there. Could one but have the
gift of reading the dreams dreamed by men of such various birth, various
history, various mind, it would afford much more extensive amusement
than did the chambers of one Spanish city!

Could I but have flown at night through such mental experiences, instead
of being shut up in my little bedroom at the Milwaukie boarding house,
this chapter would have been worth reading. As it is, let us hasten to a
close.

Had I been rich in money, I might have built a house, or set up in
business, during my fortnight's stay at Milwaukie, matters move on there
at so rapid a rate. But, being only rich in curiosity, I was obliged to
walk the streets and pick up what I could in casual intercourse. When I
left the street, indeed, and walked on the bluffs, or sat beside the
lake in their shadow, my mind was rich in dreams congenial to the scene,
some time to be realized, though not by me.

A boat was left, keel up, half on the sand, half in the water, swaying
with each swell of the lake. It gave a picturesque grace to that part of
the shore, as the only image of inaction--only object of a pensive
character to be seen. Near this I sat, to dream my dreams and watch the
colors of the Jake, changing hourly, till the sun sank. These hours
yielded impulses, wove webs, such as life will not again afford.

Returning to the boarding house, which was also a boarding school, we
were sure to be greeted by gay laughter.

This school was conducted by two girls of nineteen and seventeen years;
their pupils were nearly as old as themselves; the relation seemed very
pleasant between them. The only superiority--that of superior
knowledge--was sufficient to maintain authority--all the authority that
was needed to keep daily life in good order.

In the West, people are not respected merely because they are old in
years; people there have not time to keep up appearances in that way;
when they cease to have a real advantage in wisdom, knowledge, or
enterprise, they must stand back, and let those who are oldest in
character "go ahead," however few years they may count. There are no
banks of established respectability in which to bury the talent there;
no napkin of precedent in which to wrap it. What cannot be made to pass
current, is not esteemed coin of the realm.

To the windows of this house, where the daughter of a famous "Indian
fighter," i.e. fighter against the Indians, was learning French and the
piano, came wild, taw