Duffieldwouldhesitatetoplaceabishop，istorisetonewideas。But，alas!therewasnoPattersonabouttheTollHouse。Only，alongsideof\"FromPalacetoHovel，\"asixpenny\"Ouida\"figured。Soliterature，yousee，wasnotunrepresented。
Theschool—ma’amhadfriendstostaywithher，otherschool—
ma’amsenjoyingtheirholidays，quiteabevyofdamsels。
Theyseemednevertogoout，ornotbeyondtheverandah，butsatcloseinthelittleparlour，quietlytalkingorlisteningtothewindamongthetrees。SleepdweltintheTollHouse，likeafixture：summersleep，shallow，soft，anddreamless。
Acuckoo—clock，agreatrarityinsuchaplace，hootedatintervalsabouttheechoinghouse；andMr。Jenningwouldopenhiseyesforamomentinthebar，andturntheleafofanewspaper，andtherestingschool—ma’amsintheparlourwouldberecalledtotheconsciousnessoftheirinaction。BusyMrs。CorwinandherbusyChinamanmightbeheardindeed，inthepenetralia，poundingdoughorrattlingdishes；orperhapsRufehadcalledupsomeofthesleepersforagameofcroquet，andthehollowstrokesofthemalletsoundedfarawayamongthewoods：butwiththeseexceptions，itwassleepandsunshineanddust，andthewindinthepinetrees，alldaylong。
Alittlebeforestagetime，thatcastleofindolenceawoke。
Theostlerthrewhisstrawawayandsettohispreparations。
Mr。Jenningsrubbedhiseyes；happyMr。Jennings，thesomethinghehadbeenwaitingforalldayabouttohappenatlast!Theboardersgatheredintheverandah，silentlygivingear，andgazingdowntheroadwithshadedeyes。Andasyettherewasnosignforthesenses，notasound，notatremorofthemountainroad。Thebirds，towhomthesecretofthehootingcuckooisunknown，musthavesetdowntoinstinctthispremonitorybustle。
AndthenthefirstofthetwostagesswoopedupontheTollHousewitharoarandinacloudofdust；andtheshockhadnotyettimetosubside，beforethesecondwasabreastofit。
Hugeconcernstheywere，well—horsedandloaded，themenintheirshirt—sleeves，thewomenswathedinveils，thelongwhipcrackinglikeapistol；andastheychargeduponthatslumberinghostelry，eachshepherdingaduststorm，thedeadplaceblossomedintolifeandtalkandclatter。ThistheTollHouse？—withitscitythrong，itsjostlingshoulders，itsinfinityofinstantbusinessinthebar？Themindwouldnotreceiveit!Theheartfeltbustleofthathourishardlycredible；thethrillofthegreatshoweroflettersfromthepost—bag，thechildishhopeandinterestwithwhichonegazedinallthesestrangers’eyes。Theypausedtherebuttopass：
theblue—cladChina—boy，theSanFranciscomagnate，themysteryinthedustcoat，thesecretmemoirsintweed，theogling，well—shodladywithhertroopofgirls；theydidbutflashandgo；theywerehull—downforusbehindlife’socean，andwebuthailedtheirtopsailsontheline。Yet，outofourgreatsolitudeoffourandtwentymountainhours，wethrilledtotheirmomentarypresencegaugedanddivinedthem，lovedandhated；andstoodlight—headedinthatstormofhumanelectricity。Yes，likePiccadillycircus，thisisalsooneoflife’scrossing—places。HereIbeheldoneman，alreadyfamousorinfamous，acentreofpistol—shots：andanotherwho，ifnotyetknowntorumour，willfillacolumnoftheSundaypaperwhenhecomestohang—aburly，thick—
set，powerfulChinesedesperado，sixlongbristlesuponeitherlip；redolentofwhiskey，playingcards，andpistols；
swaggeringinthebarwiththelowestassumptionofthelowestEuropeanmanners；rappingoutblackguardEnglishoathsinhiscanorousorientalvoice；andcombininginonepersonthedepravitiesoftworacesandtwocivilizations。Forallhislustandvigour，heseemedtolookcolduponmefromthevalleyoftheshadowofthegallows。Heimaginedavainthing；andwhilehedrainedhiscock—tail，Holbein’sdeathwasathiselbow。Once，too，Ifellintalkwithanotheroftheseflittingstrangers—liketherest，inhisshirt—
sleevesandallbegrimedwithdust—andthenextminutewewerediscussingParisandLondon，theatresandwines。Tohim，journeyingfromonehumanplacetoanother，thiswasatrifle；buttome!No，Mr。Lillie，Ihavenotforgottenit。
Andpresentlythecity—tidewasatitsfloodandbegantoebb。LiferunsinPiccadillyCircus，say，fromninetoone，andthen，therealso，ebbsintothesmallhoursoftheechoingpolicemanandthelampsandstars。ButtheTollHouseisfarupstream，andnearitsruralsprings；thebubbleofthetidebuttouchesit。Beforeyouhadyetgraspedyourpleasure，thehorseswereputto，theloudwhipsvolleyed，andthetidewasgone。Northandsouthhadthetwostagesvanished，thetoweringdustsubsidedinthewoods；buttherewasstillanintervalbeforetheflushhadfallenonyourcheeks，beforetheearbecameoncemorecontentedwiththesilence，orthesevensleepersoftheTollHousedozedbacktotheiraccustomedcorners。Yetalittle，andtheostlerwouldswingroundthegreatbarrieracrosstheroad；
andinthegoldenevening，thatdreamyinnbegintotrimitslampsandspreadtheboardforsupper。
AsIrecalltheplace—thegreendellbelow；thespiresofpine；thesun—warm，scentedair；thatgray，gabledinn，withitsfaintstirringsoflifeamidtheslumberofthemountains—Islowlyawaketoasenseofadmiration，gratitude，andalmostlove。Afineplace，afterall，forawastedlifetodozeawayin—thecuckooclockhootingofitsfarhomecountry；thecroquetmallets，eloquentofEnglishlawns；thestagesdailybringingnewsof—theturbulentworldawaybelowthere；andperhapsonceinthesummer，asaltfogpouringoverheadwithitstaleofthePacific。
ASTARRYDRIVE
INourruleatSilverado，therewasamelancholyinterregnum。
Thequeenandthecrownprincewithoneaccordfellsick；
and，asIwassicktobeginwith，ourlonepositiononMountSaintHelenawasnolongertenable，andwehadtohurrybacktoCalistogaandacottageonthegreen。Bythattimewehadbeguntorealizethedifficultiesofourposition。Wehadfoundwhatanamountoflabouritcosttosupportlifeinourredcanyon；anditwasthedearestdesireofourheartstogetaChina—boytogoalongwithuswhenwereturned。Wecouldhavegivenhimawholehousetohimself，self—
contained，astheysayintheadvertisements；andonthemoneyquestionwewerepreparedtogofar。KongSamKee，theCalistogawasherman，wasentrustedwiththeaffair；andfromdaytodayitlanguishedon，withprotestationsonourpartandmellifluousexcusesonthepartofKongSamKee。
