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.
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