THEsceneofthislittlebookisonahighmountain。Thereare，indeed，manyhigher；therearemanyofanobleroutline。
　　Itisnoplaceofpilgrimageforthesummaryglobe—trotter；
　　buttoonewholivesuponitssides，MountSaintHelenasoonbecomesacentreofinterest。ItistheMontBlancofonesectionoftheCalifornianCoastRange，noneofitsnearneighboursrisingtoone—halfitsaltitude。Itlooksdownonmuchgreen，intricatecountry。Itfeedsinthespring—timemanysplashingbrooks。Fromitssummityoumusthaveanexcellentlessonofgeography：seeing，tothesouth，SanFranciscoBay，withTamalpaisontheonehandandMonteDiabloontheother；tothewestandthirtymilesaway，theopenocean；eastward，acrossthecorn—landsandthicktuleswampsofSacramentoValley，towheretheCentralPacificrailroadbeginstoclimbthesidesoftheSierras；andnorthward，forwhatIknow，thewhiteheadofShastalookingdownonOregon。Threecounties，NapaCounty，LakeCounty，andSonomaCounty，marchacrossitscliffyshoulders。Itsnakedpeakstandsnearlyfourthousandfivehundredfeetabovethesea；itssidesarefringedwithforest；andthesoil，whereitisbare，glowswarmwithcinnabar。
　　Lifeinitsshadowgoesrusticallyforward。Bucks，andbears，andrattle—snakes，andformerminingoperations，arethestapleofmen’stalk。Agriculturehasonlybeguntomountabovethevalley。Andthoughinafewyearsfromnowthewholedistrictmaybesmilingwithfarms，passingtrainsshakingthemountaintotheheart，many—windowedhotelslightingupthenightlikefactories，andaprosperouscityoccupyingthesiteofsleepyCalistoga；yetinthemeantime，aroundthefootofthatmountainthesilenceofnaturereignsinagreatmeasureunbroken，andthepeopleofhillandvalleygosaunteringabouttheirbusinessasinthedaysbeforetheflood。
　　ToreachMountSaintHelenafromSanFrancisco，thetravellerhastwicetocrossthebay：oncebythebusyOaklandFerry，andagain，afteranhourorsooftherailway，fromVallejojunctiontoVallejo。ThencehetakesrailoncemoretomountthelonggreenstrathofNapaValley。
　　Inallthecontractionsandexpansionsofthatinlandsea，theBayofSanFrancisco，therecanbefewdrearierscenesthantheVallejoFerry。Baldshoresandalow，baldisletinclosethesea；throughthenarrowsthetidebubbles，muddylikeariver。Whenwemadethepassage（bound，althoughyetweknewitnot，forSilverado）thesteamerjumped，andtheblackbuoysweredancinginthejabble；theoceanbreezeblewkillingchill；and，althoughtheupperskywasstillunfleckedwithvapour，theseafogswerepouringinfromseaward，overthehilltopsofMarincounty，inonegreat，shapeless，silvercloud。
　　SouthVallejoistypicalofmanyCaliforniantowns。Itwasablunder；thesitehasproveduntenable；and，althoughitisstillsuchayoungplacebythescaleofEurope，ithasalreadybeguntobedesertedforitsneighbourandnamesake，NorthVallejo。Alongpier，anumberofdrinkingsaloons，ahotelofagreatsize，marshypoolswherethefrogskeepuptheircroaking，andevenathighnoontheentireabsenceofanyhumanfaceorvoice—thesearethemarksofSouthVallejo。Yettherewasatallbuildingbesidethepier，labelledtheSTARFLOURMILLS；andsea—going，full—riggedshipslayclosealongshore，waitingfortheircargo。SoonthesewouldbeplungingroundtheHorn，soontheflourfromtheSTARFLOURMILLSwouldbelandedonthewharvesofLiverpool。Forthat，too，isoneofEngland’soutposts；
　　thither，tothisgauntmill，acrosstheAtlanticandPacificdeepsandroundabouttheicyHorn，thiscrowdofgreat，three—masted，deep—seashipscome，bringingnothing，andreturnwithbread。
　　TheFrisbyHouse，forthatwasthenameofthehotel，wasaplaceoffallenfortunes，likethetown。Itwasnowgivenuptolabourers，andpartlyruinous。AtdinnertherewastheordinarydisplayofwhatiscalledinthewestaTWO—BIT
　　HOUSE：thetableclothcheckedredandwhite，theplagueofflies，thewirehencoopsoverthedishes，thegreatvarietyandinvariablevilenessofthefoodandtheroughcoatlessmendevotingitinsilence。Inourbedroom，thestovewouldnotburn，thoughitwouldsmoke；andwhileonewindowwouldnotopen，theotherwouldnotshut。Therewasaviewonabitofemptyroad，afewdarkhouses，adonkeywanderingwithitsshadowonaslope，andablinkofsea，withatallshiplyinganchoredinthemoonlight。Allaboutthatdrearyinnfrogssangtheirungainlychorus。
　　Earlythenextmorningwemountedthehillalongawoodenfootway，bridgingonemarishspotafteranother。Hereandthere，asweascended，wepassedahouseemboweredinwhiteroses。Moreofthebaybecameapparent，andsoonthebluepeakofTamalpaisroseabovethegreenleveloftheislandopposite。IttolduswewerestillbutalittlewayfromthecityoftheGoldenGates，already，atthathour，beginningtoawakeamongthesand—hills。Itcalledtousoverthewatersaswiththevoiceofabird。Itsstatelyhead，blueasasapphireonthepalerazureofthesky，spoketousofwideroutlooksandthebrightPacific。ForTamalpaisstandssentry，likealighthouse，overtheGoldenGates，betweenthebayandtheopenocean，andlooksdownindifferentlyonboth。
　　EvenaswesawandhaileditfromVallejo，seamen，faroutatsea，werescanningitwithshadedeyes；and，asiftoanswertothethought，oneofthegreatshipsbelowbegansilentlytoclotheherselfwithwhitesails，homewardboundforEngland。
　　ForsomewaybeyondVallejotherailwayledusthroughbaldgreenpastures。OnthewesttheroughhighlandsofMarinshutofftheocean；inthemidst，inlong，straggling，gleamingarms，thebaydiedoutamongthegrass；therewerefewtreesandfewenclosures；thesunshonewideoveropenuplands，thedisplumedhillsstoodclearagainstthesky。
　　Butby—and—bythesehillsbegantodrawneareroneitherhand，andfirstthicketandthenwoodbegantoclothetheirsides；andsoonwewereawayfromallsignsofthesea’sneighbourhood，mountinganinland，irrigatedvalley。Agreatvarietyofoaksstood，nowseverally，nowinabecominggrove，amongthefieldsandvineyards。Thetownswerecompact，inaboutequalproportions，ofbright，newwoodenhousesandgreatandgrowingforesttrees；andthechapelbellontheenginesoundedmostfestallythatsunnySunday，aswedrewupatonegreentownafteranother，withthetownsfolktroopingintheirSunday’sbesttoseethestrangers，withthesunsparklingonthecleanhouses，andgreatdomesoffoliagehummingoverheadinthebreeze。