Atlength，abouthalf—pasteightofourlastevening，withthewaggonreadyharnessedtoconveyusupthegrade，thewasherman，withasomewhatsneeringair，producedtheboy。
Hewasahandsome，gentlemanlylad，attiredinrichdarkblue，andshodwithsnowywhite；but，alas!hehadheardrumoursofSilverado。Heknowitforaloneplaceonthemountain—side，withnofriendlywash—housenearby，wherehemightsmokeapipeofopiumo’nightswithotherChina—boys，andlosehislittleearningsatthegameoftan；andhefirstbackedoutformoremoney；andthen，whenthatdemandwassatisfied，refusedtocomepoint—blank。Hewasweddedtohiswash—houses；hehadnotastefortherurallife；andwemustgotoourmountainservantless。Itmusthavebeennearhalfanhourbeforewereachedthatconclusion，standinginthemidstofCalistogahighstreetunderthestars，andtheChina—boyandKongSamKeesingingtheirpigeonEnglishinthesweetestvoicesandwiththemostmusicalinflections。
Wewerenot，however，toreturnalone；forwebroughtwithusJoeStrong，thepainter，amostgood—naturedcomradeandacapitalhandatanomelette。Idonotknowinwhichcapacityhewasmostvalued—asacookoracompanion；andhedidexcellentlywellinboth。
TheKongSamKeenegotiationhaddelayedusunduly；itmusthavebeenhalf—pastninebeforeweleftCalistoga，andnightcamefullyerewestruckthebottomofthegrade。Ihaveneverseensuchanight。Itseemedtothrowcalumnyintheteethofallthepaintersthateverdabbledinstarlight。
Theskyitselfwasofaruddy，powerful，nameless，changingcolour，darkandglossylikeaserpent’sback。Thestars，byinnumerablemillions，stuckboldlyforthlikelamps。Themilkywaywasbright，likeamoonlitcloud；halfheavenseemedmilkyway。Thegreaterluminariesshoneeachmoreclearlythanawinter’smoon。Theirlightwasdyedineverysortofcolour—red，likefire；blue，likesteel；green，likethetracksofsunset；andsosharplydideachstandforthinitsownlustrethattherewasnoappearanceofthatflat，star—spangledarchweknowsowellinpictures，butallthehollowofheavenwasonechaosofcontestingluminaries—
ahurry—burlyofstars。Againstthisthehillsandruggedtreetopsstoodoutredlydark。
Aswecontinuedtoadvance，thelesserlightsandmilkywaysfirstgrewpale，andthenvanished；thecountlesshostsofheavendwindledinnumberbysuccessivemillions；thosethatstillshonehadtemperedtheirexceedingbrightnessandfallenbackintotheircustomarywistfuldistance；andtheskydeclinedfromitsfirstbewilderingsplendourintotheappearanceofacommonnight。Slowlythischangeproceeded，andstilltherewasnosignofanycause。Thenawhitenesslikemistwasthrownoverthespursofthemountain。Yetawhile，and，asweturnedacorner，agreatleapofsilverlightandnetofforestshadowsfellacrosstheroadanduponourwonderingwaggonful；and，swimminglowamongthetrees，webeheldastrange，misshapen，waningmoon，half—tiltedonherback。
\"Whereareyewhenthemoonappears？\"sotheoldpoetsang，half—taunting，tothestars，bentuponacourtlypurpose。
\"Asthesunlightroundthedimearth’smidnighttowerofshadowpours，Streamingpastthedim，wideportals，Viewlesstotheeyesofmortals，Tillitfloodsthemoon’spaleisletorthemorning’sgoldenshores。\"
SosingsMr。Trowbridge，withanobleinspiration。Andsohadthesunlightfloodedthatpaleisletofthemoon，andherlitfaceputout，oneafteranother，thatgalaxyofstars。
Thewonderofthedrivewasover；but，bysomeniceconjunctionofclearnessintheairandfitshadowinthevalleywherewetravelled，wehadseenforalittlewhilethatbravedisplayofthemidnightheavens。Itwasgone，butithadbeen；norshallIeveragainbeholdthestarswiththesamemind。Hewhohasseentheseacommovedwithagreathurricane，thinksofitverydifferentlyfromhimwhohasseenitonlyinacalm。Andthedifferencebetweenacalmandahurricaneisnotgreatlymorestrikingthanthatbetweentheordinaryfaceofnightandthesplendourthatshoneuponusinthatdrive。Twoinourwaggonknewnightassheshinesuponthetropics，buteventhatborenocomparison。Thenamelesscolourofthesky，thehuesofthestar—fire，andtheincredibleprojectionofthestarsthemselves，startingfromtheirorbits，sothattheeyeseemedtodistinguishtheirpositionsinthehollowofspace—thesewerethingsthatwehadneverseenbeforeandshallneverseeagain。
Meanwhile，inthisalterednight，weproceededonourwayamongthescentsandsilenceoftheforest，reachedthetopofthegrade，woundupbyHanson’s，andcameatlasttoastandundertheflyinggargoyleofthechute。Sam，whohadbeenlyingback，fastasleep，withthemoononhisface，gotdown，withtheremarkthatitwaspleasant\"tobehome。\"Thewaggonturnedanddroveaway，thenoisegentlydyinginthewoods，andweclambereduptheroughpath，Caliban’sgreatfeatofengineering，andcamehometoSilverado。
Themoonshoneinattheeasterndoorsandwindows，andoverthelumberontheplatform。Theonetallpinebeside。theledgewassteepedinsilver。Awayupthecanyon，awildcatwelcomeduswiththreediscordantsqualls。Butoncewehadlitacandle，andbegantoreviewourimprovements，homelyineithersense，andcountourstores，itwaswonderfulwhatafeelingofpossessionandpermanencegrowupintheheartsofthelordsofSilverado。AbedhadstilltobemadeupforStrong，andthemorning’swatertobefetched，withclinkingpail；andaswesetaboutthesehouseholdduties，andshowedoffourwealthandconveniencesbeforethestranger，andhadaglassofwine，Ithink，inhonourofourreturn，andtroopedatlengthoneafteranotheruptheflyingbridgeofplank，andlaydowntosleepinourshattered，moon—piercedbarrack，wewereamongthehappiestsovereignsintheworld，andcertainlyruledoverthemostcontentedpeople。Yet，inourabsence，thepalacehadbeensacked。Wildcats，sotheHansonssaid，hadbrokeninandcarriedoffasideofbacon，ahatchet，andtwoknives。
EPISODESINTHESTORYOFAMINE
NOonecouldliveatSilveradoandnotbecuriousaboutthestoryofthemine。Weweresurroundedbysomanyevidencesofexpenseandtoil，welivedsoentirelyinthewreckofthatgreatenterprise，likemitesintheruinsofacheese，thattheideaoftheolddinandbustlehauntedourrepose。
Ourownhouse，theforge，thedump，thechutes，therails，thewindlass，themassofbrokenplant；thetwotunnels，onefarbelowinthegreendell，theotherontheplatformwherewekeptourwine；thedeepshaft，withthesun—glintsandthewater—drops；aboveall，theledge，thatgreatgapingsliceoutofthemountainshoulder，proppedapartbywoodenwedges，onwhoseimmediatemargin，highaboveourheads，theonetallpineprecariouslynodded—thesestoodforitsgreatness；
