annoying that one cannot let his esthetic soul - that is constantly
yearning for the sublime and beautiful - rest in gladsome reflection on
some beautiful object without at the same time being reminded of " corns,"
and " biliousness," and all the multifarious evils that flesh is heir
to.

It grows pitchy dark ere I leave the ca¤on on my way to Carlin. Farther
on, the gorge widens, and thick underbrush intervenes between the road
and the river. From out the brush I see peering two little round
phosphorescent balls, like two miniature moons, turned in my direction.
I wonder what kind of an animal it is, as I trundle along through the
darkness, revolver in hand, ready to defend myself, should it make an
attack. I think it is a mountain-lion, as they seem to be plentiful in
this part of Nevada, Late as it is when I reach Carlin, the "boys"
must see how a bicycle is ridden, and, as there is no other place suitable,
I manage to circle around the pool-table in the hotel bar-room a few
times, nearly scalping myself against the bronze chandelier in the
operation. I hasten, however, to explain that these proceedings took
place immediately after my arrival, lest some worldly wise, over-sagacious
person should be led to suspect them to be the riotous undertakings of
one who had "smiled with the boys once too often." Little riding is
possible all through this section of Nevada, and, in order to complete
the forty miles a day that I have rigorously imposed upon myself, I
sometimes get up and pull out at daylight. It is scarce more than sunrise
when, following the railroad through Five-mile Canon - another rift through
one of the many mountain chains that cross this part of Nevada in all
directions under the general name of the Humboldt Mountains-I meet with
a startling adventure. I am trundling through the ca¤on alongside the
river, when, rounding the sharp curve of a projecting mountain, a tawny
mountain lion is perceived trotting leisurely along ahead of me, not