　　ThispleasantNapaValleyis，atitsnorthend，blockadedbyourmountain。There，atCalistoga，therailroadceases，andthetravellerwhointendsfaringfarther，totheGeysersortothespringsinLakeCounty，mustcrossthespursofthemountainbystage。Thus，MountSaintHelenaisnotonlyasummit，butafrontier；and，uptothetimeofwriting，ithasstayedtheprogressoftheironhorse。
　　PARTI—INTHEVALLEY
　　CHAPTERI—CALISTOGA
　　ITisdifficultforaEuropeantoimagineCalistoga，thewholeplaceissonew，andofsuchanaccidentalpattern；theveryname，Ihear，wasinventedatasupper—partybythemanwhofoundthesprings。
　　Therailroadandthehighwaycomeupthevalleyaboutparalleltooneanother。ThestreetofCalistogajoinstheperpendiculartoboth—awidestreet，withbright，clean，lowhouses，hereandthereaverandahoverthesidewalk，hereandthereahorse—post，hereandthereloungingtownsfolk。
　　Otherstreetsaremarkedout，andmostlikelynamed；forthesetownsintheNewWorldbeginwithafirmresolvetogrowlarger，WashingtonandBroadway，andthenFirstandSecond，andsoforth，beingboldlyplottedoutassoonasthecommunityindulgesinaplan。But，inthemeanwhile，allthelifeandmostofthehousesofCalistogaareconcentrateduponthatstreetbetweentherailwaystationandtheroad。I
　　neverhearditcalledbyanyname，butIwillhazardaguessthatitiseitherWashingtonorBroadway。Herearetheblacksmith’s，thechemist’s，thegeneralmerchant’s，andKongSamKee，theChineselaundryman’s；here，probably，istheofficeofthelocalpaper（fortheplacehasapaper—theyallhavepapers）；andherecertainlyisoneofthehotels，Cheeseborough’s，whencethedaringFoss，amandeartolegend，startshishorsesfortheGeysers。
　　Itmustberememberedthatwearehereinalandofstage—
　　driversandhighwaymen：aland，inthatsense，likeEnglandahundredyearsago。Thehighwayrobber—road—agent，heisquaintlycalled—isstillbusyintheseparts。ThefameofVasquezisstillyoung。Onlyafewyearsgo，theLakeportstagewasrobbedamileortwofromCalistoga。In1879，thedentistofMendocinoCity，fiftymilesawayuponthecoast，suddenlythrewoffthegarmentsofhistrade，likeGrindoff，inTHEMILLERANDHISMEN，andflamedforthinhisseconddressasacaptainofbanditti。Agreatrobberywasfollowedbyalongchase，achaseofdaysifnotofweeks，amongtheintricatehill—country；andthechasewasfollowedbymuchdesultoryfighting，inwhichseveral—andthedentist，I
　　believe，amongstthenumber—bitthedust。Thegrasswasspringingforthefirsttime，nourishedupontheirblood，whenIarrivedinCalistoga。Iamremindedofanotherhighwaymanofthatsameyear。"Hehadbeenunwell，"soranhishumorousdefence，"andthedoctortoldhimtotakesomething，sohetooktheexpress—box。"
　　Thecultusofthestage—coachmanalwaysflourisheshighestwheretherearethievesontheroad，andwheretheguardtravelsarmed，andthestageisnotonlyalinkbetweencountryandcity，andthevehicleofnews，buthasafaintwarfaringaroma，likeamanwhoshouldbebrothertoasoldier。Californiaboastsherfamousstage—drivers，andamongthefamousFossisnotforgotten。Alongtheunfenced，abominablemountainroads，helauncheshisteamwithsmallregardtohumanlifeorthedoctrineofprobabilities。
　　Flinchingtravellers，whobeholdthemselvescoastingeternityateverycorner，lookwithnaturaladmirationattheirdriver’shuge，impassive，fleshycountenance。HehastheveryfaceforthedriverinSamWeller’sanecdote，whoupsettheelectionpartyattherequiredpoint。Wonderfultalesarecurrentofhisreadinessandskill。Oneinparticular，ofhowoneofhishorsesfellataticklishpassageoftheroad，andhowFossletslipthereins，and，drivingoverthefallenanimal，arrivedatthenextstagewithonlythree。
　　ThisIrelateasIheardit，withoutguarantee。
　　IonlysawFossonce，though，strangeasitmaysound，Ihavetwicetalkedwithhim。HelivesoutofCalistoga，ataranchecalledFossville。Oneevening，afterhewaslonggonehome，IdroppedintoCheeseborough’s，andwasaskedifI
　　shouldliketospeakwithMr。Foss。Supposingthattheinterviewwasimpossible，andthatIwasmerelycalledupontosubscribethegeneralsentiment，Iboldlyanswered"Yes。"
　　Nextmoment，Ihadoneinstrumentatmyear，anotheratmymouthandfoundmyself，withnothingintheworldtosay，conversingwithamanseveralmilesoffamongdesolatehills。
　　Fossrapidlyandsomewhatplaintivelybroughttheconversationtoanend；andhereturnedtohisnight’sgrogatFossville，whileIstrolledforthagainonCalistogahighstreet。Butitwasanoddthingthathere，onwhatweareaccustomedtoconsidertheveryskirtsofcivilization，I
　　shouldhaveusedthetelephoneforthefirsttimeinmycivilizedcareer。Soitgoesintheseyoungcountries；
　　telephones，andtelegraphs，andnewspapers，andadvertisementsrunningfaraheadamongtheIndiansandthegrizzlybears。
　　Alone，ontheothersideoftherailway，standstheSpringsHotel，withitsattendantcottages。Thefloorofthevalleyisextremelyleveltotheveryrootsofthehills；onlyhereandthereahillock，crownedwithpines，riseslikethebarrowofsomechieftainfamedinwar；andrightagainstoneofthesehillocksistheSpringsHotel—isorwas；forsinceIwastheretheplacehasbeendestroyedbyfire，andhasrisenagainfromitsashes。Alawnrunsaboutthehouse，andthelawnisinitsturnsurroundedbyasystemoflittlefive—roomedcottages，eachwithaverandahandaweedypalmbeforethedoor。Someofthecottagesarelettoresidents，andthesearewreathedinflowers。TherestareoccupiedbyordinaryvisitorstotheHotel；andaverypleasantwaythisis，bywhichyouhavealittlecountrycottageofyourown，withoutdomesticburthens，andbythedayorweek。
　　ThewholeneighbourhoodofMountSaintHelenaisfullofsulphurandofboilingsprings。TheGeysersarefamous；theywerethegreathealthresortoftheIndiansbeforethecomingofthewhites。LakeCountyisdottedwithspas；HotSpringsandWhiteSulphurSpringsarethenamesoftwostationsontheNapaValleyrailroad；andCalistogaitselfseemstoreposeonamerefilmaboveaboiling，subterraneanlake。Atoneendofthehotelenclosurearethespringsfromwhichittakesitsname，hotenoughtoscaldachildseriouslywhileI
　　wasthere。Attheotherend，thetenantofacottagesankawell，andtherealsothewatercameupboiling。Itkeepsthisendofthevalleyaswarmasatoast。Ihavegoneacrosstothehotelalittleafterfiveinthemorning，whenaseafogfromthePacificwashangingthickandgray，anddarkanddirtyoverhead，andfoundthethermometerhadbeenupbeforeme，andhadalreadyclimbedamongthenineties；andinthestressofthedayitwassometimestoohottomoveabout。
