the pipe water reached this, there was a white spray resembling a
geyser. Not one thing was left in that wagon--even sacks of potatoes and
grain were washed out! It is a wonder that the poor horse took it all as
patiently as he did.

During all this time we had not even heard from our friends next door;
after a while, however, we got together, but it was impossible to return
to the hotel for a long time, because of the great depth of water in the
street. Mrs. Pierce, whose house is on the opposite side of the ravine,
could not get to her home until just before dark, after a temporary
bridge had been built across the still high stream. Not one bridge
was left across the creek, and they say that nothing has been left at
Chinatown--that it was washed clean. Perhaps there is nothing to be
regretted in this, however, except that any amount of dirt has been
piled up right in the heart of Helena. The millionaire residents seem
to think that the great altitude and dry atmosphere will prevent any ill
effects of decaying debris.

We went to the assay building the other day to see a brick of gold taken
from the furnace. The mold was run out on its little track soon after we
got there, and I never dreamed of what "white heat" really means, until
I saw the oven of that awful furnace. We had to stand far across the
room while the door was open, and even then the hot air that shot out
seemed blasting. The men at the furnace were protected, of course. The
brick mold was in another mold that after a while was put in cold water,
so we had to wait for first the large and then the small to be opened
before we saw the beautiful yellow brick that was still very hot, but we
were assured that it was then too hard to be in danger of injury. It
was of the largest size, and shaped precisely like an ordinary building
brick, and its value was great. It was to be shipped on the stage the
next morning on its way to the treasury in Washington.

It is wonderful that so few of those gold bricks are stolen from the
stage. The driver is their only protector, and the stage route is
through miles and miles of wild forests, and in between huge boulders
where a "hold-up" could be so easily accomplished.

CAMP ON MARIAS RIVER, MONTANA TERRITORY, September, 1878.

AN old proverb tells us that "All things come to him who waits," but
I never had faith in this, for I have patiently waited many times for
things that never found me. But this time, after I had w