while，thedog—hutch，boot—jacks，oldboots，oldtavernbills，andtheverybedsthatweinheritedfrombygoneminers，putinhumantouchesandrealizedforusthestoryofthepast。
Ihavesatonanoldsleeper，underthethickmadronasneartheforge，withjustalookoverthedumponthegreenworldbelow，andseenthesunlyingbroadamongthewreck，andheardthesilencebrokenonlybythetinklingwaterintheshaft，orastiroftheroyalfamilyaboutthebatteredpalace，andmymindhasgonebacktotheepochoftheStanleysandtheChapmans，withagrandTUTTIofpickanddrill，hammerandanvil，echoingaboutthecanyon；theassayerhardatitinourdining—room；thecartsbelowontheroad，andtheircargoofredmineralboundingandthunderingdowntheironchute。Andnowallgone—allfallenawayintothissunnysilenceanddesertion：afamilyofsquattersdiningintheassayer’soffice，makingtheirbedsinthebigsleepingroomerstwhilesocrowded，keepingtheirwineinthetunnelthatoncerangwithpicks。
ButSilveradoitself，althoughnowfalleninitsturnintodecay，wasoncebutamushroom，andhadsucceededtootherminesandotherflittingcities。Twentyyearsago，awaydowntheglenontheLakeCountysidetherewasaplace，Jonestownbyname，withtwothousandinhabitantsdwellingundercanvas，andoneroofedhouseforthesaleofwhiskey。RoundonthewesternsideofMountSaintHelena，therewasatthesamedate，asecondlargeencampment，itsname，ifiteverhadone，lostforme。Bothofthesehaveperished，leavingnotastickandscarceamemorybehindthem。Tideaftertideofhopefulminershavethusflowedandebbedaboutthemountain，comingandgoing，nowbyloneprospectors，nowwitharush。
Last，inorderoftimecameSilverado，rearedthebigmill，inthevalley，foundedthetownwhichisnowrepresented，monumentally，byHanson’s，piercedalltheseslapsandshaftsandtunnels，andinturndeclinedanddiedaway。
\"OurnoisyyearsseemmomentsinthewakeOftheeternalsilence。\"
AstothesuccessofSilveradoinitstimeofbeing，tworeportswerecurrent。Accordingtothefirst，sixhundredthousanddollarsweretakenoutofthatgreatuprightseam，thatstillhungopenaboveusoncrazywedges。Thentheledgepinchedout，andtherefollowed，inquestoftheremainder，agreatdriftingandtunnellinginalldirections，andagreatconsequenteffusionofdollars，until，allpartiesbeingsickoftheexpense，theminewasdeserted，andthetowndecamped。Accordingtothesecondversion，toldmewithmuchsecrecyofmanner，thewholeaffair，mine，mill，andtown，werepartsofonemajesticswindle。Therehadnevercomeanysilveroutofanyportionofthemine；therewasnosilvertocome。Atmidnighttrainsofpackhorsesmighthavebeenobservedwindingbydevioustracksabouttheshoulderofthemountain。Theycamefromfaraway，fromAmadororPlacer，ladenwithsilverin\"oldcigarboxes。\"
TheydischargedtheirloadatSilverado，inthehourofsleep；andbeforethemorningtheyweregoneagainwiththeirmysteriousdriverstotheirunknownsource。Inthisway，twentythousandpounds’worthofsilverwassmuggledinundercoverofnight，intheseoldcigarboxes；mixedwithSilveradomineral；carteddowntothemill；crushed，amalgated，andrefined，anddespatchedtothecityastheproperproductofthemine。Stock—jobbing，ifitcancoversuchexpenses，mustbeaprofitablebusinessinSanFrancisco。
IgivethesetwoversionsasIgotthem。ButIplacelittlerelianceoneither，mybeliefinhistoryhavingbeengreatlyshaken。ForitchancedthatIhadcometodwellinSilveradoatacriticalhour；greateventsinitshistorywereabouttohappen—didhappen，asIamledtobelieve；nay，anditwillbeseenthatIplayedapartinthatrevolutionmyself。AndyetfromfirsttolastIneverhadaglimmerofanideawhatwasgoingon；andevennow，afterfullreflection，professmyselfatsea。Thattherewassomeobscureintrigueofthecigar—boxorder，andthatI，inthecharacterofawoodenpuppet，setpentopaperintheinterestofsomebody，somuch，andnomore，iscertain。
Silverado，thenundermyimmediatesway，belongedtoonewhomIwillcallaMr。Ronalds。Ionlyknewhimthroughtheextraordinarilydistortingmediumoflocalgossip，nowasamomentousjobber；nowasadupetopointanadage；andagain，andmuchmoreprobably，asanordinaryChristiangentlemanlikeyouorme，whohadopenedamineandworkeditforawhilewithbetterandworsefortune。So，throughadefectivewindow—pane，youmayseethepasser—byshootupintoahunchbackedgiantordwindleintoapotbellieddwarf。
ToRonalds，atleast，theminebelonged；butthenoticebywhichhehelditwouldranoutuponthe30thofJune—orrather，asIsuppose，ithadrunoutalready，andthemonthofgracewouldexpireuponthatday，afterwhichanyAmericancitizenmightpostanoticeofhisown，andmakeSilveradohis。This，withasortofquietslyness，Rufetoldmeatanearlyperiodofouracquaintance。Therewasnosilver，ofcourse；themine\"wasn’tworthnothing，Mr。Stevens，\"buttherewasadealofoldironandwoodaround，andtogainpossessionofthisoldwoodandiron，andgetarighttothewater，Rufeproposed，ifIhadnoobjections，to\"jumptheclaim。\"
Ofcourse，Ihadnoobjection。ButIwasfilledwithwonder。
Ifallhewantedwasthewoodandiron，what，inthenameoffortune，wastopreventhimtakingthem？\"Hisrighttherewasnonetodispute。\"Hemightlayhandsonallto—morrow，asthewildcatshadlaidhandsuponourknivesandhatchet。
Besides，wasthismassofheavyminingplantworthtransportation？Ifitwas，whyhadnottherightfulownerscarteditaway？Ifitwas，wouldtheynotpreservetheirtitletothesemovables，evenaftertheyhadlosttheirtitletothemine？Andifitwerenot，whatthebetterwasRufe？
NothingwouldgrowatSilverado；therewasevennowoodtocut；beyondasenseofproperty，therewasnothingtobegained。Lastly，wasitatallcrediblethatRonaldswouldforgetwhatRuferemembered？Thedaysofgracewerenotyetover：anyfinemorninghemightappear，paperinhand，andenterforanotheryearonhisinheritance。However，itwasnoneofmybusiness；allseemedlegal；RufeorRonalds，allwasonetome。