　　Butinspiteofthisheatfromaboveandbelow，doingoneonbothsides，Calistogawasapleasantplacetodwellin；
　　beautifullygreen，foritwasthenthatfavouredmomentintheCalifornianyear，whentherainsareoverandthedustysummerhasnotyetsetin；oftenvisitedbyfreshairs，nowfromthemountain，nowacrossSonomafromthesea；veryquiet，veryidle，verysilentbutforthebreezesandthecattlebellsafield。Andtherewassomethingsatisfactoryinthesightofthatgreatmountainthatenclosedustothenorth：whetheritstood，robedinsunshine，quakingtoitstopmostpinnaclewiththeheatandbrightnessoftheday；orwhetheritsetitselftoweavingvapours，wispafterwispgrowing，trembling，fleeting，andfadingintheblue。
　　Thetangled，woody，andalmosttracklessfoot—hillsthatenclosethevalley，shuttingitofffromSonomaonthewest，andfromYoloontheeast—roughastheywereinoutline，dugoutbywinterstreams，crownedbycliffybluffsandnoddingpinetrees—woredwarfedintosatellitesbythebulkandbearingofMountSaintHelena。Sheover—toweredthembytwo—thirdsofherownstature。Sheexcelledthembytheboldnessofherprofile。Hergreatbaldsummit，clearoftreesandpasture，acairnofquartzandcinnabar，rejectedkinshipwiththedarkandshaggywildernessoflesserhill—
　　tops。
　　CHAPTERII—THEPETRIFIEDFOREST
　　WEdroveofffromtheSpringsHotelaboutthreeintheafternoon。Thesunwarmedmetotheheart。Abroad，coolwindstreamedpauselesslydownthevalley，ladenwithperfume。UpatthetopstoodMountSaintHelena，abulkofmountain，bareatop，withtree—fringedspurs，andradiatingwarmth。Oncewesawitframedinagroveoftallandexquisitelygracefulwhiteoaks，inlineandcolourafinishedcomposition。Wepassedacowstretchedbytheroadside，herbellslowlybeatingtimetothemovementofherruminatingjaws，herbigredfacecrawledoverbyhalfadozenflies，amonumentofcontent。
　　Alittlefarther，andwestrucktotheleftupamountainroad，andfortwohoursthreadedonevalleyafteranother，green，tangled，fullofnobletimber，givinguseverynowandagainasightofMountSaintHelenaandthebluehillydistance，andcrossedbymanystreams，throughwhichwesplashedtothecarriage—step。Totherightortheleft，therewasscarceanytraceofmanbuttheroadwefollowed；I
　　thinkwepassedbutoneranchero’shouseinthewholedistance，andthatwasclosedandsmokeless。Butwehadthesocietyofthesebrightstreams—dazzlinglyclear，asistheirwont，splashingfromthewheelsindiamonds，andstrikingalivelycoolnessthroughthesunshine。Andwhatwiththeinnumerablevarietyofgreens，themassesoffoliagetossinginthebreeze，theglimpsesofdistance，thedescentsintoseeminglyimpenetrablethickets，thecontinualdodgingoftheroadwhichmadehastetoplungeagainintothecovert，wehadafinesenseofwoods，andspring—time，andtheopenair。
　　OurdrivergavemealecturebythewayonCaliforniantrees—athingIwasmuchinneedof，havingfallenamongpainterswhoknowthenameofnothing，andMexicanswhoknowthenameofnothinginEnglish。Hetaughtmethemadrona，themanzanita，thebuck—eye，themaple；heshowedmethecrestedmountainquail；heshowedmewheresomeyoungredwoodswerealreadyspiringheavenwardsfromtheruinsoftheold；forinthisdistrictallhadalreadyperished：redwoodsandredskins，thetwonoblestindigenouslivingthings，alikecondemned。
　　Atlength，inalonelydell，wecameonahugewoodengatewithasignuponitlikeaninn。"ThePetrifiedForest。
　　Proprietor：C。Evans，"ranthelegend。Within，onaknollofsward，wasthehouseoftheproprietor，andanothersmallerhousehardbytoserveasamuseum，wherephotographsandpetrifactionswereretailed。Itwasapurelittleisleoftouristryamongthesesolitaryhills。
　　Theproprietorwasabraveoldwhite—facedSwede。Hehadwanderedthisway，Heavenknowshow，andtakenuphisacres—
　　Iforgethowmanyyearsago—allalone，bentdoublewithsciatica，andwithsixbitsinhispocketandanaxeuponhisshoulder。Long，uselessyearsofseafaringhadthusdischargedhimattheend，pennilessandsick。Withoutdoubthehadtriedhisluckatthediggings，andgotnogoodfromthat；withoutdoubthehadlovedthebottle，andlivedthelifeofJackashore。Butattheendoftheseadventures，herehecame；and，theplacehittinghisfancy，downhesattomakeanewlifeofit，farfromcrimpsandthesaltsea。
　　Andtheverysightofhisranchehaddonehimgood。Itwas"thehandsomestspotintheCalifornymountains。""Isn’tithandsome，now？"hesaid。Everypennyhemakesgoesintothatranchetomakeithandsomer。Thentheclimate，withthesea—
　　breezeeveryafternooninthehottestsummerweather，hadgraduallycuredthesciatica；andhissisterandniecewerenowdomesticatedwithhimforcompany—or，rather，theniececameonlyonceinthetwodays，teachingmusicthemeanwhileinthevalley。Andthen，foralastpieceofluck，"thehandsomestspotintheCalifornymountains"hadproducedapetrifiedforest，whichMr。Evansnowshowsatthemodestfigureofhalfadollarahead，ortwo—thirdsofhiscapitalwhenhefirstcametherewithanaxeandasciatica。
　　Thistardyfavouriteoffortune—hobblingalittle，Ithink，asifinmemoryofthesciatica，butwithnotatracethatI
　　canrememberofthesea—thoroughlyruralizedfromheadtofoot，proceededtoescortusupthehillbehindhishouse。
　　"Whofirstfoundtheforest？"askedmywife。
　　"Thefirst？Iwasthatman，"saidhe。"Iwascleaningupthepastureformybeasts，whenIfoundTHIS"—kickingagreatredwoodsevenfeetindiameter，thatlaythereonitsside，hollowheart，clinginglumpsofbark，allchangedintograystone，withveinsofquartzbetweenwhathadbeenthelayersofthewood。
　　"Wereyousurprised？"
　　"Surprised？No!WhatwouldIbesurprisedabout？WhatdidIknowaboutpetrifactions—followingthesea？
　　Petrifaction!Therewasnosuchwordinmylanguage!Iknewaboutputrifaction，though!Ithoughtitwasastone；sowouldyou，ifyouwascleaninguppasture。"
　　Andnowhehadatheoryofhisown，whichIdidnotquitegrasp，exceptthatthetreeshadnot"grewed"there。Buthementioned，withevidentpride，thathedifferedfromallthescientificpeoplewhohadvisitedthespot；andheflungaboutsuchwordsas"tufa"and"scilica"withcarelessfreedom。
