the road it managed to keep clear in our teeth
+until the end.<br>
+<br>
+For some two miles we rattled through the valley, skirting the eastern
+foothills; then we struck off to the right, through haugh-land, and
+presently, crossing a dry water-course, entered the Toll road, or, to
+be more local, entered on &ldquo;the grade.&rdquo;&nbsp; The road mounts
+the near shoulder of Mount Saint Helena, bound northward into Lake County.&nbsp;
+In one place it skirts along the edge of a narrow and deep canyon, filled
+with trees, and I was glad, indeed, not to be driven at this point by
+the dashing Foss.&nbsp; Kelmar, with his unvarying smile, jogging to
+the motion of the trap, drove for all the world like a good, plain,
+country clergyman at home; and I profess I blessed him unawares for
+his timidity.<br>
+<br>
+Vineyards and deep meadows, islanded and framed with thicket, gave place
+more and more as we ascended to woods of oak and madrona, dotted with
+enormous pines.&nbsp; It was these pines, as they shot above the lower
+wood, that produced that pencilling of single trees I had so often remarked
+from the valley.&nbsp; Thence, looking up and from however far, each
+fir stands separate against the sky no bigger than an eyelash; and all
+together lend a quaint, fringed aspect to the hills.&nbsp; The oak is
+no baby; even the madrona, upon these spurs of Mount Saint Helena, comes
+to a fine bulk and ranks with forest trees - but the pines look down
+upon the rest for underwood.&nbsp; As Mount Saint Helena among her foothills,
+so these dark giants out-top their fellow-vegetables.&nbsp; Alas! if
+they had left the redwoods, the pines, in turn, would have been dwarfed.&nbsp;
+But the redwoods, fallen from their high estate, are serving as family
+bedsteads, or yet more humbly as field fences, along all Napa Valley.<br>
+<br>
+A rough smack of resin was in the air, and a crystal mountain purity.&nbsp;
+It came pouring over these green slopes by the oceanful.&nbsp; The woods
+sang aloud, and gave largely of their healthful breath.&nbsp; Gladness
+seemed to inhabit these upper zones, and we had left indifference behind
+us in the valley.&nbsp; &ldquo;I to the hills lift mine eyes!&rdquo;&nbsp;
+There are days in a life when thus to climb out of the lowlands, seems
+like scaling heaven.<br>
+<br>
+As we continued to ascend, the wind fell upon us with increasing strength.&nbsp;
+It was a wonder how the two stout horses managed to pull us up that
+steep incline and still face the athletic opposition of the wind, or
+how their great eyes were able to endure the dust.&nbsp; Ten minutes
+after we went by, a tree fell, blocking the road; and even before us
+leaves were thickly strewn, and boughs had fallen, large enough to make
+the passage difficult.&nbsp; But now we were hard by the summit.&nbsp;
+The road crosses the ridge, just in the nick that Kelmar showed me from
+below, and then, without pause, plunges down a deep, thickly wooded
+glen on the farther side.&nbsp; At the highest point a trail strikes
+up the main hill to the leftward; and that leads to Silverado.&nbsp;
+A hundred yards beyond, and in a kind of elbow of the glen, stands the
+Toll House Hotel.&nbsp; We came up the one side, were caught upon the
+summit by the whole weight of the wind as it poured over into Napa Valley,
+and a minute after had drawn up in shelter, but all buffetted and breathless,
+at the Toll House door.<br>
+<br>
+A water-tank, and stables, and a gray house of two stories, with gable
+ends and a verandah, are jammed hard against the hillside, just where
+a stream has cut for itself a narrow canyon, filled with pines.&nbsp;
+The pines go right up overhead; a little more and the stream might have
+played, like a fire-hose, on the Toll House roof.&nbsp; In front the
+ground drops as sharply as it rises behind.&nbsp; There is just room
+for the road and a sort of promontory of croquet ground, and then you
+can lean over the edge and look deep below you through the wood.&nbsp;
+I said croquet <i>ground</i>, not <i>green</i>; for the surface was
+of brown, beaten earth.&nbsp; The toll-bar itself was the only other
+note of originality: a long beam, turning on a post, and kept slightly
+horizontal by a counterweight of stones.&nbsp; Regularly about sundown
+this rude barrier was swung, like a derrick, across the road and made
+fast, I think, to a tree upon the farther side.<br>
+<br>
+On our arrival there followed a gay scene in the bar.&nbsp; I was presented
+to Mr. Corwin, the landlord; to Mr. Jennings, the engineer, who lives
+there for his health; to Mr. Hoddy, a most pleasant little gentleman,
+once a member of the Ohio legislature, again the editor of a local paper,
+and now, with undiminished dignity, keeping the Toll House bar.&nbsp;
+I had a number of drinks and cigars bestowed on me, and enjoyed a famous
+opportunity of seeing Kelmar in his glory, friendly, radiant, smiling,
+steadily edging one of the ship&rsquo;s kettles on the reluctant Corwin.<br>
+<br>
+Corwin, plainly aghast, resisted gallantly, and for that bout victory
+crowned his arms.<br>
+<br>
+At last we set forth for Silverado on foot.&nbsp; Kelmar and his jolly
+Jew girls were full of the sentiment of Sunday outings, breathed geniality
+and vagueness, and suffered a little vile boy from the hotel to lead
+them here and there about the woods.&nbsp; For three people all so old,
+so bulky in body, and belonging to a race so venerable, they could not
+but surprise us by their extreme and almost imbecile youthfulness of
+spirit.&nbsp; They were only going to stay ten minutes at the Toll House;
+had they not twenty long miles of road before them on the other side?&nbsp;
+Stay to dinner?&nbsp; Not they!&nbsp; Put up the horses? Never.&nbsp;
+Let us attach them to the verandah by a wisp of straw rope, such as
+would not have held a person&rsquo;s hat on that blustering day.&nbsp;
+And with all these protestations of hurry, they proved irresponsible
+like children.&nbsp; Kelmar himself, shrewd old Russian Jew, with a
+smirk that seemed just to have concluded a bargain to its satisfaction,
+intrusted himself and us devoutly to that boy.&nbsp; Yet the boy was
+patently fallacious; and for that matter a most unsympathetic urchin,
+raised apparently on gingerbread.&nbsp; He was bent on his own pleasure,
+nothing else; and Kelmar followed him to his ruin, with the same shrewd
+smirk.&nbsp; If the boy said there was &ldquo;a hole there in the hill&rdquo;
+- a hole, pure and simple, neither more nor less - Kelmar and his Jew
+girls would follow him a hundred yards to look complacently down that
+hole.&nbsp; For two hours we looked for houses; and for two hours they
+followed us, smelling trees, picking flowers, foisting false botany
+on the unwary.&nbsp; Had we taken five, with that vile lad to head them
+off on idle divagations, for five they would have smiled and stumbled
+through the woods.<br>
+<br>
+However, we came forth at length, and as by accident, upon a lawn, sparse
+planted like an orchard, but with forest instead of fruit trees.&nbsp;
+That was the site of Silverado mining town.&nbsp; A piece of ground
+was levelled up, where Kelmar&rsquo;s store had been; and facing that
+we saw Rufe Hanson&rsquo;s house, still bearing on its front the legend
+<i>Silverado Hotel</i>.&nbsp; Not another sign of habitation.&nbsp;
+Silverado town had all been carted from the scene; one of the houses
+was now the school-house far down the road; one was gone here, one there,
+but all were gone away.<br>
+<br>
+It was now a sylvan solitude, and the silence was unbroken but by the
+great, vague voice of the wind.&nbsp; Some days before our visit, a
+grizzly bear had been sporting round the Hansons&rsquo; chicken-house.<br>
+<br>
+Mrs. Hanson was at home alone, we found.&nbsp; Rufe had been out after
+a &ldquo;bar,&rdquo; had risen late, and was now gone, it did not clearly
+appear whither.&nbsp; Perhaps he had had wind of Kelmar&rsquo;s coming,
+and was now ensconced among the underwood, or watching us from the shoulder
+of the mountain.&nbsp; We, hearing there were no houses to be had, were
+for immediately giving up all hopes of Silverado.&nbsp; But this, somehow,
+was not to Kelmar&rsquo;s fancy.&nbsp; He first proposed that we should
+&ldquo;camp someveres around, ain&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; waving his hand
+cheerily as though to weave a spell; and when that was firmly rejected,
+he decided that we must take up house with the Hansons.&nbsp; Mrs. Hanson
+had been, from the first, flustered, subdued, and a little pale; but
+from this proposition she recoiled with haggard indignation.&nbsp; So
+did we, who would have preferred, in a manner of speaking, death.&nbsp;
+But Kelmar was not to be put by.&nbsp; He edged Mrs. Hanson into a corner,
+where for a long time he threatened her with his forefinger, like a
+character in Dickens; and the poor woman, driven to her entrenchments,
+at last remembered with a shriek that there were still some houses at
+the tunnel.<br>
+<br>
+Thither we went; the Jews, who should already have been miles into Lake
+County, still cheerily accompanying us.&nbsp; For about a furlong we
+followed a good road alone, the hillside through the forest, until suddenly
+that road widened out and came abruptly to an end.&nbsp; A canyon, woody
+below, red, rocky, and naked overhead, was here walled across by a dump
+of rolling stones, dangerously steep, and from twenty to thirty feet
+in height.&nbsp; A rusty iron chute on wooden legs came flying, like
+a monstrous gargoyle, across the parapet.&nbsp; It was down this that
+they poured the precious ore; and below here the carts stood to wait
+their lading, and carry it mill-ward down the mountain.<br>
+<br>
+The whole canyon was so entirely blocked, as if by some rude guerilla
+fortification, that we could only mount by lengths of wooden ladder,
+fixed in the hillside.&nbsp; These led us round the farther corner of
+the dump; and when they were at an end, we still persevered over loose
+rubble and wading deep in poison oak, till we struck a triangular platform,
+filling up the whole glen, and shut in on either hand by bold projections
+of the mountain.&nbsp; Only in front the place was open like the proscenium
+of a theatre, and we looked forth into a great realm of air, and down
+upon treetops and hilltops, and far and near on wild and varied country.&nbsp;
+The place still stood as on the day it was deserted: a line of iron
+rails with a bifurcation; a truck in working order; a world of lumber,
+old wood, old iron; a blacksmith&rsquo;s forge on one side, half buried
+in the leaves of dwarf madronas; and on the other, an old brown wooden
+house.<br>
+<br>
+Fanny and I dashed at the house.&nbsp; It consisted of three rooms,
+and was so plastered against the hill, that one room was right atop
+of another, that the upper floor was more than twice as large as the
+lower, and that all three apartments must be entered from a different
+side and level.&nbsp; Not a window-sash remained.<br>
+<br>
+The door of the lower room was smashed, and one panel hung in splinters.&nbsp;
+We entered that, and found a fair amount of rubbish: sand and gravel
+that had been sifted in there by the mountain winds; straw, sticks,
+and stones; a table, a barrel; a plate-rack on the wall; two home-made
+bootjacks, signs of miners and their boots; and a pair of papers pinned
+on the boarding, headed respectively &ldquo;Funnel No. 1,&rdquo; and
+&ldquo;Funnel No. 2,&rdquo; but with the tails torn away.&nbsp; The
+window, sashless of course, was choked with the green and sweetly smelling
+foliage of a bay; and through a chink in the floor, a spray of poison
+oak had shot up and was handsomely prospering in the interior.&nbsp;
+It was my first care to cut away that poison oak, Fanny standing by
+at a respectful distance.&nbsp; That was our first improvement by which
+we took possession.<br>
+<br>
+The room immediately above could only be entered by a plank propped
+against the threshold, along which the intruder must foot it gingerly,
+clutching for support to sprays of poison oak, the proper product of
+the country.&nbsp; Herein was, on either hand, a triple tier of beds,
+where miners had once lain; and the other gable was pierced by a sashless
+window and a doorless doorway opening on the air of heaven, five feet
+above the ground.&nbsp; As for the third room, which entered squarely
+from the ground level, but higher up the hill and farther up the canyon,
+it contained only rubbish and the uprights for another triple tier of
+beds.<br>
+<br>
+The whole building was overhung by a bold, lion-like, red rock. Poison
+oak, sweet bay trees, calcanthus, brush, and chaparral, grew freely
+but sparsely all about it. In front, in the strong sunshine, the platform
+lay overstrewn with busy litter, as though the labours of the mine might
+begin again to-morrow in the morning.<br>
+<br>
+Following back into the canyon, among the mass of rotting plant and
+through the flowering bushes, we came to a great crazy staging, with
+a wry windless on the top; and clambering up, we could look into an
+open shaft, leading edgeways down into the bowels of the mountain, trickling
+with water, and lit by some stray sun-gleams, whence I know not.&nbsp;
+In that quiet place the still, far-away tinkle of the water-drops was
+loudly audible.&nbsp; Close by, another shaft led edgeways up into the
+superincumbent shoulder of the hill.&nbsp; It lay partly open; and sixty
+or a hundred feet above our head, we could see the strata propped apart
+by solid wooden wedges, and a pine, half undermined, precariously nodding
+on the verge.&nbsp; Here also a rugged, horizontal tunnel ran straight
+into the unsunned bowels of the rock.&nbsp; This secure angle in the
+mountain&rsquo;s flank was, even on this wild day, as still as my lady&rsquo;s
+chamber.&nbsp; But in the tunnel a cold, wet draught tempestuously blew.&nbsp;
+Nor have I ever known that place otherwise than cold and windy.<br>
+<br>
+Such was our fist prospect of Juan Silverado.&nbsp; I own I had looked
+for something different: a clique of neighbourly houses on a village
+green, we shall say, all empty to be sure, but swept and varnished;
+a trout stream brawling by; great elms or chestnuts, humming with bees
+and nested in by song-birds; and the mountains standing round about,
+as at Jerusalem.&nbsp; Here, mountain and house and the old tools of
+industry were all alike rusty and downfalling.&nbsp; The hill was here
+wedged up, and there poured forth its bowels in a spout of broken mineral;
+man with his picks and powder, and nature with her own great blasting
+tools of sun and rain, labouring together at the ruin of that proud
+mountain.&nbsp; The view up the canyon was a glimpse of devastation;
+dry red minerals sliding together, here and there a crag, here and there
+dwarf thicket clinging in the general glissade, and over all a broken
+outline trenching on the blue of heaven.&nbsp; Downwards indeed, from
+our rock eyrie, we behold the greener side of nature; and the bearing
+of the pines and the sweet smell of bays and nutmegs commanded themselves
+gratefully to our senses.&nbsp; One way and another, now the die was
+cast.&nbsp; Silverado be it!<br>
+<br>
+After we had got back to the Toll House, the Jews were not long of striking
+forward.&nbsp; But I observed that one of the Hanson lads came down,
+before their departure, and returned with a ship&rsquo;s kettle.&nbsp;
+Happy Hansons!&nbsp; Nor was it until after Kelmar was gone, if I remember
+rightly, that Rufe put in an appearance to arrange the details of our
+installation.<br>
+<br>
+The latter part of the day, Fanny and I sat in the verandah of the Toll
+House, utterly stunned by the uproar of the wind among the trees on
+the other side of the valley.&nbsp; Sometimes, we would have it it was
+like a sea, but it was not various enough for that; and again, we thought
+it like the roar of a cataract, but it was too changeful for the cataract;
+and then we would decide, speaking in sleepy voices, that it could be
+compared with nothing but itself.&nbsp; My mind was entirely preoccupied
+by the noise.&nbsp; I hearkened to it by the hour, gapingly hearkened,
+and let my cigarette go out.&nbsp; Sometimes the wind would make a sally
+nearer hand, and send a shrill, whistling crash among the foliage on
+our side of the glen; and sometimes a back-draught would strike into
+the elbow where we sat, and cast the gravel and torn leaves into our
+faces.&nbsp; But for the most part, this great, streaming gale passed
+unweariedly by us into Napa Valley, not two hundred yards away, visible
+by the tossing boughs, stunningly audible, and yet not moving a hair
+upon our heads.&nbsp; So it blew all night long while I was writing