Onthemorningofthe27th，Mrs。Hansonappearedwiththemilkasusual，inhersun—bonnet。ThetimewouldbeoutonTuesday，sheremindedus，andbademebeinreadinesstoplaymypart，thoughIhadnoideawhatitwastobe。AndsupposeRonaldscame？weasked。Shereceivedtheideawithderision，laughingaloudwithallherfineteeth。Hecouldnotfindtheminetosavehislife，itappeared，withoutRufetoguidehim。Lastyear，whenhecame，theyheardhim\"upanddowntheroadahollerin’andaraisin’Cain。\"AndatlasthehadtocometotheHansonsindespair，andbidRufe，\"Jumpintoyourpantsandshoes，andshowmewherethisoldmineis，anyway!\"SeeingthatRonaldshadlaidoutsomuchmoneyinthespot，andthatabeatenroadledrightuptothebottomoftheclump，Ithoughtthisaremarkableexample。ThesenseoflocalitymustbesingularlyinabeyanceinthecaseofRonalds。
Thatsameevening，suppercomfortablyover，JoeStrongbusyatworkonadrawingofthedumpandtheoppositehills，wewerealloutontheplatformtogether，sittingthere，underthetentedheavens，withthesamesenseofprivacyasifwehadbeencabinedinaparlour，whenthesoundofbriskfootstepscamemountingupthepath。Weprickedourearsatthis，forthetreadseemedlighterandfirmerthanwasusualwithourcountryneighbours。Andpresently，sureenough，twotowngentlemen，withcigarsandkidgloves，camedebauchingpastthehouse。Theylookedinthatplacelikeablasphemy。
\"Goodevening，\"theysaid。Fornoneofushadstirred；weallsatstiffwithwonder。
\"Goodevening，\"Ireturned；andthen，toputthemattheirease，\"Astiffclimb，\"Iadded。
\"Yes，\"repliedtheleader；\"butwehavetothankyouforthispath。\"
Ididnotliketheman’stone。Noneofuslikedit。Hedidnotseemembarrassedbythemeeting，butthrewushisremarkslikefavours，andstrodemagisteriallybyustowardstheshaftandtunnel。
Presentlyweheardhisvoiceraisedtohiscompanion。\"Wedriftedeverysortofway，butcouldn’tstriketheledge。\"
Thenagain：\"Itpinchedouthere。\"Andoncemore：\"Everyminorthateverworkeduponitsaysthere’sboundtobealedgesomewhere。\"
Thesewerethesnatchesofhistalkthatreachedus，andtheyhadadamningsignificance。We，thelordsofSilverado，hadcomefacetofacewithoursuperior。Itistheworstofallquaintandofallcheapwaysoflifethattheybringusatlasttothepinchofsomehumiliation。IlikedwellenoughtobeasquatterwhentherewasnonebutHansonby；beforeRonalds，Iwillown，Isomewhatquailed。Ihastenedtodohimfealty，saidIgatheredhewastheSquattee，andapologized。Hethreatenedmewithejection，inamannergrimlypleasant—morepleasanttohim，Ifancy，thantome；
andthenhepassedoffintopraisesoftheformerstateofSilverado。\"Itwasthebusiestlittleminingtownyoueversaw：\"apopulationofbetweenathousandandfifteenhundredsouls，theengineinfullblast，themillnewlyerected；
nothinggoingbutchampagne，andhopetheorderoftheday。
Ninetythousanddollarscameout；ahundredandfortythousandwereputin，makinganetlossoffiftythousand。
Thelastdays，Igathered，thedaysofJohnStanley，werenotsobright；thechampagnehadceasedtoflow，thepopulationwasalreadymovingelsewhere，andSilveradohadbeguntowitherinthebranchbeforeitwascutattheroot。Thelastshotthatwasfiredknockedoverthestovechimney，andmadethatholeintheroofofourbarrack，throughwhichthesunwaswonttovisitslug—a—bedstowardsafternoon。Anoisy，lastshot，toinauguratethedaysofsilence。
Throughoutthisinterview，myconsciencewasagooddealexercised；andIwasmovedtothrowmyselfonmykneesandowntheintendedtreachery。ButthenIhadHansontoconsider。IwasinmuchthesamepositionasOldRowley，thatroyalhumourist，whom\"theroguehadtakenintohisconfidence。\"Andagain，herewasRonaldsonthespot。HemustknowthedayofthemonthaswellasHansonandI。Ifabroadhintwerenecessary，hehadthebroadestintheworld。
Foralargeboardhadbeennailedbythecrownprinceontheveryfrontofourhouse，betweenthedoorandwindow，paintedincinnabar—thepigmentofthecountry—withdoggrelrhymesandcontumeliouspictures，andannouncing，intermsunnecessarilyfigurative，thatthetrickwasalreadyplayed，theclaimalreadyjumped，andMasterSamthelegitimatesuccessorofMr。Ronalds。Butno，nothingcouldsavethatman；QUEMDEUSVULTPERDERE，PRIUSDEMENTAT。Ashecamesohewent，andlefthisrightsdepending。
Lateatnight，bySilveradoreckoning，andafterwewereallabed，Mrs。Hansonreturnedtogiveusthenewestofhernews。
Itwaslikeasceneinaship’ssteerage：allofusabedinourdifferenttiers，thesinglecandlestrugglingwiththedarkness，andthisplump，handsomewoman，seatedonanupturnedvalisebesidethebunks，talkingandshowingherfineteeth，andlaughingtilltheraftersrang。Anyship，tobesure，withahundredthpartasmanyholesinitasourbarrack，mustlongagohavegonetoherlastport。UptothattimeIhadalwaysimaginedMrs。Hanson’sloquacitytobemereincontinence，thatshesaidwhatwasuppermostforthepleasureofspeaking，andlaughedandlaughedagainasakindofmusicalaccompaniment。ButInowfoundtherewasanartinit，Ifounditlesscommunicativethansilenceitself。I
wishedtoknowwhyRonaldshadcome；howhehadfoundhiswaywithoutRufe；andwhy，beingonthespot，hehadnotrefreshedhistitle。Shetalkedinterminablyon，butherreplieswereneveranswers。Shefledunderacloudofwords；
andwhenIhadmadesurethatshewaspurposelyeludingme，I
droppedthesubjectinmyturn，andletherrattlewhereshewould。
Shehadcometotellusthat，insteadofwaitingforTuesday，theclaimwastobejumpedonthemorrow。How？Ifthetimewerenotout，itwasimpossible。Why？IfRonaldshadcomeandgone，anddonenothing，therewasthelesscauseforhurry。ButagainIcouldreachnosatisfaction。Theclaimwastobejumpednextmorning，thatwasallthatshewouldcondescendupon。
Andyetitwasnotjumpedthenextmorning，noryetthenext，andawholeweekhadcomeandgonebeforeweheardmoreofthisexploit。Thatdayweek，however，adayofgreatheat，Hanson，withalittlerollofpaperinhishand，andtheeternalpipealight；Breedlove，hislarge，dullfriend，toact，Isuppose，aswitness；Mrs。Hanson，inherSundaybest；
andallthechildren，fromtheoldesttotheyoungest；—