　　WhenImentionedIwasfromScotland，"Myoldcountry，"hesaid；"myoldcountry"—withasmilinglookandatoneofrealaffectioninhisvoice。Iwasmightilysurprised，forhewasobviouslyScandinavian，andbeggedhimtoexplain。ItseemedhehadlearnedhisEnglishanddonenearlyallhissailinginScotchships。"OutofGlasgow，"saidhe，"orGreenock；butthat’sallthesame—theyallhailfromGlasgow。"AndhewassopleasedwithmeforbeingaScotsman，andhisadoptedcompatriot，thathemademeapresentofaverybeautifulpieceofpetrifaction—Ibelievethemostbeautifulandportablehehad。
　　Herewasaman，atleast，whowasaSwede，aScot，andanAmerican，acknowledgingsomekindallegiancetothreelands。
　　Mr。Wallace’sScoto—Circassianwillnotfailtocomebeforethereader。IhavemyselfmetandspokenwithaFifeshireGerman，whosecombinationofabominableaccentsstruckmedumb。But，indeed，Ithinkweallbelongtomanycountries。
　　Andperhapsthishabitofmuchtravel，andtheengenderingofscatteredfriendships，maypreparetheeuthanasiaofancientnations。
　　Andtheforestitself？Well，onatangled，brieryhillside—
　　forthepasturewouldbearalittlefurthercleaningup，tomyeyes—thereliescatteredthicklyvariouslengthsofpetrifiedtrunk，suchastheonealreadymentioned。Itisverycurious，ofcourse，andancientenough，ifthatwereall。Doubtless，theheartofthegeologistbeatsquickeratthesight；but，formypart，Iwasmightilyunmoved。Sight—
　　seeingistheartofdisappointment。
　　"There’snothingunderheavensoblue，That’sfairlyworththetravellingto。"
　　But，fortunately，Heavenrewardsuswithmanyagreeableprospectsandadventuresbytheway；andsometimes，whenwegoouttoseeapetrifiedforest，preparesafarmoredelightfulcuriosity，intheformofMr。Evans，whommayallprosperityattendthroughoutalongandgreenoldage。
　　CHAPTERIII—NAPAWINE
　　IWASinterestedinCalifornianwine。Indeed，Iaminterestedinallwines，andhavebeenallmylife，fromtheraisinwinethataschoolfellowkeptsecretedinhisplay—boxuptomylastdiscovery，thosenotableValtellines，thatonceshoneupontheboardofCaesar。
　　Someofus，kindoldPagans，watchwithdreadtheshadowsfallingontheage：howtheunconquerableworminvadesthesunnyterracesofFrance，andBordeauxisnomore，andtheRhoneamereArabiaPetraea。ChateauNeufisdead，andI
　　havenevertastedit；Hermitage—ahermitageindeedfromalllife’ssorrows—liesexpiringbytheriver。Andintheplaceoftheseimperialelixirs，beautifultoeverysense，gem—hued，flower—scented，dream—compellers：—beholduponthequaysatCettethechemicalsarrayed；beholdtheanalystatMarseilles，raisinghandsinobsecration，attestinggodLyoeus，andthevatsstavedin，andthedishonestwinespouredforthamongthesea。ItisnotPanonly；Bacchus，too，isdead。
　　Ifwineistowithdrawitsmostpoeticcountenance，thesunofthewhitedinner—cloth，adeitytobeinvokedbytwoorthree，allfervent，hushingtheirtalk，degustingtenderly，andstoringreminiscences—forabottleofgoodwine，likeagoodact，shineseverintheretrospect—ifwineistodesertus，gothyways，oldJack!Nowwebegintohavecompunctions，andlookbackatthebravebottlessquanderedupondinner—parties，wheretheguestsdrankgrossly，discussingpoliticsthewhile，andeventheschoolboy"tookhiswhack，"likeliquoricewater。Andatthesametime，welooktimidlyforward，withasparkofhope，towherethenewlands，alreadywearyofproducinggold，begintogreenwithvineyards。AnicepointinhumanhistoryfallstobedecidedbyCalifornianandAustralianwines。
　　WineinCaliforniaisstillintheexperimentalstage；andwhenyoutasteavintage，graveeconomicalquestionsareinvolved。Thebeginningofvine—plantingislikethebeginningofminingforthepreciousmetals：thewine—groweralso"Prospects。"Onecorneroflandafteranotheristriedwithonekindofgrapeafteranother。Thisisafailure；
　　thatisbetter；athirdbest。So，bitbybit，theygropeaboutfortheirClosVougeotandLafite。Thoselodesandpocketsofearth，morepreciousthanthepreciousores，thatyieldinimitablefragranceandsoftfire；thosevirtuousBonanzas，wherethesoilhassublimatedundersunandstarstosomethingfiner，andthewineisbottledpoetry：thesestilllieundiscovered；chaparralconceals，thicketembowersthem；theminerchipstherockandwandersfarther，andthegrizzlymusesundisturbed。Buttheretheybidetheirhour，awaitingtheirColumbus；andnaturenursesandpreparesthem。
　　ThesmackofCalifornianearthshalllingeronthepalateofyourgrandson。
　　Meanwhilethewineismerelyagoodwine；thebestthatI
　　havetastedbetterthanaBeaujolais，andnotunlike。Butthetradeispoor；itlivesfromhandtomouth，puttingitsallintoexperiments，andforcedtosellitsvintages。Tofindoneproperlymatured，andbearingitsownname，istobefortune’sfavourite。
　　Bearingitsownname，Isay，anddwellupontheinnuendo。
　　"YouwanttoknowwhyCaliforniawineisnotdrunkintheStates？"aSanFranciscowinemerchantsaidtome，afterhehadshownmethroughhispremises。"Well，here’sthereason。"
　　Andopeningalargecupboard，fittedwithmanylittledrawers，heproceededtoshowermealloverwithagreatvarietyofgorgeouslytintedlabels，blue，red，oryellow，stampedwithcrownorcoronet，andhailingfromsuchaprofusionofCLOSandCHATEAUX，thatasingledepartmentcouldscarcehavefurnishedforththenames。Butitwasstrangethatalllookedunfamiliar。
　　"ChateauX—？"saidI。"Ineverheardofthat。"
　　"Idaresaynot，"saidhe。"IhadbeenreadingoneofX—’snovels。"
　　TheywereallcastlesinSpain!ButthatsureenoughisthereasonwhyCaliforniawineisnotdrunkintheStates。
　　Napavalleyhasbeenlongaseatofthewine—growingindustry。Itdidnotherebegin，asitdoestoooften，inthelowvalleylandsalongtheriver，buttookatoncetotheroughfoot—hills，wherealoneitcanexpecttoprosper。A
　　baskinginclination，andstones，tobeareservoiroftheday’sheat，seemnecessarytothesoilforwine；thegrossnessoftheearthmustbeevaporated，itsmarrowdailymeltedandrefinedforages；untilatlengththeseclodsthatbreakbelowourfooting，andtotheeyeappearbutcommonearth，aretrulyandtotheperceivingmind，amasterpieceofnature。ThedustofRichebourg，whichthewindcarriesaway，whatanapotheosisofthedust!Notmanhimselfcanseemastrangerchildofthatbrown，friablepowder，thanthebloodandsuninthatoldflaskbehindthefaggots。
　　ACalifornianvineyard，oneofman’soutpostsinthewilderness，hasfeaturesofitsown。ThereisnothingheretoremindyouoftheRhineorRhone，ofthelowCOTED’OR，ortheinfamousandscabbydesertsofChampagne；butallisgreen，solitary，covert。Wevisitedtwoofthem，Mr。
　　Schram’sandMr。M’Eckron’s，sharingthesameglen。