+up my journal, and after we were in bed, under a cloudless, starset
+heaven; and so it was blowing still next morning when we rose.<br>
+<br>
+It was a laughable thought to us, what had become of our cheerful, wandering
+Hebrews.&nbsp; We could not suppose they had reached a destination.&nbsp;
+The meanest boy could lead them miles out of their way to see a gopher-hole.&nbsp;
+Boys, we felt to be their special danger; none others were of that exact
+pitch of cheerful irrelevancy to exercise a kindred sway upon their
+minds: but before the attractions of a boy their most settled resolutions
+would be war.&nbsp; We thought we could follow in fancy these three
+aged Hebrew truants wandering in and out on hilltop and in thicket,
+a demon boy trotting far ahead, their will-o&rsquo;-the-wisp conductor;
+and at last about midnight, the wind still roaring in the darkness,
+we had a vision of all three on their knees upon a mountain-top around
+a glow-worm.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+CHAPTER III. THE RETURN<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Next morning we were up by half-past five, according to agreement, and
+it was ten by the clock before our Jew boys returned to pick us up.&nbsp;
+Kelmar, Mrs. Kelmar, and Abramina, all smiling from ear to ear, and
+full of tales of the hospitality they had found on the other side.&nbsp;
+It had not gone unrewarded; for I observed with interest that the ship&rsquo;s
+kettles, all but one, had been &ldquo;placed.&rdquo;&nbsp; Three Lake
+County families, at least, endowed for life with a ship&rsquo;s kettle.&nbsp;
+Come, this was no misspent Sunday.&nbsp; The absence of the kettles
+told its own story: our Jews said nothing about them; but, on the other
+hand, they said many kind and comely things about the people they had
+met.&nbsp; The two women, in particular, had been charmed out of themselves
+by the sight of a young girl surrounded by her admirers; all evening,
+it appeared, they had been triumphing together in the girl&rsquo;s innocent
+successes, and to this natural and unselfish joy they gave expression
+in language that was beautiful by its simplicity and truth.<br>
+<br>
+Take them for all in all, few people have done my heart more good; they
+seemed so thoroughly entitled to happiness, and to enjoy it in so large
+a measure and so free from after-thought; almost they persuaded me to
+be a Jew.&nbsp; There was, indeed, a chink of money in their talk.&nbsp;
+They particularly commanded people who were well to do.&nbsp; &ldquo;<i>He</i>
+don&rsquo;t care - ain&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; was their highest word of
+commendation to an individual fate; and here I seem to grasp the root
+of their philosophy - it was to be free from care, to be free to make
+these Sunday wanderings, that they so eagerly pursued after wealth;
+and all this carefulness was to be careless.&nbsp; The fine, good humour
+of all three seemed to declare they had attained their end.&nbsp; Yet
+there was the other side to it; and the recipients of kettles perhaps
+cared greatly.<br>
+<br>
+No sooner had they returned, than the scene of yesterday began again.&nbsp;
+The horses were not even tied with a straw rope this time - it was not
+worth while; and Kelmar disappeared into the bar, leaving them under
+a tree on the other side of the road.&nbsp; I had to devote myself.&nbsp;
+I stood under the shadow of that tree for, I suppose, hard upon an hour,
+and had not the heart to be angry.&nbsp; Once some one remembered me,
+and brought me out half a tumblerful of the playful, innocuous American
+cocktail.&nbsp; I drank it, and lo! veins of living fire ran down my
+leg; and then a focus of conflagration remained seated in my stomach,
+not unpleasantly, for quarter of an hour.&nbsp; I love these sweet,
+fiery pangs, but I will not court them.&nbsp; The bulk of the time I
+spent in repeating as much French poetry as I could remember to the
+horses, who seemed to enjoy it hugely.&nbsp; And now it went -<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;O ma vieille Font-georges<br>
+O&ugrave; volent les rouges-gorges:&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+and again, to a more trampling measure -<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Et tout tremble, Irun, Co&iuml;mbre,<br>
+Sautander, Almodovar,<br>
+Sit&ocirc;t qu&rsquo;on entend le timbre<br>
+Des cymbales do Bivar.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+The redbreasts and the brooks of Europe, in that dry and songless land;
+brave old names and wars, strong cities, cymbals, and bright armour,
+in that nook of the mountain, sacred only to the Indian and the bear!&nbsp;
+This is still the strangest thing in all man&rsquo;s travelling, that
+he should carry about with him incongruous memories.&nbsp; There is
+no foreign land; it is the traveller only that is foreign, and now and
+again, by a flash of recollection, lights up the contrasts of the earth.<br>
+<br>
+But while I was thus wandering in my fancy, great feats had been transacted
+in the bar.&nbsp; Corwin the bold had fallen, Kelmar was again crowned
+with laurels, and the last of the ship&rsquo;s kettles had changed hands.&nbsp;
+If I had ever doubted the purity of Kelmar&rsquo;s motives, if I had
+ever suspected him of a single eye to business in his eternal dallyings,
+now at least, when the last kettle was disposed of, my suspicions must
+have been allayed.&nbsp; I dare not guess how much more time was wasted;
+nor how often we drove off, merely to drive back again and renew interrupted
+conversations about nothing, before the Toll House was fairly left behind.&nbsp;
+Alas! and not a mile down the grade there stands a ranche in a sunny
+vineyard, and here we must all dismount again and enter.<br>
+<br>
+Only the old lady was at home, Mrs. Guele, a brown old Swiss dame, the
+picture of honesty; and with her we drank a bottle of wine and had an
+age-long conversation, which would have been highly delightful if Fanny
+and I had not been faint with hunger.&nbsp; The ladies each narrated
+the story of her marriage, our two Hebrews with the prettiest combination
+of sentiment and financial bathos.&nbsp; Abramina, specially, endeared
+herself with every word.&nbsp; She was as simple, natural, and engaging
+as a kid that should have been brought up to the business of a money-changer.&nbsp;
+One touch was so resplendently Hebraic that I cannot pass it over.&nbsp;
+When her &ldquo;old man&rdquo; wrote home for her from America, her
+old man&rsquo;s family would not intrust her with the money for the
+passage, till she had bound herself by an oath - on her knees, I think
+she said - not to employ it otherwise.<br>
+<br>
+This had tickled Abramina hugely, but I think it tickled me fully more.<br>
+<br>
+Mrs. Guele told of her home-sickness up here in the long winters; of
+her honest, country-woman troubles and alarms upon the journey; how
+in the bank at Frankfort she had feared lest the banker, after having
+taken her cheque, should deny all knowledge of it - a fear I have myself
+every time I go to a bank; and how crossing the Luneburger Heath, an
+old lady, witnessing her trouble and finding whither she was bound,
+had given her &ldquo;the blessing of a person eighty years old, which
+would be sure to bring her safely to the States.&nbsp; And the first
+thing I did,&rdquo; added Mrs. Guele, &ldquo;was to fall downstairs.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+At length we got out of the house, and some of us into the trap, when
+- judgment of Heaven! - here came Mr. Guele from his vineyard.&nbsp;
+So another quarter of an hour went by; till at length, at our earnest
+pleading, we set forth again in earnest, Fanny and I white-faced and
+silent, but the Jews still smiling.&nbsp; The heart fails me.&nbsp;
+There was yet another stoppage!&nbsp; And we drove at last into Calistoga
+past two in the afternoon, Fanny and I having breakfasted at six in
+the morning, eight mortal hours before.&nbsp; We were a pallid couple;
+but still the Jews were smiling.<br>
+<br>
+So ended our excursion with the village usurers; and, now that it was
+done, we had no more idea of the nature of the business, nor of the
+part we had been playing in it, than the child unborn.&nbsp; That all
+the people we had met were the slaves of Kelmar, though in various degrees
+of servitude; that we ourselves had been sent up the mountain in the
+interests of none but Kelmar; that the money we laid out, dollar by
+dollar, cent by cent, and through the hands of various intermediaries,
+should all hop ultimately into Kelmar&rsquo;s till; - these were facts
+that we only grew to recognize in the course of time and by the accumulation
+of evidence.&nbsp; At length all doubt was quieted, when one of the
+kettle-holders confessed.&nbsp; Stopping his trap in the moonlight,
+a little way out of Calistoga, he told me, in so many words, that he
+dare not show face therewith an empty pocket.&nbsp; &ldquo;You see,
+I don&rsquo;t mind if it was only five dollars, Mr. Stevens,&rdquo;
+he said, &ldquo;but I must give Mr. Kelmar <i>something</i>.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+Even now, when the whole tyranny is plain to me, I cannot find it in
+my heart to be as angry as perhaps I should be with the Hebrew tyrant.&nbsp;
+The whole game of business is beggar my neighbour; and though perhaps
+that game looks uglier when played at such close quarters and on so
+small a scale, it is none the more intrinsically inhumane for that.&nbsp;
+The village usurer is not so sad a feature of humanity and human progress
+as the millionaire manufacturer, fattening on the toil and loss of thousands,
+and yet declaiming from the platform against the greed and dishonesty
+of landlords.&nbsp; If it were fair for Cobden to buy up land from owners
+whom he thought unconscious of its proper value, it was fair enough
+for my Russian Jew to give credit to his farmers.&nbsp; Kelmar, if he
+was unconscious of the beam in his own eye, was at least silent in the
+matter of his brother&rsquo;s mote.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+THE ACT OF SQUATTING<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+There were four of us squatters - myself and my wife, the King and Queen
+of Silverado; Sam, the Crown Prince; and Chuchu, the Grand Duke.&nbsp;
+Chuchu, a setter crossed with spaniel, was the most unsuited for a rough
+life.&nbsp; He had been nurtured tenderly in the society of ladies;
+his heart was large and soft; he regarded the sofa-cushion as a bed-rook
+necessary of existence.&nbsp; Though about the size of a sheep, he loved
+to sit in ladies&rsquo; laps; he never said a bad word in all his blameless
+days; and if he had seen a flute, I am sure he could have played upon
+it by nature.&nbsp; It may seem hard to say it of a dog, but Chuchu
+was a tame cat.<br>
+<br>
+The king and queen, the grand duke, and a basket of cold provender for
+immediate use, set forth from Calistoga in a double buggy; the crown
+prince, on horseback, led the way like an outrider.&nbsp; Bags and boxes
+and a second-hand stove were to follow close upon our heels by Hanson&rsquo;s
+team.<br>
+<br>
+It was a beautiful still day; the sky was one field of azure.&nbsp;
+Not a leaf moved, not a speck appeared in heaven.&nbsp; Only from the
+summit of the mountain one little snowy wisp of cloud after another
+kept detaching itself, like smoke from a volcano, and blowing southward
+in some high stream of air: Mount Saint Helena still at her interminable
+task, making the weather, like a Lapland witch.<br>
+<br>
+By noon we had come in sight of the mill: a great brown building, half-way
+up the hill, big as a factory, two stories high, and with tanks and
+ladders along the roof; which, as a pendicle of Silverado mine, we held
+to be an outlying province of our own.&nbsp; Thither, then, we went,
+crossing the valley by a grassy trail; and there lunched out of the
+basket, sitting in a kind of portico, and wondering, while we ate, at
+this great bulk of useless building.&nbsp; Through a chink we could
+look far down into the interior, and see sunbeams floating in the dust
+and striking on tier after tier of silent, rusty machinery.&nbsp; It
+cost six thousand dollars, twelve hundred English sovereigns; and now,
+here it stands deserted, like the temple of a forgotten religion, the
+busy millers toiling somewhere else.&nbsp; All the time we were there,
+mill and mill town showed no sign of life; that part of the mountain-side,
+which is very open and green, was tenanted by no living creature but
+ourselves and the insects; and nothing stirred but the cloud manufactory
+upon the mountain summit.&nbsp; It was odd to compare this with the
+former days, when the engine was in fall blast, the mill palpitating
+to its strokes, and the carts came rattling down from Silverado, charged
+with ore.<br>
+<br>
+By two we had been landed at the mine, the buggy was gone again, and
+we were left to our own reflections and the basket of cold provender,
+until Hanson should arrive.&nbsp; Hot as it was by the sun, there was
+something chill in such a home-coming, in that world of wreck and rust,
+splinter and rolling gravel, where for so many years no fire had smoked.<br>
+<br>
+Silverado platform filled the whole width of the canyon.&nbsp; Above,
+as I have said, this was a wild, red, stony gully in the mountains;
+but below it was a wooded dingle.&nbsp; And through this, I was told,
+there had gone a path between the mine and the Toll House - our natural
+north-west passage to civilization.&nbsp; I found and followed it, clearing
+my way as I went through fallen branches and dead trees.&nbsp; It went
+straight down that steep canyon, till it brought you out abruptly over
+the roofs of the hotel.&nbsp; There was nowhere any break in the descent.&nbsp;
+It almost seemed as if, were you to drop a stone down the old iron chute
+at our platform, it would never rest until it hopped upon the Toll House
+shingles.&nbsp; Signs were not wanting of the ancient greatness of Silverado.&nbsp;
+The footpath was well marked, and had been well trodden in the old clays
+by thirsty miners.&nbsp; And far down, buried in foliage, deep out of
+sight of Silverado, I came on a last outpost of the mine - a mound of
+gravel, some wreck of wooden aqueduct, and the mouth of a tunnel, like
+a treasure grotto in a fairy story.&nbsp; A stream of water, fed by
+the invisible leakage from our shaft, and dyed red with cinnabar or
+iron, ran trippingly forth out of the bowels of the cave; and, looking
+far under the arch, I could see something like an iron lantern fastened
+on the rocky wall.&nbsp; It was a promising spot for the imagination.&nbsp;
+No boy could have left it unexplored.<br>
+<br>
+The stream thenceforward stole along the bottom of the dingle, and made,
+for that dry land, a pleasant warbling in the leaves.&nbsp; Once, I
+suppose, it ran splashing down the whole length of the canyon, but now
+its head waters had been tapped by the shaft at Silverado, and for a
+great part of its course it wandered sunless among the joints of the
+mountain.&nbsp; No wonder that it should better its pace when it sees,
+far before it, daylight whitening in the arch, or that it should come
+trotting forth into the sunlight with a song.<br>
+<br>
+The two stages had gone by when I got down, and the Toll House stood,
+dozing in sun and dust and silence, like a place enchanted.&nbsp; My
+mission was after hay for bedding, and that I was readily promised.&nbsp;
+But when I mentioned that we were waiting for Rufe, the people shook
+their heads.&nbsp; Rufe was not a regular man any way, it seemed; and
+if he got playing poker - Well, poker was too many for Rufe.&nbsp; I
+had not yet heard them bracketted together; but it seemed a natural
+conjunction, and commended itself swiftly to my fears; and as soon as
+I returned to Silverado and had told my story, we practically gave Hanson
+up, and set ourselves to do what we could find do-able in our desert-island
+state.<br>
+<br>
+The lower room had been the assayer&rsquo;s office.&nbsp; The floor
+was thick with <i>d&eacute;bris</i> - part human, from the former occupants;
+part natural, sifted in by mountain winds.&nbsp; In a sea of red dust
+there swam or floated sticks, boards, hay, straw, stones, and paper;
+ancient newspapers, above all - for the newspaper, especially when torn,
+soon becomes an antiquity - and bills of the Silverado boarding-house,
+some dated Silverado, some Calistoga Mine.&nbsp; Here is one, verbatim;
+and if any one can calculate the scale of charges, he has my envious
+admiration.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<pre>Calistoga Mine, May 3rd, 1875.
+John Stanley
+To S. Chapman, Cr.