arrivedinaprocession，tailingonebehindanotherupthepath。Calibanwasabsent，buthehadbeencharyofhisfriendlyvisitssincetherow；andwiththatexception，thewholefamilywasgatheredtogetherasforamarriageorachristening。Strongwassittingatwork，intheshadeofthedwarfmadronasneartheforge；andtheyplantedthemselvesabouthiminacircle，oneonastone，anotheronthewaggonrails，athirdonapieceofplank。Graduallythechildrenstoleawayupthecanyontowheretherewasanotherchute，somewhatsmallerthantheoneacrossthedump；anddownthischute，fortherestoftheafternoon，theypouredoneavalancheofstonesafteranother，wakingtheechoesoftheglen。Meantimeweelderssattogetherontheplatform，HansonandhisfriendsmokinginsilencelikeIndiansachems，Mrs。Hansonrattlingonasusualwithanadroitvolubility，sayingnothing，butkeepingthepartyattheireaselikeacourtlyhostess。
Notawordoccurredaboutthebusinessoftheday。Once，twice，andthriceItriedtoslidethesubjectin，butwasdiscouragedbythestoicapathyofRufe，andbeatendownbeforethepouringverbiageofhiswife。ThereisnothingoftheIndianbraveaboutme，andIbegantogrillwithimpatience。Atlast，likeahighwayrobber，IcorneredHanson，andbadehimstandanddeliverhisbusiness。
Thereuponhegravelyrose，asthoughtohintthatthiswasnotaproperplace，northesubjectonesuitableforsquaws，andI，followinghisexample，ledhimuptheplankintoourbarrack。Therehebestowedhimselfonabox，andunrolledhispaperswithfastidiousdeliberation。Thereweretwosheetsofnote—paper，andanoldminingnotice，datedMay30th，1879，partprint，partmanuscript，andthelattermuchobliteratedbytherains。Itwasbythisidenticalpieceofpaperthattheminehadbeenheldlastyear。Forthirteenmonthsithadenduredtheweatherandthechangeofseasonsonacairnbehindtheshoulderofthecanyon；anditwasnowmybusiness，spreadingitbeforemeonthetable，andsittingonavalise，tocopyitsterms，withsomenecessarychanges，twiceoveronthetwosheetsofnote—paper。Onewasthentobeplacedonthesamecairn—a\"moundofrocks\"thenoticeputit；andtheothertobelodgedforregistration。
Rufewatchedme，silentlysmoking，tillIcametotheplaceforthelocator’snameattheendofthefirstcopy；andwhenIproposedthatheshouldsign，IthoughtIsawascareinhiseye。\"Idon’tthinkthat’llbenecessary，\"hesaidslowly；\"justyouwriteitdown。\"Perhapsthismightyhunter，whowasthemostactivememberofthelocalschoolboard，couldnotwrite。Therewouldbenothingstrangeinthat。TheconstableofCalistogais，andhasbeenforyears，abed—riddenman，and，ifIrememberrightly，blind。Hehadmoreneedoftheemolumentsthananother，itwasexplained；
anditwaseasyforhimto\"depytize，\"withastrongaccentonthelast。Sofriendlyandsofreearepopularinstitutions。
WhenIhaddonemyscrivening，Hansonstrolledout，andaddressedBreedlove，\"Willyoustepuphereabit？\"andaftertheyhaddisappearedalittlewhileintothechaparralandmadronathicket，theycamebackagain，minusanotice，andthedeedwasdone。Theclaimwasjumped；atractofmountain—side，fifteenhundredfeetlongbysixhundredwide，withalltheearth’spreciousbowels，hadpassedfromRonaldstoHanson，and，inthepassage，changeditsnamefromthe\"Mammoth\"tothe\"Calistoga。\"IhadtriedtogetRufetocallitafterhiswife，afterhimself，andafterGarfield，theRepublicanPresidentialcandidateofthehour—sincethenelected，and，alas!dead—butallwasinvain。TheclaimhadoncebeencalledtheCalistogabefore，andheseemedtofeelsafetyinreturningtothat。
Andsothehistoryofthatminebecameoncemoreplungedindarkness，litonlybysomemonsterpyrotechnicaldisplaysofgossip。Andperhapsthemostcuriousfeatureofthewholematteristhis：thatweshouldhavedweltinthisquietcornerofthemountains，withnotadozenneighbours，andyetstruggledallthewhile，likedesperateswimmers，inthisseaoffalsitiesandcontradictions。Whereveramanis，therewillbealie。
TOILSANDPLEASURES
IMUSTtrytoconveysomenotionofourlife，ofhowthedayspassedandwhatpleasurewetookinthem，ofwhattherewastodoandhowwesetaboutdoingit，inourmountainhermitage。Thehouse，afterwehadrepairedtheworstofthedamages，andfilledinsomeofthedoorsandwindowswithwhitecottoncloth，becameahealthyandapleasantdwelling—
place，alwaysairyanddry，andhauntedbytheoutdoorperfumesoftheglen。Within，ithadthelookofhabitation，thehumanlook。Youhadonlytogointothethirdroom，whichwedidnotuse，andseeitsstones，itssiftingearth，itstumbledlitter；andthenreturntoourlodging，withthebedsmade，theplatesontherack，thepailofbrightwaterbehindthedoor，thestovecracklinginacorner，andperhapsthetableroughlylaidagainstameal，—andman’sorder，thelittlecleanspotsthathecreatestodwellin，wereatoncecontrastedwiththerichpassivityofnature。Andyetourhousewaseverywheresowreckedandshattered，theaircameandwentsofreely，thesunfoundsomanyportholes，thegoldenoutdoorglowshoneinsomanyopenchinks，thatweenjoyed，atthesametime，someofthecomfortsofaroofandmuchofthegaietyandbrightnessofalfrescolife。A
singleshowerofrain，tobesure，andweshouldhavebeendrownedoutlikemice。ButourswasaCaliforniansummer，andanearthquakewasafarlikelieraccidentthanashowerofrain。
Trustfulinthisfineweather，wekeptthehouseforkitchenandbedroom，andusedtheplatformasoursummerparlour。
Thesenseofprivacy，asIhavesaidalready，wascomplete。
Wecouldlookovertheclumponmilesofforestandroughhilltop；oureyescommandedsomeofNapaValley，wherethetrainran，andthelittlecountrytownshipssatsoclosetogetheralongthelineoftherail。Butheretherewasnomantointrude。NonebuttheHansonswereourvisitors。
Eventheycamebutatlongintervals，ortwicedaily，atastatedhour，withmilk。Soourdays，astheywereneverinterrupted，drewouttothegreaterlength；hourmeltedinsensiblyintohour；thehouseholdduties，thoughtheyweremany，andsomeofthemlaborious，dwindledintomereisletsofbusinessinaseaofsunnyday—time；anditappearstome，lookingback，asthoughthefargreaterpartofourlifeatSilveradohadbeenpassed，proppeduponanelbow，orseatedonaplank，listeningtothesilencethatthereisamongthehills。