　　SomewaydownthevalleybelowCalistoga，weturnedsharplytothesouthandplungedintothethickofthewood。Arudetrailrapidlymounting；alittlestreamtinklingbyontheonehand，bigenoughperhapsaftertherains，butalreadyyieldingupitslife；overheadandonallsidesabowerofgreenandtangledthicket，stillfragrantandstillflower—
　　bespangledbytheearlyseason，wherethimble—berryplayedthepartofourEnglishhawthorn，andthebuck—eyeswereputtingforththeirtwistedhornsofblossom：throughallthis，westruggledtoughlyupwards，cantedtoandfrobytheroughnessofthetrail，andcontinuallyswitchedacrossthefacebyspraysofleaforblossom。Thelastisnogreatinconvenienceathome；buthereinCaliforniaitisamatterofsomemoment。Forinallwoodsandbyeverywaysidethereprospersanabominableshruborweed，calledpoison—oak，whoseveryneighbourhoodisvenomoustosome，andwhoseactualtouchisavoidedbythemostimpervious。
　　Thetwohouses，withtheirvineyards，stoodeachinagreennicheofitsowninthissteepandnarrowforestdell。
　　Thoughtheyweresonear，therewasalreadyagooddifferenceinlevel；andMr。M’Eckron’sheadmustbealongwayunderthefeetofMr。Schram。Nomorehadbeenclearedthanwasnecessaryforcultivation；closearoundeachoasisranthetangledwood；theglenenfoldsthem；theretheyliebaskinginsunandsilence，concealedfromallbutthecloudsandthemountainbirds。
　　Mr。M’Eckron’sisabachelorestablishment；alittlebitofawoodenhouse，asmallcellarhardbyinthehillside，andapatchofvinesplantedandtendedsingle—handedbyhimself。
　　Hehadbutrecentlybegan；hisvineswereyoung，hisbusinessyoungalso；butIthoughthehadthelookofthemanwhosucceeds。HehailedfromGreenock：herememberedhisfatherputtinghiminsideMonsMeg，andthattouchedmehome；andweexchangedawordortwoofScotch，whichpleasedmemorethanyouwouldfancy。
　　Mr。Schram’s，ontheotherhand，istheoldestvineyardinthevalley，eighteenyearsold，Ithink；yethebeganapennilessbarber，andevenafterhehadbrokengroundupherewithhisblackmalvoisies，continuedforlongtotrampthevalleywithhisrazor。Now，hisplaceisthepictureofprosperity：stuffedbirdsintheverandah，cellarsfardugintothehillside，andrestingonpillarslikeabandit’scave：—alltrimness，varnish，flowers，andsunshine，amongthetangledwildwood。Stout，smilingMrs。Schram，whohasbeentoEuropeandapparentlyallabouttheStatesforpleasure，entertainedFannyintheverandah，whileIwastastingwinesinthecellar。ToMr。Schramthiswasasolemnoffice；hisseriousgustowarmedmyheart；prosperityhadnotyetwhollybanishedacertainneophiteandgirlishtrepidation，andhefollowedeverysipandreadmyfacewithproudanxiety。Itastedall。ItastedeveryvarietyandshadeofSchramberger，redandwhiteSchramberger，BurgundySchramberger，SchrambergerHock，SchrambergerGoldenChasselas，thelatterwithanotablebouquet，andIfeartothinkhowmanymore。MuchofitgoestoLondon—most，I
　　think；andMr。SchramhasagreatnotionoftheEnglishtaste。
　　Inthiswildspot，Ididnotfeelthesacrednessofancientcultivation。Itwasstillraw，itwasnoMarathon，andnoJohannisberg；yetthestirringsunlight，andthegrowingvines，andthevatsandbottlesinthecavern，madeapleasantmusicforthemind。Here，also，earth’screamwasbeingskimmedandgarnered；andtheLondoncustomerscantaste，suchasitis，thetangoftheearthinthisgreenvalley。Solocal，soquintessentialisawine，thatitseemstheverybirdsintheverandahmightcommunicateaflavour，andthatromanticcellarinfluencethebottlenexttobeuncorkedinPimlico，andthesmileofjollyMr。Schrammightmantleintheglass。
　　Butthesearebutexperiments。Allthingsinthisnewlandaremovingfartheron：thewine—vatsandtheminer’sblastingtoolsbutpicketforanight，likeBedouinpavillions；andto—morrow，tofreshwoods!Thisstirofchangeandtheseperpetualechoesofthemovingfootfall，haunttheland。Menmoveeternally，stillchasingFortune；
　　and，fortunefound，stillwander。AswedrovebacktoCalistoga，theroadlayemptyofmerepassengers，butitsgreensidewasdottedwiththecampsoftravellingfamilies：
　　onecumberedwithagreatwaggonfulofhouseholdstuff，settlersgoingtooccupyaranchetheyhadtakenupinMendocino，orperhapsTehamaCounty；another，apartyindustcoats，menandwomen，whomwefoundcampedinagroveontheroadside，allonpleasurebent，withaChinamantocookforthem，andwhowavedtheirhandstousaswedroveby。
　　CHAPTERIV—THESCOTABROAD
　　AFEWpagesback，Iwrotethatamanbelonged，inthesedays，toavarietyofcountries；buttheoldlandisstillthetruelove，theothersarebutpleasantinfidelities。Scotlandisindefinable；ithasnounityexceptuponthemap。Twolanguages，manydialects，innumerableformsofpiety，andcountlesslocalpatriotismsandprejudices，partusamongourselvesmorewidelythantheextremeeastandwestofthatgreatcontinentofAmerica。WhenIamathome，IfeelamanfromGlasgowtobesomethinglikearival，amanfromBarratobemorethanhalfaforeigner。Yetletusmeetinsomefarcountry，and，whetherwehailfromthebraesofManororthebraesofMar，someready—madeaffectionjoinsusontheinstant。Itisnotrace。Lookatus。OneisNorse，oneCeltic，andanotherSaxon。Itisnotcommunityoftongue。
　　Wehaveitnotamongourselves；andwehaveitalmosttoperfection，withEnglish，orIrish，orAmerican。Itisnotieoffaith，forwedetesteachother’serrors。Andyetsomewhere，deepdownintheheartofeachoneofus，somethingyearnsfortheoldland，andtheoldkindlypeople。
　　Ofallmysteriesofthehumanheart，thisisperhapsthemostinscrutable。Thereisnospeciallovelinessinthatgraycountry，withitsrainy，sea—beatarchipelago；itsfieldsofdarkmountains；itsunsightlyplaces，blackwithcoal；itstreeless，sour，unfriendlylookingcorn—lands；itsquaint，gray，castledcity，wherethebellsclashofaSunday，andthewindsqualls，andthesaltshowersflyandbeat。IdonotevenknowifIdesiretolivethere；butletmehear，insomefarland，akindredvoicesingout，"Oh，whyleftImyhame？"anditseemsatonceasifnobeautyunderthekindheavens，andnosocietyofthewiseandgood，canrepaymeformyabsencefrommycountry。AndthoughIthinkIwouldratherdieelsewhere，yetinmyheartofheartsIlongtobeburiedamonggoodScotsclods。Iwillsayitfairly，itgrowsonmewitheveryyear：therearenostarssolovelyasEdinburghstreet—lamps。WhenIforgetthee，auldReekie，maymyrighthandforgetitscunning!