+To board from April 1st, to April 30&nbsp; $25 75
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;&nbsp; &nbsp; &ldquo;&nbsp; &nbsp; &ldquo;&nbsp; May lst, to 3rd&nbsp; ...&nbsp; &nbsp; 2 00
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;27 75
+
+
+</pre><p>Where is John Stanley mining now?&nbsp; Where is S. Chapman, within
+whose hospitable walls we were to lodge?&nbsp; The date was but five
+years old, but in that time the world had changed for Silverado; like
+Palmyra in the desert, it had outlived its people and its purpose; we
+camped, like Layard, amid ruins, and these names spoke to us of prehistoric
+time.&nbsp; A boot-jack, a pair of boots, a dog-hutch, and these bills
+of Mr. Chapman&rsquo;s were the only speaking relics that we disinterred
+from all that vast Silverado rubbish-heap; but what would I not have
+given to unearth a letter, a pocket-book, a diary, only a ledger, or
+a roll of names, to take me back, in a more personal manner, to the
+past?&nbsp; It pleases me, besides, to fancy that Stanley or Chapman,
+or one of their companions, may light upon this chronicle, and be struck
+by the name, and read some news of their anterior home, coming, as it
+were, out of a subsequent epoch of history in that quarter of the world.<br>
+<br>
+As we were tumbling the mingled rubbish on the floor, kicking it with
+our feet, and groping for these written evidences of the past, Sam,
+with a somewhat whitened face, produced a paper bag.&nbsp; &ldquo;What&rsquo;s
+this?&rdquo; said he.&nbsp; It contained a granulated powder, something
+the colour of Gregory&rsquo;s Mixture, but rosier; and as there were
+several of the bags, and each more or less broken, the powder was spread
+widely on the floor.&nbsp; Had any of us ever seen giant powder?&nbsp;
+No, nobody had; and instantly there grew up in my mind a shadowy belief,
+verging with every moment nearer to certitude, that I had somewhere
+heard somebody describe it as just such a powder as the one around us.&nbsp;
+I have learnt since that it is a substance not unlike tallow, and is
+made up in rolls for all the world like tallow candles.<br>
+<br>
+Fanny, to add to our happiness, told us a story of a gentleman who had
+camped one night, like ourselves, by a deserted mine.&nbsp; He was a
+handy, thrifty fellow, and looked right and left for plunder, but all
+he could lay his hands on was a can of oil.&nbsp; After dark he had
+to see to the horses with a lantern; and not to miss an opportunity,
+filled up his lamp from the oil can.&nbsp; Thus equipped, he set forth
+into the forest.&nbsp; A little while after, his friends heard a loud
+explosion; the mountain echoes bellowed, and then all was still.&nbsp;
+On examination, the can proved to contain oil, with the trifling addition
+of nitro-glycerine; but no research disclosed a trace of either man
+or lantern.<br>
+<br>
+It was a pretty sight, after this anecdote, to see us sweeping out the
+giant powder.&nbsp; It seemed never to be far enough away.&nbsp; And,
+after all, it was only some rock pounded for assay.<br>
+<br>
+So much for the lower room.&nbsp; We scraped some of the rougher dirt
+off the floor, and left it.&nbsp; That was our sitting-room and kitchen,
+though there was nothing to sit upon but the table, and no provision
+for a fire except a hole in the roof of the room above, which had once
+contained the chimney of a stove.<br>
+<br>
+To that upper room we now proceeded.&nbsp; There were the eighteen bunks
+in a double tier, nine on either hand, where from eighteen to thirty-six
+miners had once snored together all night long, John Stanley, perhaps,
+snoring loudest.&nbsp; There was the roof, with a hole in it through
+which the sun now shot an arrow.&nbsp; There was the floor, in much
+the same state as the one below, though, perhaps, there was more hay,
+and certainly there was the added ingredient of broken glass, the man
+who stole the window-frames having apparently made a miscarriage with
+this one.&nbsp; Without a broom, without hay or bedding, we could but
+look about us with a beginning of despair.&nbsp; The one bright arrow
+of day, in that gaunt and shattered barrack, made the rest look dirtier
+and darker, and the sight drove us at last into the open.<br>
+<br>
+Here, also, the handiwork of man lay ruined: but the plants were all
+alive and thriving; the view below was fresh with the colours of nature;
+and we had exchanged a dim, human garret for a corner, even although
+it were untidy, of the blue hall of heaven.&nbsp; Not a bird, not a
+beast, not a reptile.&nbsp; There was no noise in that part of the world,
+save when we passed beside the staging, and heard the water musically
+falling in the shaft.<br>
+<br>
+We wandered to and fro.&nbsp; We searched among that drift of lumber-wood
+and iron, nails and rails, and sleepers and the wheels of tracks.&nbsp;
+We gazed up the cleft into the bosom of the mountain.&nbsp; We sat by
+the margin of the dump and saw, far below us, the green treetops standing
+still in the clear air.&nbsp; Beautiful perfumes, breaths of bay, resin,
+and nutmeg, came to us more often and grew sweeter and sharper as the
+afternoon declined.&nbsp; But still there was no word of Hanson.<br>
+<br>
+I set to with pick and shovel, and deepened the pool behind the shaft,
+till we were sure of sufficient water for the morning; and by the time
+I had finished, the sun had begun to go down behind the mountain shoulder,
+the platform was plunged in quiet shadow, and a chill descended from
+the sky.&nbsp; Night began early in our cleft.&nbsp; Before us, over
+the margin of the dump, we could see the sun still striking aslant into
+the wooded nick below, and on the battlemented, pine-bescattered ridges
+on the farther side.<br>
+<br>
+There was no stove, of course, and no hearth in our lodging, so we betook
+ourselves to the blacksmith&rsquo;s forge across the platform.&nbsp;
+If the platform be taken as a stage, and the out-curving margin of the
+dump to represent the line of the foot-lights, then our house would
+be the first wing on the actor&rsquo;s left, and this blacksmith&rsquo;s
+forge, although no match for it in size, the foremost on the right.&nbsp;
+It was a low, brown cottage, planted close against the hill, and overhung
+by the foliage and peeling boughs of a madrona thicket.&nbsp; Within
+it was full of dead leaves and mountain dust, and rubbish from the mine.&nbsp;
+But we soon had a good fire brightly blazing, and sat close about it
+on impromptu seats.&nbsp; Chuchu, the slave of sofa-cushions, whimpered
+for a softer bed; but the rest of us were greatly revived and comforted
+by that good creature-fire, which gives us warmth and light and companionable
+sounds, and colours up the emptiest building with better than frescoes.&nbsp;
+For a while it was even pleasant in the forge, with the blaze in the
+midst, and a look over our shoulders on the woods and mountains where
+the day was dying like a dolphin.<br>
+<br>
+It was between seven and eight before Hanson arrived, with a waggonful
+of our effects and two of his wife&rsquo;s relatives to lend him a hand.&nbsp;
+The elder showed surprising strength.&nbsp; He would pick up a huge
+packing-case, full of books of all things, swing it on his shoulder,
+and away up the two crazy ladders and the breakneck spout of rolling
+mineral, familiarly termed a path, that led from the cart-track to our
+house.&nbsp; Even for a man unburthened, the ascent was toilsome and
+precarious; but Irvine sealed it with a light foot, carrying box after
+box, as the hero whisks the stage child up the practicable footway beside
+the waterfall of the fifth act.&nbsp; With so strong a helper, the business
+was speedily transacted.&nbsp; Soon the assayer&rsquo;s office was thronged
+with our belongings, piled higgledy-piggledy, and upside down, about
+the floor.&nbsp; There were our boxes, indeed, but my wife had left
+her keys in Calistoga.&nbsp; There was the stove, but, alas! our carriers
+had forgot the chimney, and lost one of the plates along the road.&nbsp;
+The Silverado problem was scarce solved.<br>
+<br>
+Rufe himself was grave and good-natured over his share of blame; he
+even, if I remember right, expressed regret.&nbsp; But his crew, to
+my astonishment and anger, grinned from ear to ear, and laughed aloud
+at our distress.&nbsp; They thought it &ldquo;real funny&rdquo; about
+the stove-pipe they had forgotten; &ldquo;real funny&rdquo; that they
+should have lost a plate.&nbsp; As for hay, the whole party refused
+to bring us any till they should have supped.&nbsp; See how late they
+were!&nbsp; Never had there been such a job as coming up that grade!&nbsp;
+Nor often, I suspect, such a game of poker as that before they started.&nbsp;
+But about nine, as a particular favour, we should have some hay.<br>
+<br>
+So they took their departure, leaving me still staring, and we resigned
+ourselves to wait for their return.&nbsp; The fire in the forge had
+been suffered to go out, and we were one and all too weary to kindle
+another.&nbsp; We dined, or, not to take that word in vain, we ate after
+a fashion, in the nightmare disorder of the assayer&rsquo;s office,
+perched among boxes.&nbsp; A single candle lighted us.&nbsp; It could
+scarce be called a housewarming; for there was, of course, no fire,
+and with the two open doors and the open window gaping on the night,
+like breaches in a fortress, it began to grow rapidly chill.&nbsp; Talk
+ceased; nobody moved but the unhappy Chuchu, still in quest of sofa-cushions,
+who tumbled complainingly among the trunks.&nbsp; It required a certain
+happiness of disposition to look forward hopefully, from so dismal a
+beginning, across the brief hours of night, to the warm shining of to-morrow&rsquo;s
+sun.<br>
+<br>
+But the hay arrived at last, and we turned, with our last spark of courage,
+to the bedroom.&nbsp; We had improved the entrance, but it was still
+a kind of rope-walking; and it would have been droll to see us mounting,
+one after another, by candle-light, under the open stars.<br>
+<br>
+The western door - that which looked up the canyon, and through which
+we entered by our bridge of flying plank - was still entire, a handsome,
+panelled door, the most finished piece of carpentry in Silverado.&nbsp;
+And the two lowest bunks next to this we roughly filled with hay for
+that night&rsquo;s use.&nbsp; Through the opposite, or eastern-looking
+gable, with its open door and window, a faint, disused starshine came
+into the room like mist; and when we were once in bed, we lay, awaiting
+sleep, in a haunted, incomplete obscurity.&nbsp; At first the silence
+of the night was utter.&nbsp; Then a high wind began in the distance
+among the tree-tops, and for hours continued to grow higher.&nbsp; It
+seemed to me much such a wind as we had found on our visit; yet here
+in our open chamber we were fanned only by gentle and refreshing draughts,
+so deep was the canyon, so close our house was planted under the overhanging
+rock.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+THE HUNTER&rsquo;S FAMILY<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+There is quite a large race or class of people in America, for whom
+we scarcely seem to have a parallel in England.&nbsp; Of pure white
+blood, they are unknown or unrecognizable in towns; inhabit the fringe
+of settlements and the deep, quiet places of the country; rebellious
+to all labour, and pettily thievish, like the English gipsies; rustically
+ignorant, but with a touch of wood-lore and the dexterity of the savage.&nbsp;
+Whence they came is a moot point.&nbsp; At the time of the war, they
+poured north in crowds to escape the conscription; lived during summer
+on fruits, wild animals, and petty theft; and at the approach of winter,
+when these supplies failed, built great fires in the forest, and there
+died stoically by starvation.&nbsp; They are widely scattered, however,
+and easily recognized.&nbsp; Loutish, but not ill-looking, they will
+sit all day, swinging their legs on a field fence, the mind seemingly
+as devoid of all reflection as a Suffolk peasant&rsquo;s, careless of
+politics, for the most part incapable of reading, but with a rebellious
+vanity and a strong sense of independence.&nbsp; Hunting is their most
+congenial business, or, if the occasion offers, a little amateur detection.&nbsp;
+In tracking a criminal, following a particular horse along a beaten
+highway, and drawing inductions from a hair or a footprint, one of those
+somnolent, grinning Hodges will suddenly display activity of body and
+finesse of mind.&nbsp; By their names ye may know them, the women figuring
+as Loveina, Larsenia, Serena, Leanna, Orreana; the men answering to
+Alvin, Alva, or Orion, pronounced Orrion, with the accent on the first.&nbsp;
+Whether they are indeed a race, or whether this is the form of degeneracy
+common to all back-woodsmen, they are at least known by a generic byword,
+as Poor Whites or Low-downers.<br>
+<br>
+I will not say that the Hanson family was Poor White, because the name
+savours of offence; but I may go as far as this - they were, in many
+points, not unsimilar to the people usually so-cared.&nbsp; Rufe himself
+combined two of the qualifications, for he was both a hunter and an
+amateur detective.&nbsp; It was he who pursued Russel and Dollar, the
+robbers of the Lake Port stage, and captured them the very morning after
+the exploit, while they were still sleeping in a hayfield.&nbsp; Russel,
+a drunken Scotch carpenter, was even an acquaintance of his own, and
+he expressed much grave commiseration for his fate.&nbsp; In all that
+he said and did, Rufe was grave.&nbsp; I never saw him hurried.&nbsp;
+When he spoke, he took out his pipe with ceremonial deliberation, looked
+east and west, and then, in quiet tones and few words, stated his business
+or told his story.&nbsp; His gait was to match; it would never have
+surprised you if, at any step, he had turned round and walked away again,
+so warily and slowly, and with so much seeming hesitation did he go
+about.&nbsp; He lay long in bed in the morning - rarely indeed, rose
+before noon; he loved all games, from poker to clerical croquet; and
+in the Toll House croquet ground I have seen him toiling at the latter
+with the devotion of a curate.&nbsp; He took an interest in education,
+was an active member of the local school-board, and when I was there,
+he had recently lost the schoolhouse key.&nbsp; His waggon was broken,
+but it never seemed to occur to him to mend it.&nbsp; Like all truly
+idle people, he had an artistic eye.&nbsp; He chose the print stuff
+for his wife&rsquo;s dresses, and counselled her in the making of a
+patchwork quilt, always, as she thought, wrongly, but to the more educated
+eye, always with bizarre and admirable taste - the taste of an Indian.&nbsp;
+With all this, he was a perfect, unoffending gentleman in word and act.&nbsp;
+Take his clay pipe from him, and he was fit for any society but that
+of fools.&nbsp; Quiet as he was, there burned a deep, permanent excitement
+in his dark blue eyes; and when this grave man smiled, it was like sunshine
+in a shady place.<br>
+<br>
+Mrs. Hanson (<i>n&eacute;e</i>, if you please, Lovelands) was more commonplace
+than her lord.&nbsp; She was a comely woman, too, plump, fair-coloured,
+with wonderful white teeth; and in her print dresses (chosen by Rufe)
+and with a large sun-bonnet shading her valued complexion, made, I assure
+you, a very agreeable figure.&nbsp; But she was on the surface, what
+there was of her, out-spoken and loud-spoken.&nbsp; Her noisy laughter
+had none of the charm of one of Hanson&rsquo;s rare, slow-spreading
+smiles; there was no reticence, no mystery, no manner about the woman:
+she was a first-class dairymaid, but her husband was an unknown quantity
+between the savage and the nobleman.&nbsp; She was often in and out
+with us, merry, and healthy, and fair; he came far seldomer - only,
+indeed, when there was business, or now and again, to pay a visit of
+ceremony, brushed up for the occasion, with his wife on his arm, and
+a clean clay pipe in his teeth.&nbsp; These visits, in our forest state,
+had quite the air of an event, and turned our red canyon into a salon.<br>
+<br>
+Such was the pair who ruled in the old Silverado Hotel, among the windy
+trees, on the mountain shoulder overlooking the whole length of Napa
+Valley, as the man aloft looks down on the ship&rsquo;s deck.&nbsp;
+There they kept house, with sundry horses and fowls, and a family of
+sons, Daniel Webster, and I think George Washington, among the number.&nbsp;
+Nor did they want visitors.&nbsp; An old gentleman, of singular stolidity,
+and called Breedlove - I think he had crossed the 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&rsquo;s
+brother, Irvine Lovelands.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp;
+They were all cheerfully at sea about their names in that generation.&nbsp;
+And this is surely the more notable where the names are all so strange,
+and even the family names appear to have been coined.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; But still times change; and their next descendants,