Mywork，itistrue，wasoverearlyinthemorning。Irosebeforeanyoneelse，litthestove，putonthewatertoboil，andstrolledforthupontheplatformtowaittillitwasready。Silveradowouldthenbestillinshadow，thesunshiningonthemountainhigherup。Acleansmelloftrees，asmelloftheearthatmorning，hungintheair。Regularly，everyday，therewasasinglebird，notsinging，butawkwardlychirrupingamongthegreenmadronas，andthesoundwascheerful，natural，andstirring。Itdidnotholdtheattention，norinterruptthethreadofmeditation，likeablackbirdoranightingale；itwasmerewoodlandprattle，ofwhichthemindwasconsciouslikeaperfume。Thefreshnessofthesemorningseasonsremainedwithmefaronintotheday。
Assoonasthekettleboiled，Imadeporridgeandcoffee；andthat，beyondtheliteraldrawingofwater，andthepreparationofkindling，whichitwouldbehyperbolicaltocallthehewingofwood，endedmydomesticdutiesfortheday。Thenceforthmywifelabouredsingle—handedinthepalace，andIlayorwanderedontheplatformatmyownsweetwill。Thelittlecornerneartheforge，wherewefoundarefugeunderthemadronasfromtheunsparingearlysun，isindeedconnectedinmymindwithsomenightmareencountersoverEuclid，andtheLatinGrammar。ThesewereknownasSam’slessons。Hewassupposedtobethevictimandthesufferer；butheretheremusthavebeensomemisconception，forwhereasIgenerallyretiredtobedafteroneoftheseengagements，hewasnosoonersetfreethanhedasheduptotheChinaman’shouse，wherehehadinstalledaprintingpress，thatgreatelementofcivilization，andthesoundofhislabourswouldbefaintlyaudibleaboutthecanyonhalftheday。
Towalkatallwasalaboriousbusiness；thefootsankandslid，thebootswerecuttopieces，amongsharp，uneven，rollingstones。Whenwecrossedtheplatforminanydirection，itwasusualtolayacourse，followingasmuchaspossiblethelineofwaggonrails。Thus，ifwaterweretobedrawn，thewater—carrierleftthehousealongsometiltingplanksthatwehadlaiddown，andnotlaiddownverywell。
Thesecarriedhimtothatgreathighroad，therailway；andtherailwayservedhimasfarastotheheadoftheshaft。
Butfromthencetothespringandbackagainhemadethebestofhisunaidedway，staggeringamongthestones，andwadinginlowgrowthofthecalcanthus，wheretherattlesnakeslayhissingathispassage。YetIlikedtodrawwater。Itwaspleasanttodipthegraymetalpailintotheclean，colourless，coolwater；pleasanttocarryitback，withthewaterrippingattheedge，andabrokensunbeamquiveringinthemidst。
Buttheextremeroughnessofthewalkingconfinedusincommonpracticetotheplatform，andindeedtothosepartsofitthatweremosteasilyaccessiblealongthelineofrails。
Therailscamestraightforwardfromtheshaft，hereandthereovergrownwithlittlegreenbushes，butstillentire，andstillcarryingatruck，whichitwasSam’sdelighttotrundletoandfrobythehourwithvariousladings。Aboutmidwaydowntheplatform，therailroadtrendedtotheright，leavingourhouseandcoastingalongthefarsidewithinafewyardsofthemadronasandtheforge，andnotfarofthelatter，endedinasortofplatformontheedgeofthedump。
There，inolddays，thetrucksweretipped，andtheirloadsentthunderingdownthechute。There，besides，wastheonlyspotwherewecouldapproachthemarginofthedump。
Anywhereelse，youtookyourlifeinyourrighthandwhenyoucamewithinayardandahalftopeerover。Foratanymomentthedumpmightbegintoslideandcarryyoudownandburyyoubelowitsruins。Indeed，theneighbourhoodofanoldmineisaplacebesetwithdangers。ForasstillasSilveradowas，atanymomentthereportofrottenwoodmighttellusthattheplatformhadfallenintotheshaft；thedumpmightbegintopourintotheroadbelow；orawedgeslipinthegreatuprightseam，andhundredsoftonsofmountainburythesceneofourencampment。
Ihavealreadycomparedthedumptoarampart，builtcertainlybysomerudepeople，andforprehistoricwars。Itwaslikewiseafrontier。Allbelowwasgreenandwoodland，thetallpinessoaringoneaboveanother，eachwithafirmoutlineandfullspreadofbough。Allabovewasarid，rocky，andbald。Thegreatspoutofbrokenmineral，thathaddammedthecanyonup，wasacreatureofman’shandiwork，itsmaterialdugoutwithapickandpowder，andspreadbytheserviceofthetracks。Butnatureherself，inthatupperdistrict，seemedtohavehadaneyetonothingbesidesmining；andeventhenaturalhill—sidewasallslidinggravelandprecariousboulder。Closeatthemarginofthewellleaveswoulddecaytoskeletonsandmummies，whichatlengthsomestrongergustwouldcarryclearofthecanyonandscatterinthesubjacentwoods。Evenmoistureanddecayingvegetablemattercouldnot，withallnature’salchemy，concoctenoughsoiltonourishafewpoorgrasses。Itisthesame，theysay，intheneighbourhoodofallsilvermines；thenatureofthatpreciousrockbeingstubbornwithquartzandpoisonouswithcinnabar。BothwereplentyinourSilverado。
Thestonessparkledwhiteinthesunshinewithquartz；theywereallstainedredwithcinnabar。Here，doubtless，cametheIndiansofyoretopainttheirfacesforthewar—path；
andcinnabar，ifIrememberrightly，wasoneofthefewarticlesofIndiancommerce。Now，Samhaditinhisundisturbedpossession，topounddownandslake，andpainthisrudedesignswith。Buttomeithadalwaysafineflavourofpoetry，compoundedoutofIndianstoryandHawthornden’sallusion：
\"Desire，alas!IdesireaZeuxisnew，FromIndiesborrowinggold，fromEasternskiesMostbrightcinoper……\"
Yetthisisbuthalfthepicture；ourSilveradoplatformhasanothersidetoit。Thoughtherewasnosoil，andscarceabladeofgrass，yetoutofthesetumbledgravel—heapsandbrokenboulders，aflowergardenbloomedasathomeinaconservatory。Calcanthuscrept，likeahardyweed，alloverourroughparlour，chokingtherailway，andpushingforthitsrusty，aromaticconesfrombetweentwoblocksofshatteredmineral。Azaleasmadeabigsnow—bedjustabovethewell。
TheshoulderofthehillwavedwhitewithMediterraneanheath。Inthecranniesoftheledgeandaboutthespursofthetallpine，aredfloweringstone—planthunginclusters。
Eventhelow，thornychaparralwasthickwithpea—likeblossom。Closeatthefootofourpathnutmegsprospered，delightfultothesightandsmell。Atsunrise，andagainlateatnight，thescentofthesweetbaytreesfilledthecanyon，andthedown—blowingnightwindmusthaveborneithundredsoffeetintotheouterair。
Allthisvegetation，tobesure，wasstunted。Themadronawasherenobiggerthanthemanzanita；thebaywasbutastriplingshrub；theverypines，withfourorfiveexceptionsinallouruppercanyon，werenotsotallasmyself，orbutalittletaller，andthemostofthemcamelowerthanmywaist。