　　ThehappiestlotonearthistobebornaScotchman。Youmustpayforitinmanyways，asforallotheradvantagesonearth。Youhavetolearntheparaphrasesandtheshortercatechism；yougenerallytaketodrink；youryouth，asfarasIcanfindout，isatimeoflouderwaragainstsociety，ofmoreoutcryandtearsandturmoil，thanifyouhadbeenborn，forinstance，inEngland。Butsomehowlifeiswarmerandcloser；thehearthburnsmoreredly；thelightsofhomeshinesofterontherainystreet；theverynames，endearedinverseandmusic，clingnearerroundourhearts。AnEnglishmanmaymeetanEnglishmanto—morrow，uponChimborazo，andneitherofthemcare；butwhentheScotchwine—growertoldmeofMonsMeg，itwaslikemagic。
　　"FromthedimshielingonthemistyislandMountainsdivideus，andaworldofseas；
　　Yetstillourheartsaretrue，ourheartsareHighland，Andwe，indreams，beholdtheHebrides。"
　　And，HighlandandLowland，allourheartsareScotch。
　　OnlyafewdaysafterIhadseenM’Eckron，amessagereachedmeinmycottage。ItwasaScotchmanwhohadcomedownalongwayfromthehillstomarket。HehadheardtherewasacountrymaninCalistoga，andcameroundtothehoteltoseehim。Wesaidafewwordstoeachother；wehadnotmuchtosay—shouldneverhaveseeneachotherhadwestayedathome，separatedalikeinspaceandinsociety；andthenweshookhands，andhewenthiswayagaintohisrancheamongthehills，andthatwasall。
　　AnotherScotchmantherewas，aresident，whoforthemoreloveofthecommoncountry，douce，serious，religiousman，drovemeallaboutthevalley，andtookasmuchinterestinmeasifIhadbeenhisson：more，perhaps；forthesonhasfaultstookeenlyfelt，whiletheabstractcountrymanisperfect—likeawhiffofpeats。
　　Andtherewasyetanother。UponhimIcamesuddenly，ashewascalmlyenteringmycottage，hismindquiteevidentlybentonplunder：amanofaboutfifty，filthy，ragged，roguish，withachimney—pothatandatailcoat，andapursingofhismouththatmighthavebeenenviedbyanelderofthekirk。
　　HehadjustsuchafaceasIhaveseenadozentimesbehindtheplate。
　　"Hullo，sir!"Icried。"Whereareyougoing？"
　　Heturnedroundwithoutaquiver。
　　"You’reaScotchman，sir？"hesaidgravely。"SoamI；IcomefromAberdeen。Thisismycard，"presentingmewithapieceofpasteboardwhichhehadrakedoutofsomegutterintheperiodoftherains。"Iwasjustexaminingthispalm，"hecontinued，indicatingthemisbegottenplantbeforeourdoor，"whichisthelargestspAcimenIhaveyetobservedinCalifoarnia。"
　　Therewerefourorfivelargerwithinsight。Butwherewastheuseofargument？Heproducedatape—line，mademehelphimtomeasurethetreeattheleveloftheground，andenteredthefiguresinalargeandfilthypocket—book，allwiththegravityofSolomon。Hethenthankedmeprofusely，remarkingthatsuchlittleserviceswereduebetweencountrymen；shookhandswithme，"foraddlangsyne，"ashesaid；andtookhimselfsolemnlyaway，radiatingdirtandhumbugashewent。
　　Amonthortwoafterthisencounterofmine，therecameaScottoSacramento—perhapsfromAberdeen。Anyway，thereneverwasanyonemoreScotchinthiswideworld。Hecouldsinganddance，anddrink，Ipresume；andheplayedthepipeswithvigourandsuccess。AlltheScotchinSacramentobecameinfatuatedwithhim，andspenttheirsparetimeandmoney，drivinghimaboutinanopencab，betweendrinks，whileheblewhimselfscarletatthepipes。Thisisaverysadstory。
　　Afterhehadborrowedmoneyfromeveryone，heandhispipessuddenlydisappearedfromSacramento，andwhenIlastheard，thepolicewerelookingforhim。
　　Icannotsayhowthisstoryamusedme，whenIfeltmyselfsothoroughlyripeonbothsidestobedupedinthesameway。
　　Itisatleastacuriousthing，toconclude，thattheraceswhichwanderwidest，JewsandScotch，shouldbethemostclannishintheworld。Butperhapsthesetwoarecauseandeffect："ForyewerestrangersinthelandofEgypt。"
　　PARTII—WITHTHECHILDRENOFISRAEL
　　CHAPTERI。—TOINTRODUCEMR。KELMAR
　　ONEthinginthisnewcountryveryparticularlystrikesastranger，andthatisthenumberofantiquities。Alreadytherehavebeenmanycyclesofpopulationsucceedingeachother，andpassingawayandleavingbehindthemrelics。
　　These，standingonintochangedtimes，striketheimaginationasforciblyasanypyramidorfeudaltower。Thetowns，likethevineyards，areexperimentallyfounded：theygrowgreatandprosperbypassingoccasions；andwhenthelodecomestoanend，andtheminersmoveelsewhere，thetownremainsbehindthem，likePalmyrainthedesert。Isupposethereare，innocountryintheworld，somanydesertedtownsashereinCalifornia。
　　ThewholeneighbourhoodofMountSaintHelena，nowsoquietandsylvan，wasoncealivewithminingcampsandvillages。
　　Heretherewouldbetwothousandsoulsundercanvas；thereonethousandorfifteenhundredensconced，asifforever，inatownofcomfortablehouses。Buttheluckhadfailed，theminespeteredout；andthearmyofminershaddeparted，andleftthisquarteroftheworldtotherattlesnakesanddeerandgrizzlies，andtotheslowerbutsteadieradvanceofhusbandry。
　　Itwaswithaneyeononeofthesedesertedplaces，PineFlat，ontheGeysersroad，thatwehadcomefirsttoCalistoga。Thereissomethingsingularlyenticingintheideaofgoing，rent—free，intoaready—madehouse。AndtotheBritishmerchant，sittingathomeatease，itmayappearthat，withsucharoofoveryourheadandaspringofclearwaterhardby，thewholeproblemofthesquatter’sexistencewouldbesolved。Food，however，hasyettobeconsidered，I
　　willgoasfarasmostpeopleontinnedmeats；someofthebrightestmomentsofmylifewerepassedovertinnedmulli—
　　gatawneyinthecabinofasixteen—tonschooner，storm—stayedinPortreeBay；butaftersuitableexperiments，Ipronounceauthoritativelythatmancannotlivebytinsalone。Freshmeatmustbehadonanoccasion。ItistruethatthegreatFoss，drivingbyalongtheGeysersroad，wooden—faced，butglorifiedwithlegend，mighthavebeeninducedtobringusmeat，butthegreatFosscouldhardlybringusmilk。Totakeacowwouldhaveinvolvedtakingafieldofgrassandamilkmaid；afterwhichitwouldhavebeenhardlyworthwhiletopause，andwemighthaveaddedtoourcolonyaflockofsheepandanexperiencedbutcher。
　　Itisreallyverydishearteninghowwedependonotherpeopleinthislife。"Mihiestpropositum，"asyoumayseebythemotto，"idquodregibus；"andbeholditcannotbecarriedout，unlessIfindaneighbourrollingincattle。
