per twilight, and the undulating
valleys rolled their green waves up to the wooded heights of San
Antonio, that still smiled down upon the arid, pallid desert. But
although Nature had not changed in the months that had passed since the
advent of the Excelsior, there appeared some strange mutations in
the town and its inhabitants. On the beach below the Presidio was the
unfinished skeleton of a small sea-going vessel on rude stocks; on the
plaza rose the framed walls and roofless rafters of a wooden building;
near the Embarcadero was the tall adobe chimney of some inchoate
manufactory whose walls had half risen from their foundations; but all
of these objects had evidently succumbed to the drowsy influence of
the climate, and already had taken the appearances of later and less
picturesque ruins of the past. There were singular innovations in the
costumes: one or two umbrellas, used as sunshades, were seen upon
the square; a few small chip hats had taken the place of the stiff
sombreros, with an occasional tall white beaver; while linen coat and
nankeen trousers had, at times, usurped the short velvet jacket and
loose calzas of the national costume.

At San Antonio the change was still more perceptible. Beside the yawning
pit of the abandoned silver mine a straggling building arose, filled
with rude machinery, bearing the legend, painted in glowing letters,
"Excelsior Silver Mining Co., J. Crosby, Superintendent;" and in the
midst of certain excavations assailing the integrity of the cliff itself
was another small building, scarcely larger than a sentry-box, with the
inscription, "Office: Eleanor Quicksilver Smelting Works."

Basking in that yellow morning sunlight, with his back against his
office, Mr. Brace was seated on the ground, rolling a cigarette. A few
feet from him Crosby, extended on his back on the ground, was lazily
puffing rings of smoke into the still air. Both of these young gentlemen
were dressed in exaggerated Mexican costumes; the silver buttons
fringing the edge of Crosby's calza, open from the knee down to show a
glimpse of the snowy under-trouser, were richer and heavier than those
usually worn; while Brace, in addition to the crimson silk sash round
his waist, wore a crimson handkerchief around his head, under his
sombrero.

"Pepe's falling off in his tobacco," said Brace. "I think I'll have to
try some other Fonda."

"How's Banks getting on with his crop?" asked Crosby. "You know he was
going