, and in front of us, rises nearly
perpendicularly a group of mountains, the summits of which are broken
into many beautifully cut conical and pyramidal peaks. At the foot and
left of these eminences, and a little below our Bar, lies Missouri Bar,
which is reached from this spot by a log bridge. Around the latter the
river curves in the shape of a crescent, and, singularly enough, the
mountain rising behind this bend in the stream outlines itself against
the lustrous heaven in a shape as exact and perfect as the moon herself
in her first quarter. Within one horn of this crescent the water is a
mass of foam-sparkles, and it plays upon the rocks which line its bed
an everlasting dirge suggestive of the "grand forever" of the ocean.

At present the sun does not condescend to shine upon Indian Bar at all,
and the old settlers tell me that he will not smile upon us for the
next three months, but he nestles lovingly in patches of golden glory
all along the brows of the different hills around us, and now and then
stoops to kiss the topmost wave on the opposite shore of the Rio de las
Plumas.

The first artificial elegance which attracts your vision is a large rag
shanty, roofed, however, with a rude kind of shingles, over the
entrance of which is painted, in red capitals, ("to what base uses do
we come at last,") the name of the great Humboldt spelt without the
_d_. This is the only hotel in this vicinity, and as there is a really
excellent bowling-alley attached to it, and the barroom has a floor
upon which the miners can dance, and, above all, a cook who can play
the violin, it is very popular. But the clinking of glasses, and the
swaggering air of some of the drinkers, remind us that it is no place
for a lady, so we will pass through the dining-room, and, emerging at
the kitchen, in a step or two reach our log cabin. Enter, my dear; you
are perfectly welcome. Besides, we could not keep you out if we would,
as there is not even a latch on the canvas door, though we really
intend, in a day or two, to have a hook put onto it.

The room into which we have just entered is about twenty feet square.
It is lined over the top with white cotton cloth, the breadths of
which, being sewed together only in spots, stretch gracefully apart in
many places, giving one a bird's-eye view of the shingles above. The
sides are hung with a gaudy chintz, which I consider a perfect marvel
of calico-printing. The artist seems to have exhausted hims