　　Now，myprincipaladviserinthismatterwasonewhomIwillcallKelmar。Thatwasnotwhathecalledhimself，butassoonasIseteyesonhim，Iknewitwasoroughttobehisname；Iamsureitwillbehisnameamongtheangels。Kelmarwasthestore—keeper，aRussianJew，good—natured，inaverythrivingwayofbusiness，and，onequalterms，oneofthemostserviceableofmen。HealsohadsomethingoftheexpressionofaScotchcountryelder，who，bysomepeculiarity，shouldchancetobeaHebrew。Hehadaprojectingunderlip，withwhichhecontinuallysmiled，orrathersmirked。Mrs。Kelmarwasasingularlykindwoman；andtheoldestsonhadquiteadarkandromanticbearing，andmightbeheardonsummereveningsplayingsentimentalairsontheviolin。
　　Ihadnoidea，atthetimeImadehisacquaintance，whatanimportantpersonKelmarwas。ButtheJewstore—keepersofCalifornia，profitingatoncebytheneedsandhabitsofthepeople，havemadethemselvesintoomanycasesthetyrantsoftheruralpopulation。Creditisoffered，ispressedonthenewcustomer，andwhenonceheisbeyondhisdepth，thetunechanges，andheisfromthenceforthawhiteslave。I
　　believe，evenfromthelittleIsaw，thatKelmar，ifhechoosetoputonthescrew，couldsendhalfthesettlerspackinginaradiusofsevenoreightmilesroundCalistoga。
　　Thesearecontinuallypayinghim，butareneversufferedtogetoutofdebt。Hepalmsdullgoodsuponthem，fortheydarenotrefusetobuy；hegoesanddineswiththemwhenheisonanouting，andnomanisloudlierwelcomed；heistheirfamilyfriend，thedirectoroftheirbusiness，and，toadegreeelsewhereunknowninmoderndays，theirking。
　　Forsomereason，KelmaralwaysshookhisheadatthementionofPineFlat，andforsomedaysIthoughthedisapprovedofthewholeschemeandwasproportionatelysad。Onefinemorning，however，hemetme，wreathedinsmiles。Hehadfoundtheveryplaceforme—Silverado，anotheroldminingtown，rightupthemountain。RufeHanson，thehunter，couldtakecareofus—finepeopletheHansons；weshouldbeclosetotheTollHouse，wheretheLakeportstagecalleddaily；itwasthebestplaceformyhealth，besides。Rufehadbeenconsumptive，andwasnowquiteastrongman，ain’tit？Inshort，theplaceandallitsaccompanimentsseemedmadeforusonpurpose。
　　Hetookmetohisbackdoor，whence，asfromeverypointofCalistoga，MountSaintHelenacouldbeseentoweringintheair。There，inthenick，justwheretheeasternfoothillsjoinedthemountain，andsheherselfbegantoriseabovethezoneofforest—therewasSilverado。Thenamehadalreadypleasedme；thehighstationpleasedmestillmore。Ibegantoinquirewithsomeeagerness。ItwasbutalittlewhileagothatSilveradowasagreatplace。Themine—asilvermine，ofcourse—hadpromisedgreatthings。Therewasquitealivelypopulation，withseveralhotelsandboarding—houses；
　　andKelmarhimselfhadopenedabranchstore，anddoneextremelywell—"Ain’tit？"hesaid，appealingtohiswife。
　　Andshesaid，"Yes；extremelywell。"NowtherewasnoonelivinginthetownbutRufethehunter；andoncemoreIheardRufe’spraisesbytheyard，andthistimesunginchorus。
　　Icouldnothelpperceivingatthetimethattherewassomethingunderneath；thatnounmixeddesiretohaveuscomfortablysettledhadinspiredtheKelmarswiththisflowofwords。ButIwasimpatienttobegone，tobeaboutmykinglyproject；andwhenwewereofferedseatsinKelmar’swaggon，Iacceptedonthespot。TheplanoftheirnextSunday’soutingtookthem，bygoodfortune，overtheborderintoLakeCounty。Theywouldcarryussofar，dropusattheTollHouse，presentustotheHansons，andcallforusagainonMondaymorningearly。
　　CHAPTERII—FIRSTIMPRESSIONSOFSILVERADO
　　WEweretoleavebysixprecisely；thatwassolemnlypledgedonbothsides；andamessengercametousthelastthingatnight，toremindusofthehour。ButitwaseightbeforewegotclearofCalistoga：Kelmar，Mrs。Kelmar，afriendoftheirswhomwenamedAbramina，herlittledaughter，mywife，myself，and，stowedawaybehindus，aclusterofship’scoffee—kettles。Theselastwerehighlyornamentalinthesheenoftheirbrighttin，butIcouldinventnoreasonfortheirpresence。Ourcarriagefulreckonedup，asnearaswecouldgetatit，somethreehundredyearstothesixofus。
　　Fourofthesix，besides，wereHebrews。ButInever，inallmylife，wasconsciousofsostronganatmosphereofholiday。
　　Nowordwasspokenbutofpleasure；andevenwhenwedroveinsilence，nodsandsmileswentroundthepartylikerefreshments。
　　Thesunshoneoutofacloudlesssky。Closeatthezenithrodethebelatedmoon，stillclearlyvisible，and，alongonemargin，evenbright。Thewindblewagalefromthenorth；
　　thetreesroared；thecornandthedeepgrassinthevalleyfledinwhiteningsurges；thedusttoweredintotheairalongtheroadanddispersedlikethesmokeofbattle。Itwasclearinourteethfromthefirst，andforallthewindingsoftheroaditmanagedtokeepclearinourteethuntiltheend。
　　Forsometwomileswerattledthroughthevalley，skirtingtheeasternfoothills；thenwestruckofftotheright，throughhaugh—land，andpresently，crossingadrywater—
　　course，enteredtheTollroad，or，tobemorelocal，enteredon"thegrade。"TheroadmountsthenearshoulderofMountSaintHelena，boundnorthwardintoLakeCounty。Inoneplaceitskirtsalongtheedgeofanarrowanddeepcanyon，filledwithtrees，andIwasglad，indeed，nottobedrivenatthispointbythedashingFoss。Kelmar，withhisunvaryingsmile，joggingtothemotionofthetrap，droveforalltheworldlikeagood，plain，countryclergymanathome；andIprofessIblessedhimunawaresforhistimidity。
　　Vineyardsanddeepmeadows，islandedandframedwiththicket，gaveplacemoreandmoreasweascendedtowoodsofoakandmadrona，dottedwithenormouspines。Itwasthesepines，astheyshotabovethelowerwood，thatproducedthatpencillingofsingletreesIhadsooftenremarkedfromthevalley。
　　Thence，lookingupandfromhoweverfar，eachfirstandsseparateagainsttheskynobiggerthananeyelash；andalltogetherlendaquaint，fringedaspecttothehills。Theoakisnobaby；eventhemadrona，uponthesespursofMountSaintHelena，comestoafinebulkandrankswithforesttrees—
　　butthepineslookdownupontherestforunderwood。AsMountSaintHelenaamongherfoothills，sothesedarkgiantsout—toptheirfellow—vegetables。Alas!iftheyhadlefttheredwoods，thepines，inturn，wouldhavebeendwarfed。Buttheredwoods，fallenfromtheirhighestate，areservingasfamilybedsteads，oryetmorehumblyasfieldfences，alongallNapaValley。