Foraprosperousforesttree，wemustlookbelow，wheretheglenwascrowdedwithgreenspires。Butforflowersandravishingperfume，wehadnonetoenvy：ourheapofroad—
metalwasthickwithbloom，likeahawthorninthefrontofJune；ourred，bakingangleinthemountain，alaboratoryofpoignantscents。Itwasanendlesswondertomymind，asI
dreamedabouttheplatform，followingtheprogressoftheshadows，wherethemadronawithitsleaves，theazaleaandcalcanthuswiththeirblossoms，couldfindmoisturetosupportsuchthick，wet，waxygrowths，orthebaytreecollecttheingredientsofitsperfume。Buttheretheyallgrewtogether，healthy，happy，andhappy—making，asthoughrootedinafathomofblacksoil。
Norwasitonlyvegetablelifethatprospered。Wehad，indeed，fewbirds，andnonethathadmuchofavoiceoranythingworthytobecalledasong。Mymorningcomradehadathinchirp，unmusicalandmonotonous，butfriendlyandpleasanttohear。Hehadbutonerival：afellowwithanostentatiouscryofnearanoctavedescending，notonenoteofwhichproperlyfollowedanother。ThisistheonlybirdI
everknewwithawrongear；buttherewassomethingenthrallingabouthisperformance。Youlistenedandlistened，thinkingeachtimehemustsurelygetitright；butno，itwasalwayswrong，andalwayswrongthesameway。Yetheseemedproudofhissong，delivereditwithexecutionandamannerofhisown，andwascharmingtohismate。Averyincorrect，incessanthumanwhistlerhadthusachanceofknowinghowhisownmusicpleasedtheworld。Twogreatbirds—eagles，wethought—dweltatthetopofthecanyon，amongthecragsthatwereprintedonthesky。Nowandagain，butveryrarely，theywheeledhighoverourheadsinsilence，orwithadistant，dyingscream；andthen，withafreshimpulse，wingedfleetlyforward，dippedoverahilltop，andweregone。
Theyseemedsolemnandancientthings，sailingtheblueair：
perhapsco—oevalwiththemountainwheretheyhaunted，perhapsemigrantsfromRome，wherethegladlegionsmayhaveshoutedtobeholdthemonthemornofbattle。
Butifbirdswererare，theplaceaboundedwithrattlesnakes—therattlesnake’snest，itmighthavebeennamed。Whereverwebrushedamongthebushes，ourpassagewoketheirangrybuzz。Onedwelthabituallyinthewood—pile，andsometimes，whenwecameforfirewood，thrustuphissmallheadbetweentwologs，andhissedattheintrusion。Therattlehasalegendarycredit；itissaidtobeawe—inspiring，and，onceheard，tostampitselfforeverinthememory。Butthesoundisnotatallalarming；thehumofmanyinsects，andthebuzzofthewaspconvincetheearofdangerquiteasreadily。Asamatteroffact，welivedforweeksinSilverado，comingandgoing，withrattlessprungoneveryside，anditneveroccurredtoustobeafraid。Iusedtotakesun—bathsanddocalisthenicsinacertainpleasantnookamongazaleaandcalcanthus，therattleswhizzingoneverysidelikespinning—
wheels，andthecombinedhissorbuzzrisinglouderandangrieratanysuddenmovement；butIwasneverintheleastimpressed，noreverattacked。Itwasonlytowardstheendofourstay，thatamandownatCalistoga，whowasexpatiatingontheterrifyingnatureofthesound，gavemeatlastaverygoodimitation；anditburstonmeatoncethatwedweltintheverymetropolisofdeadlysnakes，andthattherattlewassimplythecommonestnoiseinSilverado。Immediatelyonourreturn，weattackedtheHansonsonthesubject。Theyhadformerlyassuredusthatourcanyonwasfavoured，likeIreland，withanentireimmunityfrompoisonousreptiles；
but，withtheperfectinconsequenceofthenaturalman，theywerenosoonerfoundoutthantheywentoffatscoreinthecontrarydirection，andweweretoldthatinnopartoftheworlddidrattlesnakesattaintosuchamonstrousbignessasamongthewarm，flower—dottedrocksofSilverado。ThisisacontributionrathertothenaturalhistoryoftheHansons，thantothatofsnakes。
Oneperson，however，betterservedbyhisinstinct，hadknowntherattlefromthefirst；andthatwasChuchu，thedog。Norationalcreaturehaseverledanexistencemorepoisonedbyterrorthanthatdog’satSilverado。Everywhizoftherattlemadehimbound。Hiseyesrolled；hetrembled；hewouldbeoftenwetwithsweat。Oneofourgreatmysterieswashisterrorofthemountain。Alittleawayaboveournook，theazaleasandalmostallthevegetationceased。
DwarfpinesnotbigenoughtobeChristmastrees，grewthinlyamongloosestoneandgravelscaurs。Hereandthereabigbouldersatquiescentonaknoll，havingpausedtheretillthenextraininhislongslidedownthemountain。Therewasherenoambuscadeforthesnakes，youcouldseeclearlywhereyoutrod；andyetthehigherIwent，themoreabjectandappealingbecameChuchu’sterror。Hewasanexcellentmasterofthatcompositelanguageinwhichdogscommunicatewithmen，andhewouldassureme，onhishonour，thattherewassomeperilonthemountain；appealtome，byallthatIheldholy，toturnback；andatlength，findingallwasinvain，andthatIstillpersisted，ignorantlyfoolhardy，hewouldsuddenlywhiproundandmakeabee—linedowntheslopeforSilverado，thegravelshoweringafterhim。Whatwasheafraidof？TherewereadmittedlybrownbearsandCalifornialionsonthemountain；andagrizzlyvisitedRufe’spoultryyardnotlongbefore，totheunspeakablealarmofCaliban，whodashedouttochastisetheintruder，andfoundhimself，bymoonlight，facetofacewithsuchatartar。Somethingatleasttheremusthavebeen：somehairy，dangerousbrutelodgedpermanentlyamongtherocksalittletothenorth—westofSilverado，spendinghissummerthereabout，withwifeandfamily。
Andtherewas，ortherehadbeen，anotheranimal。Once，underthebroaddaylight，onthatopenstonyhillside，wherethebabypinesweregrowing，scarcelytallenoughtobeabadgeforaMacGregor’sbonnet，Icamesuddenlyuponhisinnocentbody，lyingmummifiedbythedryairandsun：apigmykangaroo。Iamingloriouslyignorantofthesesubjects；hadneverheardofsuchabeast；thoughtmyselffacetofacewithsomeincomparablesportofnature；andbegantocherishhopesofimmortalityinscience。RarelyhaveIbeenconsciousofastrangerthrillthanwhenIraisedthatsingularcreaturefromthestones，dryasaboard，hisinnocentheartlongquiet，andallwarmwithsunshine。Hislonghindlegswerestiff，histinyforepawsclutcheduponhisbreast，asiftoleap；hispoorlifecutshortuponthatmountainbysomeunknownaccident。Butthekangaroorat，itproved，wasnosuchunknownanimal；andmydiscoverywasnothing。
