impression that a
tarantula will jump into the second-story window of a house, and,
springing upon the neck of a young lady sitting there, will kill her
instantly. He has never seen one jump three inches. If one leg is broken
off nature soon provides another. The Texas variety is believed to be
more dangerous. I do not know.

There are rattlesnakes to be seen and heard about the mountains in hot
weather.

As to buying precious stones, especially opals, in this part of the
country, I think it is wisest to buy opals in the real old Mexico for
yourselves, often very cheaply. The prices rise rapidly here. A water
opal, however beautiful, has no commercial value. It is but an
imprisoned soap-bubble, and is apt to crumble. There are stores where
pretty colored stones can be bought, but the majority get cheated as to
price.

But we are not paying proper attention to the "panorama." Many have been
led to settle here by taking this picturesque trip; and with plenty of
water oranges pay splendidly. So there is substantial wealth, ever on
the increase, in these new towns.

By the way, were you ever asked to be a "panorama"? I once had that
honor. A lady came to my house one Sunday morning, and explained that
her husband was dreadfully depressed over a fall in stocks or something,
and she knew I could be "so amusing" if I chose, and wouldn't I get into
her carriage and go with her to amuse said husband, and be a sort of
panorama for the poor man? "I don't want him to be in the panorama," she
said, "nor of the panorama; I want you just to be the panorama by
yourself." I was forced to decline this singular appeal, glad as I
should have been to cheer her dumpy spouse.

Why, oh why is it, that if persons have the slightest power of being
what is vaguely called "entertaining," they are expected to be ever on
duty at the call of any one who feels a desire for inexpensive
diversion?

At one hotel I sat by the side of an odd old man, a retired tobacco
merchant of great wealth, who was ready for conversation with all
newcomers, and who seemed to feel that I was not doing my full share as
an entertainer for the masses. He also had the unusual habit of
speaking his thoughts aloud, whether complimentary or otherwise, in
frank soliloquy, like that absent-minded Lord Dudley whom Sydney Smith
alludes to, as meeting and greeting him with effusive cordiality, and
then saying, _sotto voce_, "I suppose I shall have to ask this man home
to d