　　Aroughsmackofresinwasintheair，andacrystalmountainpurity。Itcamepouringoverthesegreenslopesbytheoceanful。Thewoodssangaloud，andgavelargelyoftheirhealthfulbreath。Gladnessseemedtoinhabittheseupperzones，andwehadleftindifferencebehindusinthevalley。
　　"Itothehillsliftmineeyes!"Therearedaysinalifewhenthustoclimboutofthelowlands，seemslikescalingheaven。
　　Aswecontinuedtoascend，thewindfelluponuswithincreasingstrength。Itwasawonderhowthetwostouthorsesmanagedtopullusupthatsteepinclineandstillfacetheathleticoppositionofthewind，orhowtheirgreateyeswereabletoendurethedust。Tenminutesafterwewentby，atreefell，blockingtheroad；andevenbeforeusleaveswerethicklystrewn，andboughshadfallen，largeenoughtomakethepassagedifficult。Butnowwewerehardbythesummit。Theroadcrossestheridge，justinthenickthatKelmarshowedmefrombelow，andthen，withoutpause，plungesdownadeep，thicklywoodedglenonthefartherside。Atthehighestpointatrailstrikesupthemainhilltotheleftward；andthatleadstoSilverado。Ahundredyardsbeyond，andinakindofelbowoftheglen，standstheTollHouseHotel。Wecameuptheoneside，werecaughtuponthesummitbythewholeweightofthewindasitpouredoverintoNapaValley，andaminuteafterhaddrawnupinshelter，butallbuffettedandbreathless，attheTollHousedoor。
　　Awater—tank，andstables，andagrayhouseoftwostories，withgableendsandaverandah，arejammedhardagainstthehillside，justwhereastreamhascutforitselfanarrowcanyon，filledwithpines。Thepinesgorightupoverhead；alittlemoreandthestreammighthaveplayed，likeafire—
　　hose，ontheTollHouseroof。Infrontthegrounddropsassharplyasitrisesbehind。Thereisjustroomfortheroadandasortofpromontoryofcroquetground，andthenyoucanleanovertheedgeandlookdeepbelowyouthroughthewood。
　　IsaidcroquetGROUND，notGREEN；forthesurfacewasofbrown，beatenearth。Thetoll—baritselfwastheonlyothernoteoforiginality：alongbeam，turningonapost，andkeptslightlyhorizontalbyacounterweightofstones。
　　Regularlyaboutsundownthisrudebarrierwasswung，likeaderrick，acrosstheroadandmadefast，Ithink，toatreeuponthefartherside。
　　Onourarrivaltherefollowedagaysceneinthebar。IwaspresentedtoMr。Corwin，thelandlord；toMr。Jennings，theengineer，wholivesthereforhishealth；toMr。Hoddy，amostpleasantlittlegentleman，onceamemberoftheOhiolegislature，againtheeditorofalocalpaper，andnow，withundiminisheddignity，keepingtheTollHousebar。Ihadanumberofdrinksandcigarsbestowedonme，andenjoyedafamousopportunityofseeingKelmarinhisglory，friendly，radiant，smiling，steadilyedgingoneoftheship’skettlesonthereluctantCorwin。
　　Corwin，plainlyaghast，resistedgallantly，andforthatboutvictorycrownedhisarms。
　　AtlastwesetforthforSilveradoonfoot。KelmarandhisjollyJewgirlswerefullofthesentimentofSundayoutings，breathedgenialityandvagueness，andsufferedalittlevileboyfromthehoteltoleadthemhereandthereaboutthewoods。Forthreepeopleallsoold，sobulkyinbody，andbelongingtoaracesovenerable，theycouldnotbutsurpriseusbytheirextremeandalmostimbecileyouthfulnessofspirit。TheywereonlygoingtostaytenminutesattheTollHouse；hadtheynottwentylongmilesofroadbeforethemontheotherside？Staytodinner？Notthey!Putupthehorses？Never。Letusattachthemtotheverandahbyawispofstrawrope，suchaswouldnothaveheldaperson’shatonthatblusteringday。Andwithalltheseprotestationsofhurry，theyprovedirresponsiblelikechildren。Kelmarhimself，shrewdoldRussianJew，withasmirkthatseemedjusttohaveconcludedabargaintoitssatisfaction，intrustedhimselfandusdevoutlytothatboy。Yettheboywaspatentlyfallacious；andforthatmatteramostunsympatheticurchin，raisedapparentlyongingerbread。Hewasbentonhisownpleasure，nothingelse；andKelmarfollowedhimtohisruin，withthesameshrewdsmirk。Iftheboysaidtherewas"aholethereinthehill"—ahole，pureandsimple，neithermorenorless—KelmarandhisJewgirlswouldfollowhimahundredyardstolookcomplacentlydownthathole。Fortwohourswelookedforhouses；andfortwohourstheyfollowedus，smellingtrees，pickingflowers，foistingfalsebotanyontheunwary。Hadwetakenfive，withthatvileladtoheadthemoffonidledivagations，forfivetheywouldhavesmiledandstumbledthroughthewoods。
　　However，wecameforthatlength，andasbyaccident，uponalawn，sparseplantedlikeanorchard，butwithforestinsteadoffruittrees。ThatwasthesiteofSilveradominingtown。
　　Apieceofgroundwaslevelledup，whereKelmar’sstorehadbeen；andfacingthatwesawRufeHanson’shouse，stillbearingonitsfrontthelegendSILVERADOHOTEL。Notanothersignofhabitation。Silveradotownhadallbeencartedfromthescene；oneofthehouseswasnowtheschool—housefardowntheroad；onewasgonehere，onethere，butallweregoneaway。
　　Itwasnowasylvansolitude，andthesilencewasunbrokenbutbythegreat，vaguevoiceofthewind。Somedaysbeforeourvisit，agrizzlybearhadbeensportingroundtheHansons’chicken—house。
　　Mrs。Hansonwasathomealone，wefound。Rufehadbeenoutaftera"bar，"hadrisenlate，andwasnowgone，itdidnotclearlyappearwhither。PerhapshehadhadwindofKelmar’scoming，andwasnowensconcedamongtheunderwood，orwatchingusfromtheshoulderofthemountain。We，hearingtherewerenohousestobehad，wereforimmediatelygivingupallhopesofSilverado。Butthis，somehow，wasnottoKelmar’sfancy。Hefirstproposedthatweshould"campsomeveresaround，ain’tit？"wavinghishandcheerilyasthoughtoweaveaspell；andwhenthatwasfirmlyrejected，hedecidedthatwemusttakeuphousewiththeHansons。Mrs。
　　Hansonhadbeen，fromthefirst，flustered，subdued，andalittlepale；butfromthispropositionsherecoiledwithhaggardindignation。Sodidwe，whowouldhavepreferred，inamannerofspeaking，death。ButKelmarwasnottobeputby。HeedgedMrs。Hansonintoacorner，whereforalongtimehethreatenedherwithhisforefinger，likeacharacterinDickens；andthepoorwoman，driventoherentrenchments，atlastrememberedwithashriekthattherewerestillsomehousesatthetunnel。