+the George Washingtons and Daniel Websters, will at least be clear upon
+the point.&nbsp; And anyway, and however his name should be spelt, this
+Irvine Lovelands was the most unmitigated Caliban I ever knew.<br>
+<br>
+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.&nbsp; The way that he set about cutting wood was characteristic.&nbsp;
+We were at that moment patching up and unpacking in the kitchen.&nbsp;
+Down he sat on one side, and down sat his sister on the other.&nbsp;
+Both were chewing pine-tree gum, and he, to my annoyance, accompanied
+that simple pleasure with profuse expectoration.&nbsp; She rattled away,
+talking up hill and down dale, laughing, tossing her head, showing her
+brilliant teeth.&nbsp; He looked on in silence, now spitting heavily
+on the floor, now putting his head back and uttering a loud, discordant,
+joyless laugh.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; This was scarcely helpful: it was even, to amateur carpenters,
+embarrassing; but it lasted until we knocked off work and began to get
+dinner.&nbsp; Then Mrs. Hanson remembered she should have been gone
+an hour ago; and the pair retired, and the lady&rsquo;s laughter died
+away among the nutmegs down the path.&nbsp; That was Irvine&rsquo;s
+first day&rsquo;s work in my employment - the devil take him!<br>
+<br>
+The next morning he returned and, as he was this time alone, he bestowed
+his conversation upon us with great liberality.&nbsp; He prided himself
+on his intelligence; asked us if we knew the school ma&rsquo;am.&nbsp;
+<i>He</i> didn&rsquo;t think much of her, anyway.&nbsp; He had tried
+her, he had.&nbsp; He had put a question to her.&nbsp; If a tree a hundred
+feet high were to fall a foot a day, how long would it take to fall
+right down?&nbsp; She had not been able to solve the problem.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;She don&rsquo;t know nothing,&rdquo; he opined.&nbsp; He told
+us how a friend of his kept a school with a revolver, and chuckled mightily
+over that; his friend could teach school, he could.&nbsp; All the time
+he kept chewing gum and spitting.&nbsp; He would stand a while looking
+down; and then he would toss back his shock of hair, and laugh hoarsely,
+and spit, and bring forward a new subject.&nbsp; A man, he told us,
+who bore a grudge against him, had poisoned his dog.&nbsp; &ldquo;That
+was a low thing for a man to do now, wasn&rsquo;t it?&nbsp; It wasn&rsquo;t
+like a man, that, nohow.&nbsp; But I got even with him: I pisoned <i>his</i>
+dog.&rdquo;&nbsp; His clumsy utterance, his rude embarrassed manner,
+set a fresh value on the stupidity of his remarks.&nbsp; I do not think
+I ever appreciated the meaning of two words until I knew Irvine - the
+verb, loaf, and the noun, oaf; between them, they complete his portrait.&nbsp;
+He could lounge, and wriggle, and rub himself against the wall, and
+grin, and be more in everybody&rsquo;s way than any other two people
+that I ever set my eyes on.&nbsp; Nothing that he did became him; and
+yet you were conscious that he was one of your own race, that his mind
+was cumbrously at work, revolving the problem of existence like a quid
+of gum, and in his own cloudy manner enjoying life, and passing judgment
+on his fellows.&nbsp; Above all things, he was delighted with himself.&nbsp;
+You would not have thought it, from his uneasy manners and troubled,
+struggling utterance; but he loved himself to the marrow, and was happy
+and proud like a peacock on a rail.<br>
+<br>
+His self-esteem was, indeed, the one joint in his harness.&nbsp; He
+could be got to work, and even kept at work, by flattery.&nbsp; As long
+as my wife stood over him, crying out how strong he was, so long exactly
+he would stick to the matter in hand; and the moment she turned her
+back, or ceased to praise him, he would stop.&nbsp; His physical strength
+was wonderful; and to have a woman stand by and admire his achievements,
+warmed his heart like sunshine.&nbsp; Yet he was as cowardly as he was
+powerful, and felt no shame in owning to the weakness.&nbsp; Something
+was once wanted from the crazy platform over the shaft, and he at once
+refused to venture there - &ldquo;did not like,&rdquo; as he said, &ldquo;foolen&rsquo;
+round them kind o&rsquo; places,&rdquo; and let my wife go instead of
+him, looking on with a grin.&nbsp; Vanity, where it rules, is usually
+more heroic: but Irvine steadily approved himself, and expected others
+to approve him; rather looked down upon my wife, and decidedly expected
+her to look up to him, on the strength of his superior prudence.<br>
+<br>
+Yet the strangest part of the whole matter was perhaps this, that Irvine
+was as beautiful as a statue.&nbsp; His features were, in themselves,
+perfect; it was only his cloudy, uncouth, and coarse expression that
+disfigured them.&nbsp; So much strength residing in so spare a frame
+was proof sufficient of the accuracy of his shape.&nbsp; He must have
+been built somewhat after the pattern of Jack Sheppard; but the famous
+housebreaker, we may be certain, was no lout.&nbsp; It was by the extraordinary
+powers of his mind no less than by the vigour of his body, that he broke
+his strong prison with such imperfect implements, turning the very obstacles
+to service.&nbsp; Irvine, in the same case, would have sat down and
+spat, and grumbled curses.&nbsp; He had the soul of a fat sheep, but,
+regarded as an artist&rsquo;s model, the exterior of a Greek God.&nbsp;
+It was a cruel thought to persons less favoured in their birth, that
+this creature, endowed - to use the language of theatres - with extraordinary
+&ldquo;means,&rdquo; should so manage to misemploy them that he looked
+ugly and almost deformed.&nbsp; It was only by an effort of abstraction,
+and after many days, that you discovered what he was.<br>
+<br>
+By playing on the oaf&rsquo;s conceit, and standing closely over him,
+we got a path made round the corner of the dump to our door, so that
+we could come and go with decent ease; and he even enjoyed the work,
+for in that there were boulders to be plucked up bodily, bushes to be
+uprooted, and other occasions for athletic display: but cutting wood
+was a different matter.&nbsp; Anybody could cut wood; and, besides,
+my wife was tired of supervising him, and had other things to attend
+to.&nbsp; And, in short, days went by, and Irvine came daily, and talked
+and lounged and spat; but the firewood remained intact as sleepers on
+the platform or growing trees upon the mountainside.&nbsp; Irvine, as
+a woodcutter, we could tolerate; but Irvine as a friend of the family,
+at so much a day, was too bald an imposition, and at length, on the
+afternoon of the fourth or fifth day of our connection, I explained
+to him, as clearly as I could, the light in which I had grown to regard
+his presence.&nbsp; I pointed out to him that I could not continue to
+give him a salary for spitting on the floor; and this expression, which
+came after a good many others, at last penetrated his obdurate wits.&nbsp;
+He rose at once, and said if that was the way he was going to be spoke
+to, he reckoned he would quit.&nbsp; And, no one interposing, he departed.<br>
+<br>
+So far, so good.&nbsp; But we had no firewood.&nbsp; The next afternoon,
+I strolled down to Rufe&rsquo;s and consulted him on the subject.&nbsp;
+It was a very droll interview, in the large, bare north room of the
+Silverado Hotel, Mrs. Hanson&rsquo;s patchwork on a frame, and Rufe,
+and his wife, and I, and the oaf himself, all more or less embarrassed.&nbsp;
+Rufe announced there was nobody in the neighbourhood but Irvine who
+could do a day&rsquo;s work for anybody.&nbsp; Irvine, thereupon, refused
+to have any more to do with my service; he &ldquo;wouldn&rsquo;t work
+no more for a man as had spoke to him&rsquo;s I had done.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+I found myself on the point of the last humiliation - driven to beseech
+the creature whom I had just dismissed with insult: but I took the high
+hand in despair, said there must be no talk of Irvine coming back unless
+matters were to be differently managed; that I would rather chop firewood
+for myself than be fooled; and, in short, the Hansons being eager for
+the lad&rsquo;s hire, I so imposed upon them with merely affected resolution,
+that they ended by begging me to re-employ him again, on a solemn promise
+that he should be more industrious.&nbsp; The promise, I am bound to
+say, was kept.&nbsp; We soon had a fine pile of firewood at our door;
+and if Caliban gave me the cold shoulder and spared me his conversation,
+I thought none the worse of him for that, nor did I find my days much
+longer for the deprivation.<br>
+<br>
+The leading spirit of the family was, I am inclined to fancy, Mrs. Hanson.&nbsp;
+Her social brilliancy somewhat dazzled the others, and she had more
+of the small change of sense.&nbsp; It was she who faced Kelmar, for
+instance; and perhaps, if she had been alone, Kelmar would have had
+no rule within her doors.&nbsp; Rufe, to be sure, had a fine, sober,
+open-air attitude of mind, seeing the world without exaggeration - perhaps,
+we may even say, without enough; for he lacked, along with the others,
+that commercial idealism which puts so high a value on time and money.&nbsp;
+Sanity itself is a kind of convention.&nbsp; Perhaps Rufe was wrong;
+but, looking on life plainly, he was unable to perceive that croquet
+or poker were in any way less important than, for instance, mending
+his waggon.&nbsp; Even his own profession, hunting, was dear to him
+mainly as a sort of play; even that he would have neglected, had it
+not appealed to his imagination.&nbsp; His hunting-suit, for instance,
+had cost I should be afraid to say how many bucks - the currency in
+which he paid his way: it was all befringed, after the Indian fashion,
+and it was dear to his heart.&nbsp; The pictorial side of his daily
+business was never forgotten.&nbsp; He was even anxious to stand for
+his picture in those buckskin hunting clothes; and I remember how he
+once warmed almost into enthusiasm, his dark blue eyes growing perceptibly
+larger, as he planned the composition in which he should appear, &ldquo;with
+the horns of some real big bucks, and dogs, and a camp on a crick&rdquo;
+(creek, stream).<br>
+<br>
+There was no trace in Irvine of this woodland poetry.&nbsp; He did not
+care for hunting, nor yet for buckskin suits.&nbsp; He had never observed
+scenery.&nbsp; The world, as it appeared to him, was almost obliterated
+by his own great grinning figure in the foreground: Caliban Malvolio.&nbsp;
+And it seems to me as if, in the persons of these brothers-in-law, we
+had the two sides of rusticity fairly well represented: the hunter living
+really in nature; the clodhopper living merely out of society: the one
+bent up in every corporal agent to capacity in one pursuit, doing at
+least one thing keenly and thoughtfully, and thoroughly alive to all
+that touches it; the other in the inert and bestial state, walking in
+a faint dream, and taking so dim an impression of the myriad sides of
+life that he is truly conscious of nothing but himself.&nbsp; It is
+only in the fastnesses of nature, forests, mountains, and the back of
+man&rsquo;s beyond, that a creature endowed with five senses can grow
+up into the perfection of this crass and earthy vanity.&nbsp; In towns
+or the busier country sides, he is roughly reminded of other men&rsquo;s
+existence; and if he learns no more, he learns at least to fear contempt.&nbsp;
+But Irvine had come scatheless through life, conscious only of himself,
+of his great strength and intelligence; and in the silence of the universe,
+to which he did not listen, dwelling with delight on the sound of his
+own thoughts.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+THE SEA FOGS<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+A change in the colour of the light usually called me in the morning.&nbsp;
+By a certain hour, the long, vertical chinks in our western gable, where
+the boards had shrunk and separated, flashed suddenly into my eyes as
+stripes of dazzling blue, at once so dark and splendid that I used to
+marvel how the qualities could be combined.&nbsp; At an earlier hour,
+the heavens in that quarter were still quietly coloured, but the shoulder
+of the mountain which shuts in the canyon already glowed with sunlight
+in a wonderful compound of gold and rose and green; and this too would
+kindle, although more mildly and with rainbow tints, the fissures of
+our crazy gable.&nbsp; If I were sleeping heavily, it was the bold blue
+that struck me awake; if more lightly, then I would come to myself in
+that earlier and fairier fight.<br>
+<br>
+One Sunday morning, about five, the first brightness called me.&nbsp;
+I rose and turned to the east, not for my devotions, but for air.&nbsp;
+The night had been very still.&nbsp; The little private gale that blew
+every evening in our canyon, for ten minutes or perhaps a quarter of
+an hour, had swiftly blown itself out; in the hours that followed not
+a sigh of wind had shaken the treetops; and our barrack, for all its
+breaches, was less fresh that morning than of wont.&nbsp; But I had
+no sooner reached the window than I forgot all else in the sight that
+met my eyes, and I made but two bounds into my clothes, and down the
+crazy plank to the platform.<br>
+<br>
+The sun was still concealed below the opposite hilltops, though it was
+shining already, not twenty feet above my head, on our own mountain
+slope.&nbsp; But the scene, beyond a few near features, was entirely
+changed.&nbsp; Napa valley was gone; gone were all the lower slopes
+and woody foothills of the range; and in their place, not a thousand
+feet below me, rolled a great level ocean.&nbsp; It was as though I
+had gone to bed the night before, safe in a nook of inland mountains,
+and had awakened in a bay upon the coast.&nbsp; I had seen these inundations
+from below; at Calistoga I had risen and gone abroad in the early morning,
+coughing and sneezing, under fathoms on fathoms of gray sea vapour,
+like a cloudy sky - a dull sight for the artist, and a painful experience
+for the invalid.&nbsp; But to sit aloft one&rsquo;s self in the pure
+air and under the unclouded dome of heaven, and thus look down on the
+submergence of the valley, was strangely different and even delightful
+to the eyes.&nbsp; Far away were hilltops like little islands.&nbsp;
+Nearer, a smoky surf beat about the foot of precipices and poured into
+all the coves of these rough mountains.&nbsp; The colour of that fog
+ocean was a thing never to be forgotten.&nbsp; For an instant, among
+the Hebrides and just about sundown, I have seen something like it on
+the sea itself.&nbsp; But the white was not so opaline; nor was there,
+what surprisingly increased the effect, that breathless, crystal stillness
+over all.&nbsp; Even in its gentlest moods the salt sea travails, moaning
+among the weeds or lisping on the sand; but that vast fog ocean lay
+in a trance of silence, nor did the sweet air of the morning tremble
+with a sound.<br>
+<br>
+As I continued to sit upon the dump, I began to observe that this sea
+was not so level as at first sight it appeared to be.&nbsp; Away in
+the extreme south, a little hill of fog arose against the sky above
+the general surface, and as it had already caught the sun, it shone
+on the horizon like the topsails of some giant ship.&nbsp; There were
+huge waves, stationary, as it seemed, like waves in a frozen sea; and
+yet, as I looked again, I was not sure but they were moving after all,
+with a slow and august advance.&nbsp; And while I was yet doubting,
+a promontory of the some four or five miles away, conspicuous by a bouquet
+of tall pines, was in a single instant overtaken and swallowed up.&nbsp;
+It reappeared in a little, with its pines, but this time as an islet,
+and only to be swallowed up once more and then for good.&nbsp; This
+set me looking nearer, and I saw that in every cove along the line of
+mountains the fog was being piled in higher and higher, as though by
+some wind that was inaudible to me.&nbsp; I could trace its progress,
+one pine tree first growing hazy and then disappearing after another;
+although sometimes there was none of this fore-running haze, but the
+whole opaque white ocean gave a start and swallowed a piece of mountain
+at a gulp.&nbsp; It was to flee these poisonous fogs that I had left
+the seaboard, and climbed so high among the mountains.&nbsp; And now,
+behold, here came the fog to besiege me in my chosen altitudes, and
+yet came so beautifully that my first thought was of welcome.<br>
+<br>
+The sun had now gotten much higher, and through all the gaps of the
+hills it cast long bars of gold across that white ocean.&nbsp; An eagle,
+or some other very great bird of the mountain, came wheeling over the
+nearer pine-tops, and hung, poised and something sideways, as if to
+look abroad on that unwonted desolation, spying, perhaps with terror,
+for the eyries of her comrades.&nbsp; Then, with a long cry, she disappeared
