he meant
it for, and he said, "The weather out there." As we approached Carson,
at about half past seven o'clock, he thrust his head out again, and
gazed earnestly in the direction of that city--after which he took it in
again, with his nose very much frosted. He propped the end of that organ
upon the end of his finger, and looked pensively upon it--which had the
effect of making him cross-eyed--and remarked, "O, damn it!" with great
bitterness. I asked him what was up this time, and he said, "The cold,
damp fog--it is worse than the weather." This was his last. He never
spoke again in my hearing. He went on over the mountains with a lady
fellow passenger from here. That will stop his chatter, you know, for he
seldom speaks in the presence of ladies.

In the evening I felt a mighty inclination to go to a party somewhere.
There was to be one at Governor J. Neely Johnson's, and I went there and
asked permission to stand around a while. This was granted in the most
hospitable manner, and the vision of plain quadrilles soothed my weary
soul. I felt particularly comfortable, for if there is one thing more
grateful to my feelings than another, it is a new house--a large house,
with its ceilings embellished with snowy mouldings; its floors glowing
with warm-tinted carpets, with cushioned chairs and sofas to sit on, and
a piano to listen to; with fires so arranged you can see them, and know
there is no humbug about it; with walls garnished with pictures, and
above all mirrors, wherein you may gaze and always find something to
admire, you know. I have a great regard for a good house, and a girlish
passion for mirrors. Horace Smith, Esq., is also very fond of mirrors.
He came and looked in the glass for an hour with me. Finally it
cracked--the night was pretty cold--and Horace Smith's reflection was
split right down the centre. But where his face had been the damage was
greatest--a hundred cracks converged to his reflected nose, like spokes
from the hub of a wagon wheel. It was the strangest freak the weather
has done this winter. And yet the parlor seemed warm and comfortable,
too.

About nine o'clock the Unreliable came and asked Gov. Johnson to let him
stand on the porch. The creature has got more impudence than any person
I ever saw in my life. Well, he stood and flattened his nose against the
parlor window, and looked hungry and vicious--he always looks that
way--until Colonel Musser arrived with some ladies, when he actual