soil of the Shoshone House, which would have provided a wider field for
her restlessness and self-occupation, and many more people to listen to
her narratives and sympathize with her complaints. But it was no use. She
was resolved to abide by the fortunes of her "young friends."

While this discussion was proceeding, the carriage had been rolling down a
wide street running along the edge of the plateau, opposite the mountain
range. Pretty houses stood on either side in green, shaded door-yards,
with roses and vine-hung piazzas and nicely-cut grass.

"Why, it looks like a New England town," said Clover, amazed; "I thought
there were no trees here."

"Yes, I know," said Dr. Hope smiling. "You came, like most Eastern people,
prepared to find us sitting in the middle of a sandy waste, on cactus
pincushions, picking our teeth with bowie-knives, and with no neighbors
but Indians and grizzly bears. Well; sixteen years ago we could have
filled the bill pretty well. Then there was not a single house in St.
Helen's,--not even a tent, and not one of the trees that you see here had
been planted. Now we have three railroads meeting at our depot, a
population of nearly seven thousand, electric lights, telephones, a good
opera-house, a system of works which brings first-rate spring water into
the town from six miles away,--in short, pretty much all the modern
conveniences."

"But what _has_ made the place grow so fast?" asked Clover.

"If I may be allowed a professional pun, it is built up on coughings. It
is a town for invalids. Half the people here came out for the benefit of
their lungs."