+again towards Lake County and the clearer air.&nbsp; At length it seemed
+to me as if the flood were beginning to subside.&nbsp; The old landmarks,
+by whose disappearance I had measured its advance, here a crag, there
+a brave pine tree, now began, in the inverse order, to make their reappearance
+into daylight.&nbsp; I judged all danger of the fog was over.&nbsp;
+This was not Noah&rsquo;s flood; it was but a morning spring, and would
+now drift out seaward whence it came.&nbsp; So, mightily relieved, and
+a good deal exhilarated by the sight, I went into the house to light
+the fire.<br>
+<br>
+I suppose it was nearly seven when I once more mounted the platform
+to look abroad.&nbsp; The fog ocean had swelled up enormously since
+last I saw it; and a few hundred feet below me, in the deep gap where
+the Toll House stands and the road runs through into Lake County, it
+had already topped the slope, and was pouring over and down the other
+side like driving smoke.&nbsp; The wind had climbed along with it; and
+though I was still in calm air, I could see the trees tossing below
+me, and their long, strident sighing mounted to me where I stood.<br>
+<br>
+Half an hour later, the fog had surmounted all the ridge on the opposite
+side of the gap, though a shoulder of the mountain still warded it out
+of our canyon.&nbsp; Napa valley and its bounding hills were now utterly
+blotted out.&nbsp; The fog, sunny white in the sunshine, was pouring
+over into Lake County in a huge, ragged cataract, tossing treetops appearing
+and disappearing in the spray.&nbsp; The air struck with a little chill,
+and set me coughing.&nbsp; It smelt strong of the fog, like the smell
+of a washing-house, but with a shrewd tang of the sea salt.<br>
+<br>
+Had it not been for two things - the sheltering spur which answered
+as a dyke, and the great valley on the other side which rapidly engulfed
+whatever mounted - our own little platform in the canyon must have been
+already buried a hundred feet in salt and poisonous air.&nbsp; As it
+was, the interest of the scene entirely occupied our minds.&nbsp; We
+were set just out of the wind, and but just above the fog; we could
+listen to the voice of the one as to music on the stage; we could plunge
+our eyes down into the other, as into some flowing stream from over
+the parapet of a bridge; thus we looked on upon a strange, impetuous,
+silent, shifting exhibition of the powers of nature, and saw the familiar
+landscape changing from moment to moment like figures in a dream.<br>
+<br>
+The imagination loves to trifle with what is not.&nbsp; Had this been
+indeed the deluge, I should have felt more strongly, but the emotion
+would have been similar in kind.&nbsp; I played with the idea, as the
+child flees in delighted terror from the creations of his fancy.&nbsp;
+The look of the thing helped me.&nbsp; And when at last I began to flee
+up the mountain, it was indeed partly to escape from the raw air that
+kept me coughing, but it was also part in play.<br>
+<br>
+As I ascended the mountain-side, I came once more to overlook the upper
+surface of the fog; but it wore a different appearance from what I had
+beheld at daybreak.&nbsp; For, first, the sun now fell on it from high
+overhead, and its surface shone and undulated like a great nor&rsquo;land
+moor country, sheeted with untrodden morning snow.&nbsp; And next the
+new level must have been a thousand or fifteen hundred feet higher than
+the old, so that only five or six points of all the broken country below
+me, still stood out.&nbsp; Napa valley was now one with Sonoma on the
+west.&nbsp; On the hither side, only a thin scattered fringe of bluffs
+was unsubmerged; and through all the gaps the fog was pouring over,
+like an ocean, into the blue clear sunny country on the east.&nbsp;
+There it was soon lost; for it fell instantly into the bottom of the
+valleys, following the water-shed; and the hilltops in that quarter
+were still clear cut upon the eastern sky.<br>
+<br>
+Through the Toll House gap and over the near ridges on the other side,
+the deluge was immense.&nbsp; A spray of thin vapour was thrown high
+above it, rising and falling, and blown into fantastic shapes.&nbsp;
+The speed of its course was like a mountain torrent.&nbsp; Here and
+there a few treetops were discovered and then whelmed again; and for
+one second, the bough of a dead pine beckoned out of the spray like
+the arm of a drowning man.&nbsp; But still the imagination was dissatisfied,
+still the ear waited for something more.&nbsp; Had this indeed been
+water (as it seemed so, to the eye), with what a plunge of reverberating
+thunder would it have rolled upon its course, disembowelling mountains
+and deracinating pines!&nbsp; And yet water it was, and sea-water at
+that - true Pacific billows, only somewhat rarefied, rolling in mid
+air among the hilltops.<br>
+<br>
+I climbed still higher, among the red rattling gravel and dwarf underwood
+of Mount Saint Helena, until I could look right down upon Silverado,
+and admire the favoured nook in which it lay.&nbsp; The sunny plain
+of fog was several hundred feet higher; behind the protecting spur a
+gigantic accumulation of cottony vapour threatened, with every second,
+to blow over and submerge our homestead; but the vortex setting past
+the Toll House was too strong; and there lay our little platform, in
+the arms of the deluge, but still enjoying its unbroken sunshine.&nbsp;
+About eleven, however, thin spray came flying over the friendly buttress,
+and I began to think the fog had hunted out its Jonah after all.&nbsp;
+But it was the last effort.&nbsp; The wind veered while we were at dinner,
+and began to blow squally from the mountain summit; and by half-past
+one, all that world of sea-fogs was utterly routed and flying here and
+there into the south in little rags of cloud.&nbsp; And instead of a
+lone sea-beach, we found ourselves once more inhabiting a high mountainside,
+with the clear green country far below us, and the light smoke of Calistoga
+blowing in the air.<br>
+<br>
+This was the great Russian campaign for that season.&nbsp; Now and then,
+in the early morning, a little white lakelet of fog would be seen far
+down in Napa Valley; but the heights were not again assailed, nor was
+the surrounding world again shut off from Silverado.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+THE TOLL HOUSE<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+The Toll House, standing alone by the wayside under nodding pines, with
+its streamlet and water-tank; its backwoods, toll-bar, and well trodden
+croquet ground; the ostler standing by the stable door, chewing a straw;
+a glimpse of the Chinese cook in the back parts; and Mr. Hoddy in the
+bar, gravely alert and serviceable, and equally anxious to lend or borrow
+books; - dozed all day in the dusty sunshine, more than half asleep.&nbsp;
+There were no neighbours, except the Hansons up the hill.&nbsp; The
+traffic on the road was infinitesimal; only, at rare intervals, a couple
+in a waggon, or a dusty farmer on a springboard, toiling over &ldquo;the
+grade&rdquo; to that metropolitan hamlet, Calistoga; and, at the fixed
+hours, the passage of the stages.<br>
+<br>
+The nearest building was the school-house, down the road; and the school-ma&rsquo;am
+boarded at the Toll House, walking thence in the morning to the little
+brown shanty, where she taught the young ones of the district, and returning
+thither pretty weary in the afternoon.&nbsp; She had chosen this outlying
+situation, I understood, for her health.&nbsp; Mr. Corwin was consumptive;
+so was Rufe; so was Mr. Jennings, the engineer.&nbsp; In short, the
+place was a kind of small Davos: consumptive folk consorting on a hilltop
+in the most unbroken idleness.&nbsp; Jennings never did anything that
+I could see, except now and then to fish, and generally to sit about
+in the bar and the verandah, waiting for something to happen.&nbsp;
+Corwin and Rufe did as little as possible; and if the school-ma&rsquo;am,
+poor lady, had to work pretty hard all morning, she subsided when it
+was over into much the same dazed beatitude as all the rest.<br>
+<br>
+Her special corner was the parlour - a very genteel room, with Bible
+prints, a crayon portrait of Mrs. Corwin in the height of fashion, a
+few years ago, another of her son (Mr. Corwin was not represented),
+a mirror, and a selection of dried grasses.&nbsp; A large book was laid
+religiously on the table - &ldquo;From Palace to Hovel,&rdquo; I believe,
+its name - full of the raciest experiences in England.&nbsp; The author
+had mingled freely with all classes, the nobility particularly meeting
+him with open arms; and I must say that traveller had ill requited his
+reception.&nbsp; His book, in short, was a capital instance of the Penny
+Messalina school of literature; and there arose from it, in that cool
+parlour, in that silent, wayside, mountain inn, a rank atmosphere of
+gold and blood and &ldquo;Jenkins,&rdquo; and the &ldquo;Mysteries of
+London,&rdquo; and sickening, inverted snobbery, fit to knock you down.&nbsp;
+The mention of this book reminds me of another and far racier picture
+of our island life.&nbsp; The latter parts of <i>Rocambole</i> are surely
+too sparingly consulted in the country which they celebrate.&nbsp; No
+man&rsquo;s education can be said to be complete, nor can he pronounce
+the world yet emptied of enjoyment, till he has made the acquaintance
+of &ldquo;the Reverend Patterson, director of the Evangelical Society.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+To follow the evolutions of that reverend gentleman, who goes through
+scenes in which even Mr. Duffield would hesitate to place a bishop,
+is to rise to new ideas.&nbsp; But, alas! there was no Patterson about
+the Toll House.&nbsp; Only, alongside of &ldquo;From Palace to Hovel,&rdquo;
+a sixpenny &ldquo;Ouida&rdquo; figured.&nbsp; So literature, you see,
+was not unrepresented.<br>
+<br>
+The school-ma&rsquo;am had friends to stay with her, other school-ma&rsquo;ams
+enjoying their holidays, quite a bevy of damsels.&nbsp; They seemed
+never to go out, or not beyond the verandah, but sat close in the little
+parlour, quietly talking or listening to the wind among the trees.&nbsp;
+Sleep dwelt in the Toll House, like a fixture: summer sleep, shallow,
+soft, and dreamless.&nbsp; A cuckoo-clock, a great rarity in such a
+place, hooted at intervals about the echoing house; and Mr. Jenning
+would open his eyes for a moment in the bar, and turn the leaf of a
+newspaper, and the resting school-ma&rsquo;ams in the parlour would
+be recalled to the consciousness of their inaction.&nbsp; Busy Mrs.
+Corwin and her busy Chinaman might be heard indeed, in the penetralia,
+pounding dough or rattling dishes; or perhaps Rufe had called up some
+of the sleepers for a game of croquet, and the hollow strokes of the
+mallet sounded far away among the woods: but with these exceptions,
+it was sleep and sunshine and dust, and the wind in the pine trees,
+all day long.<br>
+<br>
+A little before stage time, that castle of indolence awoke.&nbsp; The
+ostler threw his straw away and set to his preparations.&nbsp; Mr. Jennings
+rubbed his eyes; happy Mr. Jennings, the something he had been waiting
+for all day about to happen at last!&nbsp; The boarders gathered in
+the verandah, silently giving ear, and gazing down the road with shaded
+eyes.&nbsp; And as yet there was no sign for the senses, not a sound,
+not a tremor of the mountain road.&nbsp; The birds, to whom the secret
+of the hooting cuckoo is unknown, must have set down to instinct this
+premonitory bustle.<br>
+<br>
+And then the first of the two stages swooped upon the Toll House with
+a roar and in a cloud of dust; and the shock had not yet time to subside,
+before the second was abreast of it.&nbsp; Huge concerns they were,
+well-horsed and loaded, the men in their shirt-sleeves, the women swathed
+in veils, the long whip cracking like a pistol; and as they charged
+upon that slumbering hostelry, each shepherding a dust storm, the dead
+place blossomed into life and talk and clatter.&nbsp; This the Toll
+House? - with its city throng, its jostling shoulders, its infinity
+of instant business in the bar?&nbsp; The mind would not receive it!&nbsp;
+The heartfelt bustle of that hour is hardly credible; the thrill of
+the great shower of letters from the post-bag, the childish hope and
+interest with which one gazed in all these strangers&rsquo; eyes.&nbsp;
+They paused there but to pass: the blue-clad China-boy, the San Francisco
+magnate, the mystery in the dust coat, the secret memoirs in tweed,
+the ogling, well-shod lady with her troop of girls; they did but flash
+and go; they were hull-down for us behind life&rsquo;s ocean, and we
+but hailed their topsails on the line.&nbsp; Yet, out of our great solitude
+of four and twenty mountain hours, we thrilled to their momentary presence
+gauged and divined them, loved and hated; and stood light-headed in
+that storm of human electricity.&nbsp; Yes, like Piccadilly circus,
+this is also one of life&rsquo;s crossing-places.&nbsp; Here I beheld
+one man, already famous or infamous, a centre of pistol-shots: and another
+who, if not yet known to rumour, will fill a column of the Sunday paper
+when he comes to hang - a burly, thick-set, powerful Chinese desperado,
+six long bristles upon either lip; redolent of whiskey, playing cards,
+and pistols; swaggering in the bar with the lowest assumption of the
+lowest European manners; rapping out blackguard English oaths in his
+canorous oriental voice; and combining in one person the depravities
+of two races and two civilizations.&nbsp; For all his lust and vigour,
+he seemed to look cold upon me from the valley of the shadow of the
+gallows.&nbsp; He imagined a vain thing; and while he drained his cock-tail,
+Holbein&rsquo;s death was at his elbow.&nbsp; Once, too, I fell in talk
+with another of these flitting strangers - like the rest, in his shirt-sleeves
+and all begrimed with dust - and the next minute we were discussing
+Paris and London, theatres and wines.&nbsp; To him, journeying from
+one human place to another, this was a trifle; but to me!&nbsp; No,
+Mr. Lillie, I have not forgotten it.<br>
+<br>
+And presently the city-tide was at its flood and began to ebb.&nbsp;
+Life runs in Piccadilly Circus, say, from nine to one, and then, there
+also, ebbs into the small hours of the echoing policeman and the lamps
+and stars.&nbsp; But the Toll House is far up stream, and near its rural
+springs; the bubble of the tide but touches it.&nbsp; Before you had
+yet grasped your pleasure, the horses were put to, the loud whips volleyed,
+and the tide was gone.&nbsp; North and south had the two stages vanished,
+the towering dust subsided in the woods; but there was still an interval
+before the flush had fallen on your cheeks, before the ear became once
+more contented with the silence, or the seven sleepers of the Toll House
+dozed back to their accustomed corners.&nbsp; Yet a little, and the
+ostler would swing round the great barrier across the road; and in the
+golden evening, that dreamy inn begin to trim its lamps and spread the
+board for supper.<br>
+<br>
+As I recall the place - the green dell below; the spires of pine; the
+sun-warm, scented air; that gray, gabled inn, with its faint stirrings
+of life amid the slumber of the mountains - I slowly awake to a sense
+of admiration, gratitude, and almost love.&nbsp; A fine place, after
+all, for a wasted life to doze away in - the cuckoo clock hooting of
+its far home country; the croquet mallets, eloquent of English lawns;
+the stages daily bringing news of - the turbulent world away below there;
+and perhaps once in the summer, a salt fog pouring overhead with its
+tale of the Pacific.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+A STARRY DRIVE<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+In our rule at Silverado, there was a melancholy interregnum.&nbsp;
+The queen and the crown prince with one accord fell sick; and, as I
+was sick to begin with, our lone position on Mount Saint Helena was
+no longer tenable, and we had to hurry back to Calistoga and a cottage
+on the green.&nbsp; By that time we had begun to realize the difficulties
+of our position.&nbsp; We had found what an amount of labour it cost
+to support life in our red canyon; and it was the dearest desire of
+our hearts to get a China-boy to go along with us when we returned.&nbsp;
+We could have given him a whole house to himself, self-contained, as
+they say in the advertisements; and on the money question we were prepared
+to go far.&nbsp; Kong Sam Kee, the Calistoga washerman, was entrusted
+with the affair; and from day to day it languished on, with protestations
+on our part and mellifluous excuses on the part of Kong Sam Kee.<br>
+<br>
+At length, about half-past eight of our last evening, with the waggon
+ready harnessed to convey us up the grade, the washerman, with a somewhat
+sneering air, produced the boy.&nbsp; He was a handsome, gentlemanly
+lad, attired in rich dark blue, and shod with snowy white; but, alas!
