there already, and but one physician, and as his
strength increased, he might find in that vicinity a favorable opening
for the practice of his profession, which, as the health of his purse
was almost as feeble as that of his body, was not a bad idea.

F. was just recovering from a brain-fever when he concluded to go to
the mines; but, in spite of his excessive debility, which rendered him
liable to chills at any hour of the day or night, he started on the
seventh day of June--mounted on a mule, and accompanied by a jackass to
carry his baggage, and a friend who kindly volunteered to assist him in
spending his money--for this wildly beautiful spot. F. was compelled by
sickness to stop several days on the road. He suffered intensely, the
trail for many miles being covered to the depth of twelve feet with
snow, although it was almost midsummer when he passed over it. He
arrived at Rich Bar the latter part of June, and found the revivifying
effect of its bracing atmosphere far surpassing his most sanguine
hopes. He soon built himself an office, which was a perfect marvel to
the miners, from its superior elegance. It is the only one on the Bar,
and I intend to visit it in a day or two, when I will give you a
description of its architectural splendors. It will perhaps enlighten
you as to one peculiarity of a newly discovered mining district, when I
inform you that although there were but two or three physicians at Rich
Bar when my husband arrived, in less than three weeks there were
_twenty-nine_ who had chosen this place for the express purpose of
practicing their profession.

Finding his health so almost miraculously improved, F. concluded,
should I approve the plan, to spend the winter in the mountains. I had
teased him to let me accompany him when he left in June, but he had at
that time refused, not daring to subject me to inconveniences, of the
extent of which he was himself ignorant. When the letter disclosing his
plans for the winter reached me at San Francisco, I was perfectly
enchanted. You know that I am a regular nomad in my passion for
wandering. Of course my numerous acquaintances in San Francisco raised
one universal shout of disapprobation. Some said that I ought to be put
into a straitjacket, for I was undoubtedly mad to think of such a
thing. Some said that I should never get there alive, and if I _did_,
would not stay a month; that it was ever my lot to be victimized in,
and commenced my journey in earne