s in this strong light lay utterly deserted; but the house, from
its station on the top of the long slope and close under the bluff, not
only shone abroad from every window like a place of festival, but from
the great chimney at the west end poured forth a coil of smoke so thick
and so voluminous, that it hung for miles along the windless night-air,
and its shadow lay far abroad in the moonlight upon the glittering
alkali. As we continued to draw near, besides, a regular and panting
throb began to divide the silence. First it seemed to me like the
beating of a heart; and next it put into my mind the thought of some
giant, smothered under mountains, and still, with incalculable effort,
fetching breath. I had heard of the railway, though I had not seen it,
and I turned to ask the driver if this resembled it. But some look in
his eye, some pallor, whether of fear or moonlight on his face, caused
the words to die upon my lips. We continued, therefore, to advance in
silence, till we were close below the lighted house; when suddenly,
without premonitory rustle, there burst forth a report of such a bigness
that it shook the earth and set the echoes of the mountains thundering
from cliff to cliff. A pillar of amber flame leaped from the chimney-top
and fell in multitudes of sparks; and at the same time the lights in the
windows turned for one instant ruby red and then expired. The driver had
checked his horse instinctively, and the echoes were still rumbling
farther off among the mountains, when there broke from the now darkened
interior a series of yells--whether of man or woman it was impossible to
guess--the door flew open, and there ran forth into the moonlight, at
the top of the long slope, a figure clad in white, which began to dance
and leap and throw itself down, and roll as if in agony, before the
house. I could no more restrain my cries; the driver laid his lash about
the horse's flank, and we fled up the rough track at the peril of our
lives; and did not draw rein till, turning the corner of the mountain,
we beheld my father's ranch and deep, green groves and gardens, sleeping
in the tranquil light.

This was the one adventure of my life, until my father had climbed to
the very topmost point of material prosperity, and I myself had reached
the age of seventeen. I was still innocent and merry like a child;
tended my garden or ran upon the hills in glad simplicity; gave not a
thought to coquetry or to material cares; an