Cricketswerenotwanting。IthoughtIcouldmakeoutexactlyfourofthem，eachwithacornerofhisown，whousedtomakenightmusicalatSilverado。Inthematterofvoice，theyfarexcelledthebirds，andtheirringingwhistlesoundedfromrocktorock，callingandreplyingthesamething，asinameaninglessopera。Thus，childreninfullhealthandspiritsshouttogether，tothedismayofneighbours；andtheiridle，happy，deafeningvociferationsriseandfall，likethesongofthecrickets。Iusedtositatnightontheplatform，andwonderwhythesecreaturesweresohappy；andwhatwaswrongwithmanthathealsodidnotwinduphisdayswithanhourortwoofshouting；butI
suspectthatalllong—livedanimalsaresolemn。Thedogsalonearehardlyusedbynature；anditseemsamanifestinjusticeforpoorChuchutodieinhisteens，afteralifesoshadowedandtroubled，continuallyshakenwithalarm，andthetearofelegantsentimentpermanentlyinhiseye。
TherewasanotherneighbourofoursatSilverado，smallbutveryactive，adestructivefellow。Thiswasablack，uglyfly—abore，theHansonscalledhim—wholivedbyhundredsintheboardingofourhouse。Heenteredbyaroundhole，moreneatlypiercedthanamancoulddoitwithagimlet，andheseemstohavespenthislifeincuttingouttheinterioroftheplank，butwhetherasadwellingorastore—house，I
couldneverfind。WhenIusedtolieinbedinthemorningforarest—wehadnoeasy—chairsinSilverado—Iwouldhear，hourafterhour，thesharpcuttingsoundofhislabours，andfromtimetotimeadaintyshowerofsawdustwouldfallupontheblankets。Therelivesnomoreindustriouscreaturethanabore。
AndnowthatIhavenamedtothereaderallouranimalsandinsectswithoutexception—onlyIfindIhaveforgottentheflies—hewillbeabletoappreciatethesingularprivacyandsilenceofourdays。Itwasnotonlymanwhowasexcluded：animals，thesongofbirds，thelowingofcattle，thebleatingofsheep，cloudseven，andthevariationsoftheweather，wereherealsowanting；andas，dayafterday，theskywasonedomeofblue，andthepinesbelowusstoodmotionlessinthestillair，sothehoursthemselvesweremarkedoutfromeachotheronlybytheseriesofourownaffairs，andthesun’sgreatperiodasherangedwestwardthroughtheheavens。Thetwobirdscackledawhileintheearlymorning；alldaythewatertinkledintheshaft，theboresgroundsawdustintheplankingofourcrazypalace—
infinitesimalsounds；anditwasonlywiththereturnofnightthatanychangewouldfallonoursurroundings，orthefourcricketsbegintoflutetogetherinthedark。
Indeed，itwouldbehardtoexaggeratethepleasurethatwetookintheapproachofevening。Ourdaywasnotverylong，butitwasverytiring。Totripalongunsteadyplanksorwadeamongshiftingstones，togotoandfroforwater，toclamberdowntheglentotheTollHouseaftermeatandletters，tocook，tomakefiresandbeds，wereallexhaustingtothebody。Lifeoutofdoors，besides，underthefierceeyeofday，drawslargelyontheanimalspirits。Therearecertainhoursintheafternoonwhenaman，unlessheisinstronghealthorenjoysavacantmind，wouldrathercreepintoacoolcornerofahouseandsituponthechairsofcivilization。Aboutthattime，thesharpstones，theplanks，theupturnedboxesofSilverado，begantogrowirksometomybody；Isetoutonthathopeless，never—endingquestforamorecomfortableposture；Iwouldbefeveredandwearyofthestaringsun；andjustthenhewouldbegincourteouslytowithdrawhiscountenance，theshadowslengthened，thearomaticairsawoke，andanindescribablebuthappychangeannouncedthecomingofthenight。
Thehoursofevening，whenwewereoncecurtainedinthefriendlydark，spedlightly。Evenaswiththecrickets，nightbroughttousacertainspiritofrejoicing。Itwasgoodtotastetheair；goodtomarkthedawningofthestars，astheyincreasedtheirglitteringcompany；good，too，togatherstones，andsendthemcrashingdownthechute，awaveoflight。Itseemed，insomeway，therewardandthefulfilmentoftheday。Soitiswhenmendwellintheopenair；itisoneofthesimplepleasuresthatwelosebylivingcribbedandcoveredinahouse，that，thoughthecomingofthedayisstillthemostinspiriting，yetday’sdeparture，also，andthereturnofnightrefresh，renew，andquietus；
andinthepasturesoftheduskwestand，likecattle，exultingintheabsenceoftheload。
Ournightsworenevercold，andtheywerealwaysstill，butforoneremarkableexception。Regularly，aboutnineo’clock，awarmwindsprangup，andblewfortenminutes，ormaybeaquarterofanhour，rightdownthecanyon，fanningitwellout，airingitasamotherairsthenightnurserybeforethechildrensleep。AsfarasIcouldjudge，inthecleardarknessofthenight，thiswindwaspurelylocal：perhapsdependantontheconfigurationoftheglen。Atleast，itwasverywelcometothehotandwearysquatters；andifwewerenotabedalready，thespringingupofthislilliputianvalley—windwouldoftenbeoursignaltoretire。
Iwasthelasttogotobed，asIwasstillthefirsttorise。ManyanightIhavestrolledabouttheplatform，takingabathofdarknessbeforeIslept。Therestwouldbeinbed，andevenfromtheforgeIcouldhearthemtalkingtogetherfrombunktobunk。Asinglecandleintheneckofapintbottlewastheironlyillumination；andyettheoldcrackedhouseseemedliterallyburstingwiththelight。Itshonekeenasaknifethroughalltheverticalchinks；itstruckupwardthroughthebrokenshingles；andthroughtheeasterndoorandwindow，itfellinagreatsplashuponthethicketandtheoverhangingrock。Youwouldhavesaidaconflagration，orattheleastaroaringforge；andbehold，itwasbutacandle。Orperhapsitwasyetmorestrangetoseetheprocessionmovingbedwardsroundthecornerofthehouse，anduptheplankthatbroughtustothebedroomdoor；
undertheimmensespreadofthestarryheavens，downinacreviceofthegiantmountainthesefewhumanshapes，withtheirunshieldedtaper，madesodisproportionateafigureintheeyeandmind。Butthemoreheisalonewithnature，thegreatermanandhisdoingsbulkintheconsiderationofhisfellow—men。Milesandmilesawayupontheoppositehill—
tops，iftherewereanyhunterbelatedoranytravellerwhohadlosthisway，hemusthavestood，andwatchedandwondered，fromthetimethecandleissuedfromthedooroftheassayer’sofficetillithadmountedtheplankanddisappearedagainintotheminers’dormitory。