+he had heard rumours of Silverado.&nbsp; He know it for a lone place
+on the mountain-side, with no friendly wash-house near by, where he
+might smoke a pipe of opium o&rsquo; nights with other China-boys, and
+lose his little earnings at the game of tan; and he first backed out
+for more money; and then, when that demand was satisfied, refused to
+come point-blank.&nbsp; He was wedded to his wash-houses; he had no
+taste for the rural life; and we must go to our mountain servantless.&nbsp;
+It must have been near half an hour before we reached that conclusion,
+standing in the midst of Calistoga high street under the stars, and
+the China-boy and Kong Sam Kee singing their pigeon English in the sweetest
+voices and with the most musical inflections.<br>
+<br>
+We were not, however, to return alone; for we brought with us Joe Strong,
+the painter, a most good-natured comrade and a capital hand at an omelette.&nbsp;
+I do not know in which capacity he was most valued - as a cook or a
+companion; and he did excellently well in both.<br>
+<br>
+The Kong Sam Kee negotiation had delayed us unduly; it must have been
+half-past nine before we left Calistoga, and night came fully ere we
+struck the bottom of the grade.&nbsp; I have never seen such a night.&nbsp;
+It seemed to throw calumny in the teeth of all the painters that ever
+dabbled in starlight.&nbsp; The sky itself was of a ruddy, powerful,
+nameless, changing colour, dark and glossy like a serpent&rsquo;s back.&nbsp;
+The stars, by innumerable millions, stuck boldly forth like lamps.&nbsp;
+The milky way was bright, like a moonlit cloud; half heaven seemed milky
+way.&nbsp; The greater luminaries shone each more clearly than a winter&rsquo;s
+moon.&nbsp; Their light was dyed in every sort of colour - red, like
+fire; blue, like steel; green, like the tracks of sunset; and so sharply
+did each stand forth in its own lustre that there was no appearance
+of that flat, star-spangled arch we know so well in pictures, but all
+the hollow of heaven was one chaos of contesting luminaries - a hurry-burly
+of stars.&nbsp; Against this the hills and rugged treetops stood out
+redly dark.<br>
+<br>
+As we continued to advance, the lesser lights and milky ways first grew
+pale, and then vanished; the countless hosts of heaven dwindled in number
+by successive millions; those that still shone had tempered their exceeding
+brightness and fallen back into their customary wistful distance; and
+the sky declined from its first bewildering splendour into the appearance
+of a common night.&nbsp; Slowly this change proceeded, and still there
+was no sign of any cause.&nbsp; Then a whiteness like mist was thrown
+over the spurs of the mountain.&nbsp; Yet a while, and, as we turned
+a corner, a great leap of silver light and net of forest shadows fell
+across the road and upon our wondering waggonful; and, swimming low
+among the trees, we beheld a strange, misshapen, waning moon, half-tilted
+on her back.<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Where are ye when the moon appears?&rdquo; so the old poet sang,
+half-taunting, to the stars, bent upon a courtly purpose.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;As the sunlight round the dim earth&rsquo;s midnight tower of
+shadow pours,<br>
+Streaming past the dim, wide portals,<br>
+Viewless to the eyes of mortals,<br>
+Till it floods the moon&rsquo;s pale islet or the morning&rsquo;s golden
+shores.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+So sings Mr. Trowbridge, with a noble inspiration.&nbsp; And so had
+the sunlight flooded that pale islet of the moon, and her lit face put
+out, one after another, that galaxy of stars.&nbsp; The wonder of the
+drive was over; but, by some nice conjunction of clearness in the air
+and fit shadow in the valley where we travelled, we had seen for a little
+while that brave display of the midnight heavens.&nbsp; It was gone,
+but it had been; nor shall I ever again behold the stars with the same
+mind.&nbsp; He who has seen the sea commoved with a great hurricane,
+thinks of it very differently from him who has seen it only in a calm.&nbsp;
+And the difference between a calm and a hurricane is not greatly more
+striking than that between the ordinary face of night and the splendour
+that shone upon us in that drive.&nbsp; Two in our waggon knew night
+as she shines upon the tropics, but even that bore no comparison.&nbsp;
+The nameless colour of the sky, the hues of the star-fire, and the incredible
+projection of the stars themselves, starting from their orbits, so that
+the eye seemed to distinguish their positions in the hollow of space
+- these were things that we had never seen before and shall never see
+again.<br>
+<br>
+Meanwhile, in this altered night, we proceeded on our way among the
+scents and silence of the forest, reached the top of the grade, wound
+up by Hanson&rsquo;s, and came at last to a stand under the flying gargoyle
+of the chute.&nbsp; Sam, who had been lying back, fast asleep, with
+the moon on his face, got down, with the remark that it was pleasant
+&ldquo;to be home.&rdquo;&nbsp; The waggon turned and drove away, the
+noise gently dying in the woods, and we clambered up the rough path,
+Caliban&rsquo;s great feat of engineering, and came home to Silverado.<br>
+<br>
+The moon shone in at the eastern doors and windows, and over the lumber
+on the platform.&nbsp; The one tall pine beside. the ledge was steeped
+in silver.&nbsp; Away up the canyon, a wild cat welcomed us with three
+discordant squalls.&nbsp; But once we had lit a candle, and began to
+review our improvements, homely in either sense, and count our stores,
+it was wonderful what a feeling of possession and permanence grow up
+in the hearts of the lords of Silverado.&nbsp; A bed had still to be
+made up for Strong, and the morning&rsquo;s water to be fetched, with
+clinking pail; and as we set about these household duties, and showed
+off our wealth and conveniences before the stranger, and had a glass
+of wine, I think, in honour of our return, and trooped at length one
+after another up the flying bridge of plank, and lay down to sleep in
+our shattered, moon-pierced barrack, we were among the happiest sovereigns
+in the world, and certainly ruled over the most contented people.&nbsp;
+Yet, in our absence, the palace had been sacked.&nbsp; Wild cats, so
+the Hansons said, had broken in and carried off a side of bacon, a hatchet,
+and two knives.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+EPISODES IN THE STORY OF A MINE<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+No one could live at Silverado and not be curious about the story of
+the mine.&nbsp; We were surrounded by so many evidences of expense and
+toil, we lived so entirely in the wreck of that great enterprise, like
+mites in the ruins of a cheese, that the idea of the old din and bustle
+haunted our repose.&nbsp; Our own house, the forge, the dump, the chutes,
+the rails, the windlass, the mass of broken plant; the two tunnels,
+one far below in the green dell, the other on the platform where we
+kept our wine; the deep shaft, with the sun-glints and the water-drops;
+above all, the ledge, that great gaping slice out of the mountain shoulder,
+propped apart by wooden wedges, on whose immediate margin, high above
+our heads, the one tall pine precariously nodded - these stood for its
+greatness; while, the dog-hutch, boot-jacks, old boots, old tavern bills,
+and the very beds that we inherited from bygone miners, put in human
+touches and realized for us the story of the past.<br>
+<br>
+I have sat on an old sleeper, under the thick madronas near the forge,
+with just a look over the dump on the green world below, and seen the
+sun lying broad among the wreck, and heard the silence broken only by
+the tinkling water in the shaft, or a stir of the royal family about
+the battered palace, and my mind has gone back to the epoch of the Stanleys
+and the Chapmans, with a grand <i>tutti</i> of pick and drill, hammer
+and anvil, echoing about the canyon; the assayer hard at it in our dining-room;
+the carts below on the road, and their cargo of red mineral bounding
+and thundering down the iron chute.&nbsp; And now all gone - all fallen
+away into this sunny silence and desertion: a family of squatters dining
+in the assayer&rsquo;s office, making their beds in the big sleeping
+room erstwhile so crowded, keeping their wine in the tunnel that once
+rang with picks.<br>
+<br>
+But Silverado itself, although now fallen in its turn into decay, was
+once but a mushroom, and had succeeded to other mines and other flitting
+cities.&nbsp; Twenty years ago, away down the glen on the Lake County
+side there was a place, Jonestown by name, with two thousand inhabitants
+dwelling under canvas, and one roofed house for the sale of whiskey.&nbsp;
+Round on the western side of Mount Saint Helena, there was at the same
+date, a second large encampment, its name, if it ever had one, lost
+for me.&nbsp; Both of these have perished, leaving not a stick and scarce
+a memory behind them.&nbsp; Tide after tide of hopeful miners have thus
+flowed and ebbed about the mountain, coming and going, now by lone prospectors,
+now with a rush.&nbsp; Last, in order of time came Silverado, reared
+the big mill, in the valley, founded the town which is now represented,
+monumentally, by Hanson&rsquo;s, pierced all these slaps and shafts
+and tunnels, and in turn declined and died away.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Our noisy years seem moments in the wake<br>
+Of the eternal silence.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+As to the success of Silverado in its time of being, two reports were
+current.&nbsp; According to the first, six hundred thousand dollars
+were taken out of that great upright seam, that still hung open above
+us on crazy wedges.&nbsp; Then the ledge pinched out, and there followed,
+in quest of the remainder, a great drifting and tunnelling in all directions,
+and a great consequent effusion of dollars, until, all parties being
+sick of the expense, the mine was deserted, and the town decamped.&nbsp;
+According to the second version, told me with much secrecy of manner,
+the whole affair, mine, mill, and town, were parts of one majestic swindle.&nbsp;
+There had never come any silver out of any portion of the mine; there
+was no silver to come.&nbsp; At midnight trains of packhorses might
+have been observed winding by devious tracks about the shoulder of the
+mountain.&nbsp; They came from far away, from Amador or Placer, laden
+with silver in &ldquo;old cigar boxes.&rdquo;&nbsp; They discharged
+their load at Silverado, in the hour of sleep; and before the morning
+they were gone again with their mysterious drivers to their unknown
+source.&nbsp; In this way, twenty thousand pounds&rsquo; worth of silver
+was smuggled in under cover of night, in these old cigar boxes; mixed
+with Silverado mineral; carted down to the mill; crushed, amalgated,
+and refined, and despatched to the city as the proper product of the
+mine.&nbsp; Stock-jobbing, if it can cover such expenses, must be a
+profitable business in San Francisco.<br>
+<br>
+I give these two versions as I got them.&nbsp; But I place little reliance
+on either, my belief in history having been greatly shaken.&nbsp; For
+it chanced that I had come to dwell in Silverado at a critical hour;
+great events in its history were about to happen - did happen, as I
+am led to believe; nay, and it will be seen that I played a part in
+that revolution myself.&nbsp; And yet from first to last I never had
+a glimmer of an idea what was going on; and even now, after full reflection,
+profess myself at sea.&nbsp; That there was some obscure intrigue of
+the cigar-box order, and that I, in the character of a wooden puppet,
+set pen to paper in the interest of somebody, so much, and no more,
+is certain.<br>
+<br>
+Silverado, then under my immediate sway, belonged to one whom I will
+call a Mr. Ronalds.&nbsp; I only knew him through the extraordinarily
+distorting medium of local gossip, now as a momentous jobber; now as
+a dupe to point an adage; and again, and much more probably, as an ordinary
+Christian gentleman like you or me, who had opened a mine and worked
+it for a while with better and worse fortune.&nbsp; So, through a defective
+window-pane, you may see the passer-by shoot up into a hunchbacked giant
+or dwindle into a potbellied dwarf.<br>
+<br>
+To Ronalds, at least, the mine belonged; but the notice by which he
+held it would ran out upon the 30th of June - or rather, as I suppose,
+it had run out already, and the month of grace would expire upon that
+day, after which any American citizen might post a notice of his own,
+and make Silverado his.&nbsp; This, with a sort of quiet slyness, Rufe
+told me at an early period of our acquaintance.&nbsp; There was no silver,
+of course; the mine &ldquo;wasn&rsquo;t worth nothing, Mr. Stevens,&rdquo;
+but there was a deal of old iron and wood around, and to gain possession
+of this old wood and iron, and get a right to the water, Rufe proposed,
+if I had no objections, to &ldquo;jump the claim.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+Of course, I had no objection.&nbsp; But I was filled with wonder.&nbsp;
+If all he wanted was the wood and iron, what, in the name of fortune,
+was to prevent him taking them?&nbsp; &ldquo;His right there was none
+to dispute.&rdquo;&nbsp; He might lay hands on all to-morrow, as the
+wild cats had laid hands upon our knives and hatchet.&nbsp; Besides,
+was this mass of heavy mining plant worth transportation?&nbsp; If it
+was, why had not the rightful owners carted it away?&nbsp; If it was,
+would they not preserve their title to these movables, even after they
+had lost their title to the mine?&nbsp; And if it were not, what the
+better was Rufe?&nbsp; Nothing would grow at Silverado; there was even
+no wood to cut; beyond a sense of property, there was nothing to be
+gained.&nbsp; Lastly, was it at all credible that Ronalds would forget
+what Rufe remembered?&nbsp; The days of grace were not yet over: any
+fine morning he might appear, paper in hand, and enter for another year
+on his inheritance.&nbsp; However, it was none of my business; all seemed
+legal; Rufe or Ronalds, all was one to me.<br>
+<br>
+On the morning of the 27th, Mrs. Hanson appeared with the milk as usual,
+in her sun-bonnet.&nbsp; The time would be out on Tuesday, she reminded
+us, and bade me be in readiness to play my part, though I had no idea
+what it was to be.&nbsp; And suppose Ronalds came? we asked.&nbsp; She
+received the idea with derision, laughing aloud with all her fine teeth.&nbsp;
+He could not find the mine to save his life, it appeared, without Rufe
+to guide him.&nbsp; Last year, when he came, they heard him &ldquo;up
+and down the road a hollerin&rsquo; and a raisin&rsquo; Cain.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And at last he had to come to the Hansons in despair, and bid Rufe,
+&ldquo;Jump into your pants and shoes, and show me where this old mine
+is, anyway!&rdquo;&nbsp; Seeing that Ronalds had laid out so much money
+in the spot, and that a beaten road led right up to the bottom of the
+clump, I thought this a remarkable example.&nbsp; The sense of locality
+must be singularly in abeyance in the case of Ronalds.<br>
+<br>
+That same evening, supper comfortably over, Joe Strong busy at work
+on a drawing of the dump and the opposite hills, we were all out on
+the platform together, sitting there, under the tented heavens, with
+the same sense of privacy as if we had been cabined in a parlour, when
+the sound of brisk footsteps came mounting up the path.&nbsp; We pricked
+our ears at this, for the tread seemed lighter and firmer than was usual
+with our country neighbours.&nbsp; And presently, sure enough, two town
+gentlemen, with cigars and kid gloves, came debauching past the house.&nbsp;
+They looked in that place like a blasphemy.<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Good evening,&rdquo; they said.&nbsp; For none of us had stirred;
+we all sat stiff with wonder.<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Good evening,&rdquo; I returned; and then, to put them at their
+ease, &ldquo;A stiff climb,&rdquo; I added.<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied the leader; &ldquo;but we have to thank you
+for this path.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+I did not like the man&rsquo;s tone.&nbsp; None of us liked it.&nbsp;
+He did not seem embarrassed by the meeting, but threw us his remarks
+like favours, and strode magisterially by us towards the shaft and tunnel.<br>
+<br>
+Presently we heard his voice raised to his companion.&nbsp; &ldquo;We
+drifted every sort of way, but couldn&rsquo;t strike the ledge.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Then again: &ldquo;It pinched out here.&rdquo;&nbsp; And once more:
+&ldquo;Every minor that ever worked upon it says there&rsquo;s bound
+to be a ledge somewhere.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+These were the snatches of his talk that reached us, and they had a
+damning significance.&nbsp; We, the lords of Silverado, had come face
+to face with our superior.&nbsp; It is the worst of all quaint and of
+all cheap ways of life that they bring us at last to the pinch of some
+humiliation.&nbsp; I liked well enough to be a squatter when there was
+none but Hanson by; before Ronalds, I will own, I somewhat quailed.&nbsp;
+I hastened to do him fealty, said I gathered he was the Squattee, and
+apologized.&nbsp; He threatened me with ejection, in a manner grimly
+pleasant - more pleasant to him, I fancy, than to me; and then he passed
+off into praises of the former state of Silverado.&nbsp; &ldquo;It was
+the busiest little mining town you ever saw:&rdquo; a population of
+between a thousand and fifteen hundred souls, the engine in full blast,
+the mill newly erected; nothing going but champagne, and hope the order
+of the day.&nbsp; Ninety thousand dollars came out; a hundred and forty
+thousand were put in, making a net loss of fifty thousand.&nbsp; The
+last days, I gathered, the days of John Stanley, were not so bright;
+the champagne had ceased to flow, the population was already moving
+elsewhere, and Silverado had begun to wither in the branch before it
+was cut at the root.&nbsp; The last shot that was fired knocked over
+the stove chimney, and made that hole in the roof of our barrack, through
+which the sun was wont to visit slug-a-beds towards afternoon.&nbsp;
+A noisy, last shot, to inaugurate the days of silence.<br>
+<br>
+Throughout this interview, my conscience was a good deal exercised;
+and I was moved to throw myself on my knees and own the intended treachery.&nbsp;
+But then I had Hanson to consider.&nbsp; I was in much the same position
+as Old Rowley, that royal humourist, whom &ldquo;the rogue had taken
+into his confidence.&rdquo;&nbsp; And again, here was Ronalds on the
+spot.&nbsp; He must know the day of the month as well as Hanson and
+I.&nbsp; If a broad hint were necessary, he had the broadest in the
+world.&nbsp; For a large board had been nailed by the crown prince on
+the very front of our house, between the door and window, painted in
+cinnabar - the pigment of the country - with doggrel rhymes and contumelious
+pictures, and announcing, in terms unnecessarily figurative, that the
+trick was already played, the claim already jumped, and Master Sam the
+legitimate successor of Mr. Ronalds.&nbsp; But no, nothing could save
+that man; <i>quem</i> <i>deus vult perdere, prius dementat</i>.&nbsp;
+As he came so he went, and left his rights depending.<br>
+<br>
+Late at night, by Silverado reckoning, and after we were all abed, Mrs.
