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coughing； but it was also part in play。
As I ascended the mountain…side； I came once more to overlook
the upper surface of the fog； but it wore a different
appearance from what I had beheld at daybreak。 For； first；
the sun now fell on it from high overhead； and its surface
shone and undulated like a great nor'land moor country；
sheeted with untrodden morning snow。 And next the new level
must have been a thousand or fifteen hundred feet higher than
the old； so that only five or six points of all the broken
country below me； still stood out。 Napa valley was now one
with Sonoma on the west。 On the hither side； only a thin
scattered fringe of bluffs was unsubmerged； and through all
the gaps the fog was pouring over； like an ocean； into the
blue clear sunny country on the east。 There it was soon
lost； for it fell instantly into the bottom of the valleys；
following the water…shed； and the hilltops in that quarter
were still clear cut upon the eastern sky。
Through the Toll House gap and over the near ridges on the
other side； the deluge was immense。 A spray of thin vapour
was thrown high above it； rising and falling； and blown into
fantastic shapes。 The speed of its course was like a
mountain torrent。 Here and there a few treetops were
discovered and then whelmed again； and for one second； the
bough of a dead pine beckoned out of the spray like the arm
of a drowning man。 But still the imagination was
dissatisfied； still the ear waited for something more。 Had
this indeed been water （as it seemed so； to the eye）； with
what a plunge of reverberating thunder would it have rolled
upon its course； disembowelling mountains and deracinating
pines！ And yet water it was； and sea…water at that … true
Pacific billows； only somewhat rarefied； rolling in mid air
among the hilltops。
I climbed still higher； among the red rattling gravel and
dwarf underwood of Mount Saint Helena； until I could look
right down upon Silverado； and admire the favoured nook in
which it lay。 The sunny plain of fog was several hundred
feet higher； behind the protecting spur a gigantic
accumulation of cottony vapour threatened； with every second；
to blow over and submerge our homestead； but the vortex
setting past the Toll House was too strong； and there lay our
little platform； in the arms of the deluge； but still
enjoying its unbroken sunshine。 About eleven； however； thin
spray came flying over the friendly buttress； and I began to
think the fog had hunted out its Jonah after all。 But it was
the last effort。 The wind veered while we were at dinner；
and began to blow squally from the mountain summit； and by
half…past one； all that world of sea…fogs was utterly routed
and flying here and there into the south in little rags of
cloud。 And instead of a lone sea…beach； we found ourselves
once more inhabiting a high mountainside； with the clear
green country far below us； and the light smoke of Calistoga
blowing in the air。
This was the great Russian campaign for that season。 Now and
then； in the early morning； a little white lakelet of fog
would be seen far down in Napa Valley； but the heights were
not again assailed； nor was the surrounding world again shut
off from Silverado。
THE TOLL HOUSE
THE Toll House； standing alone by the wayside under nodding
pines； with its streamlet and water…tank； its backwoods；
toll…bar； and well trodden croquet ground； the ostler
standing by the stable door； chewing a straw； a glimpse of
the Chinese cook in the back parts； and Mr。 Hoddy in the bar；
gravely alert and serviceable； and equally anxious to lend or
borrow books； … dozed all day in the dusty sunshine； more
than half asleep。 There were no neighbours； except the
Hansons up the hill。 The traffic on the road was
infinitesimal； only； at rare intervals； a couple in a waggon；
or a dusty farmer on a springboard； toiling over 〃the grade〃
to that metropolitan hamlet； Calistoga； and； at the fixed
hours； the passage of the stages。
The nearest building was the school…house； down the road； and
the school…ma'am boarded at the Toll House； walking thence in
the morning to the little brown shanty； where she taught the
young ones of the district； and returning thither pretty
weary in the afternoon。 She had chosen this outlying
situation； I understood； for her health。 Mr。 Corwin was
consumptive； so was Rufe； so was Mr。 Jennings； the engineer。
In short； the place was a kind of small Davos： consumptive
folk consorting on a hilltop in the most unbroken idleness。
Jennings never did anything that I could see； except now and
then to fish； and generally to sit about in the bar and the
verandah； waiting for something to happen。 Corwin and Rufe
did as little as possible； and if the school…ma'am； poor
lady； had to work pretty hard all morning； she subsided when
it was over into much the same dazed beatitude as all the
rest。
Her special corner was the parlour … a very genteel room；
with Bible prints； a crayon portrait of Mrs。 Corwin in the
height of fashion； a few years ago； another of her son （Mr。
Corwin was not represented）； a mirror； and a selection of
dried grasses。 A large book was laid religiously on the
table … 〃From Palace to Hovel；〃 I believe； its name … full of
the raciest experiences in England。 The author had mingled
freely with all classes； the nobility particularly meeting
him with open arms； and I must say that traveller had ill
requited his reception。 His book； in short； was a capital
instance of the Penny Messalina school of literature； and
there arose from it； in that cool parlour； in that silent；
wayside； mountain inn； a rank atmosphere of gold and blood
and 〃Jenkins；〃 and the 〃Mysteries of London；〃 and sickening；
inverted snobbery； fit to knock you down。 The mention of
this book reminds me of another and far racier picture of our
island life。 The latter parts of ROCAMBOLE are surely too
sparingly consulted in the country which they celebrate。 No
man's education can be said to be complete； nor can he
pronounce the world yet emptied of enjoyment； till he has
made the acquaintance of 〃the Reverend Patterson； director of
the Evangelical Society。〃 To follow the evolutions of that
reverend gentleman； who goes through scenes in which even Mr。
Duffield would hesitate to place a bishop； is to rise to new
ideas。 But； alas！ there was no Patterson about the Toll
House。 Only； alongside of 〃From Palace to Hovel；〃 a sixpenny
〃Ouida〃 figured。 So literature； you see； was not
unrepresented。
The school…ma'am had friends to stay with her； other school…
ma'ams enjoying their holidays； quite a bevy of damsels。
They seemed never to go out； or not beyond the verandah； but
sat close in the little parlour； quietly talking or listening
to the wind among the trees。 Sleep dwelt in the