he need not take tents or camp equipage for cooking, will, if he be new to these people, or have regard for his digestion, find to his disgust that during his stay he is a vassal at the castle of Giant Despair. He is alluded to by his host as a "tender-foot,"—a word which is supposed to sum up everything that is contemptible. He may have scaled Alps or marched with armies, but a "tender-foot" he will be in the estimation of his host, until he may be forced by circumstances to live a hundred miles further out than any one else, or unless he learns to carry food to his mouth with his knife. On the other hand, the only term of opprobrium which can be felt by these people is that of "Missourian." Why this should be so construed it is difficult to say; but the name seems to imply all that is worthless and disagreeable. Settlers from Virginia and from Georgia are sure on first acquaintance to inform you of their place of nativity with a pride which assumes that to have been born there furnishes them with blue blood; but the Missourian only mentions the last place he tarried at on his journey to "the setting sun" as the spot he hails from. Some of these good people, particularly those who left Missouri during the war, seem to forget that fifteen years have passed since that conflict ended. Their isolation has given them plenty of time and opportunity to brood over the wrongs of the South, with none to assuage their wrath; and they are still as bitter against "abolitionists" and "Lincoln's hirelings" as in the days when such things were.

The miners and prospectors are a much more agreeable class. Their summer is passed amid wild scenery and in a country abounding in game, in pursuit of a fortune which may possibly be attained by one among a hundred. These men find a fascination in their way of life, and, though in the main unsuccessful, continue it as long as health and age permit. They pass their winter in some town where they earn enough to purchase an outfit, namely, gunpowder, coffee, flour, sugar, and bacon sufficient for the summer's campaign, and a jack, as the donkey is called, to carry the pack. Selecting a spot for their centre of operations, a small shanty is soon built, and the summer passes with much climbing, and much breaking of rock that suggests wealth, while they keep a keen eye for game and preserve a romantic belief in the speedy finding of a fortune. Such men cordially welcome the tourist, and gladly share whatever they have with him, excepting blankets, which every man is expected to carry for himself. They beguile his evening by relating quaint experiences, and hint solemnly of a spot where wealth beyond description can be found. They usually work in couples, each calling the other "pard"; and very faithful each pard is to his fellow, becoming only more attached in case of sickness or disaster. They are, as a rule, an honest and manly race, leading a life which brings out many good qualities, especially hospitality, and, in injury or illness, even of a stranger, care, kindness, and tenderness. There is no monotony in their career. Each day brings its incidents, greater or less, and is cheered by the belief that the bonanza is near at hand. Geographical distances are nothing to them. Fear they have none. It is a common sight to see a couple of "pards" on foot, driving the two jacks which carry all their worldly possessions, trudging through an Indian country, and informing you, perhaps, in answer to your inquiry, that they have come from the San Juan country in Southern Colorado, and are bound for the Bear Paw Mountains in Northern Montana, as they have heard that gold can be panned there. Many of them have paced the line of the Rocky Mountains as far as they lie within the limits of the United States.

In gold-washings, towns spring up as rapidly as Leadville has done, but the washings being simply on the