+Hanson returned to give us the newest of her news.&nbsp; It was like
+a scene in a ship&rsquo;s steerage: all of us abed in our different
+tiers, the single candle struggling with the darkness, and this plump,
+handsome woman, seated on an upturned valise beside the bunks, talking
+and showing her fine teeth, and laughing till the rafters rang.&nbsp;
+Any ship, to be sure, with a hundredth part as many holes in it as our
+barrack, must long ago have gone to her last port.&nbsp; Up to that
+time I had always imagined Mrs. Hanson&rsquo;s loquacity to be mere
+incontinence, that she said what was uppermost for the pleasure of speaking,
+and laughed and laughed again as a kind of musical accompaniment.&nbsp;
+But I now found there was an art in it, I found it less communicative
+than silence itself.&nbsp; I wished to know why Ronalds had come; how
+he had found his way without Rufe; and why, being on the spot, he had
+not refreshed his title.&nbsp; She talked interminably on, but her replies
+were never answers.&nbsp; She fled under a cloud of words; and when
+I had made sure that she was purposely eluding me, I dropped the subject
+in my turn, and let her rattle where she would.<br>
+<br>
+She had come to tell us that, instead of waiting for Tuesday, the claim
+was to be jumped on the morrow.&nbsp; How?&nbsp; If the time were not
+out, it was impossible.&nbsp; Why?&nbsp; If Ronalds had come and gone,
+and done nothing, there was the less cause for hurry.&nbsp; But again
+I could reach no satisfaction.&nbsp; The claim was to be jumped next
+morning, that was all that she would condescend upon.<br>
+<br>
+And yet it was not jumped the next morning, nor yet the next, and a
+whole week had come and gone before we heard more of this exploit.&nbsp;
+That day week, however, a day of great heat, Hanson, with a little roll
+of paper in his hand, and the eternal pipe alight; Breedlove, his large,
+dull friend, to act, I suppose, as witness; Mrs. Hanson, in her Sunday
+best; and all the children, from the oldest to the youngest; - arrived
+in a procession, tailing one behind another up the path.&nbsp; Caliban
+was absent, but he had been chary of his friendly visits since the row;
+and with that exception, the whole family was gathered together as for
+a marriage or a christening.&nbsp; Strong was sitting at work, in the
+shade of the dwarf madronas near the forge; and they planted themselves
+about him in a circle, one on a stone, another on the waggon rails,
+a third on a piece of plank.&nbsp; Gradually the children stole away
+up the canyon to where there was another chute, somewhat smaller than
+the one across the dump; and down this chute, for the rest of the afternoon,
+they poured one avalanche of stones after another, waking the echoes
+of the glen.&nbsp; Meantime we elders sat together on the platform,
+Hanson and his friend smoking in silence like Indian sachems, Mrs. Hanson
+rattling on as usual with an adroit volubility, saying nothing, but
+keeping the party at their ease like a courtly hostess.<br>
+<br>
+Not a word occurred about the business of the day.&nbsp; Once, twice,
+and thrice I tried to slide the subject in, but was discouraged by the
+stoic apathy of Rufe, and beaten down before the pouring verbiage of
+his wife.&nbsp; There is nothing of the Indian brave about me, and I
+began to grill with impatience.&nbsp; At last, like a highway robber,
+I cornered Hanson, and bade him stand and deliver his business.&nbsp;
+Thereupon he gravely rose, as though to hint that this was not a proper
+place, nor the subject one suitable for squaws, and I, following his
+example, led him up the plank into our barrack.&nbsp; There he bestowed
+himself on a box, and unrolled his papers with fastidious deliberation.&nbsp;
+There were two sheets of note-paper, and an old mining notice, dated
+May 30th, 1879, part print, part manuscript, and the latter much obliterated
+by the rains.&nbsp; It was by this identical piece of paper that the
+mine had been held last year.&nbsp; For thirteen months it had endured
+the weather and the change of seasons on a cairn behind the shoulder
+of the canyon; and it was now my business, spreading it before me on
+the table, and sitting on a valise, to copy its terms, with some necessary
+changes, twice over on the two sheets of note-paper.&nbsp; One was then
+to be placed on the same cairn - a &ldquo;mound of rocks&rdquo; the
+notice put it; and the other to be lodged for registration.<br>
+<br>
+Rufe watched me, silently smoking, till I came to the place for the
+locator&rsquo;s name at the end of the first copy; and when I proposed
+that he should sign, I thought I saw a scare in his eye.&nbsp; &ldquo;I
+don&rsquo;t think that&rsquo;ll be necessary,&rdquo; he said slowly;
+&ldquo;just you write it down.&rdquo;&nbsp; Perhaps this mighty hunter,
+who was the most active member of the local school board, could not
+write.&nbsp; There would be nothing strange in that.&nbsp; The constable
+of Calistoga is, and has been for years, a bed-ridden man, and, if I
+remember rightly, blind.&nbsp; He had more need of the emoluments than
+another, it was explained; and it was easy for him to &ldquo;depytize,&rdquo;
+with a strong accent on the last.&nbsp; So friendly and so free are
+popular institutions.<br>
+<br>
+When I had done my scrivening, Hanson strolled out, and addressed Breedlove,
+&ldquo;Will you step up here a bit?&rdquo; and after they had disappeared
+a little while into the chaparral and madrona thicket, they came back
+again, minus a notice, and the deed was done.&nbsp; The claim was jumped;
+a tract of mountain-side, fifteen hundred feet long by six hundred wide,
+with all the earth&rsquo;s precious bowels, had passed from Ronalds
+to Hanson, and, in the passage, changed its name from the &ldquo;Mammoth&rdquo;
+to the &ldquo;Calistoga.&rdquo;&nbsp; I had tried to get Rufe to call
+it after his wife, after himself, and after Garfield, the Republican
+Presidential candidate of the hour - since then elected, and, alas!
+dead - but all was in vain.&nbsp; The claim had once been called the
+Calistoga before, and he seemed to feel safety in returning to that.<br>
+<br>
+And so the history of that mine became once more plunged in darkness,
+lit only by some monster pyrotechnical displays of gossip.&nbsp; And
+perhaps the most curious feature of the whole matter is this: that we
+should have dwelt in this quiet corner of the mountains, with not a
+dozen neighbours, and yet struggled all the while, like desperate swimmers,
+in this sea of falsities and contradictions.&nbsp; Wherever a man is,
+there will be a lie.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+TOILS AND PLEASURES<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+I must try to convey some notion of our life, of how the days passed
+and what pleasure we took in them, of what there was to do and how we
+set about doing it, in our mountain hermitage.&nbsp; The house, after
+we had repaired the worst of the damages, and filled in some of the
+doors and windows with white cotton cloth, became a healthy and a pleasant
+dwelling-place, always airy and dry, and haunted by the outdoor perfumes
+of the glen.&nbsp; Within, it had the look of habitation, the human
+look.&nbsp; You had only to go into the third room, which we did not
+use, and see its stones, its sifting earth, its tumbled litter; and
+then return to our lodging, with the beds made, the plates on the rack,
+the pail of bright water behind the door, the stove crackling in a corner,
+and perhaps the table roughly laid against a meal, - and man&rsquo;s
+order, the little clean spots that he creates to dwell in, were at once
+contrasted with the rich passivity of nature.&nbsp; And yet our house
+was everywhere so wrecked and shattered, the air came and went so freely,
+the sun found so many portholes, the golden outdoor glow shone in so
+many open chinks, that we enjoyed, at the same time, some of the comforts
+of a roof and much of the gaiety and brightness of al fresco life.&nbsp;
+A single shower of rain, to be sure, and we should have been drowned
+out like mice.&nbsp; But ours was a Californian summer, and an earthquake
+was a far likelier accident than a shower of rain.<br>
+<br>
+Trustful in this fine weather, we kept the house for kitchen and bedroom,
+and used the platform as our summer parlour.&nbsp; The sense of privacy,
+as I have said already, was complete.&nbsp; We could look over the clump
+on miles of forest and rough hilltop; our eyes commanded some of Napa
+Valley, where the train ran, and the little country townships sat so
+close together along the line of the rail.&nbsp; But here there was
+no man to intrude.&nbsp; None but the Hansons were our visitors.&nbsp;
+Even they came but at long intervals, or twice daily, at a stated hour,
+with milk.&nbsp; So our days, as they were never interrupted, drew out
+to the greater length; hour melted insensibly into hour; the household
+duties, though they were many, and some of them laborious, dwindled
+into mere islets of business in a sea of sunny day-time; and it appears
+to me, looking back, as though the far greater part of our life at Silverado
+had been passed, propped upon an elbow, or seated on a plank, listening
+to the silence that there is among the hills.<br>
+<br>
+My work, it is true, was over early in the morning.&nbsp; I rose before
+any one else, lit the stove, put on the water to boil, and strolled
+forth upon the platform to wait till it was ready.&nbsp; Silverado would
+then be still in shadow, the sun shining on the mountain higher up.&nbsp;
+A clean smell of trees, a smell of the earth at morning, hung in the
+air.&nbsp; Regularly, every day, there was a single bird, not singing,
+but awkwardly chirruping among the green madronas, and the sound was
+cheerful, natural, and stirring.&nbsp; It did not hold the attention,
+nor interrupt the thread of meditation, like a blackbird or a nightingale;
+it was mere woodland prattle, of which the mind was conscious like a
+perfume.&nbsp; The freshness of these morning seasons remained with
+me far on into the day.<br>
+<br>
+As soon as the kettle boiled, I made porridge and coffee; and that,
+beyond the literal drawing of water, and the preparation of kindling,
+which it would be hyperbolical to call the hewing of wood, ended my
+domestic duties for the day.&nbsp; Thenceforth my wife laboured single-handed
+in the palace, and I lay or wandered on the platform at my own sweet
+will.&nbsp; The little corner near the forge, where we found a refuge
+under the madronas from the unsparing early sun, is indeed connected
+in my mind with some nightmare encounters over Euclid, and the Latin
+Grammar.&nbsp; These were known as Sam&rsquo;s lessons.&nbsp; He was
+supposed to be the victim and the sufferer; but here there must have
+been some misconception, for whereas I generally retired to bed after
+one of these engagements, he was no sooner set free than he dashed up
+to the Chinaman&rsquo;s house, where he had installed a printing press,
+that great element of civilization, and the sound of his labours would
+be faintly audible about the canyon half the day.<br>
+<br>
+To walk at all was a laborious business; the foot sank and slid, the
+boots were cut to pieces, among sharp, uneven, rolling stones.&nbsp;
+When we crossed the platform in any direction, it was usual to lay a
+course, following as much as possible the line of waggon rails.&nbsp;
+Thus, if water were to be drawn, the water-carrier left the house along
+some tilting planks that we had laid down, and not laid down very well.&nbsp;
+These carried him to that great highroad, the railway; and the railway
+served him as far as to the head of the shaft.&nbsp; But from thence
+to the spring and back again he made the best of his unaided way, staggering
+among the stones, and wading in low growth of the calcanthus, where
+the rattlesnakes lay hissing at his passage.&nbsp; Yet I liked to draw
+water.&nbsp; It was pleasant to dip the gray metal pail into the clean,
+colourless, cool water; pleasant to carry it back, with the water ripping
+at the edge, and a broken sunbeam quivering in the midst.<br>
+<br>
+But the extreme roughness of the walking confined us in common practice
+to the platform, and indeed to those parts of it that were most easily
+accessible along the line of rails.&nbsp; The rails came straight forward
+from the shaft, here and there overgrown with little green bushes, but
+still entire, and still carrying a truck, which it was Sam&rsquo;s delight
+to trundle to and fro by the hour with various ladings.&nbsp; About
+midway down the platform, the railroad trended to the right, leaving
+our house and coasting along the far side within a few yards of the
+madronas and the forge, and not far of the latter, ended in a sort of
+platform on the edge of the dump.&nbsp; There, in old days, the trucks
+were tipped, and their load sent thundering down the chute.&nbsp; There,
+besides, was the only spot where we could approach the margin of the
+dump.&nbsp; Anywhere else, you took your life in your right hand when
+you came within a yard and a half to peer over.&nbsp; For at any moment
+the dump might begin to slide and carry you down and bury you below
+its ruins.&nbsp; Indeed, the neighbourhood of an old mine is a place
+beset with dangers.&nbsp; For as still as Silverado was, at any moment
+the report of rotten wood might tell us that the platform had fallen
+into the shaft; the dump might begin to pour into the road below; or
+a wedge slip in the great upright seam, and hundreds of tons of mountain
+bury the scene of our encampment.<br>
+<br>
+I have already compared the dump to a rampart, built certainly by some
+rude people, and for prehistoric wars.&nbsp; It was likewise a frontier.&nbsp;
+All below was green and woodland, the tall pines soaring one above another,
+each with a firm outline and full spread of bough.&nbsp; All above was
+arid, rocky, and bald.&nbsp; The great spout of broken mineral, that
+had dammed the canyon up, was a creature of man&rsquo;s handiwork, its
+material dug out with a pick and powder, and spread by the service of
+the tracks.&nbsp; But nature herself, in that upper district, seemed
+to have had an eye to nothing besides mining; and even the natural hill-side
+was all sliding gravel and precarious boulder.&nbsp; Close at the margin
+of the well leaves would decay to skeletons and mummies, which at length
+some stronger gust would carry clear of the canyon and scatter in the
+subjacent woods.&nbsp; Even moisture and decaying vegetable matter could
+not, with all nature&rsquo;s alchemy, concoct enough soil to nourish
+a few poor grasses.&nbsp; It is the same, they say, in the neighbourhood
+of all silver mines; the nature of that precious rock being stubborn
+with quartz and poisonous with cinnabar.&nbsp; Both were plenty in our
+Silverado.&nbsp; The stones sparkled white in the sunshine with quartz;
+they were all stained red with cinnabar.&nbsp; Here, doubtless, came
+the Indians of yore to paint their faces for the war-path; and cinnabar,
+if I remember rightly, was one of the few articles of Indian commerce.&nbsp;
+Now, Sam had it in his undisturbed possession, to pound down and slake,
+and paint his rude designs with.&nbsp; But to me it had always a fine
+flavour of poetry, compounded out of Indian story and Hawthornden&rsquo;s
+allusion:<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Desire, alas! I desire a Zeuxis new,<br>
+From Indies borrowing gold, from Eastern skies<br>
+Most bright cinoper . . .&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Yet this is but half the picture; our Silverado platform has another
