tives "An Inland Voyage" and "Travels with a Donkey,"
lays heartfelt stress on these particulars; when things were not to his
liking, roundly denouncing them, but if agreeably surprised, lifting up
his voice in song and praise.

Though tempted to pass the night in Grass Valley, impelled by curiosity,
we pushed on four miles farther, to Nevada City. It is useless to
attempt to convey in words the fascination of Nevada City. My friend,
who is familiar with the country, said it reminded him of Italy. Houses
rise one above the other on the hillside; while down below, the winding
streets with their quaint old-time stores and balconied windows, are
equally attractive. The horrors of the previous night at Colfax made the
quiet peacefulness of Nevada City the more refreshing. At the National
Hotel I enjoyed the soundest sleep since leaving home.

In the morning there was a delicious breeze from the mountains, which
rendered strolling about the town a pleasure. According to custom, we
went our several ways, each drawn by what appealed to him the most at
the moment. When ready to depart, finding no trace of my companion at
the hotel, I left word that I had returned to Grass Valley; where an
hour or two later, he rejoined me.

More fortunate than I, my friend by chance encountered Mr. Morrison M.
Green, on the street in front of his home upon the hill which looks down
upon the town. This gentleman, who is in his eighty-third year, related
an almost incredible incident in connection with the fire in 1857, which
wiped out the town, with the exception of one house. Three prominent
citizens who chanced to have met in a saloon when the fire broke out,
having the utmost confidence in the safety of a certain building,
on account of its massive walls and iron door, made a vow to lock
themselves in it, and actually did so. They might perhaps have withstood
the ordeal, had not the roof been broken in by the fall of the walls of
the adjoining building. The iron door having been warped with the heat,
it was impossible to open it; when last seen, they were standing with
their arms around one another in the center of the store.

At Grass Valley, my friend--greatly to my regret and I think also to
his own--received word which rendered his return to San Francisco
imperative. After a farewell dinner at the restaurant before mentioned,
I accompanied him to the railway station, and in the words of Christian
in "The Pilgrim's Progress," "I saw him