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174 orchard. The mountains on either side of the valley grow more abrupt and rugged as we advance northwards. The deep green chemisal covers their sides, save where they are patched with vineyards, or the white lavatic rock beneath is laid bare by long, winding wagon-roads and bridle-trails, leading over them into minor valleys beyond.

By our faith, it is a glorious land.

We gaze upon the swiftly-passing panorama for an hour in silence, and then to turn our companion on the next seat.

"Charley, did you ever see anything more beautiful in your life?"

"Beautiful! magnificent! gorgeous! sublime! Our language has no fitting terms for it. Why her eyes would have driven Mohammed mad—her teeth are bands of pearls, and her blue-black hair would shame-"

'Twas ever thus! We might have known it from the start. That Spanish girl has set him as mad as a March hare. Well, well, we too were young once; and come to think of it to-night, it don't seem such a very long time ago either.

The bell has been rung, and the name of the station called for the last time, and a long-drawn, exultant whistle from the locomotive startles Charley at last from his dream of Paradise and "the black-eyed girls in green," as it announces our arrival at Calistoga.