+side to it.&nbsp; Though there was no soil, and scarce a blade of grass,
+yet out of these tumbled gravel-heaps and broken boulders, a flower
+garden bloomed as at home in a conservatory.&nbsp; Calcanthus crept,
+like a hardy weed, all over our rough parlour, choking the railway,
+and pushing forth its rusty, aromatic cones from between two blocks
+of shattered mineral.&nbsp; Azaleas made a big snow-bed just above the
+well.&nbsp; The shoulder of the hill waved white with Mediterranean
+heath.&nbsp; In the crannies of the ledge and about the spurs of the
+tall pine, a red flowering stone-plant hung in clusters.&nbsp; Even
+the low, thorny chaparral was thick with pea-like blossom.&nbsp; Close
+at the foot of our path nutmegs prospered, delightful to the sight and
+smell.&nbsp; At sunrise, and again late at night, the scent of the sweet
+bay trees filled the canyon, and the down-blowing night wind must have
+borne it hundreds of feet into the outer air.<br>
+<br>
+All this vegetation, to be sure, was stunted.&nbsp; The madrona was
+here no bigger than the manzanita; the bay was but a stripling shrub;
+the very pines, with four or five exceptions in all our upper canyon,
+were not so tall as myself, or but a little taller, and the most of
+them came lower than my waist.&nbsp; For a prosperous forest tree, we
+must look below, where the glen was crowded with green spires.&nbsp;
+But for flowers and ravishing perfume, we had none to envy: our heap
+of road-metal was thick with bloom, like a hawthorn in the front of
+June; our red, baking angle in the mountain, a laboratory of poignant
+scents.&nbsp; It was an endless wonder to my mind, as I dreamed about
+the platform, following the progress of the shadows, where the madrona
+with its leaves, the azalea and calcanthus with their blossoms, could
+find moisture to support such thick, wet, waxy growths, or the bay tree
+collect the ingredients of its perfume.&nbsp; But there they all grew
+together, healthy, happy, and happy-making, as though rooted in a fathom
+of black soil.<br>
+<br>
+Nor was it only vegetable life that prospered.&nbsp; We had, indeed,
+few birds, and none that had much of a voice or anything worthy to be
+called a song.&nbsp; My morning comrade had a thin chirp, unmusical
+and monotonous, but friendly and pleasant to hear.&nbsp; He had but
+one rival: a fellow with an ostentatious cry of near an octave descending,
+not one note of which properly followed another.&nbsp; This is the only
+bird I ever knew with a wrong ear; but there was something enthralling
+about his performance.&nbsp; You listened and listened, thinking each
+time he must surely get it right; but no, it was always wrong, and always
+wrong the same way.&nbsp; Yet he seemed proud of his song, delivered
+it with execution and a manner of his own, and was charming to his mate.&nbsp;
+A very incorrect, incessant human whistler had thus a chance of knowing
+how his own music pleased the world.&nbsp; Two great birds - eagles,
+we thought - dwelt at the top of the canyon, among the crags that were
+printed on the sky.&nbsp; Now and again, but very rarely, they wheeled
+high over our heads in silence, or with a distant, dying scream; and
+then, with a fresh impulse, winged fleetly forward, dipped over a hilltop,
+and were gone.&nbsp; They seemed solemn and ancient things, sailing
+the blue air: perhaps co-oeval with the mountain where they haunted,
+perhaps emigrants from Rome, where the glad legions may have shouted
+to behold them on the morn of battle.<br>
+<br>
+But if birds were rare, the place abounded with rattlesnakes - the rattlesnake&rsquo;s
+nest, it might have been named.&nbsp; Wherever we brushed among the
+bushes, our passage woke their angry buzz.&nbsp; One dwelt habitually
+in the wood-pile, and sometimes, when we came for firewood, thrust up
+his small head between two logs, and hissed at the intrusion.&nbsp;
+The rattle has a legendary credit; it is said to be awe-inspiring, and,
+once heard, to stamp itself for ever in the memory.&nbsp; But the sound
+is not at all alarming; the hum of many insects, and the buzz of the
+wasp convince the ear of danger quite as readily.&nbsp; As a matter
+of fact, we lived for weeks in Silverado, coming and going, with rattles
+sprung on every side, and it never occurred to us to be afraid.&nbsp;
+I used to take sun-baths and do calisthenics in a certain pleasant nook
+among azalea and calcanthus, the rattles whizzing on every side like
+spinning-wheels, and the combined hiss or buzz rising louder and angrier
+at any sudden movement; but I was never in the least impressed, nor
+ever attacked.&nbsp; It was only towards the end of our stay, that a
+man down at Calistoga, who was expatiating on the terrifying nature
+of the sound, gave me at last a very good imitation; and it burst on
+me at once that we dwelt in the very metropolis of deadly snakes, and
+that the rattle was simply the commonest noise in Silverado.&nbsp; Immediately
+on our return, we attacked the Hansons on the subject.&nbsp; They had
+formerly assured us that our canyon was favoured, like Ireland, with
+an entire immunity from poisonous reptiles; but, with the perfect inconsequence
+of the natural man, they were no sooner found out than they went off
+at score in the contrary direction, and we were told that in no part
+of the world did rattlesnakes attain to such a monstrous bigness as
+among the warm, flower-dotted rocks of Silverado.&nbsp; This is a contribution
+rather to the natural history of the Hansons, than to that of snakes.<br>
+<br>
+One person, however, better served by his instinct, had known the rattle
+from the first; and that was Chuchu, the dog.&nbsp; No rational creature
+has ever led an existence more poisoned by terror than that dog&rsquo;s
+at Silverado.&nbsp; Every whiz of the rattle made him bound.&nbsp; His
+eyes rolled; he trembled; he would be often wet with sweat.&nbsp; One
+of our great mysteries was his terror of the mountain.&nbsp; A little
+away above our nook, the azaleas and almost all the vegetation ceased.&nbsp;
+Dwarf pines not big enough to be Christmas trees, grew thinly among
+loose stone and gravel scaurs.&nbsp; Here and there a big boulder sat
+quiescent on a knoll, having paused there till the next rain in his
+long slide down the mountain.&nbsp; There was here no ambuscade for
+the snakes, you could see clearly where you trod; and yet the higher
+I went, the more abject and appealing became Chuchu&rsquo;s terror.&nbsp;
+He was an excellent master of that composite language in which dogs
+communicate with men, and he would assure me, on his honour, that there
+was some peril on the mountain; appeal to me, by all that I held holy,
+to turn back; and at length, finding all was in vain, and that I still
+persisted, ignorantly foolhardy, he would suddenly whip round and make
+a bee-line down the slope for Silverado, the gravel showering after
+him.&nbsp; What was he afraid of?&nbsp; There were admittedly brown
+bears and California lions on the mountain; and a grizzly visited Rufe&rsquo;s
+poultry yard not long before, to the unspeakable alarm of Caliban, who
+dashed out to chastise the intruder, and found himself, by moonlight,
+face to face with such a tartar.&nbsp; Something at least there must
+have been: some hairy, dangerous brute lodged permanently among the
+rocks a little to the north-west of Silverado, spending his summer thereabout,
+with wife and family.<br>
+<br>
+And there was, or there had been, another animal.&nbsp; Once, under
+the broad daylight, on that open stony hillside, where the baby pines
+were growing, scarcely tall enough to be a badge for a MacGregor&rsquo;s
+bonnet, I came suddenly upon his innocent body, lying mummified by the
+dry air and sun: a pigmy kangaroo.&nbsp; I am ingloriously ignorant
+of these subjects; had never heard of such a beast; thought myself face
+to face with some incomparable sport of nature; and began to cherish
+hopes of immortality in science.&nbsp; Rarely have I been conscious
+of a stranger thrill than when I raised that singular creature from
+the stones, dry as a board, his innocent heart long quiet, and all warm
+with sunshine.&nbsp; His long hind legs were stiff, his tiny forepaws
+clutched upon his breast, as if to leap; his poor life cut short upon
+that mountain by some unknown accident.&nbsp; But the kangaroo rat,
+it proved, was no such unknown animal; and my discovery was nothing.<br>
+<br>
+Crickets were not wanting.&nbsp; I thought I could make out exactly
+four of them, each with a corner of his own, who used to make night
+musical at Silverado.&nbsp; In the matter of voice, they far excelled
+the birds, and their ringing whistle sounded from rock to rock, calling
+and replying the same thing, as in a meaningless opera.&nbsp; Thus,
+children in full health and spirits shout together, to the dismay of
+neighbours; and their idle, happy, deafening vociferations rise and
+fall, like the song of the crickets.&nbsp; I used to sit at night on
+the platform, and wonder why these creatures were so happy; and what
+was wrong with man that he also did not wind up his days with an hour
+or two of shouting; but I suspect that all long-lived animals are solemn.&nbsp;
+The dogs alone are hardly used by nature; and it seems a manifest injustice
+for poor Chuchu to die in his teens, after a life so shadowed and troubled,
+continually shaken with alarm, and the tear of elegant sentiment permanently
+in his eye.<br>
+<br>
+There was another neighbour of ours at Silverado, small but very active,
+a destructive fellow.&nbsp; This was a black, ugly fly - a bore, the
+Hansons called him - who lived by hundreds in the boarding of our house.&nbsp;
+He entered by a round hole, more neatly pierced than a man could do
+it with a gimlet, and he seems to have spent his life in cutting out
+the interior of the plank, but whether as a dwelling or a store-house,
+I could never find.&nbsp; When I used to lie in bed in the morning for
+a rest - we had no easy-chairs in Silverado - I would hear, hour after
+hour, the sharp cutting sound of his labours, and from time to time
+a dainty shower of sawdust would fall upon the blankets.&nbsp; There
+lives no more industrious creature than a bore.<br>
+<br>
+And now that I have named to the reader all our animals and insects
+without exception - only I find I have forgotten the flies - he will
+be able to appreciate the singular privacy and silence of our days.&nbsp;
+It was not only man who was excluded: animals, the song of birds, the
+lowing of cattle, the bleating of sheep, clouds even, and the variations
+of the weather, were here also wanting; and as, day after day, the sky
+was one dome of blue, and the pines below us stood motionless in the
+still air, so the hours themselves were marked out from each other only
+by the series of our own affairs, and the sun&rsquo;s great period as
+he ranged westward through the heavens.&nbsp; The two birds cackled
+a while in the early morning; all day the water tinkled in the shaft,
+the bores ground sawdust in the planking of our crazy palace - infinitesimal
+sounds; and it was only with the return of night that any change would
+fall on our surroundings, or the four crickets begin to flute together
+in the dark.<br>
+<br>
+Indeed, it would be hard to exaggerate the pleasure that we took in
+the approach of evening.&nbsp; Our day was not very long, but it was
+very tiring.&nbsp; To trip along unsteady planks or wade among shifting
+stones, to go to and fro for water, to clamber down the glen to the
+Toll House after meat and letters, to cook, to make fires and beds,
+were all exhausting to the body.&nbsp; Life out of doors, besides, under
+the fierce eye of day, draws largely on the animal spirits.&nbsp; There
+are certain hours in the afternoon when a man, unless he is in strong
+health or enjoys a vacant mind, would rather creep into a cool corner
+of a house and sit upon the chairs of civilization.&nbsp; About that
+time, the sharp stones, the planks, the upturned boxes of Silverado,
+began to grow irksome to my body; I set out on that hopeless, never-ending
+quest for a more comfortable posture; I would be fevered and weary of
+the staring sun; and just then he would begin courteously to withdraw
+his countenance, the shadows lengthened, the aromatic airs awoke, and
+an indescribable but happy change announced the coming of the night.<br>
+<br>
+The hours of evening, when we were once curtained in the friendly dark,
+sped lightly.&nbsp; Even as with the crickets, night brought to us a
+certain spirit of rejoicing.&nbsp; It was good to taste the air; good
+to mark the dawning of the stars, as they increased their glittering
+company; good, too, to gather stones, and send them crashing down the
+chute, a wave of light.&nbsp; It seemed, in some way, the reward and
+the fulfilment of the day.&nbsp; So it is when men dwell in the open
+air; it is one of the simple pleasures that we lose by living cribbed
+and covered in a house, that, though the coming of the day is still
+the most inspiriting, yet day&rsquo;s departure, also, and the return
+of night refresh, renew, and quiet us; and in the pastures of the dusk
+we stand, like cattle, exulting in the absence of the load.<br>
+<br>
+Our nights wore never cold, and they were always still, but for one
+remarkable exception.&nbsp; Regularly, about nine o&rsquo;clock, a warm
+wind sprang up, and blew for ten minutes, or maybe a quarter of an hour,
+right down the canyon, fanning it well out, airing it as a mother airs
+the night nursery before the children sleep.&nbsp; As far as I could
+judge, in the clear darkness of the night, this wind was purely local:
+perhaps dependant on the configuration of the glen.&nbsp; At least,
+it was very welcome to the hot and weary squatters; and if we were not
+abed already, the springing up of this lilliputian valley-wind would
+often be our signal to retire.<br>
+<br>
+I was the last to go to bed, as I was still the first to rise.&nbsp;
+Many a night I have strolled about the platform, taking a bath of darkness
+before I slept.&nbsp; The rest would be in bed, and even from the forge
+I could hear them talking together from bunk to bunk.&nbsp; A single
+candle in the neck of a pint bottle was their only illumination; and
+yet the old cracked house seemed literally bursting with the light.&nbsp;
+It shone keen as a knife through all the vertical chinks; it struck
+upward through the broken shingles; and through the eastern door and
+window, it fell in a great splash upon the thicket and the overhanging
+rock.&nbsp; You would have said a conflagration, or at the least a roaring
+forge; and behold, it was but a candle.&nbsp; Or perhaps it was yet
+more strange to see the procession moving bedwards round the corner
+of the house, and up the plank that brought us to the bedroom door;
+under the immense spread of the starry heavens, down in a crevice of
+the giant mountain these few human shapes, with their unshielded taper,
+made so disproportionate a figure in the eye and mind.&nbsp; But the
+more he is alone with nature, the greater man and his doings bulk in
+the consideration of his fellow-men.&nbsp; Miles and miles away upon
+the opposite hill-tops, if there were any hunter belated or any traveller
+who had lost his way, he must have stood, and watched and wondered,
+from the time the candle issued from the door of the assayer&rsquo;s
+office till it had mounted the plank and disappeared again into the
+miners&rsquo; dormitory.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE SILVERADO SQUATTERS ***<br>
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